by G Lawrence
He nodded his dark head, brown hair peeping out from beneath his black cap. “It is true,” he admitted. “There is much I have seen over the past few years that would lead me to believe that many Church institutions require correction from time to time.”
“And so we sift the chaff from the wheat and make the bread pure,” I smiled. “I have heard, Master Cromwell that you chose to educate your daughters along with your son… A noble choice, and one that mirrors the upbringing my father offered to me.”
He cocked his head. “I have ever believed in humanist principles, my lady,” he said. “I wished my daughters, may God rest their souls, to become useful to their future families. They were bright girls. I miss them more than I can say. Some say that women should not be taught so, for it is not their place, but I still believe otherwise. Had they lived, they would have been intelligent and useful women.”
“I understand your loss, Master Cromwell,” I said. “In the same epidemic which took your wife and daughters, I lost my brother-in-law and almost my own life. It was only my faith in God and the King which kept me clinging to life. But others were not as fortunate as I.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he said. “Many people try to avoid the subject of loss. They shy from it, believing we should leave the past behind us. I prefer to remember my daughters, and speak of the grace they brought to my life.”
“I feel the same, Master Cromwell. The dead never truly leave us; they are carried within our hearts and souls. When we speak their names, they come alive once again.”
“My feelings exactly.” He smiled and looked down at his shoes. “Many criticized me for educating my daughters,” he said. “But Grace and Anne… they deserved the best I could afford to give them.”
“And those same people who criticized your beliefs and called them unnatural, good Master Cromwell, may well call me heretic for merely believing in the necessary act of reform?” I grinned as his face broke into a smile.
“Perhaps we each have had undeserved criticism directed at us, my lady?” he asked with a cheeky twitch to his lips.
“Perhaps it is so, Master Cromwell,” I replied.
Chapter Sixty-Six
York Place
Spring 1530
That spring, armed with the arguments Cranmer had prepared for our case, Foxe and Gardiner went to Cambridge University. They gave Cranmer’s arguments for the King’s Great Matter to the scholars for them to read, deliberate over, and then discuss. At the same time, my father and Cranmer went to tackle the Emperor and the Pope. Henry was sending diplomats out all over the world for an answer to his riddle.
My father and Cranmer did not, however, get far. In March they attended a meeting where the Emperor and the Pope were both present. Clement reiterated that the annulment would only be discussed when Henry came himself to Rome. He prohibited Henry in the strongest terms from marrying again, believing that this rebellious King may well take matters into his own hands. Many in Europe believed that Henry and I would simply marry, and face the consequences, if there were any, later. This was not the case, but I was beginning to suspect that Henry was considering it. I did not want to marry whilst everyone believed him still wed to Katherine. I would be his only true wife.
It was not all bad news for Cranmer and my father, however. Whilst in Rome, Cranmer was given the Rectory of Bredon in Wiltshire by Jerome Ghinucci, Henry’s ambassador and advisor in Rome. It was a distinguished post, and one which had been linked to the office of Archbishop of Canterbury. Whilst in Rome, Cranmer and my father set about gathering opinion from the universities. There was a great deal of discussion and debate… but there was also a great deal of money offered by my father for favourable opinions from the scholars. My father tried to keep this quiet, and did not succeed. In hindsight, I believe it was a mistake for Henry to send my father to fulfil this task, despite his many skills in diplomacy. The Emperor was hardly going to look with kind eyes on the father of the woman about to displace his own aunt, and he controlled the Pope. After canvassing the universities, my father returned home, leaving Cranmer and the other envoys in Rome to continue their work. I prayed that the scholars and theologians would find in our favour; bribes, after all, do not work as well as a conscience for settling the minds of all men.
Finally, in April, Wolsey left Esher for York. He took with him one hundred and sixty attendants and twelve carts loaded down with his baggage. Much more had to be brought up by sea. Whilst Wolsey now owned nothing like his previous riches, he was hardly a pauper. He wrote to Henry upon arrival at Southwell, in Nottinghamshire, complaining that his residence there was full of leaks, and was heavily decayed, and so he had been forced to take refuge at the cannon’s house instead. He made no further move to proceed to York itself, and lingered at Southwell instead. Many believed he was waiting for Henry to recall him.
“Poor old Wolsey,” I laughed, reading the latest letter he had sent to the King to my mother and George, freshly returned from France. Wolsey was complaining in it that he had not been able to procure what he wanted for his dinner. “The man acts as though not finding quail for his table makes him comparable to St. Francis for all his lack of wealth and present poverty!” I curled my lip. “The amounts given to that weasel were enough to sustain a Prince and his household, and yet the Cardinal acts as though he is a beggar on the street! We must keep an eye on him in York. I believe he will get up to much behind our backs.”
“I have a man already in place, sister,” George assured me, taking the missive and reading it over himself with a snort. “The butcher’s cur thinks himself hard done by, despite all his returned riches.”
