The Scandal of Christendom
Page 13
His mood swings confused everyone. Henry suddenly forgave Chapuys for his outbursts about preferential treatment towards the French ambassadors earlier in the year, but although the hapless hare was allowed access to the King, Henry was often sullen and displeased with him. The ambassador did manage to get Henry to meet with de Borgho again, only to find that Henry berated the Nuncio about Clement, saying the Pope was nothing but a puppet. When de Borgho reiterated that Clement wanted Henry to appear in Rome, Henry retorted that this insulted English customs and his royal dignity.
“I shall never consent to his being the judge,” Henry said. “I would rather lead an army into Rome myself, than trust Clement to be my judge. I care not a fig for all his excommunications. Let him follow his own at Rome. I shall do here what I think is best.”
Straight after this brash statement, Henry said he would send the Nuncio to Rome with a book of his arguments for the Pope to read, so Clement would understand his position.
Back and forth, back and forth, went the King of England, tarrying between defiance and dread. Each time a herald announced Henry had arrived to see me I wondered which man I would greet that day. Was it the bold buck or the craven crone?
“Chapuys already had copies,” said George, talking about the book Henry had mentioned. “And he sent them to Rome, and also to Katherine’s doctor, Ortiz, to prepare them for any onslaught.”
“What is in the book?”
“Arguments for the annulment.” George shrugged. “It is nothing Clement or any other has not already heard. Henry thinks that by bleating the same arguments at his enemies, they will eventually hear reason and capitulate.”
“When the same thing is said over and over, everyone shuts their ears.” I walked to the fireplace. “Henry still desires a papal endorsed annulment, and it will not happen. I thought we had come so far, when he was recognised as Head of the Church.”
I twisted about to face my brother. “In truth, we are going backwards.”
*
My cousin Jane Seymour arrived after George departed. She begged to be admitted and with some reservation, since she was one of Katherine’s loyal women, I allowed her in. “You wanted to see me?”
She bowed. Her pallid little face was worried. “Cousin,” she said with hesitation. “I have come to beg you, as one kinswoman to another, to cease your affair with the King. The See of Rome will find that His Majesty’s marriage to Queen Katherine is true, and the path you are taking, cousin, will see a good lady disgraced and our lands in turmoil.”
It was brave of her, this little mouse, to beg for her mistress. But too often had I heard of Katherine’s virtues. “Did Katherine send you?” I asked.
Jane shook her head. “I came on my own accord, my lady. I thought, if I came as a kinswoman, you might hear me. The Queen knows nothing of this, and would not approve if she did.”
There was a hint of red in her pale cheeks and I could almost hear her heart thundering in her chest. She was scared of me. A slight note of admiration strummed in my soul. Those who fear nothing cannot be called brave, for if one knows no terror, courage is not required. It is those who fear and yet act who are courageous. This pallid mouse had more bravery than the man I loved at this moment. However misguided she was, at least Jane was willing to act. I decided to treat her gently, but I was not about to surrender to the will of little Jane Seymour!
“Sometimes, cousin,” I said. “In life there comes a time of fire. Those who stand, unburned, are those who survive. Those who cannot, expire. I am the phoenix amongst the flames. I will rise from ashes into glory.”
“And the Queen and her daughter?” Jane asked, her voice shaking. “You would leave them to waste into the ashes?”
“They are the ashes,” I said. “And all who cannot see that truth will join them.” I paused, watching her. “Do you remember, cousin, when you first came to court and your mother sent you to me to gather counsel on how you were to benefit and advance your family?”
She nodded, her pale face paler than before.
“Then heed me,” I said, rising from my chair. “The days of Queen Katherine are done. If you want to preserve your family in the new world we are making, you would do better to remember that ties of blood are stronger than those of affection. Katherine is not the lawful wife of our King. She will not accept this, but it is the truth. The time will come when I will sit in the place she has occupied fruitlessly for so long and from my body the next King will rise. Understand this, for if you are not my friend and the friend of the King, you are an enemy.”
“I am not your enemy, my lady,” she said. “But I can never forget the goodness Queen Katherine has shown to me.”
“Katherine would show more virtue if she accepted that her marriage is immoral and indecent,” I said. “If she allowed another woman to take up the position she has abused, and make England whole by providing an heir.”
“The Princess is the heir of England,” said the mouse.
“Much will be altered,” I said. “In time, all people will understand the truth. They will be led out of the darkness by our King.”
“That could still happen,” she pressed, “with Queen Katherine at his side.”
