The King's Commoner: The rise and fall of Cardinal Wolsey (The Tudor Saga Series Book 2)

by David Field

  ‘As a diocesan bishop myself, and in deference to his Grace of Canterbury, are there any other records that might give credence to the matter one way or the other?’

  ‘The suffragans claim to have their own records, which clearly reveal that the transfer of money to the diocese has only ever been informal, and was never part of the Cathedral charter granted by Henry II,’ Norfolk replied.

  ‘Informal?’ Foxe prodded. ‘Do you mean that the Archbishop has been taking bribes?’

  That was sufficient. Warham angrily grabbed his papers and rose from his seat. ‘I do not intend to remain in order to hear my holy office further insulted. I shall seek out His Majesty, in whichever whorehouse he may currently be located, and relieve myself of my burden of office.’

  ‘And your head, if you continue in that manner,’ Norfolk snorted as the Archbishop slammed the door noisily behind him.

  ‘What do we recommend to the King?’ Foxe enquired.

  ‘That he allow the current arrangement to continue in the absence of any evidence of malpractice,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Also that he may need another Chancellor — and possibly another Primate of All England.’

  ‘And which of those roles do you covet for yourself, Thomas?’ Foxe asked provocatively.

  ‘Both of them, no doubt,’ Norfolk muttered.

  Thomas had heard enough. ‘At least I do not have upon my conscience the fact that I achieved high office by butchering ten thousand Scots.’

  Norfolk smiled back triumphantly. ‘My Lord Bishop of Lincoln should be able to speak with authority about butchery. It was his father’s trade.’

  The responding laughter burned in Thomas’s ears as he wished them all, in his mind, the most painful death that God might devise. When the Council meeting ended, he hurried downriver to Bridewell, drank two flagons of Beaujolais, and was later carried to his chamber by two of his grooms, crying tears of self-pity.

  A week later, Thomas sat outside the King’s Presence Chamber deep in thought. He was now Bishop of Lincoln and was drawing the fat incomes from a variety of benefices. Thomas would soon be able to supervise the massive task of transferring all his acquired plate, ornaments, tapestries and jewels to the new palace at Hampton from the house in Bridewell that seemed too small to house, not only these, but also his rapidly growing household, including his mistress and two children.

  By any standard of measurement, he was successful. But he was still the son of a butcher, and he would always be open to such taunts from his peers. Unless he could rise to such a position, either in the Church or at Court, that none dare challenge his lowly origins, it was a stigma he would always have to endure. The likes of Norfolk and his cronies, who had done nothing except be born, could only be put in their place by fear of the power wielded by men in a position to take their lives or their livelihoods from them. No-one dared insult the King, because of the power he held over life, death and wealthy status. It was time that Thomas put himself beyond the point at which men dared recall the dirty hose in an Ipswich puddle.

  The business was routine, but important to Henry, and when Thomas was admitted to the presence, as Norfolk slipped past him in the open doorway on his way out with an arrogant sneer, he was fully prepared to explain to Henry.

  ‘The Earl of Surrey will accompany the train to Dover with a company of mounted knights, and litters have been commissioned not only for the Princess Mary but also six of her Ladies, two of whom are, I am advised, nieces of Surrey’s anyway. My Lord of Norfolk will meet the train at Dover, and will accompany the royal party to Calais, where he will hand over responsibility for passage to Abbeville to the Governor. Should you wish to accompany the progress as far as Dover, the Earl will of course defer to you at the head thereof, and will ride at your side, with half his command in the vanguard, and the remainder to the rear. It is to be hoped that this inclement Autumn weather abates before the end of the month.’

  Henry smiled. ‘You have such an eye for detail, Thomas, and as ever you have the matter managed down to the last piece of baggage. How well might you handle great affairs of state?’

  ‘That is surely your great burden, Hal,’ Thomas murmured, his eyes to the floor.

  ‘A burden considerably lightened by your presence on my behalf in Council, where, or so I am advised by Foxe, you suffer insults because of your humble origins.’