“And Henry still thinks he has value left to give,” I warned.
That May, I often invited Cromwell to join Henry and me. He and I began to converse almost, but not quite, as though we were friends. I believe he was starting to see the benefits that might come from being a part of our faction. Yet still, he was not quite convinced to give up on his former master. Henry had been entrusting him with a great deal of state work, and Cromwell was rising high in royal estimation. Just as Wolsey had once shouldered the burden of Henry’s rule, so now Cromwell was often being sent to take his place. He was still known merely as one of the King’s men, yet at the same time, everyone could see he was in favour. Henry’s daughter, Princess Mary, even wrote to Cromwell, asking him to speak to her father on her behalf. Henry had seen little of his daughter in the past months, finding her devotion to her beloved mother hard to deal with. But the fact that even she, estranged from Henry’s love, could see Cromwell’s position of influence with her father, was something of note.
Cromwell was suspicious of me, I believe… at least at first. But we found that we had things in common apart from the love of our King. I loaned him books that I had read avidly, although I did not share banned works with him, worrying that they might be used against me, by Wolsey, should Cromwell pass such information on. But I also sent books for his son and he thanked me for my personal interest in his son’s education. What Cromwell had achieved in such a short space of time was remarkable. He had risen from the ashes of a fallen master, to a new and prosperous position. He had won the admiration and affection of his King, had the support of notables at court and demonstrated aptly that he had the skill to take on much, if not all of the work his former master had performed.
I had long believed Cromwell was the new tool we required to complete our cause. If only I could persuade him to join us, and abandon Wolsey for good, I felt there was a chance we could succeed.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Greenwich Palace
Spring 1530
That spring I was sent a pamphlet. It came directly to me by messenger, and was one of the first of a great number which were to flood through London that year. The author was an English exile named Simon Fish. He had left England under threat from Wolsey when, some years earlier, he had satirized the Cardinal in a play he had written, performed at Gray’s Inn one Christmas. F
ish was known to run a trade in banned books. I believe my brother had received volumes from him in the past; works by Luther, Tyndale and other theologians on corruptions of the Church.
Fish’s sent the pamphlet to me himself. It was called A Supplication for the Beggars, and it was a petition, written with excellent clarity, to Henry, on matters of the immorality and greed of the Church in England. Fish wrote passionately that the people of England were reduced to the state of paupers by the clergy. He made the case that the Church was sucking all wealth from Henry’s people, and he asked the King to rise up and stand against such corruption, as the leader and good master of his people.
Fish argued that clerical arrogance made a mockery of the King’s own justice, and that, in order to be a good master and loyal servant of God, Henry must take a stand against this, and lead his people into glory, with himself standing in authority over the clergy in England. The work was avidly anti-clerical, and I knew that the Church would move against him as a heretic for it. But I saw much truth in the pamphlet, and it addressed many of my own long-held beliefs about the vice of the Church.
Fish was presently in the Low Countries, in Antwerp, but had sent his work to me as it was well-rumoured that I held evangelical and reformist sympathies. Fish’s text was already under investigation in England, after having been discredited in the Low Countries as heretical. But he was about to have more copies smuggled in, he wrote, and wanted me to read the work first. I knew that he was hoping I would take it to Henry. And I would do so, but first I called George to me to talk it over.
I handed the pamphlet to George, and allowed him to sit and leaf through it before I spoke. “Fish calls upon Henry to deliver his people from misery,” I said softly.
“He argues well,” George noted with approval, turning the pages and then looking up. “Will you show it to Henry?”
I nodded. “I believe that he will take much from it at the present time,” I said. “Fish points out that the Church holds a most disproportionate share of the riches of England, and Henry has only to look at Wolsey’s confiscated goods to know this is the truth.”
“And he argues that the monasteries compound the Church’s corruption by taxing the poor rather than aiding them.” George ran a finger along the page. “His calculations are rather shocking if they are correct… That the clergy own one third of the land and one tenth of all produce, live-stock and wages of servants… He shows clearly here that the Church is indeed bleeding England dry.”
“Henry has already been, with Wolsey, investigating and dissolving certain corrupt monasteries and Master Cromwell played an active part in this,” I mused. “But here, it shows that there is a need for a true reform of the whole! Think of what this money could do, George, for the poor, for orphans left upon the mercy of the parish… Think of what it could do if it was re-allocated to the promotion of scholars or as aid for good monasteries rather than kept by men such as Wolsey who have no care for their flock!”
“He speaks, too, against indulgences.”
“Which even the King, in his most conservative faith, judges to be works of corruption,” I snorted. “As all should see that they are! How can a man buy his way into Heaven? Did not Jesus himself say that it would be easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle? The sale of indulgences is an antiquated evil; a way of feathering the beds of the Church, whilst offering naught to those who purchase them… Through true faith alone, a man gains entrance to Heaven… not through bartering with God!”
