They pulled their chairs closer to the table and only after the king had taken yet another sweetmeat and complained about the ulcers on his left leg did they settle down to study Wotton’s latest dispatch.
“First of all, Your Majesty, this diplomat has rendered us a good service while he was away in Cleves. He took Richard Berde with him and a few other good fellows and they immediately set out to obtain some portraits of the duke’s two sisters, Amalia and Anne.”
“And did they succeed? So far I’ve seen nothing.”
“No, Sire. It appears that the Vice-Chancellor, a somewhat unbending cleric, one Doctor Henry Olisleger, would not allow our men to approach the two sisters closely at first. But then…” Cromwell stopped. “Ah, wait a moment, Sire, I’ve just had an idea. Ambassador Wotton is working in the chamber next door preparing a document for me. I think it would be best if we call him in and so we can hear at first-hand what really happened in Cleves. That would be better than me giving you a report of his report, wouldn’t it?”
Henry nodded in agreement, not realizing that this was his chancellor’s way of passing the blame on to someone else if, in future, if there were such a need. After having served His Majesty for over a dozen years, Cromwell knew how his royal master’s mind worked, especially if any of his, Cromwell’s, plans came to nothing. As the chancellor left the chamber to bring in the diplomat, Henry helped himself to another sweetmeat.
Two minutes later, Wotton was being asked to join the king and Cromwell at the table. Licking the sugar off his fat fingers, Henry asked the diplomat to report on his expedition to Cleves, adding, “And make sure you give me all the details you can about the two ladies there, Amalia and Anne. Tell me if they are beautiful, if they have pimples on their faces. Everything.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Wotton started hesitantly. It was not every day that he attended such an intimate meeting with his two masters. “We had a very slow start,” he began quietly. “The Vice-Chancellor, Doctor Olisleger would not co-operate with us and…”
“Yes, yes,” Henry interrupted him. “We know all that already. The chancellor has just told me about that. What I want to know is what happened next?”
“Well, not much at the beginning, Your Majesty. As I said, the Vice- Chancellor kept objecting to our requests and…”
“And then what?” the king interrupted again.
“Er… he would not allow us see the young ladies in person but offered to show us pictures of them instead.”
“And did he?”
“Yes, Sire, but we told him that that was not enough.”
“Very good,” the king and his chancellor said in unison.
“So what did you do next, or what did he do?” the king asked, leaning forward.
“We told him that we wished to see the young ladies close up and that their faces should not be covered by veils or by heavy headdresses or anything of that nature.”
Henry slapped his thigh. “Very good, Wotton! That’s the spirit! And did he agree? Did you see them?”
“No, Sire, at least, not at first. The Vice-Chancellor became very sarcastic and said that perhaps we would wish to see them naked. Naturally we were very shocked at this response and we told him so, er…very diplomatically, of course.”
“Of course,” Henry said, and then asked “But did you get to see them in the end, er, not naked, of course?”
Cromwell permitted himself a half-smile as Wotton continued with his report.
“Yes, Sire, in the end. It seems that John Frederick, the Elector of Saxony, had heard of our mission and instructed the sisters’ brother, Duke William, to allow us to see these young women more closely. As you doubtlessly know, Sire, William is now the Duke of Cleves, following the recent death of his father.”
“Yes, yes, Wotton, I know all that,” Henry said, getting up to stretch his cramped and aching leg. Then he turned to the diplomat and asked him what the result was of his seeing the two Cleves sisters.
“We found them to be quite fair and attractive, Your Majesty. Er, you must understand, looking at young ladies in order to judge their…, er, how shall I phrase it? their physical attributes is not what I do usually but…”
“Yes, yes, but get on with it, Wotton,” Henry again interrupted the thin diplomat. “Well, what were they like?”
Wotton fidgeted with a piece of paper before continuing. “Well, as I have just said, Your Majesty, we found them rather fair and attractive although the older one, Anne, is probably a little taller than most women, not too tall, you understand,” he added quickly, noting the slight frown on his king’s forehead, “but certainly taller than your last queen.”
