“I will allow you and Archbishop Cranmer to make a report to the council,” I corrected. “It can be discussed there and, with their support, I will make my decision.”
This seemed to please Anne and she pulled her hand away from mine, obviously ready to begin work on the report that would be presented by Cranmer with her support. Cranmer smiled and stood, stepping away from the table and calling a page over to him, directing the boy on what other information he may need from his office.
“Anne,” I said quickly, reaching for her hands. “I did not realize you had created this on your own.”
“Yes,” she responded with a smile.
“I am — “I paused for a moment to find the correct words. “I am proud that you were able to see this when my councilors could not. You have more compassion than one would think.”
She balked at my hidden insult, but I smiled at her before standing.
“I will give you and Archbishop Cranmer time to prepare the report he will give.” With that I bowed deeply over her hands before dropping them and exiting her rooms. I would need to speak with Cromwell.
“Your Majesty, I do not believe there is any purpose in their presentation to the council.”
I looked at Cromwell’s bowed head, his dark hair falling over his face as he attempted to peer up at me while speaking.
“You forget, Master Cromwell, that I did not have to warn you of their report. I could have allowed them to make it unannounced and made my judgment based on their arguments alone.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for giving me this opportunity,” Cromwell replied, his voice betraying his anger.
“Master Cromwell, I do expect for you to have a return argument,” I said. “I cannot imagine the members of my council will wish for this money to be used as Her Majesty and the Archbishop plan.”
Cromwell did not contradict this and there was no reason for him to — as a married man, he would at least understand my purpose in allowing my wife to present to the council.
“And I expect that your argument will address their concerns with satisfactory answers,” I continued before turning to leave. Cromwell remained bowed as I retreated; I had never given him the honor of standing.
I traveled down the stone corridors, barely seeing the courtiers who quickly bowed as I passed, their long coats sweeping at my feet as they dodged out of my way.
Contrary to what both Cromwell and Anne thought, I had not yet made up my mind either way. Cranmer had made a compelling argument; something would have to be done about the number of poor that would be turned out onto the streets. And Anne’s passion for education was unmatched; she was already scouting the colleges to find a tutor for our son.
I had planned to reengage the tutors that Mary had used, but Anne had quickly dismissed them as Popish idolaters. Though I had not fully agreed with her assessment, I allowed her to search for her own men, who I would then question myself. Surely there would be a man who would fit both of our ideals.
However, when the task of closing corrupt monasteries had been undertaken, Cromwell had made it plain to me that the money from them would be placed directly in my coffers. As Supreme Head of the Church of England, I had the right to distribute the money as I saw fit. And I was sure that the money coming in would be great. I had heard the stories Cromwell’s men had collected about the dishonest monks.
Most of the smaller religious houses had risen around holy relics, pieces of cloth or blood from saints. Even I had believed these relics to be true and prayed to them, touching what was believed to be a bone from St. Thomas a’ Beckett.
But then came the reports. It was found that monks would replenish blood said to be from saints with the blood of pigs. That holy water came from rain water and that the holy bones of the saints were from wild dogs. And then, the large numbers of children born to nuns and the number of bastards the monks fathered were shocking. These reports were horrifying to God-fearing men.
And so they must be destroyed, there was no question about that. As the spiritual leader for my people, it was my sacred duty to protect them from harm, and certainly these religious houses were bringing about harm.
But what to do after? There lay the real question and one that I could not yet answer. As their spiritual leader, did it also fall to me to provide worldly goods to them as well? Was it my responsibility to give them shelter and food, to provide the poor with an education?
I did not yet know. But the council meeting was in one weeks’ time. I had until then to decide.
The party traveling with Prince Charles to Richmond was large and burdensome. Mules kicked restlessly at the ground, the dirt from their hooves rising to cover the items on their backs. A team of Spanish horses was ready to pull the carriage that would hold Lady Margaret Bryan and Charles. The wet nurse, Mother Jack, was to follow directly behind on a small mare, her heavy frame ready to break the back of the animal.
Charles Brandon was at the head of the party of archers who were to surround the procession and protect my son from harm. His large steed was calm among the noisy chaos and he watched from his perch as Lady Bryan tried to take Prince Charles from his mother.
“Your Majesty, we must set out before the sun climbs any higher,” the older woman argued. Her pure white hair was gathered under a gabled hood and her wrinkles seemed to sink into the black mourning clothes she wore as a widow. Had it been anyone but the Queen of England she argued with, it was obvious she would have taken the charge and left the mother bereft with no words of comfort.
“The carriage is too warm. I will not permit him to travel in a litter that is stifling from the heat,” Anne argued, Charles clutched firmly to her. The baby, for his part, slept soundly and would not notice what he was traveling in.
“I will pull back the curtain, Your Majesty,” Lady Bryan responded.
“And let in the dust?” Anne’s shriek could be heard above the bustle of the servants tying down the last few bags. The entire courtyard turned to look at the queen.
