by G Lawrence
“My sister will accept you.” Henry’s voice was fierce. “She is my subject, as well as my sibling. I will have her obedience.”
Suffolk and his Duchess retired to their country estates, and Henry went to visit them a week later. He berated Mary for causing unrest and insisted the Suffolks accept me. Mary and Suffolk agreed and Henry thought this was the end of their resistance. It was not.
Amidst this turmoil, Gardiner’s reply arrived in Henry’s hands. It was not to Henry’s liking. “We, your most humble servants, may not submit the execution of our charges and duty, certainly prescribed by God, to your highness’ assent,” it said. It went on to attack Cromwell, and me, by proclaiming “sinister information and importunate labours and persuasions of evil disposed persons, pretending themselves to be thereunto moved by the zeal of justice and reformation, may induce right wise, sad, and constant men to suppose such things to be true, as be not so indeed.”
Gardiner reiterated the clergy’s traditional rights, all but ignoring the points made in the Supplication. Ignoring the petition and implying Henry was weak-willed was never going to win favours. The King was not about to stand for that slight.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Greenwich Palace
Spring 1532
“If this is what the Church believes, then they see my title as Head of the Church as nothing, nothing!” Henry screamed. He had transformed into a tower of fury. It was awe-inspiring to behold. “Bring Gardiner to me! I will give my answer!”
Sir Richard Page, one of Henry’s Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, was sent to find Gardiner. When Gardiner arrived, pale and worried, Henry unleashed his fury. The fact that Gardiner was Henry’s secretary meant Henry was only more enraged. In Henry’s eyes, he had been betrayed by one of his own men. When Gardiner left, hours later, he emerged a broken man. His face was devoid of blood and his hands were shaking. I watched him as he walked out, almost fainting, and was delighted to see him clutch a wall for support. Henry’s love was all-consuming, and so too was his wrath.
Despite his terror of Henry, Gardiner remained obstinate, and Henry was almost beside himself when I entered his chamber. “I will not stand for this!” Henry shrieked once Cromwell had explained Gardiner’s position to me.
“Nor should you,” I said. “The Church believes you are a child, my lord. They think to command you.”
“I will show them,” Henry growled. “I will show them all.”
The Supplication had produced the effect Cromwell had desired. Despite Henry’s anger, or perhaps because of it, I could not have been more pleased. Finally, Henry saw the clergy for what they were. There was no further need to prod and poke Henry. He would demonstrate his power, and the clergy would tremble at his feet.
Henry sent Edward Foxe to the Convocation, and demanded nothing less than absolute surrender. At first, the clergy tried to fight, but Henry used his supporters to put pressure on them in Parliament. Cromwell and his men threatened, cajoled, and bribed men where necessary. Then, just as they were wavering, at their most unsure, Cromwell produced a bill which would strip the clergy of their powers. It included the command that bishops would no longer have the power to arrest persons accused of heresy, something we knew the Commons, who were already opposed to this, would vote through. I could have raced through London, dancing all the way! No longer would the Church have their most treasured weapon! Reformers would be able to speak and be heard. Henry went before Parliament and showed them the oath bishops took to bind themselves to the Pope.
“Well beloved subjects,” Henry cried out. “We thought that the clergy of our realm had been our subjects wholly, but now we have perceived that they be but half our subjects, yea, and therefore scarce our subjects.” Henry paused. No man dared meet his eyes.
“The people cry out for another, of greater virtue, to take on this task, Henry,” I had said when Cromwell had brought the bill to us. “There have been numerous disturbances due to the Chancellor’s unjust persecutions, and you have heard how many innocents have been put to death. The Church uses the accusation of heresy to remove anyone who speaks out against them. Look at Clement’s threats of excommunication, used in a case about matrimony, not about faith!”
“You make a good point, Anne,” Henry said, his brow furrowing. “The Pope has threatened me with excommunication, when my suit has nothing to do with faith, or discussion of the Sacraments!”
“And they wield that sword against common men, too, my lord, those less able to defend themselves,” I said. “In any case where someone defies the Church, they bring out their weapon. They abuse power. They inflict pain. And they do this to your subjects, my lord… your innocent people.”
Angry, shamed and wanting to strike at Rome, Henry battered the clergy with his rage. The clergy were horrified. Once, Henry had been their greatest advocate, now he was their enemy. And to allow a layman, even if he be a king, to preside over the Church, was, to them, unthinkable. How could the clergy, after eons of obedience to Rome, now obey the King of England?
It was then that Thomas More did what I had known he would do all along. He threw his weight behind the Church. I had expected it. Henry had not.
“More swore he would be loyal always to me!” he exclaimed. “He said even if he did not agree with something I did, he would never speak against me.”
“And yet, my lord, here he is doing just that.” I sniffed and looked up at the decorated ceiling, shimmering with gilt. “It is not the first time Chancellor More has told falsehoods. He does so often enough when there is a man he wants to burn.”