Henry looked at Cromwell, smiled and then turned to face Wotton again.
“And her sister, Amalia? Is she also tall like her sister?”
“No, Sire.” Wotton was breathing more easily now that he was half-way through his report. Cromwell had told him to expect to be more thoroughly interrogated than he was.
“Ah well, Wotton, Anne’s height needs not prove to be a problem, need it? After all, I am taller than most men,” and Henry straightened himself up to his full height. “And I’m sure she is not taller than me, is she?”
“Oh, no, Sire. I would say that she is about the same height as the chancellor here,” he answered, looking at Cromwell, “or perhaps a mite shorter.”
“Hmm,” Henry grunted and then turned to face his chancellor. “Thomas, stand up and stand next to me. Now let Wotton make a comparison for the lady’s height.”
Cromwell stood up and moved over to the king’s side. Wotton cocked his head to one side and made a mental measurement. He then assured his royal master that Anne of Cleves was about the same height as the chancellor. Henry and Cromwell both looked relieved. So far, things were going well.
“And how is she here?” Henry asked pointing to his own chest.
“What? Where, Your Majesty?” It was clear that Wotton did not understand his king’s question or gestures.
“Here, Wotton, here, her dukkies, her breasts? Are they big or not?”
Wotton did not know which way to turn. He looked at the king and then he turned to the chancellor and then looked down. It was clear that he was extremely embarrassed and out of his depth. At last the red-faced diplomat looked up and faced the king. “, Excuse me, Your Majesty, I did not look that closely at the lady’s er…upper anatomy. I was too busy looking at her face and trying to gain a general impression about her,” he finished somewhat lamely.
“Yes, yes,” the impatient king said, “but tell me, how were they? Big? Small or what?”
“I suppose they were of the usual size, Sire. I assume if they had been an abnormal size I would have taken note. That is all I can tell you about her … er…her chest.”
“Thank you, Wotton,” Henry said quickly, disappointed that his diplomat could give him no more information about Anne of Cleves’ physical attributes. “So tell me, if you didn’t pay any attention to her body, what of her mind? Can she speak English? Did you converse with her at all?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, we did manage to talk a little, but I regret to inform you that her English - at least her spoken English - is not very good. We talked a little about the weather and about the duchy but it was clear that she had to think very carefully before she could utter a whole sentence.”
“Is the English that she speaks understandable at least?” Cromwell asked.
“It is, Master Chancellor, it’s just that she speaks very slowly and tends to use German words instead of English ones especially if the two are very similar.”
“Give me an example of what you mean,” Henry said.
“She said gut instead of ‘good’ on several occasions, Your Majesty, and she also used words such as nacht and recht instead of ‘night’ and ‘right.’“
Henry took time to consider this before asking his next question. “But do you think she’ll be able to learn English better, to speak it fluently?”
Wotto
n also took his time to answer before saying, “Yes, Sire, I think she may be able to improve her spoken English and become more fluent, but I doubt if she’ll be able to get rid of her German accent. It’s quite pronounced …” but, seeing the expression on his king’s face, he added, “but I have noticed that when people live for a length of time in a foreign country, they tend to lose their original accent, that is, it becomes less pronounced, Sire. And this opinion, if I may add, is based on listening to the French and Spanish emissaries who’ve come to work here in London.”
“Ah, so there is hope?” Cromwell asked.
“Oh, certainly, Master Cromwell.”
“Well, that’s certainly good news to hear,” Henry said, offering a sweetmeat to the diplomat. “I’m glad we’ve solved that problem.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but I fear we have another problem that must be solved.”
Henry whirled around and grabbed the back of the nearest chair so he wouldn’t fall. “Another problem? And what’s that?”
Wotton coughed apologetically. “There’s the question of the betrothal, Sire.”
