Above All Others

by G Lawrence

  Chapter Forty

  Suffolk House

  Winter 1529

  Despite continued delays, Henry clung to the belief that Wolsey and the Church were going to do all they could for us. The trial had still not begun, our ambassadors were still trying to gain access the Pope, and Campeggio was in such constant ill-health that it seemed we might never even start on this trial. By late January, as waterfowl started to return to England, I sensed Henry’s trust in his chief advisor’s constant promises was wavering. I called my father, George and Norfolk to Suffolk House to talk.

  “I believe I have fully persuaded the Duke of Suffolk to be a friend to our cause.” Norfolk pressed a hand to his side, his digestion evidently troubling him again. “Brandon is eager to be more in the ear of the King. He believes that if Wolsey is removed, he will become the King’s chief advisor and even Chancellor.” My uncle snorted with derision. “As if that mealy-brained, dullard donkey could take on such a post!”

  “But even if we know that you are destined for that position, Your Grace,” my father interjected. “We should allow Suffolk to continue in his fantasy, for now.”

  “Of course, Thomas.” Norfolk waved a hand carelessly. “I was not about to spoil the little boy’s dreams, after all.”

  George sat up and nodded to the servant at his side to pour wine for him. “The King examines every dispatch with keen attentiveness,” he said. “He is under the impression that the Pope will capitulate, and more than that, that the Holy Father wishes to capitulate.”

  “I am not so sure,” I said quietly. “Henry tells me that Campeggio has a papal bull which allows the annulment, but the Pope has not even met with our ambassadors… The Pope’s illness is a feint, I am sure of it. And here, we move no faster. Henry waits for Rome, Campeggio waits for Rome, and Rome refuses to engage with us… It all feels as though they are deliberately dawdling.”

  “Then you must further motivate the King,” said Norfolk. “Ask him to do more, to demand that the trial go ahead. If we cannot get an answer straight from Rome, then a decision made in England by his legate might tip the Pope’s hand into a final ruling. If Campeggio and the Pope decide in our favour, none can disagree.”

  “I will, uncle,” I agreed. “But you all must do the same. Let us be bound together in purpose. If we all speak as one, Henry must see that his faith in the Pope and in his cardinals is misplaced.”

  We agreed, and went forth to convince Henry to push for the trial to go ahead in England. But Henry was stubborn. “I believe in the goodness of the Holy Father,” he protested, perhaps for the hundredth time. “Trust me, sweetheart. The Pope is a good friend to England; he gave me the title of Defender of the Faith, and knows I am his good soldier and loyal servant. Why else would he have sent Campeggio with a legal document allowing the annulment, if he was not on our side?”

  Eventually, however, he agreed to petition the cardinals to speed things along. Henry was even more impatient than I was to be wed, and his embraces at night were becoming increasingly desperate. Part of this was because of his trysts with Katherine. The woman was proving more immovable than the white cliffs of Dover. Wolsey went to her, saying he had full proof that she had lain with Arthur as his wife. He cited the fact that all in England had thought at the time of Arthur’s death that she might be pregnant. Katherine, however, was resolute.

  “Such things were said, Your Excellency,” she boldly declared to Wolsey. “To provide a mask of respectability for the Prince, as he was not able to consummate the match. I never lay with Arthur as a husband. The only man I have ever lain with has been my true husband, King Henry.” She went on to tell the Cardinals that she would not consider the judgement of a trial heard in England as valid. “I have many enemies here, my lords, and I will trust only in the court of the Holy Father.” Katherine clearly did not trust either Wolsey or Campeggio to be neutral. She would trust only the Pope himself. As well she might since her nephew had him under his control!

  They tried to reason with her, talking with her for hours on the wonders of a life lived in religious seclusion. They promised that she would keep her dowry and therefore live in comfort. Wolsey told Katherine she would retain guardianship of her daughter. The Princess Mary’s legitimacy would be maintained and her place in the royal succession would be upheld. Until the King sired a son, Mary would remain England’s heir. But although Katherine listened to them with good grace, her only response was to request legal counsel. Katherine also chose to confess to Campeggio, urging him to break the sacred silence of the confessional and tell not only the Pope, but whosoever he wished, that she had not slept in the same bed as Arthur for more than seven nights whilst they were wed, and that he had left her as he found her each time; a virgin. She told Campeggio that she intended to live and die in the state of matrimony, to which, she said, she had been called to by God, and that nothing could change her opinion.

  Rapidly, Katherine became surrounded by supporters and those willing to give her the legal advice she craved. Bishop Fisher came forth as her representative in court. He was a clever, shrewd man, known for speaking his mind, and his appointment rattled Henry and me. Wolsey pleaded with Katherine that she should listen to the counsel of the Church, and she responded that she did listen… to Bishop Fisher, who disagreed with Wolsey and Campeggio. At one point Wolsey fell on his knees, begging with her to relent, but she would not.

