“To His Majesty,” he said, raising his glass.
“And to the True Church,” Norfolk replied.
“Well, your Grace, it looks as though we’ve succeeded,” Gardiner said, reaching out for a little cake topped with marchpane.
“Succeeded? With what?” the ever-suspicious of Norfolk asked.
“With your niece, of course. Young Catherine. Now the king can have her, can marry her and, in this way, we’ll be able to push our plans forward for the Catholic Church.”
“Aye, the Roman Catholic Church, not the one that His Majesty has devised.”
Norfolk smiled in agreement and thought of how he had used his light-headed niece to capture the king’s heart. “Do you remember how we invited the king to dinner, here in Southwark in March, and how I arranged for Catherine to dance in front of the king? There he was, sitting next to the queen and I was wondering if he would fall for our Catherine. But when she came in wearing that low-cut gown and then bent down low just in front of him to pick up the kerchief that she had dropped…”
“Accidentally.”
“Of course and when I saw the expression on his face, I knew that we’d caught him. You should’ve seen him. His lips were wet and slobbering and his eyes were almost falling out of their sockets. I’m telling you and I would hate to think what was happening inside his codpiece. He was like a bull in heat. And all of that happening right under the nose of his wife.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me that. Those were the exact words you used at the time, a bull in heat.”
If the bishop’s smile could be described as crooked, then the duke’s was even more so. He thought back again to that fateful night. “And do you know what? The king didn’t even look at his wife at all when he asked my niece if she’d be so kind as to sit at his feet. It was as though he weren’t married to her at all. It looked very clear to me that his wife counted for nothing.”
“Oh, I think that’s exactly how he was feeling. This divorce which has just been approved was really just a formality. I’ve been informed that he hadn’t lain with her for weeks, months perhaps. More or less since he married her.”
Norfolk tried to keep his face straight when he heard this.
“My lord bishop,” he said pompously. “I am quite shocked. Such words of gossip coming from a man of the cloth, a bishop, and the Bishop of Winchester, to boot. I thought you men of the cloth were supposed to think celestial thoughts and be above such earthly prattle.”
“Come, come, Norfolk. You should know me better than that by now. We’ve worked together for some time now, haven’t we? And besides,” he said stuffing another marchpane topped cake into his mouth, “how can I, as a man of the cloth, to use your words, have such lofty thoughts if I do not know what is happening down here on earth? Surely, if all my thoughts were based on the heavenly world, I would have nothing to compare them with, now would I?”
Norfolk nodded and filled his guest’s glass with some more Madeira. “Perhaps you are right there,” he continued, refilling his own glass. “But I’ll leave the world of theology and philosophy to you. I prefer dealing with what’s happening down here in my world, the world of the court and politics. And,” he added, “by the way, I think we were most fortunate that the plan to use my niece has worked out so well.”
“Fortunate? Why?”
“Oh, I see the wine has gone to your muddled head.” Norfolk laughed. “So please allow me to unmuddle you. My plan has killed two - perhaps three - birds with one stone and I believe we may even receive the stone back for further use.”
“Three birds? Two aren’t enough?”
“No, my religious friend. Not in this case. So let me enlighten you. First,” he said, holding up his thin index finger, “we now have the opportunity to advance the Roman Catholic Church.”
“Two?”
“By enticing the king with my niece, I have become even closer to His Majesty, especially now that Thomas Cromwell has been removed from the Privy Council, probably forever. I’m telling you, we will not have to worry about him trying to further the Lutheran or Protestant cause any longer.”
“O, how are the mighty fallen,” Gardiner said piously, raising his hands in prayer. “Norfolk, if it were true for Saul and Jonathan, then it is certainly true for Thomas Cromwell.”
Norfolk grimaced. “Yes, you are probably right there, and I cannot say that I am very sad about that either.”
“And what was the possible third bird you mentioned?”
“Well, according to my spies at court, His Majesty is becoming more and more infatuated with my niece and rumours of marriage have been whispered abroad. If that were to happen, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t, then we will really have the ear of the king for anything we want - your religious affairs and my more earthly ones.” Norfolk rubbed his hands gleefully. “I’m telling you, Stephen, now that the Lady Anne and Cromwell are no longer with us, the world is ours.”
“And there’s no chance of the Lady Anne having any say in what happens at court?”
“Absolutely none. First of all, she won’t be living there. She’ll be at Richmond or Bletchingly or somewhere else and also, can you see His Majesty listening to her once he has my Catherine? Remember, he hardly took the Lady Anne into consideration when she was queen. So do you think he will listen to her now that she’s well out of the way?”
“But she is the ‘king’s sister,’ isn’t she?”
“Huh, an empty title, Stephen. Simply devised to keep everyone happy. It’s never existed before, I doubt if it’ll ever exist again and, in any case, as a title it carries no weight. No, fear not, my friend, Lady Anne of Cleves will not disturb us. She has her money, clothes and title and that’s the end of that. Now take one of these sugared fruits. They are quite delicious.”
For a few minutes there was silence in that dark oak paneled chamber, a silence gently disturbed as the two men, the duke and the prelate, munched on sugared fruits and drank their Madeira. Then the duke slapped his thigh and smiled.
