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

by David Field

  Henry was livid with rage, and barely spoke to Queen Katherine for an entire month. Even then it was only to remind her of what a treacherous dog her nephew was, and this opinion was shared by the man who Charles had double-crossed the most, Thomas Wolsey. His hopes of becoming Pope through the quiet influence of the Holy Roman Emperor were shattered when Pope Leo X died less than a year after the treaty to which Thomas had acted as midwife, and Charles urged the Conclave to elect his former tutor Adrian of Utrecht as Pope Adrian VI. Thomas pretended to anyone who asked that he cared more for serving Henry than he did for serving God in the highest office available within the Church of Rome, but he privately cursed the man who had outwitted him and dragged England by the nose into a war that it could ill afford, while demonstrating to Thomas’s enemies that he was not infallible when it came to international diplomacy.

  Whether or not Henry shared those doubts, he was still in dire need of the best counsel he could get that most suited his own ambitions to dominate Europe, so the day had not yet come when Thomas would lose the royal confidence, and he continued to be occupied almost daily in forming a silent audience to Henry’s ravings against his Imperial nephew, and prospective son-in-law.

  When not so occupied, Thomas was busy making his own domestic rearrangements. The ease with which Bessie Blount had been palmed off onto Gilbert Talboys encouraged a thought that had been fermenting under his own cassock for some time, namely that it was fitting that he ease Joan Larke out of his household, along with their two children. He still held her in great affection, but his sexual needs were those of a middle-aged man who had, for most of his life anyway, been celibate.

  He had avoided any more overt scandal by leaving her and the children at Bridewell when he transferred to York Place upon acquiring the mitre and cross of York, and he rarely visited even the children, who were not entirely convinced that he was their father anyway. Then one day, in Chancery, he found himself judging a property dispute from Cheshire involving a modestly wealthy widower called George Legh, and in a private conference with the litigant he agreed to judge in his favour if the gentleman would be prepared to assist a comely young woman and her two children for whose welfare Thomas had assumed responsibility. He even supplied the lady in question with a dowry, as a further indication of his good opinion of her.

  He also had occasion to appoint a new gentleman usher for his staggeringly massive household, stretched across Bridewell, York Palace and Hampton Court. It came about almost by accident, one day in the Exchequer Court when he was examining some Pipe Rolls, and had occasion to comment on the need for greater regulation of his own personal household. In his company at that moment was the ‘Clerk of the Pipes’, Thomas Cavendish, of whom Thomas had formed a high opinion, who advised him that his agile-minded, but bored, son George was languishing at home in Padbrook Hall, in Thomas’s native Suffolk, looking for something worthwhile to occupy his time and attention. A short interview later, and Thomas had a loyal servant who would caringly follow him through the dark days that were not far ahead, and would be the man at Thomas’s side when he was hounded to his death on the urgings of the Howard family.

  Pope Hadrian did not reach a third year in office, and upon his death in 1524 the faithless Charles persuaded the Cardinals, in Wolsey’s absence, to appoint Clement VII, who offered an olive branch to the unsuccessful rival candidate by graciously granting Thomas the See of Durham to go with his existing Archbishopric of York, in exchange for the less prestigious Bath and Wells. Thomas once again let it be known that he welcomed the new incumbent with more joy than he would have received the office himself, and set about proving that he might have been the better choice by sweeping out some of the more fouled monastic stables within his own English regions of responsibility. However, as always, he did so at considerable benefit to himself.

  Later historians would credit his protégé Thomas Cromwell with the dissolution of the English monasteries, but in reality he was then merely pursuing with more enthusiasm, and on the urgings of the grasping monarch who had governed both their lives, the policy initiated by Thomas Wolsey. Thomas lost no time in emphasising his piety to the new Pope by bringing to his attention the laxity in the daily routines of almost thirty holy houses under his administration, which the Pope authorised him to close down. It is unlikely that he also authorised Thomas to pocket their wealth, but he would probably have approved the purposes to which it was put. Officially they were a new Oxford college named ‘Cardinal’s College’ (later renamed Christ Church), and an endowment fund for the creation of what became Ipswich Grammar School. Unofficially they were further demonstrations of Thomas’s vainglory.