  Later that month, Katherine produced a new version of the original dispensation of her marriage to Henry, one which none of us had known existed. It appeared to undermine all our arguments and the bull Campeggio had from the Pope, as it stated that consummation had ‘perhaps’ taken place, and allowed the match between Henry and Katherine even with that in mind. Henry was livid to find Katherine had been hiding this document all this time, and demands were made that the dispensation be seized and examined to check it was not a forgery, but Katherine refused to hand it over, saying that she did not trust that it would not be conveniently lost or destroyed. Personally, I wondered why Katherine had been keeping this document a secret all these years… Had she thought that one day the King might question their marriage? Even at the time they were wed there had been objections raised due to her pervious union with Arthur. Had clever Katherine thought that she might need this secret dispensation one day, to defend herself? Therefore, to my mind, she must have always understood the possibly illegality of her match with Henry…

  Wolsey and Henry were united in their annoyance at the Queen, and decided to press ahead with the trial, working on the original basis that the dispensation should not have been allowed in the first place, and that Katherine was, in the eyes of God, Henry’s sister. This called into question the judgement of Pope Julius II, who had allowed the dispensation, and, in some ways, questioned the sanctity of papal authority; a dangerous path…. but one worth exploring if it brought about what we wanted.

  At this time, Wolsey spoke wearily about retiring from public life, sending Henry into a panic. He summoned his minister and told him over and over how much he needed him, how he relied on him, and loved him. I knew, however, that this was a trick. Wolsey feared the King’s temper. The Cardinal worried the blame for all this chaos would rest on his shoulders. He told Henry he was thinking of retiring to remind the King how much he needed him, and it worked. Henry was infatuated with Wolsey all the more for the thought he might lose him. I gritted my teeth and set my jaw. Every time he was in peril, the fat bat always had something up his costly red sleeve.

  The trial approached, and it seemed that all on each side were ready to fight… to the death if need be.

  .

  Chapter Forty-One

  Suffolk House

  Spring 1529

  That spring, the news from Rome was as bleak as the weather in England. Storms and tempests howled across England. Rain fell and sleet followed. The streets in London were a mess of earth, water and dirt. Every morning, when I looked from my window, all I would see was darkness.
/>   Finally having got an interview with Pope Clement, after many months, our envoys in Rome sent word. At my urging, Gardiner had joined Vannes and Bryan in January, but even with the addition of that clever man, progress was slow and hope was spare. In late March, as downpours made the roads almost impassable in England, Gardiner wrote that they had finally met with the Pope. For months they had simply been forced to wait, presenting themselves at the papal court each morning, and waiting in the halls all day to see if the Pope was able to see them. They were put off constantly. The Pope was either too ill, too busy, too tired, too occupied, or too engrossed in constant prayer to admit them. Other envoys came and went, but ours were left there, waiting. It was months before they could even present their credentials and therefore be recognised as envoys from England according to the protocol of the papal court. It was entirely clear to me that the Pope did not want to even consider the Great Matter; he was too scared of the Emperor. Therefore, he stalled, just as did Campeggio here in England.

  When Henry received Gardiner’s missives, he had his treasurer, Tuke, send them on to Wolsey and me. After reading Gardiner’s letter and one from Bryan, Henry had gone, in his fury, to play tennis and take his aggression out on the walls of the court, rather than on the heads of any he loved. Tuke was commanded to write of Henry’s thoughts on the letters, as the King was, at that moment, incapable of doing anything rational.

  “Master Bryan’s letter, for as many clauses as the King showed me, was totally of desperation,” Tuke wrote. “Affirming plainly that he could not believe the Pope would do anything for His Grace, with these words added: ‘it might well be in his paternoster, but it was nothing in his creed.”

  The riddle was clear enough to me; the Pope may well pray that Henry would get a solution to his troubles, but he would commit himself to nothing. Bryan wrote further that Clement would not agree to state that the dispensation given for Henry to marry Katherine by his predecessor was invalid, and that the Pope was mightily offended that the English would simply expect this of him. Henry’s tactics of threatening the Pope had only caused the Holy Father to become more set against him, and the relentless pressure our envoys were keeping up in Rome was driving the Pope further from us. What were we to do though? Give up? Henry believed that more pressure should be put on the Pope, not less.

  Henry and Wolsey went to Campeggio and criticized him for the Pope’s sullen stance towards our ambassadors. Campeggio, stuck in the middle of his master and the King of England, merely replied with more platitudes and half-made promises. Despite Wolsey’s recent ploy to remind Henry how valuable he was by threatening to resign, in his growing irritation with the Pope, Henry was losing faith in his Chancellor. Henry wavered between wanting so desperately to believe in his friend, to doubting his motives. He could not understand why Wolsey could not just have this done. Every other time he had wanted something, Henry only had to turn to Wolsey and his wishes were made reality. Now, his best servant was proving as ineffectual as everyone else. Henry was disappointed in Wolsey, and his disappointment terrified the Cardinal.

