Catherine the Inquisitor

by Leigh Jenkins

  William Carey bent to pick the papers up with his own small smile and whisper of, “Excellent work, Your Majesty.”

  After that, it seemed as if the room was filled with chaos. George Boleyn had reentered with half a dozen more men, having already shared the news. Each person who visited me that morning did so with a bow and words of congratulations or encouragement.

  Very little planning was done that day. By midday most of the men had gone, Thomas waving them out and telling them to look after their horses. My son had called for a joust the following day and I had prepared myself to spend the time without the chatter to which I had grown so accustomed.

  It was not long before only Thomas and Mary were left in my chambers, Mary having spent most of the morning sitting on the bed with her hand in mine. I squeezed it whenever I had enough strength and reveled in the smile it brought to her face.

  Thomas stood on the other side of the bed. I could still see him but he was not within my direct line of vision.

  “I believe we should plan to move before Christmas, Your Majesty,” he said, talking to me but including Mary in what he said. “I believe we now have ample evidence that King Henry is conscious and can be consulted on matters of government. Sir Charles Brandon will have returned as well and we will be able to count on his support. I have also heard from one of my few spies that there is an uprising beginning in Kent. I have had my men quiet it for now but the anger is there, and can be useful to us.”

  “My mother says there is another burning that will take place there for the Christmas season. I would like to plan for it before then.”

  “Do you think it wise to have an exact date?”

  “Yes,” Mary said with conviction. “You and Richard Rich have created a strong defense that can be submitted before the council. My father is becoming more alert and our plans show that he is able to communicate effectively and help lead. The men who follow George Boleyn are becoming restless. Having a date to plan for will help focus their efforts and will motivate them to draw even more support.”

  “Is there a certain date you have in mind?”

  Mary was quiet for a moment, thinking before turning her head.

  “I believe the 9th of December will suffice.”

  “Any particular reason we will choose that day to storm the council meeting?”

  “It is the last council meeting before Bishop Fisher and Bishop Hastings are created cardinals. This would give us enough time to plan but will allow us to strike before they gain even more power.”

  “A clever plan,” Thomas said with a smile, and I could see that his face held the same smile that it often had when I had answered a question right when he had tutored me as a boy.

  It took a moment for me to realize that I could see Sir Thomas’ expression and it took even longer for Mary to realize what had happened.

  “Sir Thomas, look!”

  He started at Mary’s exclamation but followed her gaze to my eyes. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at.

  “He’s moved his eyes!” he exclaimed, once again forgetting precedent and taking a seat on the bed. “He’s switched his gaze over to look at me! Oh, good job Harry!”

  He smiled at my daughter before looking back to me.

  “Perhaps at this rate he will recover and be able to rule again.”

  “You had your doubts?” Mary asked.

  “I am sorry, Your Highness, but yes,” he sighed. “We went so long without a change and it broke my heart to believe that he was in there but unable to break free. In a prison that his own body had created. But, now there is again hope. And with you as regent, he may be able to recover in time.”

  “He has gained so much in just the past few days,” Mary said, her voice filled with awe.

  “I believe we have given him reason to recover,” Thomas replied. “He was losing hope and when the court left on progress there was no one to talk with him or to give him hope as well.”

  I would not have thought that myself, but I could feel that Thomas’ words were correct — for the first time there were people fighting for me. And I finally felt like fighting for them.

  Mary was correct. Giving the date of December 9th meant that the young men had a focus. Most days passed merely with Mary, Thomas, and Richard Rich reading law books and looking for legal ways to support what William Carey had proposed. It was rare that all of the participants, a dozen plotters including Mary, were ever visiting me at the same time. Thomas was nervous of attracting any attention to us.

  I had spent empty days where Catherine had sent her personal doctor to examine me, having my eyes remain closed during their prodding. Mary was positive that no word of my recovery had reached Catherine, nor had any of the priests informed her of the meetings that took place in my rooms. I could not imagine that she was totally ignorant of our gatherings, but she seemed to consider them no threat to her power.

  There had been another thrill over my ability to shift my gaze from one participant to the other. Now the men began speaking more to me, bowing to me first before Mary and always thinking to ask my opinion about what was being discussed. It was amazing how well I could communicate with my eyes. I would shift them to indicate which speaker I agreed with, or could use my stare to silence a man who was taking the plans being made against my son too far.

  Most of the conspirators were present when a new man stepped cautiously into the room.

  “Should I simply announce myself?”

  Sir Charles Brandon had changed beyond recognition in the past year. His hair had turned completely white and there was an unsightly scar traveling across the entire right side of his face. He had lost as much weight as I had and did not wear it well.