  There was, however, no hiding the fact that Thomas had lost a great deal though Charles’s treachery, and his preference would thereafter be for an alliance with France. Charles had, however, benefitted considerable from abandoning the English forces on the eve of what would have been a triumph two hundred years in the making. He had marched south at the head of the greater part of his army, and challenged Francis everywhere he could find him within the Italian city states. He eventually ran him down on the outskirts of Pavia, and following a four hour battle that decimated the French force, Francis himself became hostage to Charles, who had finally gained the dominance over Europe that he had long craved, while at the same time humiliating his almost lifelong rival.

  The news was not received in London with the joy that it might have been. For one thing, it had been Henry’s policy, on Thomas’s urging, to juggle between the two powerful monarchs like a fairground entertainer with apples, in the hope of preserving a manufactured peace that would not require any expenditure on English forces. But of far more concern to the two intensely vain men in charge of England’s foreign policy was Charles’s public repudiation of his betrothal to the Princess Mary. This was not a studied personal insult, but recognition of the fact that Charles’s victory had come at a huge financial cost, and he had his eyes on the huge dowry that came with the hand of Isabella of Portugal, regardless of what he might think of the physical attraction of the rest of her.

  Pride, both personal and national, dictated that England now throw in its equivocating hand with Francis, and early in 1527 Thomas Cromwell was once again set to work, under his patron’s supervision, putting the final touches to a peace treaty between England and France that became known as ‘The Treaty of Hampton Court’, although it was signed at Greenwich. Public overtures were made to Charles to release the person of King Francis himself, while private invitations were sent from Charles, via his ambassador, to Thomas, suggesting that he urge upon Henry the wisdom of joining Charles in a final joint conquest of France, whose lands would be carved up between England and Spain.

  Tempting though this prospect was, Thomas argued strongly against it, both with Henry and with the Council. For one thing he had no reason for trusting in any more of Charles’s promises, and for another the English Treasury had been seriously denuded by the last expedition sent out under Suffolk, which had been forced to retreat when Spanish troops were not forthcoming. There was an unfortunate history of English forces waiting in the field for Spanish support that never came, and Thomas was privately concerned that Charles would stand back and let the English do all the hard and dangerous work, then claim the spoils for himself.

  It was doubly unfortunate for Thomas that the leadership of the pro-war faction within Council was now in the hands of the Third Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard Junior, his old enemy from the Ipswich days. The Old Duke had died the previous year, and his son, previously the Earl of Surrey, had succeeded him with Henry’s blessing. The King relied on seasoned warriors like Norfolk and Suffolk, and it was unfortunate that the two most powerful nobles in the nation disliked each other, probably out of mutual jealousy, although neither of them would admit it.

  Suffolk was still profoundly grateful to Thomas for interceding for him when he married the royal sister Mary without Henry’s permission, but he looked askance at the Arc
hbishop’s constant preference for international negotiation rather than simple old-fashioned war. He knew that his ongoing popularity with Henry depended on his ability to bring, and command, thousands of men under his war banner, and it was in his interests to maintain the perception of military threat from overseas, or at the very least the tempting prospect of territorial gains on the continent, and he was reluctantly obliged to side with the more openly bellicose, and verbally aggressive, Norfolk, when he thumped the table during the first Council meeting after the capture of King Francis, and took the opportunity to blame it all on the butcher’s son whose rise to national eminence he bitterly resented.

  ‘Thanks to this meddling priest, who were best left to tend his father’s cattle and pigs, we have been betrayed by Spain, and are now being invited by Charles to invade France, at considerable cost to ourselves, in order to assist him in the securing of the spoils!’

