NORFOLK. We’ve a war coming, sir – can’t you grasp that? We’ll have the Emperor’s soldiers running up and down The Strand – stabling their horses in the Abbey – they’re planning an invasion! Then where do you stand? Do you want Henry – who loves you – on the throne, or some Papal puppet? How will that be lawful? What will your conscience tell you then?
MORE. May I go home now?
CRANMER. No.
MORE. The Tower, then? I am prepared for that. I brought a bag with everything I need. (Starts to pack his books and papers. Then rummages.) Well… I thought I’d packed everything… Where are my clean… Ah well! God bless you, gentlemen.
THOMAS (to the guards). Show Sir Thomas every mark of respect.
They lead MORE, shambling off.
CRANMER. What will you do?
THOMAS. Trick him into it. He says himself trickery’s allowed. You can trick heretics, he says, promise them anything – everything – and break it. I’ll play by his own rules.
CRANMER. But you’ll see he comes to no harm?
THOMAS. Oh, I’ll keep him alive. I’m a better player than he is. Trickier too.
CRANMER. If we give him a few days to think things through… Perhaps the King won’t force the point.
THOMAS. The King would leave him comfortably in the Tower until he comes to his senses –
NORFOLK. Not my niece though. She’ll hound Henry until he gives her his head on a platter.
SUFFOLK. Like that scarlet whore in the Bible. Jezabel.
CRANMER and THOMAS. Herodias.
Pause. THOMAS roars with laughter and CRANMER joins in. NORFOLK and SUFFOLK look blank. The laughter is cut by a hideous scream.
Scene Twenty-Nine
A scream like an animal in pain followed by wailing, then rhythmic keening – ominous music. A macabre procession. JANE ROCHFORD, JANE SEYMOUR and other LADIES come out of ANNE’s chamber with bloody bedlinen. Then we are in KING HENRY’s bedchamber – as for his ‘dream’.
KING HENRY. A boy – I know it was a boy. Women keep these things secret but she has miscarried my son. They lit fires in the Queen’s apartments to burn what has bled away. If there was anything to bury… Why will God not give me a son, Cromwell?
THOMAS. Majesty –
KING HENRY. Whose fault is it? –
THOMAS. It’s –
KING HENRY. Anne blames Katherine – says she ill-wishes me. She comes in the night with her cold heart and her cold hands that smell of the grave – and lies between me and the woman I love… the woman I…
THOMAS. Majesty…
KING HENRY. What’s become of your ready answers? Help me… just… do something, Cromwell. When I ride out now the people shout at me. They rise up out of ditches to tell me I should take Katherine back. And this one uses me worse than if I were a cur. Yes – I am King of England and I am treated worse than a dog. I begin to suspect…
THOMAS. What? What do you suspect?
KING HENRY. Don’t you fail me too, Cromwell – tell me what to do.
Scene Thirty
Surreal scene. Odd light. The Tower. Following year. MORE, shabby and exhausted, is served a milk pudding. It’s the morning of his execution. The door is opened and THOMAS comes in. MORE looks up cheerfully, brightly.
MORE. Come in, come in, Thomas! I’m so very sorry. This is a remarkable defeat for you. Remarkable. I hope it will not make you bitter. You’ve grown unused to the taste of defeat.
THOMAS. Defeat for me?
MORE. What use is my death? To you or to the King? It was my compliance you needed. And that you’ll never have.
THOMAS. What have they given you to eat?
MORE. A milk pudding. It’s delicious. Nourishing.
THOMAS. It will never sustain you on the scaffold.
MORE. It’s what I asked for. Want some? There’s enough for another meal – I shan’t need it.
THOMAS. I’ve come to tell you the King grants you mercy.
MORE looks up, startled.
It’s to be the headsman – not the hangman.
MORE (recovering from the hope). I thank God for it.
THOMAS. Thank me, Thomas. I went on my knees – I begged for you.
WOLSEY’S GHOST. Homo homini lupus.
THOMAS. Man is wolf to man.
MORE. Well, the wolves are unleashed now – Henry begins to feel his power. He didn’t know the half of it until you showed it to him. You have lifted him up into God’s place. Now you shall suffer the terrible strength of it. His kingdom – his people…
THOMAS. The King didn’t want your death – I tried to keep you alive.