“Of course that’s a problem,” Henry said impatiently. “That’s why I sent you to Cleves in the first place.”
“No, no, Sire. I’m referring to the Lady Anne’s betrothal, her previous one. The one that Duke William and his Vice-Chancellor told us about.”
Lines of anger immediately showed on the king’s face. His eyebrows grew closer together and his face became even redder than normal. “Her previous betrothal?” he shouted. “Why wasn’t I told anything about that? Did you know anything about this, Thomas?’
“No, not really, Sire,” Cromwell muttered as he distanced himself from the king. “I must admit that I’d heard some rumour about it once, but I dismissed it as some sort of foreign gossip.”
“Foreign gossip, man! What do I employ you for? To keep me informed and not to be the victim of such surprises. Now, Wotton, stop looking out of the window and pretending that you’re not here, and tell me all you know about this betrothal matter. Come on, out with it, and don’t hide the facts behind some sort of diplomatic babble.”
Wotton returned to the table and looked at Cromwell for support. He received none. Cromwell did not wish to be involved in what he saw as another man’s failure. He looked away as Wotton raised his head, faced his king and began to describe the situation.
“It was like this, Your Majesty. It seems that the young lady was previously betrothed to Francis of Lorraine a good few years ago and…”
“How long ago was ‘a good few years’?” demanded Henry.
“Twelve, Sire. She was twelve years old at the time and he was a mere stripling aged ten. Nothing came of this and I suppose everyone forgot about the whole situation.”
“Huh! Until now, that is,” Henry said cynically.
Wotton shrugged. There was nothing else he could say. He had hoped his report would have explained the problem. It did not.
“So, Wotton, what do you mean, ‘everyone forgot about it’? It looks like the duke and his wretched Doctor Olis – whatever he’s called – haven’t forgotten about it, have they?” Henry jutted his chin out at the unfortunate diplomat who stood facing him, his head hung low and his hands clasping and unclasping behind his back.
“No, Sire,” he blurted out at length. “No, I suppose not.”
“Suppose!” Henry shouted. “Suppose. There’s no supposing to be done here. Was there a betrothal or not and, if so, is it still relevant today?”
Wotton looked down at the floor and said nothing, as did Cromwell.
“Well, man, who was this Francis of Lorraine and was this betrothal annulled? Come on, man, what happened?”
Wotton looked up again. “I can answer your first question easily, Sire. Francis of Lorraine was the son of Antoine, the Duke of Lorraine and his wife, Renée Bourbon-Montpensier. They lived…”
“Yes, yes,” Henry interrupted him. “You can tell me about their lives later. For now, just tell me if this betrothal was annulled or not.”
If Wotton had looked uncomfortable in his royal master’s presence before, it was nothing to how he looked and felt now. He looked down at the floor, fiddled with his fingers behind his back, looked at Cromwell for support but received none. The ambassador was just left standing there, miserable and looking down at his feet. At last he said in a voice just above a whisper, “I don’t really know, Your Majesty whether it was annulled or not.”
“You don’t know!” Henry flung at him. “Well who does?”
At this point Cromwell decided he could save the situation. Still keeping his distance from the other two men he said quietly, “Sire, I think that if we send another emissary to Cleves, someone more informed about such situations, we may be able to shine some light on this matter.”
“Well, Thomas, who do you think we should send? And make sure he is the best man for the job.” Henry then looked directly at the nervous fidgeting Wotton. “Because I’m telling you, I don’t want another diplomat like Wotton coming back with an ‘I don’t know ‘ answer.”
“Yes, Sire, of course, Sire,” Cromwell said quickly. “I think we should send Dr. William Peter to Cleves. He’s an experienced diplomat and I suggest that he insist on discussing the matter of this betrothal with Anne’s mother and the Duke. Then we will know exactly what happened in the past and will therefore be able to make the right decisions as a result.”