  ‘It is the best opportunity we will ever be given to take back those lands across the Channel which are rightfully ours,” Suffolk argued.

  ‘And the cost?’ Norfolk thundered. ‘Wolsey cost us the best part of the Treasury by being duped by Charles of Spain into assisting him in France. And with what result? Parliament will not grant us more taxes, to be sure, and we own no more land in France than we did when we started on this foolhardy exercise. Were I not convinced that the Chancellor of England is an errant fool who was guided simply by his own incompetence, I would recommend that he be tried for treason!’

  ‘Enough, Norfolk!’ Henry demanded. ‘Wolsey has ever enjoyed my confidence, in this as in many other matters of which you remain unaware. Our business today is to decide whether or not to invade France as invited by Spain. Thomas, you have thus far maintained your silence — what say you?’

  Thomas was in a difficult bind. The last thing he wanted was to be forced to admit that he had indeed been hoodwinked by Charles of Spain, and that he had grave doubts regarding the honesty of the man’s intentions were England to cross the Channel once more in alliance with him. He was also anxious to renew an alliance with France, in order to revenge himself on Charles, but the man with whom he would wish to sign a new treaty of everlasting friendship was currently languishing under house arrest on the borders of his own country — or what was left of it — and Spain. However, Norfolk’s angry reference to finance, from his position of authority as Lord Treasurer of England, had shown him the way through the impasse.

  ‘As Norfolk reminds us, we are not best placed financially to equip another expedition into the lands beyond Calais,’ Thomas explained.

  ‘Thanks to your mismanagement!’ Norfolk yelled. Thomas took a deep breath and glared at Norfolk across the table.

  ‘You are no longer a credible sight playing the schoolyard bully, Norfolk, and the precise reasons for our current situation are complex, as His Majesty is well aware. The purpose of today’s meeting of Council is to consider our future options, not to assign blame for past misfortunes.’

  ‘And why should we listen to your advice, when it was the cause of our misfortunes in the first place?’ Norfolk shouted back. Suffolk placed a restraining arm on his, and made his second contribution to the discussion.

  ‘We have not yet heard his advice, Norfolk — at least let the man speak. Thomas, what say you?’

  ‘I say,’ Thomas replied with all the dignity at his command, ‘that we make diplomatic overtures for the release of Francis, and then make great show of receiving him here at Court. He will be grateful for our intercession, and flattered that a nation as powerful as England still wishes to be associated with his cause. He will then be all the more disposed to sign a treaty most favourable to England. We will still be accounted a force in Europe, at no cost to ourselves.’

  There was sullen agreement around the table, and Thomas was instructed to commence the negotiations he had just recommended. He was then asked how he proposed to replenish the Treasury after the massive demands made upon it by the recent debacles in alliance with Charles. He assured the meeting that he had plans afoot for that too, then announced that if there was no more business for the day, he was required to judge matters in Chancery that had been delayed until he was available.

  As the meeting broke up, Norfolk was smiling quietly to himself. Thomas Boleyn, who had been summoned to attend the Council because of his diplomatic experience in France and the Low Countries, but who had not spoken a word, sidled up to him with a puzzled frown.

  ‘You look pleased, Thomas — why is that? Surely, you wished the greasy rat attainted for treason?’

  The smile remained on Norfolk’s face as he replied. ‘Better to let the arrogant fool hang himself. He will shortly seek a means to tax the people further — then he will be out of the country for long periods. Prepare the net, Thomas — we may soon throw it over him at long last.’

  Thomas would not have smiled so broadly on his way back to York Palace had he realised that the plans he had already begun to put in place would contribute to his ultimate downfall. At this very moment he was hurrying back eager to advise his latest visitor that matters were progressing satisfactorily. He cast his outer robe off into George Cavendish’s waiting hands, and was assured that the influential guest was still there, and being ‘entertained’, if that was quite the word, by Thomas’s newly appointed Secretary, Stephen Gardiner, one of the most lugubrious clergymen Thomas had ever encountered, and he’d encountered a few in his time.