WOLSEY’S GHOST. He’s right – it’s a defeat –
THOMAS. I feel it as a defeat.
MORE. Oh, you’ll survive it.
THOMAS. Why don’t you write to him?
MORE. They’ve taken my ink and paper –
THOMAS. I’ll fetch you some – write – it’s not too late –
MORE. I’m done with writing –
THOMAS. I’ll write it for you. All you’ll have to do is sign it. (Realising what has been said, they both laugh.) You don’t want to live, do you? You want martyrdom.
MORE. I am my own worst enemy. I’ve been told that all my life.
THOMAS. Then I’ll leave you.
MORE. Say a prayer for me. I’ll say one for you.
THOMAS comes out.
WOLSEY’S GHOST. Say one for me too.
THOMAS. He says he’s his own worst enemy.
WOLSEY’S GHOST. If ever a man picked up an axe and cut off his own head…
THOMAS. His last meal was a milk pudding. What sort of a day will it be?
WOLSEY’S GHOST. It will be raining. Hard.
THOMAS. That’s the trouble with England. The weather – rotting the grain in the fields – another bad harvest – then hoarding – then hunger – then riots – then hangings…
WOLSEY’S GHOST. Well, you can’t do anything about the weather, Tom.
THOMAS. No, but I can change everything else. I don’t want this country to be like my father’s house in Putney – shouting and fighting all the time. I want it to be a place where everybody knows what he has to do – and feels safe doing it. You used to say the English were a frivolous, wretched people –
WOLSEY’S GHOST. Set down on a foggy island at the edge of the world – abandoned by God for century upon century – no grace, no light, no learning – nothing but rain – mud – blood…
WOLSEY’S GHOST joins two others – MORE and LIZ – backs to the audience.
THOMAS. But now, I think, we have reached another age. Still rain, mud, and blood, but we are listening to God now – we are turning his way. Slowly, slowly, we are working out our salvation.
KING HENRY enters.
KING HENRY. I miss the Cardinal. Every day I miss the Cardinal of York. What am I to do, Thomas? I cannot sleep – if I shut my eyes I’m afraid I will be murdered. I have such doubts… Save me. Tell me what to do…
He sees JANE SEYMOUR. The GHOSTS turn.
End.
BRING UP THE BODIES
PROLOGUE
WOLSEY’S GHOST. A forest – the first three scenes (design and light) must tell us we are in a forest, and that the realm of nature, the unseen and the unforeseen is encroaching on Wolf Hall. We must feel we are out of London. Distant hunting horns. WOLSEY’S GHOST scents the air and disappears. DEMONS reprise elements of the Wolsey masque. The masque changes to a hunt. A hart crosses the stage and exits. Horns draw nearer and nearer. Hounds baying louder and louder. HUNTSMEN blow a kill. HUNTSMEN bring on the deer stuck with crossbow bolts. Laughter. Enter KING HENRY VIII (who has fleshed out), FRANCIS WESTON, SIR WILLIAM BRERETON, SIR HENRY NORRIS, with crossbows. KING HENRY cuts the heart out of the deer. HUNTSMEN blow.
KING HENRY. My hounds must have their fee!
Playfully he smears bloody hands on the faces of BRERETON, WESTON and NORRIS. A SERVANT pours a bowl of water for KING HENRY, NORRIS hands KING HENRY a t
owel. HUNTSMEN begin to butcher the deer.
BRERETON. Let Cromwell do that – our ‘fat butcher’.
WESTON. How many more times! Wolsey was the fat butcher – Cromwell’s –
THOMAS. I’m the grim blacksmith.
Rain – a downpour.
KING HENRY. God granted me the stewardship of this kingdom… I wish He’d given me lands with less rain and more sunshine in them.
ACT ONE
Scene One
Enter OLD SIR JOHN SEYMOUR.
SIR JOHN. Welcome, Majesty! Welcome to Wolf Hall. Come in out of this rain.
KING HENRY. Sir John Seymour – very glad to see you.
SIR JOHN. Majesty.
KING HENRY. We’ve hunted our way through Somerset and Wiltshire – to bring you venison.
SIR JOHN. Majesty.
