It was decided that the party who had been selected to go on progress with the King would depart from Windsor, that palace being well positioned to commence our journey towards Bristol on England’s west coast. Preparations were already underway. Endless supplies were gathered, horses and carts selected and readied, dozens of trunks and wooden crates were packed.
In the meantime, it was a certainty that the various landowners chosen to host the royal party along their way were also madly making ready. The expense incurred by receiving the King, and the preparedness required to accommodate much of his royal traveling company, was by no means insignificant. In fact, it might just strain the resources for a particular estate well nigh to insolvency if its master was not careful.
But the most meticulously laid plans …
My unmitigated pleasure and clearly Henry’s as well, in overseeing the packing and anticipating our summer tour was brought to an abrupt halt by the trials and subsequent indictments of Bishop John Fisher, and Sir Thomas More. Of necessity, our journey was delayed therewith, as the drama played out in a chamber at Westminster.
First, word by word transcriptions were delivered to Henry and me. The charges stated that Sir Thomas More did traitorously attempt to deprive the King of his title of Supreme Head of the Church. Led by Chancellor Audley, those who heard the proceedings included Thomas Cromwell; the clerk Sir Thomas Bedyll, and Sir John Tregonwell, a lawyer, as well as a number of the King’s councillors.
More was first asked directly whether he would accept the King as Supreme Head on Earth of the Church of England, pursuant to the statute which was in place. He refused to give a direct answer, saying ‘I will not meddle with any such matters, for I am fully determined to serve God, and to think upon His Passion and my passage out of this world.’ His responses, as the charges were levelled, were articulate and heartfelt. But he remained unwavering, at one point admitting that ‘the Act of Parliament is like a sword with two edges, for if a man answer one way it will confound his soul, and if he answer the other way it will confound his body.’
As the trial continued, More stated that he ‘knew well the reason why he was condemned: because he had never been willing to consent to the King’s second marriage; but he hoped in divine goodness and mercy, that just as St. Paul and St. Stephen who were persecuted are now friends in Paradise, so we, though differing in this world, shall be united in perfect charity in the other. He prayed God to protect the King and give him good counsel.’
It did not take long for the trial to conclude. As expected, More and Fisher were condemned to death for their traitorous beliefs.
We were told by numerous witnesses that on his way back to the Tower after his trial, one of More’s daughters - Margaret - pushed through the archers and guards, and held him in her embrace some time without being able to speak. More, asking leave of the archers, bade her have patience, saying that it was God’s will, and she had long known the secret of his heart. After he’d turned heavily away and gone just ten or twelve more steps, she returned and embraced him again, to which he said nothing, except to bid her pray to God for his soul.
When I heard this part of the account, I swallowed hard and sat with my eyes cast downward into my lap fearing that, if I raised them, they would fill with tears and spill over in an unseemly display of emotion.
And as for Fisher? To make matters worse, the new Pope had created him a cardinal of the Roman Church in late May. Henry had done what he could to block the appointment without success, and thus continued with his prosecution, arraigning Fisher on 17 June. Fisher’s downfall proceeded swiftly from that date.
On 22June, he was marched out onto Tower Hill and beheaded.
More remained in the Tower for several additional days, but on Tuesday 6 July was taken by guards from his prison to the open space in front of the Tower. Just before his death he asked those present to pray to God for him, and he would surely do the same for them in the other world. He then besought them earnestly to pray to God to give the King good counsel, protesting that he would die the King’s faithful servant, but God’s first.
His head was then smitten from his body by an axe.
Both Fisher’s and More’s heads were displayed on spikes near the Thames so that all might bear witness to their likely fate should they refuse to swear the Oath their sovereign required of them.
It soon became evident that he people of London and its environs were sore outraged by these acts. Both More and Fisher had been beloved by many: in fact, the double execution was to mark what surely must have been the lowest point in Henry’s, and my, public favour as King and Queen in the two years since my coronation.
It seemed, therefore, a most opportune - and frankly, prudent - time for Henry, myself, and his closest councillors to depart the city.
Windsor
Severn Valley
New Forest
Summer 1535
By the end of the first week in July we were ready. The courtiers accompanying us included Thomas Heneage, Sir Francis Bryan, William Brereton, Henry Norreys, Francis Weston and my brother, George. I had also selected those of my ladies I wished to have as travelling companions; the remainder were to return to their families during the hiatus in formal court duties over the summer months. Margaret Dymoke would join with us, too, along with her husband Sir William Coffin, my Master of the Horse. Margery Horsman, my cousin Madge Shelton, who was new to my household, and my sister-in-law Jane Rochford were all eager to ride with Henry and me, seizing the opportunity to visit estates, monasteries, and locations new to them.
Our merry band of riders assembled early on a bright summer morning in the large courtyard at Windsor. The yard was clamorous with animated chatter, accompanied by the clatter of hooves on cobblestones. I was mounted on my favourite mare, Plume, a fine palfrey with a shining bay coat and silken black mane and tail, and was in high form wearing a new riding habit fashioned from tawny-green damask, new leather boots and a travelling bonnet which had peacock feathers waving from its brim. I like to think that, altogether, I made quite a statement. Additionally, my travelling trunks were packed to overflowing with newly designed clothing - the most current fashions in daywear, riding attire, elegant evening kirtles and gowns made from brilliant colors and fabrics plus, of course, a large suite of jewelry. I had kept Master Skut and Mistress Clerk very busy indeed during the past weeks.
