An Uneasy Crown: Power and politics at the Tudor court (The Tudor Saga Series Book 4)

by David Field

Two days later, Richard Ashton smiled at Grace across the breakfast table and asked, ‘Do you think you could handle riding Patience for two hours or so today? One hour there and one hour back?’

  Patience was a young filly born to one of the estate brood mares while Grace had been away. She’d been broken to human command and Grace had already happily walked her around the home paddock without mishap, so she nodded gleefully at the prospect of a longer ride on her back. ‘Of course — where are we going?’

  ‘To somewhere very important, in the ruins of Leicester Abbey.’

  ‘The Cardinal’s grave?’ Thomas chipped in. ‘That’s boring!’

  ‘Then you won’t be disappointed when I tell you that you’re not coming with us,’ their father said. ‘It’s time that Grace learned how we come to be living here. Dress for a long ride, by your standards, Grace, and be prepared to do some rough gardening when we get there.’

  Two hours later they stood on either side of a weed-strewn mound of earth, surrounded on all sides by the ruins of what had once been a large monastery, but had over the years been robbed of its finest stones following its closure along with most others of its type. At the head of the mound was a fine carved headstone and as Grace carefully fingered the moss in order to trace the inscription she looked across at her father.

  ‘Why is the Cardinal’s the only grave that’s still properly tended?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s been my life’s work to maintain it in some semblance of decency. I’ve been coming here almost every week since before you were born, to keep down the weeds and it was in return for undertaking that service that I was granted our estate.’

  ‘By the King?’

  ‘No, the man in whose service I was at the time. You’ve heard of Thomas Cromwell?’

  ‘I have,’ Grace replied guardedly, ‘but not always in a good way. Lady Mary says that he was a Godless heretic.’

  ‘That’s because he put an end to abbeys such as this one, which were an important part of the old religion that Lady Mary still espouses. But Cromwell was King Henry’s Secretary and I was one of his clerks.’

  ‘Only a clerk?’ Grace asked with raised eyebrows. ‘Then why did he give you this estate?’

  ‘You need know nothing other than that I received it in return for tending this grave, which contains the body of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, who rose from being the son of a butcher to become the most powerful man in England after the King. And he raised Thomas Cromwell to greatness — the son of a Putney blacksmith.’

  ‘They both rose to high office, even though they were lowly born?’ Grace queried.

  Her father nodded. ‘They were men of great ability and King Henry valued that. It made no difference to him that they did not come from a noble family, raised on a mighty estate.’

  Grace looked thoughtfully across the mound at him. ‘Did Mother tell you about Allan Bestwick?’

  ‘She did indeed, and that’s why I brought you here. Men of lowly birth can — and should — be judged by what they are and not where they come from. Now help me clear some of this marsh grass and let us respect the memory of a great man.’

  As they rode back during the late afternoon, Grace had a few more questions. ‘If men are to be judged by what they are, is it possible for the high born to be held down, despite their origins?’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Richard said. ‘I believe that the mighty Duke of Norfolk learned that hard lesson when he over-reached himself in the matter of his son’s coat of arms. He was ever Cromwell’s enemy — and therefore mine — but he’s spent the past year or two as a prisoner in the Tower.’

  ‘Why was he your enemy?’

  ‘Because I worked for Cromwell, of course. And because I refused to lend my name to a rebellion he was planning against King Henry.’

  ‘Your name must have been important to him. Were you once high-born, Father? I know nothing of your past.’

  ‘It would be better if you didn’t, but you may assume that my birth right was something of considerable significance to men like Norfolk. But I saw enough of the intrigues and back-stabbing at Court to want no more of it, which is why I settled for a humble estate as far from London as possible, where hopefully I may live out my days in peaceful obscurity. And I wish the same for you, unless the glamour of Court has already worked its fatal charm on you.’

  ‘No, Father, I leave that sort of thing to Jane, who I must visit soon, in case she thinks I have forgotten her. But for me, perhaps a life married to a farrier on the banks of the Trent?’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ Richard said. ‘Remember that you are not yet even twelve.’