  ‘My father is a butcher, it is true,’ Thomas reddened, ‘but it is an honest trade, and my father is the finest in the county. Not a day passes, when I sit down to my dinner, that I do not thank God in his infinite mercy for the beasts of the field, and men with skills such as those of my father to convert those beasts into fine roasts.’

  Henry chuckled. ‘You must also thank God for your filed tongue, Thomas, and one that I would use for greater matters than simply deflecting the spleen of my somewhat arrogant Council. Your eye for detail, your constant thirst for tasks to be performed, and your skill in matters beyond the wit of mere soldiers have signalled you out as the obvious replacement for poor old Warham, who is nearing the point at which he will hang himself on his own tongue if I do not mercifully relieve him of those burdens that have made him an old man before his time.’

  ‘Hal?’ Thomas enquired, his heart beating at a rate perilous to health, and his rebellious stomach launching waves of acid into his throat.

  ‘I wish you to become my Chancellor in due course, Thomas. In due course, but not yet. I have persuaded Warham to remain in that office for a little while longer, because I have a more urgent need for you on the Continent. However, you will not cross the Channel yet again simply in your current style. You have presumably received news of the death of Dr. Bainbridge while engaged in ambassadorial work for me at Rome?’

  ‘God rest his soul,’ Thomas muttered piously and hopefully.

  ‘This obviously leaves open the see of York, Thomas, and I would recommend to the Pope that you be appointed to replace Bainbridge as Archbishop. I cannot place you in Canterbury while Warham lives, but once his days are ended we may once again combine Primate of All England with the office of Chancellor. For the time being, you must content yourself with York, and await the dead shoes of Warham. The Chancellorship shall be yours next year, regardless of what years Warham may have left to him.’

  ‘As ever, Hal, your generosity leaves me speechless,’ Thomas murmured.

  Henry burst out laughing. ‘The day you are without an appropriate word, Thomas, shall be the day the sun shines up my royal arse. And it is your skill with words that I would employ with the Emperor.’

  Thomas looked doubtful. ‘He may have me strung from the walls of Bruges, after your recent insult to him.’

  ‘An insult that I would have you sweeten, Thomas. Go you to his Court and advise him that the check was intended only to Ferdinand of Spain, and that it was unfortunate that the dignity of the House of Habsburg also thereby appeared to have been slighted.’

  ‘And if he does not accept your reassurance?’

  ‘Then you may indeed be hanged as a decoration from the walls of his ducal residence. But that is the risk taken by all my emissaries, Thomas — surely you know this by now?’

  ‘Indeed, Hal, and I do not shrink from the task, trusting as ever in God to be my guardian against the forces of injustice. But it might be better were I to delay my journey until I may undertake it in the regalia of York. While Ferdinand may not scruple to hang a bishop, his nice conscience might stay his hand against an archbishop.’

  Henry smiled. ‘It shall be as you wish, but do not delay your installation.’

  The last thing Thomas intended was to delay his ordination into this rich new post, and within days he took considerable personal delight in facing a grim faced William Warham as he invested him with the regalia of the second most important see in England. Thomas was now entitled to call himself ‘Primate of England’, with only Canterbury himself above him as ‘Primate of All England’.

  Maximilian smiled as Thomas bowed before him, one hand
cautiously raised in order to retain the mitre on his head. ‘It seems that each time we meet, you have been advanced in the Church. The first time was as a mere priest, then as a bishop, and now as Archbishop of York. When we meet again, shall you be Pope?’

  ‘Please God that Giovanni has many years ahead of him, your Excellency. But should his Holiness have need of a cardinal, you would do me a great service by recommending me to such office, that I might further the work of defending Rome against the indignities of Louis’ advance through the Italian states.’

  ‘Your ambition, as ever, precedes you, my Lord Archbishop. Do you still enjoy our local wine? If so, and if it is not beneath the dignity of your new office to partake of the fruits of God’s vineyards, shall we share a hogshead before you endeavour to explain to me how your King intends to make amends for the insult to my house and family by marrying off his sister to that old bastard of France?’