KING HENRY. I am your guest. We’ll stay…
THOMAS. Five days –
KING HENRY. Five days. Then on to Farnham and so to London…
SIR JOHN. My… er… wife. My son Edward you know –
KING HENRY. Yes – we remember Edward from the late Cardinal’s household –
EDWARD (kneeling). Majesty. (EDWARD SEYMOUR, in black, is precise, serious, a Gospeller – GEORGE BOLEYN’s opposite.)
KING HENRY. Get up, Edward – no need to kneel in the mud.
EDWARD. And my sister Jane, sir.
KING HENRY. Ah, Jane we know! Jane… Now we visit you at home, will you be less shy? At Court we get hardly a word from her. Oho, did you ever see such a blush! Never – unless upon a little maid of twelve.
JANE SEYMOUR. I cannot claim to be twelve.
KING HENRY (smiles upon JANE SEYMOUR two seconds too long. Recalls himself). That sheep – over there, Cromwell – what would you say it weighs?
THOMAS. Thirty pounds, sir.
WESTON. He should know. He used to be a shearsman, didn’t he?
KING HENRY. We’d be a poor country without our wool trade, young Weston. Jane?
KING HENRY offers JANE SEYMOUR his arm. They go into Wolf Hall.
SIR JOHN. Tell me, Master Cromwell – when will you marry again? Don’t you live miserably – with no women in your life?
THOMAS. I’m never miserable, Sir John. The world is too good to me.
SIR JOHN. We’ve many fresh girls in our Forest of Savernake. Don’t be alone in the world – marry again, man!
THOMAS. I have my son Gregory with me.
GREGORY (bows). Your servant, Sir John.
Dinner served.
SIR JOHN. Boys are very well, but a household’s no home without women. There’s my daughter Jane – such a good girl –
KING HENRY. She is, she is! Tomorrow you’ll hunt with me, Jane.
SIR JOHN. Put her in the saddle and Jane’s the Goddess Diana – good strong thighs on her – she’ll make some man a fine wife – though I never troubled her much with schooling. What do girls want with foreign languages? They’re not going anywhere. Am I right, Cromwell?
THOMAS. Well… I had my daughters taught equal with my son.
WESTON. What? In the tiltyard?
THOMAS smiles, patiently.
EDWARD. It’s not uncommon for city daughters to be taught their letters –
WESTON. Cromwell’s daughters – imagine! Fists like blacksmiths’ hammers and hearts as hard as anvils. You wouldn’t want to meet them on a dark night in Putney!
GREGORY. You insult my sisters and their memory, sir –
JANE SEYMOUR (hand on GREGORY’s arm, to save him). You men think ladies incapable of anything but gossip. But I’ve lately got some skill of the French tongue.
SIR JOHN (spluttering). Have you, Jane?
JANE SEYMOUR. Mary Shelton is teaching me.
KING HENRY. Mary Shelton is a kindly young woman.
WESTON (nudges EDWARD, who is not amused). Very skilful in the French tongue!
JANE SEYMOUR. Though, God He knows we have gossip enough to tempt us from our studies. Love is our theme – which gentlemen are fittest to be lovers – who burns in secret love for the Queen – who serves her with the most courtly devotion –
KING HENRY laughs.
– who writes the best verses… What each of you is worth in rents and titles. (At WESTON.) You’d blush if you knew how you are measured.
WESTON. Look – I tremble!
KING HENRY. No harm in writing verses to ladies. Even married ones –
THOMAS. At Court it’s usual.
KING HENRY. Who are your suitors, Jane?
JANE SEYMOUR. You must put on a woman’s gown, Majesty, and ply your needle if you want to know that.
KING HENRY. I shall! I’ll come and search out all your lewd secrets – unless we can find someone more maidenly for the task? Gregory, you’re a pretty fellow – or that boy Mark – the musician? Now there is a smooth and girlish countenance.
JANE SEYMOUR. Oh, we barely count Mark a man – he’s always among the ladies. If you want to know our secrets, ask Mark.
THOMAS. I’ll remember that.
KING HENRY. What sort of a day shall we have tomorrow?
The Cardinal reckoned he could change the weather. ‘A good enough morning,’ he’d say, ‘but by ten it will be brighter.’
EDWARD. Some men have a weather eye – that’s all it is, sir. It’s not special to cardinals.
KING HENRY. I should never have stood in awe of him.
WESTON. He was too proud – for a subject.
KING HENRY falls asleep.
So you’ll hunt with us tomorrow, Lady Jane?
