by G Lawrence
“Is she in danger of her life?” I asked, my heart floundering.
“I know not.” My father sank into a chair and gazed at me with hollow eyes. “She is very sick, Your Majesty.”
“At such a time as this, I am your daughter first, not your Queen,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “You have sent doctors?”
“I have, but I came to ask if Butts could go. He is the most skilled of the King’s physicians.”
“I will ask him to go to Hever this very day,” I said. “Should you not join her?”
“The King makes increasing demands on my time as Lord Privy Seal,” he said. “He wants peace with the Emperor, and through Cromwell, entrusts this to me.”
“The Emperor dances to our tune now. He has even said he will support my marriage.”
“You should understand he does this for he fears the King might be persuaded to set you aside and take a French bride,” said my father.
I dropped his hand. “This has been spoken of?”
“Not to me,” my father said, shaking his head. “But Chapuys and Cromwell have had many a meeting of late. I think Cromwell is trying to gain Imperial support. When he has it, he will go to the King and tell him it is clear you cannot bear a son.” He gazed at me with troubled eyes. “Your strike against Cromwell is well known. You must prepare for his counterattack.”
“Cromwell has been trying to persuade Henry to allow more monasteries to be saved. He is in retreat.”
“Do you know the tale of the Battle of Hastings?”
“Of course,” I said. “Unlike Mary I paid attention to my tutors.”
“Then you will know that the Norman knights pretended to retreat from the Saxons,” said my father. “They ran, and as the Saxons charged after them, they turned on them. The Saxons thought the day was theirs, but in affecting retreat, the Normans won.”
“And in such a way you think Cromwell will turn on me?”
“I do, and you should prepare yourself.” My father rubbed his brow. “You are most vulnerable when it comes to the providing of an heir. That is where he will hit you. He will whisper that you are infertile, and cannot give the King what he wants. He will use your sister against you, and tell the King that his second marriage is invalid on the basis that you and he are related, just as Henry and Katherine were.”
“And what would you advise I do?”
“Find a way to thrash him again, and quickly,” said my father. “You must defame him in the eyes of the King. He has come to lean on Cromwell, but Master Secretary is not as yet invincible. There are chinks in his armour. One of those is the annoyance Henry feels for his talent for overstepping his authority.”
“He has often spoken of it.”
“Use that against him. You have the support of the Church, but that will not be enough. They are not as strong as once they were, and Henry wants their money. You are interfering with that ambition. If Cromwell can convince him you are wrong, and not only in this matter, but others, he might still triumph.”
“Cranmer is coming to see me today,” I said. “I will have his support too, but I will think on all you have said.”
“I have told George to help you. Not that your brother requires convincing to come to your aid, but you will need help.”
He rose and made to leave, but I stopped him. “I will ask Butts to go to Mother today,” I said. “We will ensure she recovers.”
My father nodded, but his face chilled me. I saw fear, and for my father to betray any emotion was rare.
Before Cranmer arrived, I sat down and wrote to my mother. I told her of my love for her, and that Butts would be with her soon. I told her all was well at court, and I hoped soon to have a son. I told her of Elizabeth and all her little, enchanting ways.
I told her nothing of sorrow and fear. I did not wish to worry her.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Greenwich Palace
April 1536
“Money taken from the abbeys will be used for the betterment of the poor,” said Cranmer.
The Archbishop had come to Greenwich on my urging, but as he opened his mouth I heard Cromwell and Henry’s lies.
“That is what we were all told, Eminence,” I said. “Yet I fear that is not what will happen.”
“You doubt the King, Majesty?”
“I doubt the honesty of his advisors.” I stared at Cranmer. “And, Eminence, I think you do too.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It is true, that of late I have cause to question some things,” he admitted. “Especially since Skip preached. Your Majesty’s sermon is spoken of throughout England. Many are surprised to find you a sudden advocate for the Church.”
“As you well know, old friend, I have always supported the Church, as long as they adhere to the true path of God.”
“Many houses do not, Majesty.”
“That I know, and I speak not for all, but for some. Those that can be saved I would have reformed, and those that cannot I would have disbanded and transformed into educational establishments.”
“And His Majesty agrees?”
“The King commanded that there would be a provision in the Act to save houses he believed in,” I said. “And so he does support this… but he has been seduced by the allure of money, Eminence. I would save him from himself.”
“You are the true Esther,” he murmured.
“I would not claim any such thing,” I said. “But the King must see reason. What good does it do the poor to disband all lesser houses? Many do good work, and if some are corrupt that does not hold that all are.”
