by G Lawrence
Virtue… I thought. Such as fidelity, dear husband?
“I am sure you are right,” I said. “A few weeks in the Tower and both Fisher and More will surrender.” I paused. “But what of Mary and Katherine, my love? They both refuse to swear.”
Henry sighed. “I will send men again,” he said. “But the notion of locking my brother’s wife and my daughter in the Tower is odious. It would cause trouble.”
“Perhaps they will learn from the example of Fisher and More.”
“Let us hope that is the case.” Henry started to eat and I watched with revulsion. It was not as though he gobbled his food, but he paused little between mouthfuls, like a cow. I ate delicately, and although I indulged in the rich dishes of meat my child craved, I ate less than half of what Henry shovelled into his mouth.
“You eat like a sparrow,” he chortled as I set down my knife. “You should eat well and heartily. The boy will need his strength.”
I ate more, to placate him. When I finished, Henry continued, guzzling cheese, fruit and nuts like a squirrel planning for winter.
“Will you come to my chamber tonight?” I asked. “I would like to lie with you.”
“We cannot, for fear of harming the babe.”
“We could just be together,” I suggested. “Hold each other. When you put your arms about me, our child is comforted.”
“If it brings you peace, I will come,” Henry said, although he did not look best pleased.
When he came that night, I made him stay, knowing he had intended to spend that night with one of his whores. Already, my child was my protector. When he was born, I would be entirely safe.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Greenwich Palace and Hampton Court
Spring 1534
George and FitzWilliam returned in May. They did not succeed, not surprisingly, to get François to agree to break with Rome, invade Milan, or issue decrees against the Pope. They did manage to persuade the French King to agree to another meeting, and this, as well as a personal message from Marguerite, cheered my spirits.
“The Queen of Navarre told me I was to kiss your cheeks, thus,” said George, “and your lips, thus.” He kissed me three times. “And tell you how sorry she was not to see you at the last meeting. She said she would not fail you again.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” I said. “But what of the rest of Henry’s ridiculous demands?”
“Ah…” said George. “The rest was hard. François said he had no alliance with the Pope, and therefore could break none off. He said it was not the right time to move on Milan, but would never put himself under obligation to Clement in return for aid. He declared, in principle, he had no objection to Henry’s urgings to break with Rome, but saw no reason to, as it would cause division in his kingdom. He did say that he did not blame Henry for breaking with Rome, and was happy to refuse his daughter’s hand to the King of Scotland if ever James came asking.”
“Some good, then,” I said.
“François will never honour that promise,” George said. “I know François. I saw the glimmer in his crafty eyes. I think he would be happy to have a daughter as Queen of Scotland. Having a foothold so near to our borders is an advantage. The French wish to maintain the Auld-Alliance.”
“You have told Henry?”
“Indeed. He seemed pleased with François’ answers, even if I was not. But believe me, sister, I could have worked no harder.”
“I do believe you. You look exhausted.”
“I am that,” he said. “Oh, before I forget, Lady Lisle sent some dotterals as a gift for you.”
“She has fine taste in presents,” I said, stroking Purkoy’s head. “She gave me this little treasure.”
My dog could not go a minute without me, nor I without him. He was my little shadow. My loyal-heart. There was not an ill moment he could not make better, nor a good time he could not improve. His large, shining black eyes almost broke my heart, and his wet nose, nudging my hand, made me smile even in my darkest moments. Purkoy loved the warmth of the palace, and shied from the outdoors. Often he would be found curled before the fireplaces of Greenwich, on a little cushion I had made for him, his legs twitching as he chased shrews in his sleep. When I saw him like this, his tiny form framed by the Seville tiles about the chimney pieces, I felt my heart surge with love. He was a sweet soul, my Purkoy.
Whatever George had to say about it, Henry proclaimed the mission a success. Henry liked to pick and choose which truths he would pay attention to. François had said he might follow Henry’s example. This, to Henry, meant François secretly wanted all that Henry had, and simply needed encouragement. I, along with many others, thought differently. François was being careful not to offend his ally. He wanted Henry sweet and pliable. This was politics, not promises.
But the thought of seeing Marguerite again cheered me, and another meeting between Henry and François could only bring benefit. Recently, Henry had named me as regent in the event of his death, and “absolute governess of her children and kingdom” and this, combined with the Act of Succession, left me in a position of ultimate power under Henry. This time, the French King and his women would have to meet me. It was unthinkable that an anointed queen, a named regent, would be ignored.
To demonstrate his happiness, Henry held a feast in honour of George and FitzWilliam at Hampton Court. In front of the court, Henry announced he was “bound to give thanks to God for having so entirely conciliated to me such a good brother and friend as the King of France, who is always ready to share my fortune and confirm my will.”
George and FitzWilliam were commanded to stand after Henry’s speech and confirm Henry’s words. There were many who were amazed that the King of France should declare he was ready to break with Rome. They did not know they were only being told part of this tale: a fractured truth; a part-lie.