  Jean-Joachim de Passion, despite his Italian name, was a French diplomat in the service of the Dowager Queen Louise of Savoy, mother of King Francis, and he had arrived two days previously to entreat Thomas to do his utmost to persuade King Henry of England to bring pressure to bear on Charles of Spain to release Francis from his custody following his ignominious defeat at Pavia. Apart from affording Thomas an early opportunity for revenge on the Holy Roman Emperor who had thrown his weight behind a rival candidate for the Papacy, this initiative both slotted nicely into Thomas’s overall policy of seeking negotiation in Europe rather than costly wars, and had also provided him with the opportunity to divert Council away from the seeming disaster of their original treaty with Charles, which was now just so much waste paper.

  Joachim rose swiftly to his feet with a broad smile, whether out of pleasure to see Thomas’s safe return, or to be relieved of the drip-nosed misery of Gardiner’s conversation, it was impossible to tell. But Thomas returned the smile as he walked towards the side table where the wine and wafers were apparently untouched, and announced, ‘Joachim, mon ami, let us drink a toast to this great venture that I have today launched on behalf of both our masters.’

  Joachim almost laughed with relief as he enquired, ‘Your Council, it has said yes?’

  ‘Bien sure, my friend. It took little persuasion on my part, so highly is Francis regarded by King Henry, and his current difficulty occurring so soon after their recent joyful meeting in Normandy.’

  ‘And when will you leave for Granada?’ Joachim asked hopefully. Thomas frowned.

  ‘I cannot simply pass all my many duties to others and leave the country at their mercy, Joachim. It may well be that the next stage in the proceedings will be entrusted to one of my senior envoys, perhaps Thomas Cromwell, my trusted deputy in all such matters, or my Secretary Stephen Gardiner here. Although perhaps not him,’ Thomas added hastily as he saw Joachim’s face fall. ‘That will be all for now, Stephen, and thank you for your good offices in keeping our honoured friend here entertained in my absence.’

  As Gardiner bowed and withdrew, Joachim’s face fell once again.

  ‘Should you have occasion to leave me again during my visit, Thomas, please arrange for me to be in the company of someone more amusant, oui? He spoke of nothing but the torments of Hell.’

  Thomas suppressed a smirk, and reminded himself yet again that he was blessed with a formidable weapon should he be obliged to receive visitors who he did not wish to tarry too long. He placed an arm around Joachim’s shoulder and steered him t
owards the roaring fire.

  ‘Come, my friend, let us take our ease before supper, and celebrate the prospect of England once more coming to the aid of its nearest neighbour.’

  If Thomas and Joachim were of one mind, Henry was less convinced. He was falling more and more under the influence of the Norfolk faction, which had now been supplemented by Thomas Boleyn. While this latter worthy could claim to have recent diplomatic experience in Paris, that was France, and Thomas had difficulty in persuading Henry that he was best advised by those who had recent experience of Charles and Spain. After several frustrating sessions in which Henry seemed to have been primed to resist any suggestion of opening negotiations on behalf of the imprisoned Francis, Thomas began to suspect that the true reason lay elsewhere, and this suspicion was confirmed over supper a week after Joachim had left, offering to return with the Queen Dowager herself if this would move matters forward.

  As Thomas was gazing into the distance, thinking deeply, one of his pages, Harry Percy, wandered through the Great Hall on his way to the servant’s scullery, where he would take his evening meal along with the remainder of the household. He was the son of the mighty Percy of Northumberland, a seasoned warrior, the hero of Henry’s campaign in Flanders, and guardian of the northern borders against any marauding Scots. Young Percy had been sent to Thomas’s establishment to learn all there was to learn about Courtly life and affairs of State, and being a page in the household of a man as powerful as the Lord Chancellor of England was a considerable rung on the ladder of public life.