by G Lawrence
“We will speak of this in private,” he said. “Later.”
“As you wish, my lord.” I sat down calmly and clicked my fingers for the music to resume. I could have laughed! Henry was trying to save his pride. He had accosted me, but where once I had fallen apart, this time I had triumphed.
As he left, I heard him talking angrily to Norris… saying that I was getting more like Katherine every day, and he knew not what he had done to deserve two such troublesome wives.
I could almost feel Katherine at my back. If I turned, I was sure I would see her there, smiling.
I do not need his good opinion, I thought. As long as I think well of myself, that is enough.
I felt like the girl I had once been. False confidence had been my friend for so long, that when true courage came, I was almost undone by its power. I felt mighty, and strong, once more. I would not be crushed into this weak, feeble creature who cried and wailed. I would stand. I would fight. I would hold respect for myself.
Henry did not seek to bring up the matter again. Not in private and not in public. If he admitted he might have been mistaken, his self-image would shatter like a glass thrown to the cobbled floor. But where he had vanquished me before, I swore he never would again.
*
I was not the only one to endure a royal scolding that season. Henry turned on Norfolk and my father some days later, for not taking harder measures against a Carthusian monk who had preached a sermon criticizing the royal supremacy.
Perhaps it was this which stirred Henry into action, as soon Cromwell was granted full authority by Henry, as the Head of the Church, to wield the authority conferred upon the Crown by God. There were many facets to this power, but Henry wanted one used with immediate effect.
Cromwell was to begin a massive undertaking; a survey of all the religious houses in England, to uncover abuses, ill practices, slovenly behaviour, allegiance to Rome and mortal sin. Commands would be issued, requiring all clergymen to personally take the oath of succession, as well as their religious orders as a whole, and to ensure that none of them followed the doctrine of Rome, or demonstrated obedience to the Pope. Religious orders were further informed that the emphasis would no more be on the manner of their apparel, shaven heads, fasting or getting up at all hours of the night for Mass, but would instead rely upon “cleanliness of mind, pureness of living, Christ’s faith not feigned and brotherly charity”.
Relics were to be investigated, and taken from display if found to be false. This would cause uproar, I was sure, as monasteries grew fat on the coin of pilgrims. But I welcomed the notion that sober charity and prayer would supplant the worship of what were widely believed to be false relics.
Restrictions on monasteries would also be more strictly imposed. Enclosure was one of them. Certain orders were enclosed; their members were not supposed to tarry beyond the boundaries of their houses. This was widely ignored, but Henry meant to enforce it, saying, quite rightly, if solitude was the term of service offered to God, that should be honoured.
Houses beyond help would be dissolved, and their wealth would go to the Crown, to be used for charitable purposes. But those that required guidance would be offered it, and those doing well would be upheld. Those that I hailed as good provided medical care, education, alms and employed many people on their farms and estates. The Church was one of the largest landowners in England, exceeding even Henry in wealth and estates.
Closing, or suppressing, monasteries was not a new event. My husband’s idol, Henry V, had begun the practice and under Wolsey some had been investigated and closed, although the Cardinal had used this as a means to fill his own coffers rather than to redistribute wealth to the poor. But this examination would be larger than any conducted before, and more thorough. I welcomed the proposal. My brother, however, was more critical.
“Cromwell’s men have also been told to gather information on the possessions of each house,” said my brother one night as we sat with a chessboard between us.
“Only so they can uncover false relics being used to extort money from the unwise,” I said, playing with one of my bishops.
“Think that, if it brings you comfort, sister,” said my brother, toying with his eating knife as he watched what my move would be. “But this vision the King has of a fortified England, safe from invasion, will not come without a great influx of coin. The King is obsessed. He thinks the Emperor is poised to invade. Where do you think the money for all the ships he wants, all the walls, all the arms and all the soldiers will come from?”
I frowned and sat back, abandoning the game. Cromwell had visited me only that morning to assure me that anything confiscated from churches, unless they were false relics or useless icons, would be used by Henry for charitable purposes. I had also been told religious houses that were shut down would be converted into schools. Henry’s fortifications had not even been mentioned.
“His Majesty wants new castles built up and down the coast,” George continued, his hazel eyes fixed on mine. “The money for that is not in the royal coffers, but soon it will be.”
“But that is what the bill for raising taxes in times of peace was for,” I protested. “I assure you, brother, everything taken from monasteries or churches will go back to the Church or the people. I have Cromwell’s personal assurance on this.”
“Anne,” said my brother, setting his goblet on the table and leaning forwards. “You must uncover your eyes. Cromwell is misleading you. Wealth taken from monasteries will go to the King. What the King chooses to do with it is up to him. He is under no compulsion to support the needy. He will use it for defence.”
“Even if some is used for military purposes,” I said sternly. “More will be given to the poor, or to re-found religious houses.”