“I do agree,” said Cranmer. “I have thought, for some time, that Cromwell’s men have gone astray in their task. They see not what may be lost, in what might be gained.”
“And when one of us strays, Eminence, is it not up to the others, and to the King, to bring them back?”
By the time Cranmer left, I had convinced him. He swore he would write to Cromwell and tell him that he feared mass dissolution would do no good. As Archbishop of Canterbury, Cranmer was duty bound to think of the people of England. The Church of England was now truly my ally.
On the 13th of April, I went to Westminster Hall for the Maundy Thursday ceremonies. Taking on the role of Christ, who had washed the feet of his disciples, I cleansed the feet of poor women and presented them with golden cups, old kirtles from my wardrobe, and purses of money. Later, I took to the steps outside the Cathedral and distributed alms. The amounts doled out that day outdid not only all of Katherine’s offerings to the poor on past occasions, but mine as well. I was going to show the people of England that I was firmly on the side of the needy. I required their support.
The ceremony was a success, and the people were quite beside themselves with glee. I heard voices cheering for me, and whilst some still muttered that I was no Queen, there were increasing numbers of those who applauded me.
Skip’s sermon was famous now, and many in London had heard of it. To people who considered me a heretical whore, this seemed like an attempt to promote myself as something I was not, but I think some had come to question if I truly was this black-hearted beast they had learned to hate. Now that Katherine was gone, there was no other Queen but me, and it seemed, at least to some, that I might in truth be not an agent of evil, but one of good.
And I was confident. Parliament had closed, and again my rights and titles had been enshrined in people’s minds. If Henry had truly considered annulling our marriage, he would need Parliament to do so. Nothing had been said or done to lead me to that conclusion.
*
“I have news,” said my brother as we walked in the gardens at Greenwich.
“Of Mother?” My voice emerged strained and hard.
“Of that, I have little,” my brother said. “But Father has told me that Butts is doing her good, and she has recovered a little.”
“God be praised!” My heart was in my mouth. For a moment I had thought George might be about to tell me she was dying. I wanted to go to her,
but I could not. My power was hanging by a thread, and if I left, my enemies would cut it.
“But it is not that I have news of,” he said.
“What, then?”
“I have a spy in Cromwell’s house,” said George. “Who tells me that Chapuys came to meet Cromwell, and they had a most interesting discussion.”
“What did the pirate promise the hapless hare?”
“Much, and all of it without the King’s authority.”
George went on to explain that Chapuys had gone to Cromwell’s house with authority invested in him by the Emperor to go ahead with negotiations of alliance. Chapuys had said that his master would intercede with the Pope on Henry’s behalf, and in return Henry would aid the Emperor in a crusade against the Turks and the French. Mary would be restored to her rightful place in the succession, and Charles would accept my marriage to Henry. There was also to be reconciliation between Rome and England, and Henry would become part of a defensive league with the Emperor against any enemies.
“And Cromwell promised all this?” I asked.
Even I was shocked. To agree to these terms without the authorisation of the King was truly remarkable. Henry had given him no leave to do so. He was still wavering on who would make the best ally, but Cromwell was forging ahead without royal sanction.
“Indeed,” said my brother. He grinned, wide and dangerous, like a wolf. “You should also know that the Emperor asked Chapuys to ferret out your opinion, knowing that it would go much smoother if you were on his side.”
I smiled. It was good to know the Emperor understood my influence, even if his ambassador could not. “But he would want Mary made legitimate, and England’s heir, in return for his acceptance of me as Queen,” I said. “That has not changed.”
“That has not changed,” said my brother. “But much else has. Cromwell has gone too far. This will enrage the King.”
“That it will.”
“The time is ripe, Anne,” George said. “If you wish to follow Father’s advice and strike Cromwell again, this must be taken to the King.”
“He will be furious,” I gloated. “Cromwell has gone too far this time.”
“We must move fast.”
“We will go to Henry now.”
We did just that. We told him all, and he was incensed.
“How dare he make promises to the ambassador and the Emperor?” Henry demanded, striding about his bedchamber. As he walked, he limped, his leg paining him.
“He thinks he can do as he wishes,” I said. “And not only in this matter, as you have seen, my lord.” I had given Henry all the information people had told me over the past months. He was now aware of the depths of Cromwell’s ambitions, and subterfuge.
Henry’s face snapped. There was suspicion blazing in his eyes, as well as deep, rich rage. “I will call him here… now,” he roared. “And he will answer for this!”
“If so you wish, my love,” I said. “But perhaps it might do Master Cromwell more good to be scolded before the court when he comes to Greenwich on the morrow with his ally Chapuys.”
