Above All Others

by G Lawrence

  “Speak out in the Privy Council, Your Grace,” I advised. “Show Henry he can trust your counsel and then he will turn to you more, I am sure of it.”

  “I speak out more than enough!” declared Norfolk angrily. “Do not presume to instruct me, niece, as though you were my better! I know well enough my place, as you should have a mind to yours!”

  “My place is with the King, uncle…” I said warningly. “And soon enough, my place will be on the throne of England. It would be well that you remembered that.”

  Norfolk flushed scarlet with anger. “Never have I been so berated by such a harpy of a woman as my own niece.” He raised his stick, advancing on me. “Poisonous shrew!” he screamed. My father leapt from his chair, catching the stick as it flew over my head. He shook his head in warning at Norfolk and the Duke backed away. I stood stock still, glaring at my uncle. Norfolk exhaled, struggling to control himself. “Be careful of yourself, niece, you are no Queen, and I am your superior by birth, title and sex.”

  “But I have the love of the King, and you do not, uncle,” I said coolly. “So if anyone should be careful, Your Grace, it is you. Put down that stick before I have the King break it over your neck, or have him take your head for your insolence! Shall I tell my future husband of this, my lord? It will not take much to remove you from your position and from the court. The King is already displeased with you… Would you like me to tell him that you raised hand and weapon against me too? You will learn to control yourself. I am not your wife and will take no beating from you even if you be my kinsman or my uncle.”

  The colour drained from Norfolk’s flushed and wrinkled face. He glared at me, clutching the top of his stick as though he wanted to thrash me with it. I knew he would not dare. He might not like it but I was his best bet to destroy the Cardinal and Henry would be enraged if he touched me. Norfolk stalked off, muttering about my upstart pretensions. My father let out a great huff of breath and shook his head. “You should have more care with Norfolk, Anne,” he warned. “The man might bluster and rage, but he is the most powerful magnate in England, and we need him on our side.”

  “He would do well to remember that I will be his Queen one day, father,” I spat. “He should not insult me so, or attempt to treat me as he does his wife; with beatings and violence to keep her in line.”

  “As it would do you well to remember that he is rich, powerful and influential at court,” he said. “Queen you will be one day, daughter, but even when you are crowned you will need supporters.”

  “All I need is the love of the King. When I bear him sons, I will become more precious to him than I am even now. And my son will be the future King of England. Norfolk will need to learn his place, father, and all I spoke to him were words of advice.”

  “And insult,” he snapped. “You have a quick tongue, Anne, and often it serves you well, but you are apt to lash out when you are under pressure. Now is the most testing time any of us have known. Do not let it get the better of you… All those years in Burgundy and France, I sent you there to learn the art of being a courtier. The art of hiding your true feelings. Now, it is as though you have forgotten all that you once knew so well … You are an open book for any to read, and that can be dangerous.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Remember the lessons of your youth, my child,” he went on. “Hide your inner thoughts and passions; it will serve you better.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Suffolk House

  Spring 1529

  In April, as new lambs bleated in their hundreds each morning upon the still frost-laced hillsides of England, Henry wrote to our envoys in Rome, urging them to reject their desperation, and to continue to press the Pope with all energy and passion to make a decision. Henry wanted to avoid confrontation, to avoid the trial, and the best way to do that was to get the Pope to rule directly on his Matter. He implied that our envoys lacked zeal, and wrote ominously of his disappointment in their efforts. What our poor men in Rome made of such letters, I do not know, but it certainly frightened them into doubling their already frantic efforts on our behalf.

  Henry also said that he was sure the Pope would never seriously consider dragging the King of England to Rome, as the Imperial ambassadors were pushing for, as it would be a grave insult to Henry’s royal dignity to do so. François, too, wrote to the Pope, saying he supported Henry, and that he was unsure on his attendance at the conference being planned for Cambrai. There, peace between the Emperor and France was to be discussed. The prospect of continued war between France and Spain put pressure on Clement. If France brokered peace with Spain, the Pope might be freed from the Emperor as part of the negotiations. Clement wrote to Campeggio and instructed him to go ahead with the trial. A decision needed to be made.

  Whilst this was encouraging, and we celebrated, letters arrived from my supporters in Rome. They hinted that Henry should not trust Wolsey. “Whosoever made your grace believe that the Pope will do for you in this cause hath not, as I think, done your grace the best service,” Bryan wrote, clearly implying this was Wolsey.

  Henry was disturbed by these reports, but I could see he would not believe them, not without proof. In early May, Wolsey ordered his ally Sir John Russell, the same who had turned against me in the affair of the Broughton wards, to France to act as the Cardinal’s representative at the French Court, petitioning François not to make peace with the Emperor, but to continue the war, and free the Pope that way. When I heard this, I went straight to Henry. “Please, Henry,” I begged. “Do not send Russell to France. Not only is Russell no friend to me, but he is also Wolsey’s man.”

  “The Cardinal has never needed my help in choosing a man to act for him, my love…” Henry gazed at me quizzically. “Why should I interfere now?”