“Not if Cromwell is in charge. He wants to make the King rich, and himself, too, in the process.”
“You are allowing resentment to colour your thoughts,” I said, although I had to admit my heart was not at ease. “His interference in your affairs last year has led you to distrust him, but I assure you, brother, Cromwell is as dedicated to true and godly reform as we are. He will make sure those funds are spent well.”
“Oh, I am sure he will.” George’s tone was scathing and his eyes were heavy with scorn.
George left me uneasy. I sat staring at the half-played chessboard after he departed. Was he right? Was I being duped? I had believed Cromwell without question, but as I thought back to the fines demanded of the clergy after their submission, I had to confess I did not know if they had been spent on charity, as I had been assured. Was it possible I was being lied to? Was my brother correct in his assumption that the riches of the monasteries would go straight into Henry’s purse?
I called my brother to me again the next day and asked him to provide men for me to use. I wanted to quietly investigate where the money from the fines of the clergy had gone. I wanted answers. I wanted to know if, and for how long, I had been being blindly led astray.
When answers came back, I did not like them. There was no proof that money from the clergy’s fines had gone to aid any notable cause. And there was more. People were talking about the enforcement of enclosure.
“How are abbots to collect rents due to their houses?” Norris asked quietly. “How are they to sell their produce? Monasteries rely on a certain amount of contact with the world. Without that, how are they to live?”
“But if solitude and prayer is what was promised to God, Norris, this is what should be offered.”
“Pardon my impudence, my lady,” he said, his earnest eyes on mine. “But I do not think God intended for his servants to starve to death, or run themselves into bankruptcy.”
“I am sure the King has a plan,” I said. “He is utterly dedicated to his Church. There is time to perfect a plan, as any such commands will only go forward after Cromwell’s investigations. When anything new is done, there is always a period of confusion, Norris. His Majesty will set it straight, and we will enter a ne
w time, with him leading us.”
“I am sure you are right, Majesty,” said Norris, sounding anything but certain.
In truth, I felt the same.
I had to support Henry in public. All he was doing was done, at least in part, to protect me, Elizabeth and England. I could not allow anyone to think I was unsure. But in private, I made up my mind to keep a close eye on Cromwell, Henry, and what was being done with the wealth of the monasteries. Even to the detriment of my position or that of my daughter, I could not allow evil to be done in God’s name. And if certain people had lost the path in the forest of faith, and were veering off down dark gullies, I would lead them back. For what good was any of this, if we were not doing God’s work?
The Lord is a clement master, but He does not like men doing ill in His holy name. I would not allow my soul, Henry’s, or that of our daughter to become tainted. I would not allow the faith to be abused so wicked souls might profit.
*
As Cromwell began to gather his men, and I sent George’s out to investigate, Henry took measures too. At the end of January he started to style himself “Henry VIII, by the Grace of God, King of England and of France, Defender of the Faith, and Lord of Ireland. Supreme Head of the Church of England.”
At the same time, Henry’s men unleashed a tempest of words against the papacy. Doctor George Brown preached on the subject of bishops, saying all who would not burn their papal bulls of appointment were traitors. Cromwell took advice from loyal bishops as to whether the King could unmake bishops at will. Cranmer formally rejected the authority of Rome over England and some bishops followed his lead. Anti-papal sentiment rang from the preaching pit at Whitehall, spreading through England like a blanket of fog.
Cromwell was enthused about his survey, and deep in work much of the time. But I interrupted this and called him to me. “I am disturbed by the tenor of this survey,” I said. “It would seem some have taken this to mean all religious houses will be shut down.”
“Only those who show poor practices, madam,” was Cromwell’s reply. But I was not fooled. George’s men had not come up with a great deal, as Cromwell was not a man to be caught out when it came to numbers and finances, but what they had uncovered thus far led me to believe I had indeed been led awry.
“Those that suffer from greedy abbots, or slack practices should be re-made into either new religious houses or colleges,” I argued. “Those houses could again be vital to the welfare of England’s people as once they were, Cromwell. They cannot be simply disbanded.”
“I assure you, madam, reform is my wish as well.” He smoothed his doublet upon which a heavy chain of gold hung. It was not only Henry who was swift becoming a man of vast wealth.
“Reform is better than closure,” I continued. “The monasteries have for too long played no part in the life of England’s people. That is the reform I wish to see. For them to take on the ancient and hallowed office, granted by God. To aid poor people and educate the worthy.”
“And it will be done, Majesty. But where and when any confiscated funds will be spent is not up to me. His Majesty will decide that, and he, as Head of the Church, will surely act in accordance with the wishes of God.”
I nodded, knowing he had a point. Henry’s conscience was sharp and he paid close attention to it. But at the same time, I wondered... Cromwell was shrewd. He had a way of sneaking into people’s minds. Many words that sprang from Henry’s mouth of late were, in truth, born in the mind of his chief advisor.
