Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved

by D Lawrence-Young

  He was just about to ask a question when the king pointed to him. “Thomas Cromwell,” he heard as the king’s harsh voice cut through his thoughts. “Sit down there,” and he pointed a fat bejeweled finger at his bewildered minister and the chair he was to sit in at the far end of the table. Sir Anthony Browne allowed a slight smirk to cross his face as did Lord Russell when they observed Cromwell’s obvious discomfort. This was a scene they had not witnessed before however many times they had sat here in this chamber for special meetings with the king. Usually it was Cromwell who would sit at the king’s right hand and be treated in the friendliest of terms. He would have all the necessary documents at hand, or the suggestions and recommendations which His Majesty would generally accept. More than once, Henry would clap his chancellor on the back or lay his hand on his chancellor’s arm and everyone present would see that Thomas Cromwell was a power in the kingdom. This was not the scene now, if only because Sir Anthony Browne was the advisor now sitting where the chancellor was accustomed to sit.

  As the worried and curious chancellor took his place, he could not help wondering why, apart from what was happening to him, why this meeting had been called so hurriedly in the first place. Cromwell looked around the table. Why were there no sweetmeats and why was there no goblet of wine on the table in front of him? All the others had been thus served. After all, these refreshments were a regular occurrence at these closed meetings with the king. Why haven’t I been so honoured? What have I done wrong? What has happened? Cromwell kept asking himself.

  He was not allowed to remain in the dark for long. As soon as he had sat down his royal master declared the meeting open.

  “Tell me, Cromwell, answer me this,” the king asked, jutting out his chin and pointing to the unfortunate man. The questions then began to pound into the shocked chancellor like heavyweight punches. “How do you like this woman? This Lady Anne of Cleves. Do you find her personable? Fair? Beautiful? Do you think she is as the reports say she is – especially those reports made to me? I pray you, sir, tell me the truth and only the truth.”

  Cromwell looked around the polished table vainly for some sort of support. He found none. He knew he was not liked by the lords sitting there, especially by the Duke of Norfolk, but perhaps, he hoped, at least one of them might have given him some sign of support.

  Looking directly at his king, he replied, his lips trembling a little, “I take her not for fair, Your Majesty, but to be, er, of a brownish complexion. Why, Sire, how did you find her? As Master Holbein had painted her likeness?”

  The king half-rose and then sat down again heavily. His leg had given him a violent twinge and this did not help him keep his temper under control. “Sir,” he said looking straight at his chancellor through his small eyes, “She was nothing so well as she was spoken of. And, I tell you, sir, if I had known then what I know today, she would not have been allowed to step foot in my kingdom.”

  Now Cromwell understood what the situation was about, but he still did not know whether the king’s anger and disappointment was due to his betrothed lady’s looks, or her manner, or both. He did not have much time to dwell on this problem because his royal master was addressing him again.

  “Cromwell,” Henry smacked his hand down on the table. “I want a remedy to this situation. I want a solution. A good one. And I want it now.” This time it was the king’s turn to look around the table for support and unlike his chancellor, he got it. Just by looking at his councilors and how they nodded in his direction, Henry knew that his chancellor was isolated. “You got me into this and now, by Jesus Christ and all His saints you will get me out of it.” The councilors smiled. All the blame had been thrust onto the head of the king’s despised chancellor.

  “Come, sir,” Henry demanded. “What remedy do you have?”

  “Remedy, Sire,” Cromwell repeated playing for time. “I have none at this moment. Please give me time to think of a solution. I’m sure I will have one by the morrow.”

  This was the wrong answer. This was not what the angry king wished to hear. He wanted a remedy now. Here and now. Cromwell squirmed in his seat.

  He had worked with the king long enough to know that he, his most faithful advisor, the man who had guided him through the thickets of the ‘king’s great matter’ – the divorce from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and his subsequent marriage to Anne Boleyn – was the most troubling situation he had experienced so far. He had survived that and doubtless, once his royal master had cooled down, he, the ever-faithful and hard-working chancellor would survive this ‘matter,’ too.