  ‘Most certainly, your Excellency, but first I have a gift from my King as a token of both his esteem and his heartfelt grief that he may have offended you, when the insult was in truth only intended to Ferdinand of Spain. If I might be permitted?’

  The Emperor nodded his approval, and Thomas looked behind him at the entrance to the Great Hall in which they were met, in which stood a tall young man dressed from head to foot in the livery of a priest of York, beside whom was a long barrow that had travelled all the way from Calais on a horse-drawn cart. Thomas waved his hand, and the young man solemnly walked down the hall pushing the barrow, then halted before the Imperial dais.

  ‘You bring me vegetables?’ Maximilian enquired, much amused. Then his face set in a look of amazement as the young man solemnly lifted the cloth from the trolley to reveal a massive suit of full armour, made from burnished gold and stamped throughout with the ancient symbols of the Imperial crown.

  Thomas took advantage of the stunned silence. ‘His Majesty King Henry is well aware of your love of armour, your Excellency, and hopes that you will accept this humble and loving gift as a small token of his regret that he should have appeared to cast a slight upon your royal house while intent merely on rubbing the nose of Ferdinand of Spain in the goat droppings in which it belongs.’

  Thomas’s mission was already accomplished. Relations between England and the Empire had been restored, Ferdinand remained insulted, and France would soon have a new Queen with Tudor blood in her bridal offerings. Thomas could now look forward to the coming year.

  X

  The New Year celebrations for 1515 were barely over when Henry found his patience for those closest to him stretched to breaking point on the rack of European diplomacy. As usual he sent for Thomas to guide him through what he must do, and fortunately for him his recently consecrated Archbishop of York was well prepared, as the result of several earlier audiences.

  The first had been with the urgently commissioned French Ambassador Gilles de la Pommeraie, a personal friend of Francois of Angouleme, cousin of Louis XII. Gilles brought urgent news from the French Court of a momentous event that had previously only been rumour — King Louis was dead. The Lady Mary was now a widow, and if it is determined that she is not carrying an heir to the late French king’s throne, the question arises of who she should be wed to. Pommeraie had been anxious to impress upon Thomas the importance of ensuring Mary remarried within France.

  The second had been with Queen Katherine. She had also heard the news from France, and she impressed upon Thomas her desire to see Mary matched with her nephew, Charles, soon to be King of Germany.

  Thomas was attempting to formulate a line of advice that would satisfy both the Queen and the French Ambassador, while easing Henry’s conscience and, at the same time, promoting his own ambition to wear a Cardinal’s hat, when he almost collided with Thomas Howard, who emerged in front of him from the alcove in which he had been lurking.

  ‘Thomas, I will not ask if you have heard the news, since it is all over the Palace, and I have already had a letter from my niece Anne, who is currently residing with my brother-in-law Thomas Boleyn, in Paris. She and her sister Mary have been banished from Queen Mary’s service, and they are both in need of a place here at Court.’

  It gave Thomas considerable satisfaction to be the one being asked for intercession with the King by the man who had dumped him in an Ipswich puddle in the years before each of them had risen in public life. He opted to prolong Thomas Howard’s anxiety. ‘I do not choose the Queen’s Ladies, Thomas. Since your brother-in-law is now appointed Ambassador to France, you surely do not fear for their safety?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Surrey replied. ‘Do not fence with me, my Lord Archbishop, since I am an expert dueller. My concern is that the Princess Mary should not be allowed her head in the matter of a choice of second husband.’

  He was as subtle as a boar fighting off the royal hounds, and Thomas was enjoying himself immensely at the man’s expense.

  ‘It has been long known where her heart lies, regardless of what her head deems appropriate,’ Thomas replied. ‘If it were left to her, she would be the Duchess of Suffolk, which I imagine would not be to the liking of your father Norfolk, since it would take Charles Brandon even closer to the King’s ear. Is it your wish that I urge the King against such an eventuality? Do you now fear the power that comes with being the King’s brother-in-law?’