JANE SEYMOUR. If His Majesty wants me. I do as I’m told.
WESTON. The Queen would be angry if she knew.
THOMAS. Make sure she doesn’t find out, then – there’s a good boy.
SIR JOHN. He’s fallen asleep.
EDWARD. Whose office is it to wake him?
WESTON. Harry Norris – but His Majesty’s sent him across country with love letters for Queen Anne.
THOMAS. Francis Weston, your gentlemanly touch is required.
WESTON. I wouldn’t dare.
KING HENRY sinks toward the table, snorts.
SIR JOHN (whispering). Make a noise – wake him naturally. Tell a joke, Edward – and we’ll laugh. Suddenly.
EDWARD. A joke? (Affronted.) I think not.
BRERETON. You wake him, Cromwell. No man’s so great with him as you.
THOMAS. Not I.
SIR JOHN. God save His Majesty – he’s not as young as he was.
JANE SEYMOUR. Who is?
She taps the back of KING HENRY’s hand. His eyes flick open.
KING HENRY. Well… Early start tomorrow. Oh… Where’s Harry Norris?
THOMAS. Ridden to the Queen, sir – with your letters.
KING HENRY. Then… Weston – follow me. Jane – goodnight.
Smiles at her – is about to say something else – but then goes abruptly. All follow except EDWARD.
SIR JOHN (to THOMAS as he goes). Good girl my daughter… er… Jane. Supple. Good breeder for some man.
EDWARD. Stay, Master Cromwell… (Smiles.) My sister’s not spoken for, you know? You’ll have gathered my father has hopes –
THOMAS. I admire Jane, Edward – always have. She stayed loyal to Katherine – and now Anne’s Queen she suffers for it. I’m too old for her now.
EDWARD. It’s not only Jane who suffers under the rule of Anne Boleyn.
THOMAS. I disappoint her, you know. She wants me to arrange a French marriage for her daughter.
EDWARD. And you won’t?
THOMAS. The French think Princess Elizabeth a bastard. But I daren’t tell Anne that. My head would wobble on my shoulders.
EDWARD. You surprise me, Master Cromwell. I imagined you were in great favour with the Queen – you work together? For the Gospel?
THOMAS. We work together, yes. I owe her a lot. But truth is, I’m grown too great for the Queen’s liking. She wants her own family to be the only people the King listens to. Her brother George, o
r her father.
EDWARD (laughs). You’re being unusually frank with me. Her father gets the rough side of her tongue, they say –
THOMAS. He does indeed –
EDWARD. While brother George gets…
THOMAS. What? What does he get?
EDWARD. Many things are said of Queen Anne I dare not repeat. Forgive me – we’re hunting tomorrow – I’m ready for my bed.
THOMAS. Edward, when we leave Wolf Hall, we should go next to Farnham – but I’m told the plague’s in the town. I may bring His Majesty to stay at your house at Elvetham.
EDWARD. Oh no – please… I’m not provided. Could you not take him to the Westons at Sutton Place?
THOMAS. The Westons can go to the devil. No – I have my reasons. Make sure your sister Jane is there to welcome us.
EDWARD. Well…
THOMAS. If you love me, Edward – do me this favour. You’ll not lose by it.
Scene Two
GREGORY is already in bed, half-asleep.
GREGORY. Father… King Solomon had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines.
THOMAS. He did.
Pause.
GREGORY. Didn’t the Pope have something to say about it?
THOMAS. God was angry with King Solomon and took the kingdom from his heirs.
Pause.
GREGORY. Am I to marry Jane Seymour? Is that what you’ve been discussing with her brother Edward this past hour?
THOMAS. Earlier in the summer you thought I was going to marry you to an ancient dowager with a deer park. Hush, Gregory – sleep now.
He’s already asleep.
You’re a good boy. (Prays.)
WOLSEY’S GHOST (appearing). He is a good boy –
THOMAS. Wolsey? –
WOLSEY’S GHOST. Fine archer, fine horseman – a shining star in the tiltyard –
THOMAS. You can’t fault his manners –
WOLSEY’S GHOST. He speaks reverently to his superiors – is mild with those beneath him – he sits at table without fidgeting – he doesn’t slouch around with his jacket off one shoulder, or look in windows to admire himself –
Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies Page 16