  As the other councillors looked at him and then back to their king, Cromwell looked up. Hoping he was wearing a winsome smile, he leaned forward over the table.

  “Your Majesty,” he said at length. “Perhaps we could annul this marital arrangement in one or both of the following ways.”

  All eyes were now concentrated on the chancellor. He continued, slowly and hesitantly at first but gathering speed as he outlined the new plan his agile brain had just dreamed up.

  “Sire, perhaps we could insist on receiving an official confirmation from the Lady Anne’s brother, the Duke of Cleves, which states in no uncertain terms that he authorises Your Majesty to conclude the legalities of this forthcoming marriage and…”

  “Yes, and what else?” Henry asked aggressively.

  “Don’t you see, Your Majesty, if that fails, we’ll be able to say that since we haven’t received any written and official evidence that the Lady Anne’s previous betrothal several years ago was never officially annulled, we may conclude,” and here Cromwell allowed himself to smile a little, “that the lady is still formally betrothed to the Duke of Lorraine’s son. Therefore, as a result you’ll be able to say that you most sincerely regret you will not be able to marry her.”

  There was silence in the room as the king and the other councilors considered this latest idea. All you could hear was the chirping of a few birds on the window-sill. Cromwell looked around the table and noted for the first time since he had been escorted into the room that some of the lords were allowing themselves to smile or nod their heads in support of this idea. Would it get him off the hook? Would this plan work? Even the king’s face looked less red and aggressive. Henry fiddled with one of the rings on his pudgy fingers. From Cromwell’s experience, this was a sure sign that he was still nervous but that he was considering his chancellor’s latest suggestion.

  “Maybe you have found a solution,” Henry said slowly. “But if so, we’ll have to do something about this quickly. Tell me, Cromwell, are there any of the lady’s German retinue here?”

  “In London, Sire?”

  “Yes, of course in London,” the king answered testily. “Where else?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Sir Anthony said, the first person other than the king and his chancellor to have spoken since this meeting had started. “Some of them are due to arrive here at the palace later this afternoon, that is, if the weather permits.”

  “I see,” Henry said. “So when they arrive, no matter what the hour is, have them sent to me immediately and then we’ll see if the chancellor’s suggestions may be carried out. In the meanwhile, does anyone else have any other ideas?”

  The king looked around but no-one present had any other solution or idea to offer. “In that case, I wish to rest and do not wish to be disturbed until any of Lady Anne’s retinue arrives.”

  He got up, and leaning heavily on his silver-topped walking stick, left the room leaving his advisors sitting around the table to plan and speculate about what would happen next. They did not have much time. Four hours later, a somewhat rested but not restful monarch was back in the same seat in the same room. He faced his advisors and at the same time faced several of Anne’s advisors who had just been ushered into the king’s chamber.

  Fortunately, three of them could speak a passable if somewhat heavily accented English so that there were no problems of communication. After a round of introductions and e
xplanations of their official roles, they were asked if they could produce any documents relating to the duke’s permission for his sister’s marriage to the king.

  “Nein, er, no Your Majesty. We do not have any such Dokumente, er, documents here with us in England.”

  “And,” the Duke of Norfolk asked, “do you have any other papers or documents relating to the annulment of Lady Anne’s previous betrothal to the Duke of Lorraine’s son?”

  The ducal representatives immediately went into a huddle and after much head-shaking and gesticulating, the oldest looking one shook his head from side to side and turned to look at the Duke of Norfolk. “Nein, Ihre Lordshaft, Your Lordship. We do not have any documents about that, either.”

  “Ja, ja,” a thin-faced representative added in better English. “We know that the question of the betrothal to the French Duke’s son was annulliert, er, annulled, cancelled twelve years ago. Ja, it was in 1527,” he said shaking his head positively. “And I must say, Ihre Lordshaft, if such a document exists, I doubt if we will be able to find it in the near future.”