  This was a particularly cruel jibe, but one that Thomas had no hesitation in delivering, given the many boyhood cruelties to which he had been subjected by Thomas Howard. Thomas’s first wife, Anne of York and one of King Henry’s several sisters, had died some years previously, and Howard’s second wife, although the granddaughter of the powerful Percy of Northumberland, was in no position to guarantee him the King’s ear.

  ‘My concern is simply that the Princess Mary be brought safely back to England, where she may remarry under the wise guidance of her brother the King, and no doubt his closest counsellors, among whom you are numbered, according to my father.’

  ‘It was, as I recall,’ Thomas reminisced, ‘you yourself who escorted her to Dover on her journey to France. Do you seek to be the person who escorts her in the reverse direction? With your two nieces in close attendance to impress upon her the chivalry and courage of her escort?’

  ‘Just make sure it isn’t Brandon,’ Howard spat back as he turned to leave, ‘else she may return in no condition to be further engaged as a royal chess piece.’

  Thomas sought admission to the royal presence. Henry was biting his lip with anxiety as Thomas was admitted. He thrust a piece of vellum at Thomas as he poured himself another wine, and in his distracted state omitted, for once, to invite Thomas to join him. ‘It seems that King Francis of France has already been in my sister’s ear,’ Henry complained. ‘Read that, Thomas.’

  The letter bore all the hallmarks of having been written in a blind panic by a frightened young girl, and left little to be imagined regarding her deepest desire.

  I beseech your grace that you will keep all the promises that you promised me when I took my leave of you by the waterside. Sir, your grace knoweth well that I did marry for your pleasure at this time and now I trust you will suffer me to marry as me liketh for to do. Wherefore I beseech your grace for to be a good lord and brother unto me. Should you not, it is my intention to take upon my person the vestments of a bride of Christ in some nunnery where never no man shall know joy of me.

  ‘Well, Thomas?’ Henry asked, ‘was ever a man so torn? I would that Mary marry into the House of Habsburg, as was my first intent until you persuaded me otherwise, and that would surely be of considerable value to the nation in its need to protect his Holiness from French aggression. It would also, as I am constantly reminded on those occasions when I keep the royal marriage bed, please Queen Katherine. And yet it is true that as a loving brother I made promise that Mary might make her second marriage with her own chosen partner, who I know to be my lifelong companion and good friend Charles Brandon. What am I to do, Thomas?’

  Thomas had
been weighing up the advantages and disadvantages — not for Mary, nor for the nation, but for himself. On the one hand, should he persuade Henry to hold firm and promise Mary’s hand to Charles, the almost certain successor to the Holy Roman Empire, he would have gained a powerful ally in Rome in the matter of his ambition to don a cardinal’s red hat. He would also be back in favour with Queen Katherine, who would naively believe that Thomas had been the one to persuade her husband to favour her nephew.

  On the other hand, to advise Henry now that his first idea had been the better one, from which he had been dissuaded by Thomas, would do nothing to maintain the King’s confidence in his counsel. There was also the need to maintain the good offices of Suffolk against the malice of the Norfolk faction towards the man they regarded as the upstart son of their local butcher. At least he could rub Surrey’s nose in the excrement in which it belonged.

  ‘It would be as well, Hal,’ Thomas began, ‘to avoid any suggestion that the Princess Mary has become a mere coin on the trading table of European politics. Less than an hour ago, Surrey referred to her, in my hearing, as “a royal chess piece”. But at the same time, her physical safety should be assured, ere she become the hostage of Francis of Valois. She must surely be returned to England with all speed, that you may then perhaps persuade her where her duty to England must take her next.’

  ‘And her dowry, Thomas? What is to become of that?’

  ‘A matter of secondary importance, if I might make so bold. Nothing is more important than the safe return of your beautiful sister, the rose of all England, to the bosom of her family.’

  ‘And who shall I send, Thomas? It was Surrey who took her to Dover barely three months ago; shall we send him to perform a like service on her return?’