“I’ve just been imagining our king and my niece together. He’s interested in discussing religious topics, hunting and having a good time and she’s interested in clothes, jewellery and having a good time.”
“Ah, so there is a common field between them.”
“Oh, there most certainly is. Having a good time. Although she won’t be able to join in his discussions on religion and hunting. I mean, she can just about read and write. He’ll keep her happy with clothes and baubles and the like and my light-headed niece will be just the one to keep His Majesty’s mind off that disgusting stinking leg of his. She’ll be both a real tonic for him and the key to the kingdom for us.”
The bishop smiled at the thought and then looked at the Duke. “Norfolk,” he said putting his empty glass on the table, “this whole situation, especially with your niece and Cromwell has made me think. Life is like a see-saw.”
“How so?”
“It’s quite simple really. Until recently, Cromwell was high up, even higher than you in many ways, if I may say, but look where he is now.”
“Low down; rotting in the Tower.”
“Exactly. And where was your niece?”
“Hidden away at the Dowager’s Palace in Lambeth.”
“And now where is she going to be? If we have our way, at the top - next to the king. Now do you see why I say life is like a see-saw? It’s not only your individual situation, it is also how you are in relation to those who surround you. Don’t you agree?”
Norfolk nodded. The bishop was right. So just let me make sure that I remain at the top, he thought. Life at the bottom, that is, in a dungeon in the Tower, is certainly not for me. He gave a slight shudder at the thought and quickly drained the rest of his glass of Madeira.
And as for the Duke of Norfolk’s prediction, it came true. In a private ceremony conducted by Bishop Bonner, Henry quickly married his fifth wife but kept it a secret for ten days. He wanted time to enjoy his latest catch w
ithout being disturbed by the daily routine at court. Now he could savour his wife for the first time since Queen Jane had become pregnant with Prince Edward in the winter of 1537, over three and a half years earlier.
Chapter Eighteen - The End of Cromwell
Late one afternoon as Anne, Lady Browne and Lady Rutland were sitting in the solarium sewing, there was a knock on the door and Sir Anthony Browne and Lord Rutland entered the solarium. From their dusty boots and dishevelled hair it was clear that they had ridden over to Richmond from London very quickly. After a brief bow to the ‘King’s sister’ the two men quickly kissed their wives and then stood back to face the three women.
“Lady Anne, ladies,” Sir Anthony said. “We’ve just come from court with the latest news.”
“Is it about me?” asked Anne immediately, holding her head between her hands.
“No, milady. It’s about the king’s past chancellor, the Earl of Essex.”
“Do you mean, Thomas Cromwell,” Lady Rutland asked.
“Yes, my dear. I do.”
“What’s happened to him?”
“Nothing yet, but the question is, what is going to happen to him?”
Lady Rutland looked at her husband and drew her long forefinger across her white throat.
“Yes, my dear. It certainly looks as if he’s going to be executed. Parliament passed a Bill of Attainder against him this morning.”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds, Lady Browne, that as a man whom the king had raised from a ‘very base and low degree,’ and whom His Majesty had ‘enriched with manifold gifts’ he is now a traitor and a heretic.”
“And that is not all,” Sir Anthony added. “He has also been charged with being false and corrupt and of being ‘a deceiver and circumventor’ of His Majesty’s reign. This, to quote the Bill, had been proved by many ‘personages of great honour, worship and discretion.’“
The ladies stood there dumbfounded. How had such a mighty man been brought so low and so quickly? It was frightening. Surely, Lady Rutland thought to herself, if this could happen to the all-powerful Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, vice-regent and chancellor, then the same could just as easily happen to her husband or to any other lord who served His Majesty. Easier, in fact, because they had none of the authority that Cromwell had wielded until recently. Suddenly she was aware of Sir Anthony’s words cutting into her thoughts.
“And the irony of this is that much of Cromwell’s undoing was caused by himself.”
“What do you mean, my lord?’
“I mean, milady, that Cromwell when he was chancellor or, as the Bill says, ‘of his own authority and office,’ had arranged for ‘persons apprehended upon suspicion of treason’ to be tried and arrested” Sir Anthony explained.
“Yes, and there was also the financial side to his crimes,” added Rutland.
“Why, did he take bribes? Was he corrupt?”
“Lady Browne, that is only part of it,” Rutland continued. “After making sure that certain devious souls had crossed his grasping palms with silver he granted export licences for the export of money, beans, beer, leather, horses and all manner of goods. And all this was done without His Majesty’s knowledge.”
Sir Anthony nodded and then added another crime to the already grim and fatal list. “In addition the Bill charged him on the grounds of scandalum magnatum.”
“What’s that? It sounds like Latin.”
“It is, milady. In plain English it means he has been rude and oppressive to the king’s nobles.”
“And for this you die?” Anne asked, holding her hands to her mouth.
“Yes, milady,” Rutland replied. “Especially if the king in question is King Henry the Eighth and you’ve also angered the Duke of Norfolk and Cardinal Pole, the country’s two leading Catholics.”
“That’s right,” Sir Anthony added. “Cardinal Pole called Cromwell a ‘messenger from Satan.’ That means that Cromwell won’t be expecting any Christian mercy from the cardinal, will he?”