  Imperial envoys were pressing the Pope to decide the matter in Rome. They wanted the Pope to summon Katherine and Henry there, and have an open, public trial at the Vatican. Henry was resolute that he was not going to be dragged to Rome, and humiliated in front of the leaders of other nations. He sent letters to our envoys stating that since Campeggio was here in England he wanted the matter decided in England. He pressured the two cardinals to start the trial, saying that this had gone on long enough. I was beginning to suspect that the papal bull Henry had so much faith in had been provided for Campeggio to use only if Katherine agreed to the annulment.

  One day, George saw Henry in his gardens at Richmond, screaming at Wolsey. My brother said that Henry seemed to grow, looming over the Cardinal like a giant. Wolsey threw himself to his knees before the King, his red robes soaked through at the knees with sodden mud, begging for Henry’s patience and forgiveness. Over their heads, ravens and crows flew, attracted by the noise. They winged over the head of the Cardinal and his King, as though circling corpses on a field of battle.

  “I think the time is drawing near when the Cardinal will fall from grace,” said George as we sat at my card table. To please me, Henry had just made George chief steward of Beaulieu Palace, Master of the King’s Buckhounds and an Esquire of the Body… which meant George had more money than ever to lose to me. We sat with cards in our hands, and fine wagers on the table, but neither of us was concentrating on the game.

  “Henry loves Wolsey as no other,” I disagreed despondently. “Even now, even when he knows that the Cardinal cannot get him what he wants, he does not look to others. Still he keeps faith with the Cardinal, believing that eventually the fat bat will get him what he wants.”

  “The King loves one more than his Cardinal.” George smiled, placing his cards on the table, abandoning the game entirely. “And that is you, Anne… Wolsey is failing him. Much now depends on this trial. If Wolsey does not get the King what he wants, he will be on more dangerous ground than he has ever known.”

  “I don’t know which outcome to wish for, in truth, George.” My lips twisted. “If all goes as we wish, then I will have my crown and my place beside Henry. If we fail, then Wolsey is disgraced. I have waited long to see his face fall, to see him brought low as he has done so many times to our family… Although I want the trial to find for the King, I cannot deny that seeing Wolsey fall on his face would bring me satisfaction.”

  “I will pray that the outcome is for us…” George leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “But remember that this cloud has a lining of sweet sunshine about it, even if we fail, sister.”

  From France, François wrote of his support for the trial, which bolstered Henry’s spirits. But still, no date was set. We moved as though our feet were stuck in a muddy mire. But although I despaired for this, there was other news which pleased me better.

  Gardiner wrote to me. I opened his letter eager for news of the annulment. He spoke of further meetings with the Pope and of their mission, to be sure, but the letter was actually written to inform me of Gardiner’s transference of loyalties from his master, Wolsey, to me. He assured me of his devotion to me; his dedication to my cause, and the King’s. He would work tirelessly for such a mistress, he said, “for there is all in your being and manner that convinces me in right for your cause.” In short, he was asking me to replace Wolsey as his patron. This was highly significant. Stephen Gardiner was one of Wolsey’s best men, and a rising advisor to Henry; a man to be highly prized.

  I showed my father the letter and he was pleased. “It demonstrates that people are recognising who is going to win,” he said. I wrote back to Gardiner and sent assurances of my patronage as well as a gift of cramp rings for him and the other ambassadors. I had another ally, and one who was choosing to defect, secretly, from the Cardinal to me. Norfolk was also pleased to see the note.

  “Gardiner is a shrewd man,” he said as his stomach gurgled. “If he thinks that our side is the one to wager his career upon, this is good.”

  “The rest of our Matter does not look so promising to me, uncle,” I complained. “The Pope delays, the Cardinals delay, and yet the King continues to trust in them. I wonder if there is not another path for us to take, for it seems that all we do here and now is waste precious time.”

  Norfolk nodded. “And you should have been married and breeding by now,” he said, looking me up and down as though I were a cow brought to market. “You are not getting any younger.”

  I stiffened at that. It was true enough though. I was nearing twenty-seven years of age; old for a woman to be still a virgin and as yet unmarried. Most women my age had been married many years, and had a babe or two on the hip and in the cradle. My friend Bridget had a hoard of children from her two husbands. His words hurt, as I am sure was intended, but I could not argue with the truth in them. I swallowed my pain and annoyance.

  “Exactly
,” I agreed, noting the gleam of happiness in his eye for causing me pain. “And yet I am still young enough to bear many children.”

  “Your mother and sister are proven fertile enough, it is true,” Norfolk replied. “We must find ways to motivate the King against Wolsey. I am sure that if that worm were not forever digging into the King’s ear then everything would run smoother for us.”

  “Then you must convince the King, uncle, that you are the best man to replace the Cardinal… You are the natural successor to the Cardinal, were he to be removed, are you not? Perhaps if the King trusted more in your counsel, then he would not mind the Cardinal’s removal as much?”

  Norfolk blustered at my veiled insult. To me, it was obvious Henry thought there was no one to replace Wolsey. Henry did not trust that Norfolk was as able as Wolsey, in this affair or any other of the realm, and that was causing him to hesitate. And Henry was perhaps right… the Cardinal was an extraordinary workhorse, but even if he got Katherine removed, he would not support me as Queen.