“I will hold him away from the open window,” came the calm answer.
“And where will you stop?” Anne demanded, not seeming to care that her early concern was solved.
“We will stop at the home of Lord Darce, my brother,” Lady Bryan responded. “And will reach Richmond by nightfall tomorrow. If we leave now, Your Majesty.”
Even this pointed comment did not deter my wife.
“I have not met this Lord Darce, whom I am sure is a fine lord, however —“ Anne stopped as I stepped forward and gently took Charles out of her arms, handing him firmly to Lard Margaret. She looked relieved to have care of the boy and quickly bowed and bolted into the carriage, ready to be off.
“He —“ Anne stopped her argument with a look from me and instead bowed her head gently. I could still see her shaking, with anger or sadness I could not tell. Pulling her back with me, I permitted the long train to begin its journey and both Anne and I waved a hand in the air as a farewell.
“Come Anne,” I whispered quietly when the litter with our son was at last out of sight. “Let us enjoy our dinner and then you must continue to prepare for the archbishop’s presentation.”
This seemed to be the correct thing to say. Bolstered by her desire to help Cranmer, she followed me indoors to the dining hall.
“Your Majesty.”
Archbishop Cranmer bowed deeply to me before turning to offer his respects to the rest of the council. A page boy followed him in and placed numerous reports on the end of the long oak table. Cranmer spent a moment telling the boy how best to organize his papers before directing the filthy youth away.
“Your Majesty and the Majesty’s Council,” Cranmer began. “I am here to report on the repercussions of the dissolution of the monasteries and Queen Anne’s desire for the betterment of England.”
Like when he had spoken to me about the monasteries, Cranmer was transformed. His new confidence shone in every word he spoke. I could see how this affected the other members of
the council. The Duke of Norfolk woke from his slight slumber and Sir William Brereton ceased his discussion with John Stokesly, the Bishop of London.
“The reports show the number of monasteries that will be dissolved in the coming months. Queen Anne’s concern, and mine, is what will become of the communities that these houses support? These religious houses educated the children that surrounded it and supported the poor of their local communities. Unless we are prepared to act, the number of poor who will fill the streets of England will be catastrophic. For now there will be no one to feed them, and indeed, the very nuns and monks who previously fed them will themselves be homeless.
“The education that these houses provided will no longer be available to those who crave it. Instead of learning and communicating with the larger world, small villages will become more isolated, trade will slow and they will cease to play a vital role in our community.”
I thought this to be a bit much, but could hear Anne in every word he spoke about education.
“I am passing among you now reports showing the number of poor that are supported by the houses that Master Cromwell proposes shutting down. Also included are the number of children they educate.”
Small sheets of paper were passed along the table and there was little noise as the information was distributed. The other eighteen members of my council overlooked the pages with small numbers on them.
“So what are you saying?” came the gruff voice of the Duke of Norfolk. “Are you proposing that the monasteries remain open?” His dark eyes, the same as his nieces, glanced towards me, aware that I would not like for Cranmer to answer in the affirmative.
“No,” Cranmer responded. “Queen Anne instead supports the idea of statewide education available to each village as well as a string of poor houses to combat the rising numbers.”
His answer was simple. The reaction of the council was not. All along the table men sat with their mouths open, attempting to comprehend what Cranmer had suggested. Lord Stark’s paper with Cranmer’s numbers, so painstakingly copied, caught fire and he did not even realize it for a moment until the fire leapt down to his fingers and he quickly cursed, blowing out the flames.
“A — public education system?” the Bishop of London finally squeaked.
“Yes,” Cranmer answered, pleased that they seemed to be coming around. “It will be supported by the state and available to all boys of English birth. As was done in the Greek city states in the time of Aristotle.”
This did not seem to be the answer the council members were looking for and they turned to gape now at each other. Finally the Duke of Norfolk came to his senses.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing towards me. “What is your desire?”
I kept my eye on the old man; his battle-scarred face lowered as he bowed and glanced up at me as to read my reactions. In the recent days spent with Cromwell and the nights spent with Anne, I had learned a great deal of each argument. Though Anne and Cranmer were passionate about their ideals, I had seen the report on my empty treasure chambers, the lack of money in my coffers. I did not wish to upset Anne, but even more I wished for funds. But I would not destroy Anne and Cranmer’s hard work with an order. This proposal had to die, but it could not die by my hand.
“I am desirous to know your thoughts on this, Thomas,” I said, singling the Duke out.
“My thoughts?” he asked, surprised enough that his head shot up. He was silent for a moment before responding.
“I am an old man. I sat on this council when it was ruled by your illustrious father. I am unused to hearing new and radical ideas and must think carefully about the implications of what is being suggested.”
A perfectly crafted answer, one that I could find no fault with or discourage in any way.
“Is there any response to this?” I asked, letting my gaze travel down the table until it rested on Cromwell.