  “Do you remember what my cousin Bryan told us last autumn?” I asked. “He said that François himself suspected that Wolsey was not a good friend to you, Majesty… Although I have no proof, I fear that sending Russell, one of Wolsey’s devoted servants, may only do ill for our cause.” Henry’s brow furrowed and a look both of anger and hurt sparked in his eyes. He hated the thought that Wolsey might be a traitor in his midst.

  “Send Suffolk,” I requested on impulse. “The Duke is as a brother to you, my lord, and you know he would never lie to you. He has good connections in France, through your sister, his wife.” I looked up at Henry with desperate eyes. “Please, my lord. Although you trust Wolsey, I find myself doubting in him more and more each day. This time is so fragile. Send Suffolk, for you know without doubt that he is indeed your man… For me, Henry… Please?”

  In his eyes I could see that he agreed with me. In their blue depths there was blossoming doubt on the ability and loyalty of his Cardinal. He nodded shortly. “Russell will be recalled, and I will send Suffolk in his stead.” He rose from his chair, looking suddenly old and weary. “I will see you anon, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing my hand. “There are affairs I must attend to.” Henry walked from that chamber as though he were an ancient soldier who had lost his last battle.

  I heard later from my uncle Norfolk that Henry had gone to Suffolk himself that very hour, not only asking him to go in Russell’s place to France, but ordering Suffolk to question François further about Wolsey. Suffolk was to probe about the court, and find out all he could. Although Henry had not shared this with me, perhaps feeling it was too painful to express in words to me, who had after all, long been outspoken against Wolsey, at least he was finally starting to understand he could not trust the Cardinal.

  “You have done well, niece,” commended Norfolk when he told me this a few days later. “The King is clearly suspicious of Wolsey, as he should be! The Cardinal will have to work a miracle now to save himself!”

  “I trust Suffolk will find something incriminating in France?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows.

  Norfolk nodded. A sly grin broke over his face. It was like looking at a weasel poised to rush a field mouse. “Oh,” he said. “Of that I am
sure…”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Blackfriars Monastery

  London

  31st May 1529

  The Legatine Court finally convened at Blackfriars Monastery to hear the case for the validity of the King’s marriage. The Monastery had been used before for meetings of the Privy Council, and state occasions, and now, it would be the place where my future was decided. I could not be there. Of course I could not, for my appearance might rupture Henry’s case, giving lie to his declaration that his only desire was to discover the truth about the legality of his union with Katherine. But I was there, in secret and with a deep cowl obscuring my face. I hid in an upper gallery at the back of the great hall, concealed amongst my father’s servants. My father thought my actions rash, but did not manage to dissuade me from attending. I stood in the shadows, listening to these cardinals and men decide what would become of me. If they found for Katherine, I was undone. If they found for Henry, my dreams were about to become reality.

  Campeggio and Wolsey, the court’s two judges, processed slowly to the head of the packed hall, their scarlet robes bright even in the dull light. On their heads they wore flat red hats, proclaiming their status as Cardinals. Rings of gold and rubies, worn over the top of crimson gloves, encrusted their fingers. Blackfriars was a Dominican priory, hence the name, and the walls were covered in tapestry that depicted Biblical scenes. The floor was soft with expensive carpets. The great hall was suffocatingly hot; nobles and commoners alike had turned out to see the trial. The air was thick, cloying with the stench of mingled sweat and perfume.

  Queen Katherine had eleven advocates, with Bishop Fisher and Doctor Standish at the head of them. They stood glowering at Wolsey as he approached. This would not only be a trial of the King’s marriage, but a trial of Wolsey’s skills and loyalty, for Wolsey had staked everything upon their trial. Wolsey had reproached Katherine before the trial for wooing the common people, “beckoning with her head and smiling,” at them to win their love. Katherine had haughtily responded that it was the office of a queen, to show love to her people, and she was not about to abandon any of her duties. Outside the great hall, masses of common people had gathered, and they all cheered for Katherine. Her appearance on that first day was much remarked upon, as Henry was not there. He was represented by his advisors. I knew that Katherine had come to engender the support of the people, and I cursed to think Henry was not here to do the same. Although the people had no love for me, they adored their King. It might have been beneficial, in hindsight, to have him here.

  The two Cardinals spoke of the reasons why the court had been convened, and asked Henry’s men to speak first, and then Katherine’s. Katherine, surprising everyone, chose not to let her advocates speak for her, but spoke to the court herself. She came to the front of the court leaning on the arm of her retainer, Griffith ap Rhys, and smiled for the cheers she received. She thanked the Cardinals for their introduction, but then went on to explain, in most annoyingly well-spoken words, that she believed this court held no justice for her.