It bolstered Henry in the eyes of his people, those who were gullible, anyway. They thought it marvellous that their King should lead the way for all other rulers. Those who saw past the smoke and flash of Henry’s fireworks, however, could see the ashes of his promises drifting to the ground.
George was rewarded. He became Constable of Dover Castle and Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports for his efforts. They were lucrative posts, and made George wealthy in his own right, which was a good thing, since my brother was constantly in debt due to his lavish spending and generous nature. Our father was disgruntled not to have been offered the posts that were presented to his son, not realising that his children had overtaken him in the race of Henry’s favour. George’s new appointment meant, however, that when not occupied in France, working for Henry, he would be needed in Dover a great deal. His posts were not ceremonial ones. There was a good deal of work waiting for George and from the beginning he took his position seriously. He would oversee cases of law, sitting as judge over matters that concerned the ports. To offer such trust to such a young man was almost unprecedented. It was a sign of Henry’s love and affection for my brother that he was promoted to these two vital posts.
“It helps not his pride, Majesty,” Tom said to me one day.
“My brother has good reason to be proud,” I said. “He is one of the youngest ambassadors who has ever served England, and the youngest man to hold the posts of Dover’s Constable and Lord Warden.”
“One can be proud of one’s achievements without showing it as my Lord Rochester does,” replied Tom. “I do not deny he deserves praise, but his attitude wins him no friends.”
“Simply being a Boleyn is enough to make people take their friendship away, Tom,” I said. “When people want a reason to dislike someone, they will find one.”
“I love your brother, Majesty,” he said. “Indeed he is as close to me as kin. I only say these things in the hope that you will speak to him, and help to save his soul from the displeasure of God.”
“I can try,” I agreed, “but often, Tom, we are forced to put on a brave face so our enemies do not think they have bested us.”
Within days, George was told that he would go to France again in the summer. As soon as his son was born, Henry wanted the meeting to go ahead. My brother was further commanded to go to Marguerite. Henry had heard often enough from me that she was a supporter of reform, and Henry wanted George to convince her to pressure her brother into moving to break with Rome. François suggested the two kings meet in June, but Henry said the meeting would have to be delayed, as I would not be able to attend in my condition. However much Henry pretended to believe in his good brother, he knew François was trying to avoid officially meeting me. Henry was not going to allow that to happen. This pleased me. Every time Henry insisted I was recognised as Queen, I felt more secure.
It was agreed that George would leave in the summer, to elicit Marguerite’s support and work on François.
“I have a good relationship with the Queen of Navarre,” George said. “When I think back to what I said about her at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, I am ashamed. She is a good woman, and a mighty force for reform. She has saved many a wise man from the gallows, and is a fine influence on her brother, and the people of France and Navarre.”
“Perhaps now you do not think so ill of the slap I dealt you on the day you slighted her?” I asked with a mischievous smile.
George unconsciously put a hand to his face and made a rueful expression. “Perhaps not of the motive,” he said. “But still I feel your hand, sister; still I hear the ringing sound of the slap.”
“It was a goodly strike,” I admitted, rising from my chair. I cradled his handsome face in my hands. “However much I sorrow for causing you pain, brother, I could not stand by and allow such a woman to be insulted.”
“You were her knight,” he said. “And a good knight defends his mistress.”
I chuckled. “Now you understand her magic,” I said. “No doubt you would do the same?”
“I would defend such a lady with my own life,” he said. “She is a force for good and in this wicked world, there are few enough of those.” He smiled and put his hands over mine. “She sent books for you,” he said. “Many tomes she thought you would find interesting.”
“I will be pleased to have them.” I drew George close. “As I am pleased to have such a brother and friend as you.”
As George stepped away, I saw Jane watching us. When she saw me looking at her, she cast her eyes away and resumed her lively chatter with my ladies. But I had seen pain in her eyes as she witnessed our bond. Jane could not help herself. She would envy any woman close to George.
Henry was understandably eager to chase alliance with France. Cromwell, however, was keener on pursuing the League of Schmalkalen.
“They are of a mind with us already, Majesty,” he said. “Where King François needs convincing, and may never really be converted, the League already harbours the same desires as England.”
“Friendship with France does not have to mean we make enemies of the League.”
“That is true, and it would be an advantage to have both as friends.”
“The more friends we have, hopefully the less for the Emperor.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” asked Cromwell. His smile turned serious. “I do hope, however, Majesty, at some stage, perhaps in the near future, England may mend its relationship with Spain. It would be better for trade.”
“I do not see how that would be possible, with me on this throne.”
Cromwell spread his hands. “If the Emperor was as concerned as he pretends to be about his aunt, would he not have acted already? His anger is a pretence. His forces are stretched too thin to wage war upon England. He cannot be seen supporting you or the King at present, for risk of disgracing his family’s honour, but the time may come when the obstacle in the way of friendship is removed by natural means. Then, the Emperor will be at liberty to forgive his brother-king for any past slights, and accept you.”