Henry stared at me for a moment and then laughed. It was a cruel sound. “Aye,” he said. “Perhaps you are right, Anne. It is time to teach my servant his place, and have all men witness it.”
Henry smiled, it grew, a thin wound running up his face; the swipe of a rapier. “You and your good brother will help me,” he said. “And, what’s more, my love, we shall achieve something that until now has been sadly neglected.”
“What do you wish to do, my love?”
Henry’s torn smile stretched. “We shall make Chapuys receive the Queen of England,” he said. “And pay homage to her.”
As we were about to leave, a messenger arrived from Cromwell. It informed the King that Cromwell had “brought the best news in the world.”
Henry crumpled the parchment in his great hands. “We will see about that,” he said, throwing it to the floor.
Chapter Sixty
Greenwich Palace
Easter Monday
April 18th 1536
Easter Monday dawned. A steady breeze blew, casting out sudden gusts that took many by surprise as they prepared to attend Mass.
They were not the only ones taken by surprise that blustery morning. Before he had risen from his bed, Henry received two visitors. Cromwell and Chapuys, eager to put to him all they had discussed without his knowledge, came to call, with no notion that George and I had already informed Henry of their plotting.
As we had discussed, Henry welcomed them and listened to their plans. He was receptive and polite, for he had no intention of offending the Emperor by rejecting overtures of friendship… but he also had no intention of allowing Cromwell to get away with usurpation of power.
Thinking their task well done, Cromwell departed and Chapuys prepared to do the same, but Henry stopped him, asking that in the interests of friendship, the ambassador should to come to Mass and kiss my hand, to demonstrate Spain and the Emperor accepted me as Queen.
Cromwell, who had paused at the door, was called upon by Chapuys to support him in expressing that such an encounter would be premature and inadvisable. Between them, they seemed to convince Henry that such an encounter might damage relations.
But we were ready for them.
Henry had known that Chapuys would try to wriggle out of his request, and had instructed George and my father to wait at the door of the chapel. Since George often sought Chapuys out, to engage in mischievous conversations about faith, the hare was not suspicious at first. They captured Chapuys with warm greetings, taking his arm as though they were the best of friends, and escorted him to a prearranged spot in the chapel. Chapuys suddenly realised he was trapped. Surrounded by courtiers, and with no polite way to flee, he was forced to stand as Henry and I descended from the royal pew and walked towards the altar to give offerings. As we passed Chapuys, we made as though we might walk on with little more than a polite nod… but just as the ambassador was set to expel a great sigh of relief, I turned, and so did Henry.
Chapuys, the man who had avoided me for seven years, was forced to bow and greet me as Queen.
The fraught look upon his face was almost more than I could bear! How I managed to keep from breaking into howling laughter I will never know. Chapuys was flustered, chagrined, but his back took over his wits, forcing him to bow.
I returned the honour, and dipped to a curtsey. “I am pleased to see you looking so well, my lord ambassador,” I purred, struggling desperately to keep my face calm so it would not betray my smirking soul.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Chapuys. I could hear him grit his teeth to name me Majesty, and relished his discomfort.
“I hope I will see more of you at court,” I said, “now that our gracious King and his cousin are to be friends again. I must tell you of the time I spent at the court of the magnificent Archduchess Margaret, for I am told you and I share a bond, in having known and loved her.”
“That would please me greatly, Your Majesty.”
Oh, little hare! I thought. How well you lie!
He handed me two altar candles to use in my offerings, and I accepted gracefully. Henry and I walked on, stopping here and there to talk to courtiers, and as we did, I could hear tongues wagging on how the Imperial ambassador had accepted me as Queen.
I could also feel the mortification of Chapuys, floating behind me on the incense-scented air, suffusing my spirit with joy.
*
That afternoon, Chapuys dined with my brother and Henry’s councillors. I asked Henry why we did not build on our success, and have him dine with us, and his reply was strange. “It is not without good reason,” was all he would say.
Elation seeped from me as I worried Henry had lost heart about the plan to teach Cromwell a lesson, or that I might have done something to offend him.
Why do you always blame yourself? I asked. Just because that is what your husband does, that does not mean this is the path you should take. Have fa
ith in yourself, Anne Boleyn!
During that meal I took care to speak warmly of the Emperor and to say I had abandoned much hope for France. “It seems the King of France, tired on account of his unfortunate illness, wants to shorten his days by going to war,” I said, causing Norris and others to titter. They knew I was speaking of the rumour François had contracted syphilis. But still, I was unnerved. I wondered why Henry would not push our advantage. Chapuys’ acknowledgement had been a public endorsement of our marriage and me as Queen.