“A good idea, Thomas,” and Henry smiled for the first time since Nicholas Wotton had raised the question of the betrothal. “But let us just say that if Anne is not available, maybe her sister is?”
“Yes, Sire,” Wotton said, “but I believe we should first look into the question of the betrothal as your chancellor has suggested. Perhaps it is no longer valid. Besides, if I may say so, Sire, I do not think it would be good politics to marry the younger sister if the older one is available. Such things are not usually done, Sire. If you remember your Bible, even Jacob had to marry Laban’s older daughter, Leah, first and then wait seven years before he could marry Rachel, the younger daughter whom he had earlier wanted to marry.”
“Hmm,” was Henry’s only comment. He stopped pacing up and down, sat down heavily and gestured that the other two men should do so as well. All three men were silent and it became clear that the king’s two officials were waiting for him to say something else. At last Henry looked at Cromwell and asked him for further details about his plan for sending Dr. William Peter to Cleves.
“Well, Your Majesty, I’ve been thinking about that. I suggest that not only do we send Dr. Peter and a couple of his best men over to Cleves, but we also send your court painter, Holbein, with him as well.”
“Why?”
“Then he can paint a likeness of Anne of Cleves,” the chancellor answered, smiling. “But no, wait, I have an even better idea. We will tell him to paint likenesses of both the Cleves sisters and then - if necessary - you will be able to choose which one you may wish to marry.”
Henry started smiling at this and Cromwell rushed on with his explanation. “This means, Sire, that if her earlier betrothal means that you cannot marry Anne, then you will certainly be able to marry her younger sister, Amalia. In this way, you will have given offence to no-one and as Ambassador Wotton has just said, no harm will have been done.”
Henry smiled, but this time in full. “Thomas, you’ve done it again. Whenever I have a problem, you always come up with a solution. No wonder I keep you on as my chancellor even though some members of the nobility - especially the Duke of Norfolk - do not approve of my employing you. But fear not, he cannot do anything. He’s all bark and no bite.”
Cromwell smiled. “Thank you for your kind words, Sire, but now I suggest that the three of us arrange the details for this next expedition to Cleves. We have to make sure that Dr. Peters and his men - as well as Master Holbein - have all the necessary travel documents, you know, the laissez-passers and the rest. We also need to see that your Master of the H
orse attends to the question of horses, carriages and transport in general and that one of your most eminent captains, Sire, deal with the subject of guards and soldiers.”
“Thomas,” Henry said, handing him a comfit. “Is there anything that you don’t think of? Any little detail?”
“Yes, Sire. I’m just wondering whether we should also send diplomat Mont?”
“Christopher Mont? Of course you should, Thomas. After all, the man does speak German and that may ease the path through any difficult negotiations, especially with that Olisleger fellow. From what Wotton has to say about him,” Henry said, looking at the diplomat who was now looking far less nervous and had stopped fidgeting. “He does seem to be rather an awkward and uncooperative person to deal with.”
The three men remained at the table for the next hour going over their plans and listing all the minutiae for the forthcoming expedition. Nothing would be overlooked. The king kept reminding his two officials that his personal happiness – “and that of my kingdom, of course” – depended on the results of this journey.
On the following day Dr. Peter was commanded to come to Hampton Court. Accompanied by an assistant, he joined the king, his chancellor and Wotton at the king’s table where he was given his instructions.
“Please give me a few minutes to read them, Your Majesty,” the future envoy asked and the king pointed to another table on the other side of the chamber. Dr. Peter sat down and began to concentrate on the various lists and instructions that Cromwell had prepared for him. He read that he was to approach the mother of Anne and Amalia, Maria of Jülich-Berg, and ‘to use all of his dexterity in this matter and to be earnest in the determination and speedy conclusion of the same.’ Dr. Peter was to flatter the mother and stress how important it was for her elder daughter to marry the King of England. However, if this were not possible, then His Majesty would be more than pleased to marry Amalia instead.
Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved Page 5