Henry’s eyes were troubled, but he said nothing. Once, he would have defended More, but now his friend had shown his true loyalties. “I will end Parliament,” Henry said. “More will not pit his men against mine, but I will have my rights from the Convocation, and no man will stop me.”
As More added fire to the hearts of the conservative faction in the Lords, Henry prorogued Parliament. More was called to Henry, and, like Gardiner, he left looking bloodless and fearful.
Convocation produced a more detailed response to Henry’s demands, but Henry returned it saying it seemed “very slender” to him. On that same day, Henry ordered Convocation to adjourn, as soon as it agreed what he wanted. More, as a layman, could not help them. Bishops flocked to Henry asking him to defend their traditional powers, and he replied he would, as long as all legislative powers of the Church were turned over to him. A party of courtiers and Council members descended on the upper house of bishops and abbots, and presented Henry’s ultimatum. The clergy tried to stand firm, but when the same party of men returned later in the day, Warham knew he was beaten. If they continued to resist, Henry would hit them with charges of praemunire, robbing them of property, power and liberty. Henry was lost in wrath. There was no telling what he might do. For the English clergy, the protective hand of Rome suddenly seemed distant that day. Warham went to his fellow bishops, and gained support.
On the 15th of May, the clergy surrendered. They agreed to the Supplication, handed over the right to create canon laws or meet without royal agreement, and all existing Church laws were made subject to agreement by a committee of Henry’s choosing, made half of laymen and half of clergy. Henry was now the supreme authority of the English Church. The clergy signed a document entitled “The Submission of the Clergy” and it was done.
The next day, Thomas More resigned.
We were in the garden at York Place when More arrived with his white leather bag holding his seal of office. As he approached, I moved away. Even though I despised More, I felt I should not be there. Part of me wanted to crow over this man who had slain so many, using God to justify murder, but I was sensible enough to understand that spite would do me little good. I did not go too far away, however. I did not want to miss what was said.
“My gracious King,” said More. “I resign my office as Chancellor.”
“This is not the way I wanted it, Thomas,” said Henry, his voice sad. “Lo
ng had I wanted you and me working together. We could have achieved so much.”
“I will say my resignation is due to ill health, my lord, and that the financial burdens are too great. I swore an oath never to speak against you, and I mean to keep to that promise. As long as you do not ask me directly, I shall keep my vow, no matter how much I disagree with your policies…” His eyes flickered in my direction. “… or the counsel you choose to keep.”
“I keep my own counsel, Thomas, as well you know.”
I saw More’s Adam’s apple working in his throat as he tried to swallow, hearing Henry’s rage, never far beneath the surface of his skin these days, rise. “My lord, you have always defended the Holy Church. I ask that you continue to do so. Do not deprive your people of the comfort and solace of Rome. Do not listen to those who would allow heresy into England. That is my one plea, before I retire.”
“I am Head of the English Church, Thomas,” said Henry. “I will protect my people from any enemy and would never allow heretics to flourish. You know my mind and my soul better than that.”
Again, More’s eyes darted to me. I knew what he was thinking; that I was the worst of all heretics and Henry would one day make me his Queen. “I shall retire to Chelsea, my lord,” he said. “And live a quieter life.”
“I want you to support my nullity suit,” Henry insisted. “And I want your approval for my role as Head of the Church. Your opinion is respected, Thomas. I want you with me, not against me.”
“I will never stand against you, my lord. Both for our bonds of friendship, which I hold dear, and for the duty I owe to you as my King. But you know my heart. I cannot stand for something I do not believe in. I will not speak against you, but I cannot speak for you.”
“God go with you, Thomas,” said Henry in a cold, sad voice, as More departed.
More knew there was nothing he could do. He retired to his house at Chelsea, and continued to write tracts against Tyndale and others. He stayed away from court, and tried to keep to his promise.
As More sorrowed, I rejoiced. There was much to cheer me. Not only was Henry finally in possession of true power, not only was More removed from office, but many detractors raced to us, striving to make amends. They had seen what Henry’s anger could do, and had no wish for his furious eye to turn on them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Greenwich Palace
Spring 1532
That May was a time of new men and new positions. Guildford, the Comptroller of the King’s household, died, and was replaced with one of Cromwell’s men, William Paulet. I did not sorrow that one who had supported Katherine over me went to the grave. Cromwell was made Henry’s Keeper of the Jewel House, and Thomas Audley, a malleable man, was made Keeper of the Great Seal, with a view to making him Chancellor.
“I know you wanted me for the role, my lady,” said Cromwell when I called him to my chambers, meaning to apologise. I had dropped enough hints that I wanted him to take the post, and when I heard Audley had been appointed I worried it might cause a rift. “In actual fact,” Cromwell went on, “I suggested Audley.”
“Did you not want it? With you as Chancellor, a great deal could be achieved.”
“I have not been long enough on the King’s Council, my lady,” he explained. “It would not sit well with his other men. Audley is my creature and he will do as he is told.”
I giggled like a girl. “You remarkable man, Cromwell! I thought you would have been upset, yet here you are, engineering everything, as usual.”