“That’s right,” Rutland said. “And also when he was chancellor, he had many of Cardinal Pole’s family executed or imprisoned.”
“And what did Cromwell do when he heard about this Bill of Attainder?” Lady Browne asked.
“He sent a letter to the king from the Tower.”
“No doubt he wrote to the king asking for mercy and reminding him of all he’d done for him in the past,” Lady Browne remarked.
“Aye,” her husband added. “But I don’t think he’ll be receiving much mercy now. If I remember correctly, His Majesty is not known for changing his mind once he’s decided that someone, noble or base born, has acted against him.”
“And do you know exactly what he wrote?” Lady Browne asked. “Did you see this letter?”
“Yes, my dear. We saw it at the Council meeting this morning. Cromwell wrote that the king had been most bountiful to him, had acted like a father and that if he, Cromwell, had offended His Majesty, then he had not done so willfully.”
“I doubt if that’ll help him,” Lady Rutland commented and the rest of them nodded their heads. There were a few moments of silence and then, for the first time that morning, they became aware of the light breeze outside, and of the birds chirping in the palace gardens. Now in that light room in the queen’s new palace, everyone present thought about what had happened. They all knew that it did not pay to cross the king’s path. They also knew that the real reason that Cromwell was now rotting in the Tower was because his arch rival and enemy, the Duke of Norfolk, had exploited his royal master’s displeasure over his marriage to Anne of Cleves. However, since the woman in question was now sitting there with them, they could hardly discuss this aspect of the chancellor’s fall in her presence.
Then Anne raised her head and looked at the others. “But won’t there be a trial? I heard that if anyone breaks the law in this country, then he can have a trial. I remember my brother, the duke, telling me this and about something called Magna Carta.” Then she turned to Sir Anthony. “Tell me, sir, didn’t anyone say a good word for the chancellor this morning? After all, it was he who brought the king and me together.”
“That is true, milady,” Sir Anthony replied, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Archbishop Cranmer did try to say something in Cromwell’s defence and he even sent a letter to the king.”
“Did he read it?”
“Yes and he told us what the archbishop had written. He said that Cromwell had served the king with much wisdom, faithfulness and diligence and if previous kings had had such dutiful servants about them, then they would have been much happier. He also added that the king does not know whom he can trust today and suggested that His Majesty should beware of several other councillors. He didn’t mention their names specifically but hinted that such men included the Duke of Norfolk and Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester.”
“But this is so sad,” Anne said. “I doubt if my brother, who is known to be a hard man, would have a man killed just like that. He would probably put him in the dungeons or make him pay a lot of money. No,” she added, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t cut his head off. Cannot the king do that as well, make Cromwell pay a lot of money instead?”
“I suppose he can, milady, but I doubt whether he will,” Rutland said. “From what I know about His Majesty he’ll probably spare Cromwell’s life as long as he is useful and then he’ll have his head cut off.”
Rutland’s prediction came true. First the king plundered his former chancellor’s mansion at Austin Friars and carted away fourteen thousand pounds worth of gold and silver-gilt plate. This he had transferred to the king’s jewel house, but only after exploiting Cromwell’s knowledge of the law to have his fourth marriage finally dissolved. Then once these acts had been completed Henry signed the warrant for his fallen minister’s execution.
The actual execution did not take place until 28 July but in the meanwhile Cromwell wrote several letters to his past master pleading for forgivene
ss. To the ‘most bountiful prince to me that ever was king to his subject and more like a dear father’ the king’s most important prisoner wrote:
What labours pains and travails I have taken according to my most bounden duty, God also knows, for if it were in my power, as it is God’s to make Your Majesty to live ever young and prosperous, God knows I would….If it had been or were in my power to make Your Majesty so puissant as all the world should be compelled to obey you, Christ knows I would.
But none of this helped. On 28 July, Thomas Cromwell, the king’s past Earl of Essex and Chancellor of the Exchequer, was led to the straw-covered wooden scaffold. It had been erected on Tower Hill, and there Cromwell addressed his last words to the bloodthirsty hordes who had come to see him die there:
Good people, I am come here to die and not to purge myself as some may think that I will. For if I should do so, I would be a wretch and a miserable man.
And as he started his last appeal to the crowds, Sir Anthony Browne whispered to the Earl of Rutland that even now, the king’s past chancellor was not short of words.
“You are right, but listen to what he’s saying now. Something about him not being a Lutheran. Listen.”
Many have slandered me and reported that I have been a bearer and supporter of those who maintained evil opinions, which is untrue. But I confess that as God, by His Holy Spirit, instructs us in the truth, so the devil is ready to seduce us – and I have been seduced. Bear witness that I die in the Catholic faith of the Holy Church.
“Humph,” Rutland grunted. “I doubt if Norfolk or Gardiner will believe that one. They’re absolutely sure that he is the devil incarnate.”
“You’re right, but listen. Is he going to say something about the king and his marriage? For after all, that is what has brought him to this sorry end.”
Rutland shrugged and said, “Listen, I think he’s finishing his speech off now.”
Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved Page 21