Also at the ready, I carried my beloved English translation of the New Testament, along with the Bible translated into French, one which Henry and I shared and had read many times over. I wanted to be certain that any member of the families who would serve as our hosts would have an opportunity to see such treasures and read for themselves, if they had the ability, thereby reinforcing one of the central intentions of the Reformed church.
I sidled Plume next to Henry’s large gelding, reached out and grabbed his horse’s bridle, and once right alongside my handsome husband, leaned in to give him a kiss. In return, I received a broad smile and a wink. We had been looking forward to this journey together. We needed it.
The noisy confusion of mingling horses, riders, carts and dogs coalesced as the party set off along the long graveled entrance road to the Palace. Windsor’s tower grew smaller and smaller as we fell into an easy order and rode deep into the wooded parkland in the direction of Reading.
We enjoyed fair skies and temperate warmth, ideal for riding, and I was thankful it had not yet grown too hot. The Abbey was a short enough distance from Windsor that our party arrived in the mid-afternoon: the spires of Reading Abbey visible from quite a distance as we approached. It was an impressive monastery, with expansive buildings, their fittings clearly demonstrating the trappings of wealth. I knew it to be a comfortable place to stay, and that Abbot Faringdon would prove a fine host, being accustomed to royal visits. We were to reside in the Abbot’s house where the chambers were spacious and accommodating. The gardens, also, were very
inviting and well tended by the resident monks and provided a lovely place to walk and talk, or merely for quiet contemplation. Our voyage was off to a successful start.
After a few pleasant days at Reading, we travelled on to Ewelme Manor. That visit was interesting because the estate had recently been owned by Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, but although it provided a good location as a base for hunting in the surrounding area, it offered little more, in my view, the main house being crumbling, ill-appointed and damp. I had no liking for it whatsoever and was happy to move on to our next destination, the abbey of Abingdon.
This monastery was large and imposing, with an interconnected network of many buildings, the whole accessed by a substantial gatehouse where Henry and I were warmly greeted by Abbot Rowland, after which he and his attendants set about making us feel welcome by feeding us well and ensuring our every comfort. On Sunday 11 July we heard mass in Abingdon’s large church and then made ready to travel early on the morrow to the Palace of Langley.
On the way to Langley, we instructed the drivers of the caravan of supplies and baggage to continue along the road ahead, while those members of the travelling party who wished to hunt joined the horses and hounds in the forests near Woodstock. Henry and William Coffin knew the red deer to be plentiful in that locale, and after a breakneck chase, we brought down a big buck. It would provide the kitchens at Langley with at least a small contribution toward the food we would consume over the days of our visit. I had been to Langley on a couple of occasions before and liked it well, as did Henry and his father before him: so much so, in fact, that the house had been in strong consideration as an alternative residence for Elizabeth. The Oxfordshire countryside surrounding the manor was lovely, marked by rolling hills, meandering streams, thick copses of trees, all giving visitors a feeling of peacefulness which was always pleasing. Once arrived, we settled in for an agreeable stay.
While we spent a goodly part of each day in the pastimes of the hunt, other sport, and general enjoyment, the King set aside time to attend to matters of state. Likewise, I was regularly apprised of business which pertained to me and acted upon it when necessary. Cromwell had remained behind for a short time to handle affairs in Westminster, but it was planned that he would catch up with the company once we reached Sudeley. So from Langley I wrote and dispatched several letters to him, requesting that he resolve the open position of abbot for the Abbey of Wallryall in Lincolnshire by appointing an individual who had been recommended to me. In a subsequent document, I assigned him the responsibility of handling certain issues with the wardship of a child whom the King had placed in my charge. Much like Henry, I found Master Cromwell’s assistance to be ever more vital.
And thus, we moved on to stay at Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire, only to find the accommodations a little less than satisfactory, the buildings being infrequently used. Nonetheless, the swarm of servants who had been dispatched to each site in advance of the royal party had done an admirable job of cleaning, arranging, and stocking the kitchens so our visits would be as enjoyable as possible. In the afternoons we hunted and rode out into the countryside, returning to the castle though its neighboring villages so we could greet the people who spilled out from their cottages, waving and cheering – often proudly offering us presents of cheeses or jam which they had specially prepared. In the evenings we ate and drank, played cards and games, laughed, and made merry.
One evening after supper, Henry and a few of his gentlemen were playing a game of Pope July at the card table: Henry Norreys, George, Henry, Madge Shelton, Margery Horsman and I sitting around the circular table bathed in candlelight. As it was Norreys’ turn to deal, he passed cards to each of us. When he reached Madge, however, I noticed that, as he laid her card before her, his hand casually caressed her fingers resting on the table. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, whereupon she blushed and lowered her gaze. I was surprised, but not displeased. Madge was new to my household; she was my cousin, and she was young and very pretty. She was so grateful to have received a place as a maid of honour, and had made a great effort to be as helpful to me as she could. A charming young girl, she was quick to laugh and flirt and had a pleasant manner with which to keep company. It was apparent that several of our gentlemen thought so as well. Madge knew well how to smile to show off her dimpled cheeks, and flutter her eyelashes in the way which made any red-blooded male want to come close. I watched their little interaction with wry amusement.