Those who had stood against Henry hastened to make reparation. Gardiner, especially, was terrified. He offered me his house of Hanworth in Middlesex. It was a fine property; a moated manor house, with ponds, an orchard, a pleasure park and gracious gardens famous for strawberries, which Gardiner knew were a favourite treat of mine.
“I accept, Gardiner,” I said coldly. “On the understanding that this gift is offered to apologise for your sins against our King.”
Henry was delighted and promptly shipped in workmen to transform Hanworth into a modern palace of wonders. Drawing on Italian influences, Henry and I made plans for many improvements. When lost in work like this, we were never merrier. Gardiner remained Henry’s secretary, but their relationship was not easy.
And Gardiner was not alone in presenting gifts. Honor Lisle, wife of Arthur Plantagenet, Henry’s uncle and the illegitimate son of Edward IV, sent a present of pewits and a fine bow, which, despite proving too heavy for me to draw, was a beautiful addition to my mounting armoury. Lady Lisle wanted concessions for a trade venture. I replied that at the moment, given Parliament’s failure to vote through certain taxes in May, since they had been too busy with other matters, I could not grant her requests. But I said I would do her good in other ways. I celebrated. Even Henry’s family were accepting I would be Queen.
Joyous about the submission of the clergy, I ordered a miniature from Master Holbein. It was of King Solomon receiving the Queen of Sheba. Solomon was upheld as one of the wisest of the Old Testament kings, and the gift the Queen offered was meant to represent the clergy’s submission. For many centuries the story of Sheba and Solomon had been taken by the Church to represent Christ as Solomon and his Church as Sheba. I switched this allusion, and the inscription above Henry’s head read “to be king for the Lord your God” showing that Henry, as Supreme Head of the Church, answered to God alone. There was another part to this little allegory. I was soon to become Henry’s bride, and I had, at least in part, aided him to his new position. The Queen of Sheba could therefore be said to also represent me, and my gift to Henry, my Solomon, was the submission of the English Church. This miniature, therefore, showed the part I had played in bringing the clergy to heel, and the respect I had for Henry, both as his subject and as his future wife.
“It is glorious,” Henry said, holding it in his hands, his eyes gleaming as he absorbed its veiled messages. “I shall keep it with me, always.”
Then, we had news from Rome. Back in January, Clement had been persuaded to examine a brief from Katherine’s supporters, written by Doctor Ortiz, her physician. It was a response to a discussion the Pope and Ortiz had had, during which Ortiz had told Clement he should excommunicate Henry in response to Henry’s insolence. Clement found technical difficulties in the brief, as it allowed Henry only fifteen days to separate from me and bring Katherine back, which, Clement thought, was too brief. But Clement did agree he might issue a bull of excommunication if Henry did not agree to leave me.
At the same time, Clement’s cardinals came to a decision on the Great Matter. They told the Pope that, in terms of law, Katherine’s protestations that her marriage was unconsummated could never be proved. The only two people who knew for sure were Katherine, who had good reason to deny it, and Arthur, who was dead. This was good for us, but the second conclusion they reached was not. They said that since Henry had chosen to marry Katherine of his own free will, had regarded her as his lawful wife for twenty years, and had had children by her, Henry himself had made their union legal. Their marriage was therefore fully valid in the eyes of the law and God, and was indissoluble.
On the basis of this, Clement’s bull was created. It held that Henry’s marriage was lawful and attacked Henry for his mistreatment of Katherine, adding that his late conduct was unbecoming of a Christian Prince. Clement rebuked Henry for the scandal he had caused, but said that since Henry had always been a “most zealous” defender of the Church, Clement would do no more against him, and would open his arms as “a loving father”. It said that Clement hoped Henry would take Katherine back and “put away Anne”. Clement evidently expected Henry to agree, as he not only removed the stipulation of abandoning me within fifteen days, but also, contrary to his promises to Ortiz, removed any mention of excommunication.
Katherine must have obtained a copy, as our spies reported that she sent a letter to Ortiz, protesting Clement’s letter was ineffectual and needed to be stronger.
Henry was livid. “No mo
re will I be dictated to by men who know less than me!” he roared as he marched about his room. He had Katherine moved even farther from court as a sign to Clement.
It was not only threats, however guarded, from the Pope that people worried about in the aftermath of the clergy’s submission. Members of Parliament went to Henry asking for money to fortify England’s northern borders. There were rumbles of dissatisfaction from the Scots, and rumours that Scotland might be used as a staging post for a papal-backed invasion of England. The Members came to Henry, not knowing about Clement’s letter, and said if Henry would reinstate Katherine, war could be avoided. They impressed on him that even Englishmen were fighting each other over his annulment, and it could easily spill into other countries.
They were sent away in no doubt of their King’s mind.
My father became aware there were many sympathizers at court, passing information to Chapuys, therefore to Katherine, and from them to the Emperor and the Pope. But it was not only members of court who were secretly writing to Katherine. Cromwell’s men learned the Observant Friars were also covertly communicating with her.