“You mean when Katherine is dead.”
“I mean when Katherine is dead.” Cromwell breathed in, making his paunchy belly rut out. “The Dowager has been ill, and she is past fifty. It is not remarkable to think she might pass, and with her will go all bad blood.”
I pursed my lips. “I still find it hard to think of the Emperor with friendship in mind,” I said. “So much has been done against me, against the King, by Charles of Spain.”
“Such is the way of politics, Majesty,” Cromwell said. “It is helpful for a prince to have a poor memory when dealing with his brother-rulers.”
“I will think on what you say,” I assured him. “But my preference will always be France.”
*
Another delegation was sent to Katherine. Archbishop Edward Lee of York headed a party to confront Katherine and threaten her if she would not swear the oath. They told her Clement’s sentence and his support for her were meaningless. They made more promises of a life of elegance in retirement if she would retract her appeal to Rome, which they pointed out was now illegal, and swore the oath.
Katherine, of course, declined.
She said she was Henry’s wife, not one of his subjects, and therefore was not required to swear. She told them Cranmer was “a mere shadow”, and nothing to the power of the papacy. Katherine said the Act of Succession did not concern her, and she would never swear anything that would go against her conscience. Lee told Katherine that refusing to swear was an act of treason, punishable by death.
“If any man amongst you wishes to be my executioner,” she retorted. “Then he should step forward, and perform the act here and now. My only regret would be that I had always hoped if I was called on to die for my beliefs, it would be in public, and not in a quiet room, or some secret spot where my words can be hidden from my people.”
Lee and his party retreated, like the cowards they were. Katherine knew they would not dare ship her to the Tower. Such a spectacle could easily persuade the reluctant Emperor to take action. No one, except Katherine, wanted that. Perhaps that was why she was undaunted. Either way, whether left alone, or carted to the Tower, she would win.
But if he could not act directly against Katherine, Henry decided there were other ways to punish her. He turned to Cromwell, and demanded an investigation of the Observant Friars. Katherine adored the Observants. Striking a blow at Katherine personally was obviously a hard task, but she would fear for her beloved Church.
It was not only for malice that Henry moved against the Observants. Cromwell’s spies suspected they were secretly communicating with Katherine, and they, along with the Carthusian monks and the Bridgettine order, were outspoken detractors of the break with Rome. It was rather mortifying, and not a little annoying, that the three religious orders who had been praised and set apart from all the others for their strict discipline and adherence to their vows, were the three most outspoken against the royal supremacy.
Observants had been noted entering Katherine’s house, apparently merely stopping off on their way from one friary to another, but everyone knew they went to give Katherine support to bolster her faith and hope. The fact that these visits always seemed to coincide with feast days was also suspicious, as they would hear confessions on such days. Katherine’s servants may not have had a lot to confess, due to their dull lives in the fens, but I wondered if the friars might break the holy seal of the confessional, and inform Katherine if her servants had spoken against her, or if they might perhaps inform her who was working for Henry or Cromwell. They also preached in her house and their sermons, impassioned and zealous, hardened Katherine’s resolve.
In Henry’s eyes, the Observants were wicked subversives and unlike the rest of the clergy, threats of forfeiture of their goods and wealth could not touch them, for they had none. Unlike others, they kept to their vows of poverty.
Like a spider, Cromwell sent out men like strands of webbing to infiltrate and investigate the order. His men were also sent to investigate other religious houses, to attest to their practices and spiritual worth. The investigations were informal, for no
w, but Henry had an eye on the clergy, and should it be proved that they were as corrupt as everyone believed, much would be altered. Henry wanted results fast, and his chief secretary assured him he would have them in a matter of months.
I was left ill at ease. The Observants had never been friends to me or mine, but even if they had no respect for me, I had some for them. The greed of the clergy was one of the evils I most resented and these men were not tarnished with the stain of corruption. They might be misguided, but I believed the Observants had the potential to lead where others could follow, if only they could see from our point of view.
I made up my mind to talk to Cromwell. If I was going to speak for men Henry believed were dangerous, I would require support.
*
“The Lady Mary has become more troublesome than ever before,” wrote my aunt, Lady Shelton. “I can only think she has received messages from her mother, and this has urged her into action against me and every other member of this house. We argued, and she screamed that she was the King’s true daughter, and none but her mother was Queen. I informed her that if she would not take the oath, then the King, her good father, had sworn to take her head. The Lady balked at this, but asked to meet with the house physician, her old Latin tutor, Richard Featherstone. As you know, Majesty, she has been banned from seeing him in private, for fear that he, as a friend and supporter of her mother, might act for Katherine. I supervised the visit. Lady Mary told her tutor that her Latin had become rusty and she wished to practise. He told her to say a few words. I speak and understand no Latin, Your Majesty, but I do not believe what the Lady said to Featherstone was an exercise in Latin. Featherstone is no player. He looked shocked at whatever she said. I suspect she informed him of my threats about the temper and will of the King.”