  The only thing that alerted me to his identity had been his sense of humor. The room had fallen silent upon his appearance, the shock of all reverberating around the room. I wanted more than anything to step forward and welcome my old friend back but as usual Charles took matters into his own hands.

  He came by my bedside and bowed as he always had, pulling off the small cap that covered his head. He remained that way for a few moments until he finally called out.

  “I am afraid I am unable to rise. Might I have the assistance of a stool or a staff, or perhaps one of you gawkers could be useful as well.”

  It only took a moment before George Boleyn sprang forward and helped the Duke to his feet. Charles leaned downed and tapped the side of his leg.

  “Injured,” he said, and didn’t add anything else.

  “Welcome back to court,” Sir Thomas said, coming forward with a bow. “We are glad you returned to us.”

  “As am I,” Charles replied. “But perhaps you had better explain exactly what is being planned here.”

  It did not take long for Thomas to pull Charles aside and explain. It took him much less time than I would have thought to outline the plan for December 9th, explaining how he would address the council and argue against Harry’s coronation, which was scheduled for the following spring. He would use history as his example, drawing on the war that had broken out when King Edward had taken the throne from King Henry the Saint and led to the dreaded Cousins’ War. He had even compiled evidence from the kingdoms of France and Spain – horrible examples of wars that had begun because the natural order of succession had been dismissed.

  He had just concluded his explanation of what I was now able to do when Sir William Carey stepped forward to explain why these actions were felt to be necessary. But Charles shook his head and proceeded to wave him aside.

  “I have witnessed enough atrocities on the road. I do not need to hear of more,” he said, sounding older with every word. “I received dispatches from Her Majesty and the good Cardinal. They kept me informed of the destruction being wreaked here at home and I informed them of the destruction being wreaked upon our army. The careless commands I received showed me that it was not the men that the Cardinal cared for, but rather his good name in Rome. Nor was it the men that
Queen Catherine cared for, rather that we take Jerusalem and claim it in the name of the Pope. I was informed that the men were dispensable, as they had already committed their lives to Jesus Christ our Lord.”

  Charles then strode across the room and went down on one knee in front of Mary.

  “I must beg your pardon, Your Highness. Though I know you to be true to your father, it must still pain you to hear ill of your mother. It is unfortunate that past events have forced you to choose between your parents and to side with your father.”

  Mary gave her hand to Charles, who kissed it quickly. She then nodded to Sir William Brereton to help Charles rise again from the floor, waiting until he was standing to move towards him.

  “My dear duke. I know you will be true to my father and would never cause me distress unless absolutely necessary. I have accepted the facts as they are. The actions we are taking now are in support of the people of England who need our help.”

  Charles smiled at her, the same proud grin I wished I could have given her.

  “I have spoken to my wife and it may be best that you are not here. These are dangerous plans that are being made; I cannot guarantee your safety if we are discovered. It may be best for you to travel and stay with your aunt until this has passed.”

  Mary’s eyes narrowed as she bowed slightly to Charles.

  “Thank you for your kind thoughts, but my place is here. If we are found out, I will accept my fate with the rest of the men.”

  “As you see fit,” he said, stepping backwards with a bow. I knew he would not fight my daughter on this point now, but I could see him glance at Sir Thomas. He would not let the matter be finished here.

  Chapter Eleven

  December, 1530

  Mary had refused to leave the court to reside with her aunt even though Thomas More had joined Charles in pleading with her. Even when I agreed with them she refused to leave, saying that her place was here and she could not hope to be a figurehead if she was not present for the council meeting.

  The date of December 9th finally arrived and that morning Mary appeared at my chambers early, before the sun had risen. She allowed the priest who had remained in my chamber to continue his soft slumber and merely came to my bedside, taking my hand.

  There were no words that needed to pass between us. Either the daring plan that had been created over the past four months would succeed, or it would fail and this would be the last time we would be seated with each other.

  In the past five weeks since Charles’ return, the plan had truly begun to form. The delicate matter of what to do with Harry and Catherine had been addressed. Suggestions ranging from exile to allowing them to remain on a council headed by Mary were all entertained. Finally Richard Rich suggested that we should take the most obvious course — try them for treason and pardon them, giving them no power but letting them retain their privileges. Charles was hesitant to give them a place in the court as he predicted they would continue to cause dissention, much as they had before they had gained power.

  While I agreed that they would remain powerful enemies, Mary had been insistent that they remain in England and would be welcomed at court. However, even she balked at the idea that they be given any kind of place on the council.