“If I may speak, Your Majesty?” he asked, his voice timid and shy; the opposite of Cranmer’s confidence. I waved for him to continue and Cromwell rose from his seat on the opposite end of the table from Cranmer.
“The Archbishop makes a valid point, and we all must thank Queen Anne for thinking of these causes; it goes beyond her duty. However, I have had the men who evaluate these houses take stock of other religious houses in the area as well and they assure me that they will have the means to continue to serve both education and as poor houses.”
Cromwell’s back straightened as he continued to talk, the confidence rising within him.
“As for his fear that the nuns and monks who serve in the closing houses will be homeless themselves, that fear is unfounded. These men and women, more educated than most, can now re-enter society as they would have had they not joined the church. The women may marry and support a man’s home, and the men may enter the fields or begin life anew as laborers.
“In terms of education, money has already been set aside for an expansion of Cambridge College. There is little need for this public education system that the Archbishop supports; few children are educated by these much smaller houses that are closing. And do not forget that the monasteries that are closing are corrupt and are not able to adequately provide for their communities.”
Satisfied in his argument, Cromwell spread his hands as if he was declaring his innocence and sat down. I could see along the table the men were pleased with this argument. They knew as well as I did what Cranmer’s argument meant — less money for them.
I turned to look at the Archbishop and was disturbed by his face which had reddened, his short neck bulging at his collar. One by one, the men noticed this and turned their attention to Cranmer, waiting to see what he would say in defense.
“Master Cromwell,” Cranmer spat out, barely able to steady his voice. “You are sorely mistaken if you think the larger monasteries, the ones who will not be closed down under whatever new laws you can pass, will be able to support the numbers of poor that your own reports show. The countryside will be filled with beggars and beggars quickly turn into thieves. And Queen Anne herself supports this education cause and believes it will be beneficial to state, rising England up to be one of the strongest countries in Christendom!”
“There will be no increase in thieves; His Majesty’s armed guards will see to that,” Cromwell countered.
“They will still be overwhelmed,” came Cranmer’s sharp rebuke. “And it would be cruel to drive good men to that point of desperation where—“
“Enough!” I said, my voice sounding over both men. “This is degrading into mere speculation. Rather than continue the argument, I will ask for a show of hands from those who agree with the Archbishop.”
An unusual move, but I wanted a silent way to see where support would lie. Cranmer immediately raised his hand and after a sharp look the Bishop of London raised his hand slightly as well. The rest of the men glanced down at the table or stared at Cromwell, avoiding the glare of Cranmer who seemed to be trying to will the men to raise their hands. Only the Duke of Norfolk kept his eyes on me.
“Very well,” I said. “I choose to side with the majority. Archbishop Cranmer’s proposition will not become law.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Cranmer’s face blanch white, a startling change from the red that had previously occupied his cheeks. I knew I would have to deal with Anne’s anger myself and resolved to let Cranmer inform her about today’s proceedings.
But I would not go against the wishes of the majority of my council nor my own desires. I could appease Anne with an agreement to fund more education reforms and Cromwell was correct —the Archbishop was overreacting.
Chapter Five
December, 1533
“Henry!”
I sighed as my wife entered my chambers. She had visited me every day for the past week and I was loathe to hear any more of what she had to say on education or questions she posed about our son’s eminent arrival.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I asked, glancing up from the French text I w
as reading.
Anne came to a halt inside the door to my chambers, her dark hair gleaming in the little light that came through the windows. Though it was midday, there was little sun to be had in these first months of winter. And already the weather had turned harsh; I was loathe to see what March would be like.
Anne turned her head and looked at me for a moment before proceeding.
“Do you have a moment?”
I was surprised by the question; so often Anne would simply barge into my rooms to tell me what she was thinking. I nodded and patted the chair next to mine. I took the thick woolen string I had been using and marked my place in my book, setting it to the side.
“I have heard that you have given your consent for your son, Henry Fitzroy, to marry my cousin,” Anne finally said.
“Yes,” I answered. “I thought you would be pleased. It is your uncle’s daughter and it is a good prospect for Bessie Blount’s son to be married to the child of the Duke of Norfolk.”
Anne nodded, looking down to the folded hands in her lap. “It is a good prospect indeed,” she responded.
I realized then what the problem was; I had seen Catherine approach me in the same way over this boy. Years ago I had raised him to be the Duke of Richmond on his sixth birthday and upon hearing the news Catherine had approached me in the same way — meek and terrified to upset me, convinced she had already done something to make me prefer this bastard son. My answer for Catherine had been simple — she had failed to give me a son, so I may treat this child in any way I pleased.
“Oh Anne,” I said, reaching out to take her hand. My response with Catherine would not do in this situation however. “I do not do this to raise Fitzroy above your son. Indeed, how could a duke be raised above a prince?”
Anne smiled at this answer, nodding her head.
“It is not what you think, sweetheart,” I continued. “I could never see your cousin, Mary Howard, as queen. This is instead tying him firmly to another future, a future as a courtier and advisor to our son Charles.”
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