I exhaled noisily. “You have made your position clear, cousin,” I said. “And I have told you mine. If you have nothing more to add, we have said all we have to say.” I narrowed my eyes. “But do not forget what I said. Your brother is doing well at court, and I understand you have shown aptitude in serving Katherine. If you want to do well, think of yourself and your family first, and set aside loyalty to a dying light that will soon be extinguished.”
“My lady.” She bowed and left me.
“What a pale creature that woman is.” My sister-in-law slipped from a side chamber. Evidently she had been listening to our conversation. “She slips in and out of court like a ghost.”
“And her wishes are as transparent as her skin,” I quipped. “She adores Katherine, but one day I will have Jane serve me.”
It would serve her right, I thought. To have her attend upon the woman who replaced her adored mistress. On that day Jane Seymour will see how wrong she was.
How little do we understand the churning hand of Fate. How was I to know that this passing thought would set in motion events that would, one day, destroy me?
*
That May, Edward Foxe returned from Rome along with my cousin Francis Bryan and Gardiner. All they brought was news we already knew; Rome wanted the hearing held there, and until Henry agreed, nothing more would be done on his case.
“You bring us nothing new,” I said to Bryan.
“We did all we could, my lady, to convince Clement.”
“Clearly this is not so,” I retorted, “since you were unsuccessful. Your motto has never been so apt, cousin. Je tens grace… I look for salvation… I hope the King is willing to offer you deliverance from your abysmal failure.”
Bryan’s one remaining eye kindled with anger. “No man could have done more than me.”
“Many men have done much more than you, cousin,” I said, my voice rising. “In England all men know the King no longer needs to bow to Clement. The Bishop of Rome feels his power slipping, and he fears the men, the good and useful men, we have here.”
“I have proven my use,” said Bryan.
“You have done nothing of the sort!” I snorted indelicately. “If that is all you have to say in your defence, no wonder Clement was unimpressed.” I sneered at him. “Report to His Majesty, perhaps the King will be kinder to you than me.”
“Everyone is kinder than you, my lady,” said Bryan and with that, he left.
I heard later he had complained to George and others, saying I was ungrateful, harsh and cruel. Perhaps my one-eyed cousin had a point. It was not only Henry’s moods which altered day to day. I found myself looking into the mirror and seeing a stranger who was hostile, shrill and volatile. I liked not this woman… this shrew, this harpy, this hylden. If not all that was sai
d of me was true, there was plenty that was. Would I become a demon, in my search for glory? Would I lose all that was good inside me?
Sometimes I knew not. Sometimes I thought I had become the horror they all believed me to be. But there was goodness left inside me. Buried deep, it might be, but it still lived. Ember amongst ash.
“Who are you becoming, Anne Boleyn?” I whispered.
The woman in the mirror had no answer for me.
“When you are Queen, you will show mercy and charity,” I murmured. “When you are Queen, you will set all things to mending.”
The woman remained silent. She thought I was lying.
*
A letter came to Katherine. A ghost of the past. It had been written long ago by Katherine’s father to his ambassador in Rome, Francisco de Rojas. It affirmed that Prince Arthur had not consummated his union with Katherine. King Ferdinand had written that clearly dispensation was not required, as Katherine and Arthur’s marriage had never been made legal by consummation, but instructed his ambassador to seek dispensation to appease English pride.
Katherine was jubilant.
Two lawyers who saw the letter said it could add little to her defence. Ferdinand had been in Spain at the time of her marriage, so may have been writing upon information Katherine had sent, making it suspect. But this did not matter to Katherine. The letter was copied and handed out secretly at court. Within days everyone had read it. At this time, Katherine also increased her letters to Rome and to her nephew. Cromwell’s spies, women hidden in Katherine’s chambers, had no doubt she was asking the Emperor for aid, and was insisting that Clement demand the annulment case be heard in Rome as soon as possible.
“Apparently Katherine has said she fears both she and her daughter will be put to death after the next session of Parliament,” Cromwell informed me as he took a goblet of wine from my sister-in-law. “But the Queen continues to hope that the King will return to her.”
I sat silently and sipped my wine. Katherine lingered in hope because Henry allowed her to. Keeping her at court, dining with her, talking about their child… all of this kept Katherine steady in the belief that one day he would leave me.
That had to alter. It was clear what I had to do. I had known it for some time, but my courage had failed me. I had to be brave. I had to do what Henry could not, that which no other would dare dream of… I had to separate the royal couple.
I had to rip them apart.
Chapter Fourteen
York Place
Late Spring 1531
“Chancellor More means to burn him, my lady.”