  “Although His Excellency, Cardinal Campeggio is a man of the cloth and the Church,” she called out in a strong voice, which quite belied the feeble manner that she affected in leaning on her retainer’s arm. “He is also a man of England! Cardinal Campeggio holds the post of Bishop of Winchester, and so he, like His Eminence, Cardinal Wolsey, is therefore a subject of my husband, the King, and is not impartial in this matter. I feel that this trial is weighted against me. I am but one poor and ignorant woman, far from her native country and home… and I am set upon by those who have a vested interest in finding for their master, and ignoring the righteousness of justice and mercy which I know would be offered to my plea were this trial held in Rome. I do not, therefore, recognise the legality of this trial, and will not accept its verdict. I ask here and now that this case be taken to the court of the Holy Father in Rome itself, and there I will accept the judgement of the Pope. He alone has the authority to decide on this matter, and to he alone will I defer.”

  There was much muttering at her speech. Rumbles of complaint spread through the hall. I am sure most people did not know that Campeggio held a post in England. It was a post in which he did little, although I must admit that he did take revenues from it. I looked out from under my cowl with nervous eyes. There were many heads nodding for Katherine, and I could see women wiping their eyes, pitying her. Katherine knew what she was doing; she was playing the emotions of the people for all they were worth.

  “In addition,” she continued, glancing about her. “I have in my possession the original dispensation of Pope Julius II. It was demanded of me by these men!” She pointed to the two Cardinals who shifted uneasily on their red cushions. “But I refused to deliver it into any hands other than my own, for fear that it may be lost or destroyed by those who seek to hide the truth… This dispensation is indisputably valid and proves that I am the King’s one true wife. Even above this, I have been married for over twenty years to my beloved husband, and I have borne the King children, many of whom God chose to call to his kingdom, but one who remains the King’s heir, the Princess Mary. If this matter is as my husband claims, that our unlawful marriage would bear no fruit, then how is it that I have borne many children, and have one precious child who is yet living? When I came to the King’s bed I was a true maid. When I was married to Prince Arthur, he was a young, sick and weak boy, who was not able to consummate our union. Therefore, with this dispensation, and with the other proofs that I have spoken of, I am the King’s one, only and true wife, in the eyes of God and under the laws of the Church and of England.”

  There was a thunder of applause as she finished, with people shouting, “God save the Queen!” and “God bless you, Your Majesty!” Katherine gazed regally about her, her expression triumphant. She leaned heavily on Rhys’ arm as she went back to her seat. I gritted my teeth, grinding them against each other. Katherine was good. She should have been on the stage. She was winning approval with her deliberate combination of feminine weakness and forceful words.

  Wolsey was sweating. He spoke quickly, and perhaps a touch too rapidly, on how this was a legal trial; that the Pope had approved for it to happen here in England and not in Rome and of how the Holy Father had appointed Campeggio and himself to this task and how there was definitely no cause to suspect that either of them were not impartial.

  He was not believed by the gathered crowds. There may have been some doubt that Campeggio was Henry’s man, but all knew that Wolsey certainly was. Katherine had won the first battle; there were many now who would not believe the trial was just, especially if it found for Henry.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Blackfriars Monastery

  Summer 1529

  The proceedings went on, but the Legatine Court did not sit every day, as Campeggio often called for breaks due to his ill health. As witnesses were called, it was often necessary to wait for each to arrive. This confused me greatly, as gathering witnesses was one of the things that the Cardinals had claimed so much time for in the months preceding the trial. Why were they not already in London, and ready to testify? It was too familiar, all this postponement. But if I was dissatisfied on this count, I told myself at least the hearing was underway.

  Henry appeared in person, in June, to present his case to the Cardinals, and swiftly overruled Katherine’s objections. “I will accept the verdict of this trial with all humility!” Henry cried passionately, his deep voice booming through the sombre hall, which was as packed on that day as it had been on the day Katherine spoke. “Within the respect that should be shown to the Holy Father himself, who appointed these learned Princes of the Church to preside in his stead over this matter, and, as the duty of every Christian soul is to subject himself to the goodness and just nature of the Church, so shall you find your King!” Heads nodded all through the hall at his declaration. I breathed a sigh of relief. Henry was winning his people over.

  He was magnificent. Strong and handso
me, he stood in a doublet of purple damask and cloth of gold, his fingers glittering with diamond rings, and wearing hose of brilliant white to match his shoes. Upon his head was a cap of purple velvet topped with a long white feather. He looked so handsome, so strong and so authoritative. My heart swelled with pride and hope to see the reaction of his people. “False pride will not call me to question the judgement of a holy court such as this, even if it may tempt other hearts to!” Henry continued, glancing significantly at Katherine who returned his look with a steady gaze. “I am, unlike others, a humble penitent before God!”

  “If you will speak, Your Majesty,” Wolsey said, a greasy smile of satisfaction on his lips as Henry was received well by the crowds, “of what has led you to ask for this trial and for this judgement on your marriage...?”

  Henry bowed his head and then looked up. On his face was genuine pain; the pain of having no son, which was his greatest desire and the agony of believing he was a sinner in the eyes of God, to whom he always looked for approval. Henry was not lying when he said his conscience troubled him about his marriage. He believed it, utterly. His marriage had troubled him for a long time. All could see the pain on his face, and many commented on it, feeling pity for their King.