“I will speak to the King,” I said.
“I think that a fine notion, Majesty, for it is good that the King hears all points of view. His focus is on England’s defence, but perhaps you can get him to see the value of supporting the poor.”
“None of that money should be used for warfare,” I insisted. “The taxes raised for defence should pay for our fortifications.”
“But with Spain looming close…”
“It matters not if a thousand infidels are at our gates!” I said loudly. “This is a matter of morals, Cromwell, not money! Money that was once in the hands of the Church should be returned to the people, where it belongs.” I gazed at him with growing displeasure. “That money was raised from the people, granted so the Church might support those in need. Would that not be what God would want, Cromwell? Jesus Christ was no man of war. That money should be redistributed to aid Henry’s people, not stolen away to line the pocket of the King!”
I stopped abruptly. I had gone too far. Curse your tongue, Anne Boleyn! I thought. It always got the better of me. “Forgive me,” I said. “I feel passionately about this issue and became lost in my zeal.”
“Of course, Majesty,” said Cromwell. “And your piety does you credit. Speak to the King. I am sure that, guided by you, this will indeed be the path he takes. I have tried to tell him this myself, but he is so obsessed with security of late that perhaps this godly use of such funds has become lost to him. You will have more success, I am sure.”
I agreed I would speak to Henry, but as Cromwell left, I wondered if he had actually attempted to talk to his master, or if he, as my brother suspected, would be happier to make his King rich, than see others profit.
Chapter Seventeen
Whitehall Palace
January – February 1535
At the end of January, I decided to take up my most unwelcome role as whoremaster.
Mary Perrot was too dangerous to be left keeping my husband warm. There were rumours that she was writing to Lady Mary and Katherine. I doubted Henry knew of this, but if I attempted to say anything he would only explode. He was lost in affection and would hear nothing said against her. I needed the parrot gone. I was not enough for Henry, but perhaps someone else could be.
Henry flirted with my cousin often when he came to my chambers, usually finding her in company with her friends, Mary Howard, Margaret Douglas and Bess Holland. Mary Shelton was a bright, clever woman of wit, who was also blessed with beauty. She was young, being but sixteen, but confident, and therefore seemed older than her spare years. When she smiled, her cheeks dimpled like a charming infant, but when she talked, all men listened. She shone like a searing torch in a darkened chamber.
The book of poetical warfare was still going strong, and although Henry did not contribute, he called on poets to write verse that he might add to. No one dared breathe a word to Henry, but his poetry was poor. It was not his greatest skill. He had many, to be sure, but his poetry was often stilted, pretentious, and did not possess that pleasing flow which captures the mind and carries the soul. But since Henry was unaware of this, he persisted. Oftentimes, I found my ladies tittering over his work, and I knew their giggles were not for embarrassment at the sentiments of love, but at his slack, ungainly expression and overblown, antiquated ideals.
He brought Mary to him when he called on my chambers, ostensibly to peruse this book, but that was not the only reason. Henry wanted Mary Shelton. I had seen his eyes rest on her too often to be in doubt. At the moment, he seemed satisfied with Mary Perrot. Joanna Dingley was absent from court, some said because she was to bear Henry’s child. Henry had no doubt ordered her removal as he did not want to cause a scene which might embarrass him. Knowing he had wasted his seed on another woman did distress me of course, but I was about to upset myself further. I had to wound my own heart, and betray my morals, which I had held sacred so long, in order to survive.
My cousin Mary entered my chambers and I took a deep breath. Now is the time, I thought. I must ask my merry, pretty cousin to whore herself for my benefit.
I hated this necessity. I loathed myself for it. How many times had I counselled my women against loose morals? And here I was, about to ask a virtuous girl to help me by spreading her legs.
It saddened my heart to see her pretty face and chestnut hair covered by the becoming French hood that I had made all the more popular as Queen. Mary aped my style. She admired me. Her figure resembled mine; tall and willowy. She had little breasts and large d
ark eyes. We were cousins, but she looked more like my younger sister. Yet I was about to take on a role no sister ever should.
I felt like a hypocrite, because I was.
But this was not just for me. I had to protect my child and my position. There were whispers of rebellion, and great support for Lady Mary and Katherine. I could not afford an enemy to rest so close to Henry, poisoning his mind. But this would have to be handled carefully. Henry was a prudish man. He liked everything ill he did to be quiet and discreet.
“Cousin,” I said. “Come and sit with me a while, I would talk to you.”
Obediently, she came to my side.
“I must speak to you of something of great delicacy,” I said, “something I wish to share only with you.”
“Your Majesty,” she said softly before I could continue. “I know what it is you wish to ask. For loyalty and love, I will do this. But I want you to know that I should never have thought of doing it unless I was asked to by you. I hold you in the greatest reverence, both for your title and because of the wealth of my admiration for you.”