  The matter of what to do with Cardinal Wolsey was much more straightforward. Charles and Thomas merely revived the plan that had been crafted before my accident – trying him for treason. Mary seemed overwhelmed by the idea that a man of the church could be executed, but it did not take much persuasion from Charles or evidence from Thomas to show her how much destruction Wolsey had caused.

  It was agreed upon by all that the Church’s powers must be reined in and a balance between government and church restored. All prisoners would be examined and most of the prisoners brought in on charges of heresy or to be taught the truth of the scriptures would be released. Mary had expressed concern that there were true heretics out there, but the time she had spent with Thomas More had made an impression on her. She quickly agreed that rather than execution, these prisoners could be made to see the errors of the ways and brought back into the fold of the Catholic Church.

  Now, all my daughter and I could do was wait. The council meeting was scheduled for the morning, to take place before dinner was served. Thomas planned to begin immediately and make his appeal for the regency to be disposed of under Queen Catherine and Prince Harry and instead recreated around the Princess Mary. He would lay the charges of treason against Catherine, Harry, and Wolsey, signed with seal and created with my approval. The plan is that they would then travel to my chambers, with the doctors Catherine had assigned to me, to prove to the council and nobles that I was conscious and able to continue ruling.

  “Papa?” Mary asked, breaking the sharp silence.

  I turned my eyes to look at her and was alarmed to see her eyes filled with tears.

  “I love you, Papa.”

  I squeezed her hand in a return of affection and held her gaze until she sat up.

  “I hear them. They’re coming.”

  This at least was a good sign, a sign that the council had listened to Sir Thomas and could be shown my conditions.

  “Her Majesty the Queen!”

  Catherine’s herald announced her arrival and my gaze turned towards the door as she entered. I was immediately stunned by the changes that had overtaken my wife in the year since I had last seen her. Her once-auburn hair was now completely white, though it was pulled away from her now withered face. Catherine may have taken pleasure in the power she had taken from me, but I could also see that the power had cost her.

  It was amusing to see her enter and immediately stop in the doorway, both hands braced on either side. Her mouth was opened in slight shock, and the moment her eyes locked with mine I could tell that she knew I was coherent.

  Mary slid off of my bed and turned to face her mother, bowing to her. This brought Catherine back to reality and she stepped into the room, Thomas More and Charles Brandon following her. It took another moment for our other companions to enter; Sir Francis Weston and Sir William Brereton among them. Last to enter was Sir William Carey, who remained by the door way, his face impassive.

  My eyes scanned for the rest of the council, but with a slight shake of his head Thomas told me they would not be joining us. This did not bode well for our cause.

  “Mary, these men have laid a proposition before the council. We have come here to see if they speak the truth and if you have sided with them.”

  “Mother, I do know of the proposal of which they speak. As you can see for yourself, His Majesty the King is conscious. There are ways in which he can be communicated with, and he is gaining the ability to once again rule his kingdom.”

  “Be that as it may, these men have put forth a proposition that you take over the council. Why would a dozen men propose that a mere girl of fifteen lead the council of all England?”

  Mary did not look away from her mother, but waited for Sir Thomas to speak up for her instead.

  “Your Majesty, in the past three years this council has witnessed atrocities carried out in the king’s name. Now that he is aware of such crimes, he wishes to right the wrongs. Princess Mary, who has remained by his side throughout his illness, is best suited to carry out his wishes.”

  “Is that so?” Catherine asked, her head turning slowly towards me.

  “Is that true, King Henry?” she asked, her voice to serious to be mocking. “Is it your wish that your son, your rightful heir, step aside and his younger sister take his place?”

  I looked deliberately at Catherine for a moment before turning my gaze to Mary and blinking.

  “That means yes,” she said softly.

  “Does it?” Catherine asked. “And who knows this code besides you and your father? Are we even certain that he means ‘yes,’ or that you are merely interpreting what you see to fit what you desire?”

  Mary’s head swiveled back towards Catherine’s, her mouth open but a look of fierceness on he
r face.

  “I do not lie,” she said in a clear strong voice.

  “It is a preposterous proposition,” Catherine said, her attention turned back to Sir Thomas and Sir Charles. “To say that a young girl will rule when her older brother is clearly fit —“

  “Ah, but that is where our proposition differs,” Charles said. “We do not propose that Mary rule at all. She will merely be regent in the name of her father.”

  “Your cause is hopeless, Your Majesty,” Sir Francis added. “Already men have risen all over the country to combat this inquisition that you have begun.”

  “The rebellions have been handled swiftly,” Catherine argued. “And a tighter control is being had on those villages that have already rebelled.”