Edward Foxe’s voice was low and sorrowful. The man of whom we spoke, Richard Bayfield, was a leading trader in banned books. He had been captured by Thomas More at Easter, seized in Norfolk, after bringing a shipment of forbidden texts towards London. More had taken Bayfield to the Tower and tortured him, trying to force his prisoner to spill out information on other reformists. I had no doubt More was also trying to link them to members of our faction, to defame me in Henry’s eyes. If I tried to save Bayfield, More would use it against me.
“I share your horror,” I said. “But you must understand, at the moment, there is little I can do for Bayfield.”
Foxe nodded. “I understand, my lady. I just thought you should know.”
Curse you, More, I thought. More had increased his investigations into heretics in London and beyond. He was obsessed and I wondered if he was not becoming increasingly zealous because he feared he would have to step down as Chancellor. More had been careful, of late, to avoid speaking about the Great Matter, or Henry’s title, but everyone knew he was opposed to both. He wanted to burn as many men as possible before his conscience forced him to resign. Henry had no intention of sending More away. He loved him, but he loved even more the respect that More brought to him. Having a recognised, respected theologian as his Chancellor brought Henry acclaim. But More was finding it taxing to keep his bony behind steady on the fence between Katherine and Henry. Soon he was going to have to make a choice. I wanted that to be sooner rather than later.
But however much I wanted to help Bayfield, I could not set myself in outright combat with More. I was viewed as a heretic in many quarters and stepping publicly into the defence of Bayfield would make my already fragile position precarious. I could not take that risk, especially not whilst Henry’s moods shifted so wild and strange. But if I could not help Bayfield, I wondered if I could help myself. I had been thinking about Katherine, and, so it seemed, had Henry.
“I am sending my Council to reason with her,” he said one night as we dined. “When she sees that my men speak not for me, but for England, she will agree.”
What makes this time any different to all the other times she has been told the same thing? I wondered. But for once, I held my tongue. If Henry believed in his own lies, then when Katherine refused, as I knew she would, he would see she was working not only against him, but against England. Her insubordination rattled him. Henry had grown so used to Katherine playing the part of the docile, passive partner that he had been amazed to discover there was another aspect to her character. To find that the wife he had thought of as a kitten was, in truth, a lioness, had been an unpleasant shock.
But I, like many others, remembered much that Henry chose to forget. I remembered who her mother and father had been and that Katherine had commanded Henry’s armies in his absence. It was she, not he, who had won perhaps the greatest victory England had seen for several hundred years when our troops trounced the Scots at Flodden. Henry might have liked to think he was the warrior, the general and the valiant knight, but anyone with sense knew it was Katherine.
Henry’s memory was a strange beast. My mother had often told me men have worse memories than women, especially as they age, but Henry did not forget simple times and events. He blocked out that which did not agree with his wishes, and forgot that which did not concur with his wants. It was strange to realise that my love, in more ways than one, was a little boy.
“I think it is a fine idea to send your Council, my love,” I said gently. “Katherine will be made to see past the cloud of distrust and lingering affection that blinds her, and will understand, in agreeing to the annulment, she is doing what is best for England.”
Henry beamed. There had been little but arguments between us of late. To find me agreeing with him was most pleasing.
I was merry too. When Katherine refused to hear his men, Henry would be enraged, and then I might be able to convince him to banish her from court.
On the day they were to accost the Queen, I took my father and Gardiner aside. “You must ensure Katherine hears all the arguments,” I said. “The chance she will surrender is slim, but it is possible.”
“If she would listen, our matter could move with swift speed,” said my father. “But I agree it is unlikely.”
“The King seems sure that she will,” Gardiner interjected.
“Because he nurtures the false belief that Katherine is the woman he always believed her to be,” I said. “He still thinks she is his meek wife. That has already been proved false.”
The delegation timed their entrance with care. They came to Katherine at her house in East Hampstead at nine of the evening, when she was preparing for bed. They wanted her vulnerable, but they did not realise that it mattered not what clothing the Queen was wearing, or what time of the night it was. Katherine was strong and courageous. Such virtues do not vanish as we remove our coats.
The group was led by Suffolk and Norfolk, who would not have been my first choices. The Marquis of Dorset, the Earls of Talbot and Northumberland, the Bishops of London and Lincoln, as well as my father and Gardiner were also present along with other nobles. There were thirty in total, representing England’s senior nobility and clergy. Henry’s notion was to intimidate Katherine… One woman against thirty men? To Henry it seemed obvious she would crumble. But if Katherine had been a woman to be intimidated by men, she would have fallen long ago.
When Gardiner and my father arrived at York Place early the next morning, I knew it had not gone well. “She refused?” I asked, ushering them to the bright fire. It was wet outside and both of them were sodden after a trip down the Thames.