  “Ja, das ist richtig,” the first representative nodded. “And as for the other documents which belong to our lord, the Duke of Cleves, we do not have them here either.”

  Then seeing the expressions of deep disappointment on everyone’s faces, especially the king’s, the most senior of the Cleves’ delegation turned towards Henry, who was nervously drumming his fingers on the table before him and said, “Ihre Erhabenheit, Your Majesty, we could send to Cleves for these papers, these documents and hope that they will be found there.”

  Henry looked at Sir Anthony and the Duke of Norfolk. “What do you think? Surely this would take some time, no?”

  “Yes, Sire,” the duke replied. “And all it would do, I believe, is to postpone matters. Your Majesty, if you want my honest opinion as one of your principal advisors, and this is also the advice of all of us here,” he added quickly, “is that you have no choice other than to marry the Lady Anne.”

  The king looked at him hard in the face and the duke instinctively leaned back in his chair. Then Henry studied the faces of his advisors, one by one, as his eyes swept around the table. He knew that they had been discussing this situation while he had been resting and that the duke had merely expressed their collective opinion. The room was tense and silent. Henry knew that the time had come to make a decision. It had to come now. He leaned forward in his chair and the rest of the assembly waited.

  Suddenly one of the Cleves’ delegation had a coughing fit and they all waited until he had recovered. Henry leaned forward again.

  “This is my decision,” he said quietly. “We will proceed with this wedding as though nothing has gone wrong. All of you will carry out the allotted tasks for which you have been appointed. And please remember, not one word, not one word I say about this meeting must ever be allowed to become public. Is that understood?”

  All the heads in that quiet room, English and Clevian, aristocrat and gentleman adviser nodded in agreement.

  “I do not want to hear any gossip and whispering on the morrow about what happened in here today. If I find out that someone has whispered something to his wife or mistress or whoever, they will feel the fullness of my wrath. Have I made myself clear?”

  From the rapid nodding of heads, it was obvious that everyone present understood His Majesty’s instructions.

  “Good, then you may all leave me now and proceed with your duties.”

  As they rose to leave Henry raised his hand. “Wait. All of you may leave, except Master Cromwell. I wish to talk to him in private. Thank you.”

  The heavy door closed shut and Cromwell was left there alone at the far end of the table facing his royal master. Never had he felt so unsure of himself in the king’s presence. Henry raised his hand and pointed to a space next to him on the floor to his left.

  “Master Cromwell, stand here. You need not bother sitting down. You will not be here for long.”

  Cromwell’s agile brain immediately began to analyse those instructions. What did the phrase, ‘for long’ mean? Remaining in this room or remaining in this life? He had never had to consider such a situation in the past, at least, not seriously. But now he was in a completely different situation. He knew that apart from a small clique of close friends he had no-one important whom he could call on for support. He had to think quickly. He decided that he would appeal to this king through the political aspect of this situation and play down any of the personal details with regards to his king and his future wife.

  On receiving a sign from the king that he had permission to talk, Cromwell began. “Your Majesty,” he began slowly. “Despite any doubts that you may have this moment concerning your marriage to the Lady Anne of Cleves, I’m fully convinced that in the end, this marriage can only bring great benefit to you and this country, to your great realm, Sire.”

  He waited for a reaction and on receiving none, continued. “If we alienate the Duke of Cleves and the Rhineland area in general, Sire, we here in England, will be left standing alone, with no European friends and allies.”

  Henry looked at him straight in the eye. What Cromwell had just described was the situation that he himself had imagined. Noting his interest, an encouraged chancellor continued. “Sire, if this is indeed the situation, the situation that I’ve just described, we’ll be left facing both France and the Holy Roman Empire. They would then feel bold enough to forget their earlier differences of opinion and perhaps initiate a joint venture – an invasion of our shores, Sire. That is of course a situation that we cannot allow to happen.”