“But he also speaks against purgatory, sister,” he warned. “Which, you know, Henry believes in.”
“Fish says but little on that subject,” I replied. “Apart from saying that we have no cause to pray for the dead to gain them entrance to Heaven faster, and again, he is right, is he not? Faith takes us to God, not the pleading voices of those who loved us in life… It should be for every man to live as well as he is able, and to have pure faith in the Almighty, not to live in sin and then rely on the well-wishes of loved ones once he passes!” I paused. “But I think the most important argument here, for us, is that Fish points out that the clergy undermines the power of the state, of the King. Fish says the Church has surpassed the King, and set up their own subversive state against his power. He says, here… do you see?”
I leaned over my brother’s shoulder and flicked through the book in George’s hand until I found the passage for which I was searching. “Here… that the ancient Kings of Briton were never subjugated by the clergy, nor did they assent to the imposition of taxes on their people, to be paid and then stolen away by Rome! Those kings of old had a firm hand on external powers and did not allow the clergy to overreach their authority. And Fish warns, too, that should Henry not act for his people, then there is risk of rebellion.”
“The King will not like that,” George noted, staring at the page. “He believes his people love him with all their hearts and many of them do… They prefer to blame…” he trailed off and looked at me with a touch of pink in his cheeks.
“To blame me,” I finished for him, and even smiled. “Yes, I know that well enough, George. I am the King’s whipping boy. His people blame me for every ill in this land… If the winds howl, then it is my fault. If the sun does not shine, it is because of me. If their wonderful Katherine is cast down, it is my fault alone. If the crops fail, if the fields flood, if the night is cold or the day is too hot… All is my fault in England!” I stood back and laughed bitterly. “They would make me the mistress of magic and smoke,” I said sadly. “So much do they hate me.”
“The common people know not the truth,” George consoled, closing the text. “In time, they will come to know you better. It is just that Katherine is now their martyred Queen, and they have known her longer.” He stood and took my hands, holding them out before me. “Besides,” he smiled, “whom have you ever known who has not fallen for you, my sister spirit? When men come to know you, they adore you.”
“That is not true of even half the court, I believe, brother.” I smiled. “But I thank you for your pretty lies.”
“Now,” he said, shaking my arms in his hands once, “what will you do about this warning of rebellion? The King will not take kindly to it, and you know that his resentment is dangerous.”
I tilted my head to one side. “I will say to him that it is a warning only,” I said, “and that, truly, if the people were to rise against him then it would not be for lack of love for him, but for hatred of the clergy. I will say we often lash out at the ones we love the most when we are angered by others.”
George shook his head in wonder. “You understand him well,” he marvelled.
“I love him, George,” I reminded my brother. “And when we love someone, we know all their virtues and all their vices. I will find a way to present this to Henry so that he understands it for what it is… a call, a plea from his people. And it can only aid our cause. I see not now why we need the Pope to smear his dirty little hand over the Great Matter any more… It is shown that a king should be as Pope and Emperor in his own realm. If Henry can be persuaded to believe this too, then we shall not only have our marriage, but he will be the leader of the faith in England. Think on it George! We could have the Bible translated to the mother tongue for all the people of England! We could have the Scripture plain for all to understand! We could do away with indulgences, and root out dishonesty … We could have, as we have always dreamed of having, a good and righteous Church in England, freed of the corruption and superstition of the past!”
“Tread with care, Anne,” George warned. “Henry is a most conservative man in his faith, and he does not like all reforms of which you and I speak… He thinks many are heretical.”
I tossed my head. “I have already opened his mind to many new ideas,” I sniffed. “And he has all but agreed with me that his people would benefit from understanding the Bible in their mother tongue. I speak not of outlandish reform, or of rejecting the Sacraments or the transubstantiation of the host as some
reformers do; such things I do not hold with… But there is much here that we could do, for the betterment of the people of England, and for us… if Henry could but be persuaded to see this… do you not think?”
George nodded thoughtfully. “I have thought for some time that the path of reform might take us to a place where you could have your crown at last, sister,” he agreed. “And you are right; there are many benefits that could come, and not just for our family... But tread carefully, as I have warned. You know that many are rising in opposition to us… That fraud, the Holy Nun of Kent, has made many dire prophesises on the King’s Matter and you know how superstitious Henry is at times.”
“We just need the right men to show Henry the true way…” I said. “For it must be done with care. Throwing the whole idea at him at once would be too much, but showing him a little at a time, so that he has time to ponder and think upon the righteousness of the matter, that will do well. I know him; batter him with such things and he will turn away, but speak to him little and often, and he will thirst only to know more.” I took the pamphlet from George. “I will give this to Henry, in my office as his true Queen,” I said. “And I will ask him to go through it as I have found much of interest there. I will try to deflect the things that may annoy him, so that he might see the good in all of it.”