Cromwell and some of the household were staying apart from Sudeley in a nearby abbey called Winchcombe. Assiduous as ever, Thomas seized the opportunity to conduct a thorough audit of the abbey and its connection to the people of the surrounding communities, including its finances, holdings, and practices. I took great interest in his review. Integral to true religious reform, I firmly believed that the deceptions concealed by many monasteries must be corrected. As was emblematic of the Roman Church and its clergy, a holy facade was carefully presented to the world. In truth, though, they were all too often fronts for hypocrisy, allowing the monks to live duplicitous lives, displaying a pretense of austerity when they were more pleasure-seeking than most of the hard-working country folk they were intended to serve.
Cromwell, amongst his many other titles and responsibilities, had been appointed by Henry to serve as Vice-Regent of Spiritual Affairs, with the purpose of supporting the King’s role as Supreme Head of the Church. This post pleased Cromwell, and me as well. It meant that we could join forces to eliminate systematically the deceitful practices of the Catholic Church still embedded throughout the kingdom, and with the emphasis of the law, strengthen Henry’s autonomy and new principles of enlightened Reform.
At last, I felt as if I was beginning to fulfill my desire to voice my opinion, have it taken seriously, and to use my influence to create action and change in England.
The chaplains who had accompanied us on the journey – William Latymer, Matthew Parker, and others – did a fine job of speaking to the crowds who followed us. They preached and evangelized the new word; wherefore people listened, inspired. Many showed up day after day, nodding and shouting affirmation when the clerics made their points loudly and clearly. I was so gratified to watch the throngs grow every day. Undoubtedly we were making a difference! While the trip progressed, I became ever more content with myself, and my sense of authority. I was beginning to feel like the Queen I had aspired to be.
As our pilgrimage unfurled, so did my daily state of happiness and fulfilment. And I greeted it like a new and welcome friend.
Word quickly spread through the surrounding countryside that the King and Queen, with their colourful retinue, were about and could often be seen spending long days, well into the dusk of the summer evenings, traversing their local fields while hunting. As a result, the assemblages of curious and cheering onlookers increased in size each time we moved from location to location. Meanwhile, my endurance on horseback grew steadily, and due to those days spent in the open air and sunshine, the evenings laughing and enjoying good food and the company of friends, and the night-times most often cradled in Henry’s arms, I felt better – younger and more vital – than I had for many years. I must have looked as well as I felt because Henry most often was by my side, and his admiring gaze, just as during our early years together, rarely left me.
Our blissful tour carried on. We stayed at Tewkesbury Abbey, then arrived amidst much grand ceremony at the town of Gloucester where the mayor, all the local gentry and most of the townsfolk paid us homage while Henry and I were gracious in return.
By mid-August, we had arrived at Thornbury Castle, the former home of Edward Stafford, third Duke of Buckingham – a hateful man whom Henry had executed in 1521 after Stafford brazenly and openly challenged the King’s right to the throne. Construction to vastly improve the palace had begun before Stafford’s death but, afterwards, Henry took control of the property, and when he and I spent almost two weeks within its thick walls, we became e
nchanted with its lovely grounds and elegant design. Our suite of rooms, located at the very top of the tower, was cool and delightful, offering a magnificent view of the privy gardens and bright green lawns sloping toward the River Severn below.
When our stay at Thornbury was regretfully over, we rode a short distance to Acton Manor. Acton was owned by the young and ardent reformer, Sir Nicholas Poyntz. Master Poyntz had been so overjoyed when he had been notified of our plans to visit that he had hurriedly undertaken a flurry of renovations on his lovely house in preparation. He proudly informed us that he had commissioned Master Holbein himself to assist in the stylistic design, and the results were magnificent. From Acton, we pressed on to Little Sodbury Manor, an estate owned by Poyntz’s aunt and uncle, Sir John and Lady Anne Walshe.
The Walshes were dear friends and advocates of William Tyndale. I was fascinated by their close association with a man I had held in great awe for some time. To me, Tyndale was the embodiment of a radical thinker. I believed that his brilliance, combined with his fearlessness in expressing his ideas marked him as one of the most important men of our time. For that reason alone I was thrilled to be able to hear directly about him from people who had known him so well.
Tyndale was a native of Gloucestershire and a son of the local Hychyns family. Even as a child his keen intellect was already evident. As a young man he had developed a passionate interest in language and, early in his studies, had mastered fluency in seven languages. At an early age, he was admitted to Oxford, and then Cambridge, but, while earning his degrees, had become frustrated by the fact that a study in theology did not allow direct readings of scripture. Once he had left Cambridge, the Walshes hired him as their personal chaplain, and, because they respected his views, had him tutor their children.
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