  The king nodded in agreement. What his chancellor had just said made sense. Every word of it was true. Henry knew this himself, but he was pleased to have his experienced chancellor confirm his opinion. Whatever Henry thought of Cromwell regarding his disappointment with the Lady Anne, he was able to recognize his chief minister’s wide experience and shrewd brain. For this, he was head and shoulders above all the other advisors who had been sitting in this room several minutes earlier.

  “In addition, Sire,” Cromwell added, anxious to press home his advantage. “We cannot send the Lady Anne back to her home in Cleves unmarried.”

  Henry looked at Cromwell full in the face. This was a new aspect to the situation.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Your Majesty, apart from it being seen abroad as a case of very bad manners, and from this court as well, it will also be perceived that the lady has been wronged as someone who has done no wrong at all.”

  “No wrong at all? Please explain yourself.”

  “Sire, from what I understand, and please remember that I was not in Rochester at the time, it appears that she had acted most rudely towards your person. She acted, how shall I say it delicately? - in a manner that was most disrespectful to your royal presence.”

  Cromwell looked at the king to see how he was taking this. Henry said nothing but just flicked his fingers indicating that the chancellor should continue with his explanation of the Rochester situation.

  “Your Majesty, if the lady is sent home in disgrace, for this is how it will be understood abroad, the rest of Europe will consider this, er, please permit me to say this, Sire, - the rest of Europe will consider this to be a most unchivalrous act. She will be rejected by any future suitor, Sire and…”

  “That, Master Cromwell, is not and will not be my problem.”

  “I know that, Sire, but her brother, the duke, may become so incensed by this situation, that he may consider declaring war on this realm. I honestly do not think that what I’ve just described will necessarily come to pass but, if it does, there is a possibility that he may be supported by either France or the Holy Roman Empire or indeed both of them. This, you realize is a situation that we must never allow, especially as these two powers would love to have an excuse to attack us here in England.”

  “But, Thomas,” Henry said, forgetting he was still angry with his chancellor. “We both know that the d
uke does not support the Roman Catholic Church. Why should he be supported by the French and the Holy Roman Empire?”

  “Because, Sire, I was thinking of the old maxim – the enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Duke may be willing to swallow his differences with these two major powers in order to have revenge on you, Sire.”

  As the king was busily digesting his chancellor’s interpretation of future political events, Cromwell decided to add another argument to support his case.

  “Sire, if indeed we do send the lady home, this country (he did not dare say ‘you’) will be seen as a country whose word, whose promises and agreements, are worth nothing and are ones that are broken just like that,” and he flicked his fingers to reinforce his argument.

  Henry nodded. His chancellor was right. All he needed was for the major powers in Europe to combine their forces against him. He did not want to spend more money on reinforcing his coastal defences or to lay out more money on equipping his local militias. Henry knew well enough that wars cost money and that the outcome was not always sure. Cromwell’s interpretation of the situation, both in terms of international politics and also with reference to the king’s personal aspects confirmed his own opinion. Yes, as usual, his pragmatic chancellor had cut to the heart of the matter. Everything must be done to prevent a war with Europe. But just as he was thinking this, he also began seeing himself in a self-pitying way. Why did I allow myself to become involved with this woman and this petty dukedom? he thought and was thinking on these lines when he became aware of Cromwell’s voice again.

  “And of course, Your Majesty, there is always the question of the Auld Alliance. You know, Sire, if France should attack us from the south, then the Scots may also feel that they should join in.” Cromwell paused for a moment and then continued. “As you no doubt may recall, Sire, the Scottish King James the Fifth, married his French wife, Mary of Guise, just over a year ago. And the carrying out of the military side of that Auld Alliance would be the worst situation of all.” Cromwell stopped to allow his royal master absorb what he was saying. “Yes, Sire, that would even be worse than having both of the European powers attacking us in the south.”