  ‘How old was Mother when you first met her?’

  ‘Enough questions. Concentrate on keeping your fine filly on the track ahead.’

  XVI

  ‘The Earl of Warwick, Your Majesty.’

  John Dudley walked the short length to the raised throne, which looked ridiculously large with the diminutive figure almost lost inside it and made a sweeping bow.

  ‘You have put down the rebellion?’ Edward asked.

  Dudley nodded. ‘With considerable ease, Your Majesty, and over forty rebels are now hanging from Norwich’s walls.’

  ‘Well done, Warwick,’ Edward replied, before giving way to a bout of coughing, then dabbing the phlegm from his chin.

  ‘You are still unwell, Your Majesty?’ Dudley asked solicitously.

  Edward shook his head defiantly. ‘It is merely a leftover from my recent malady. I was lucky to escape the worst of the smallpox that took so many in the city. The miasma here in Greenwich is not so perilous, it would seem. And I cannot afford to be ill, with so many rebellions around the nation.’

  ‘Where do you wish me to take my men next, Your Majesty?’

  ‘That would seem to be a waste of effort,’ Edward replied. ‘As fast as you cut down one clump of weeds, it seems that another springs up somewhere else in my realm. Traitors step in and whip the mob into a frenzy regarding small grievances, most of them religious. What we need are more sensible policies regarding the governance of the nation, not more bloodshed, which seems to breed only further resentment.’

  ‘As a mere soldier, I can only offer armed suppression,’ Dudley admitted.

  ‘I think you are capable of more than that, my Lord Warwick, and I wish you to put down your sword and polish your diplomacy.’

  ‘You wish me to travel to a foreign land, Your Majesty?’

  ‘In one sense, yes,’ Edward replied with a sour face, followed by further coughs and further wiping of the royal chin. ‘I wish you to lend your wise voice to those in Council who oppose those policies that seemed destined to inspire rebellion.’

  ‘But surely, Majesty, my Lord Somerset...?’

  ‘My uncle brings me only policies that inflame the popular resentment, Warwick. And since he claims to act in my best interests, often not even consulting the rest of Council, I am not to know if I am being offered the wisest counsel.’

  ‘Perhaps if you were to attend each Council meeting in person, Your Majesty?’

  Edward gave an impatient wave of his hand and broke into more coughing. By the time that this latest attack had subsided, Dudley was already making mental plans.

  ‘I do not attend many Council meetings, as you are well aware,’ Edward reminded him. ‘There are two reasons for that. One is that they bore me to distraction and the other is that I am not well placed to know which policy is the best and my uncle seems to carry the majority with him, principally because, as Lord Protector, he is able to overawe some and bribe others, to his point of view. Not always a wise point of view, as recent events have demonstrated.’

  ‘So what do you desire of me?’ Dudley asked, pretending a naivety that he had never possessed. ‘Somerset is Lord Protector, with power to make policy without resort to Council.’

  Edward smiled. ‘He only acts without Council because I allow it. I intend to require him to put everything through Council and then I wish you to lead the op
position to his proposals.’

  ‘Even if they are wise?’

  ‘We shall never know if they are wise unless they are fully debated, shall we? At present there are several members of Council who seek to counsel against certain proposals of my uncle’s, but they are always in isolation and there is no-one with the courage to lead them and force the issue into wider debate. I wish you to be that person.’

  ‘You wish me to lead opposition to every one of Somerset’s proposed policies?’

  ‘Precisely. There may be times when the majority are against you, but I suspect that once the more timid members of Council can see that you are their champion, they will take heart and push harder for full discussion, at the end of which every proposal of my uncle’s will have been tested by strong argument and not simply agreed because he insists.’

  ‘You ask a great deal of a mere soldier,’ Dudley pointed out.

  Edward nodded. ‘But I do not ask it of you in your current rank, Sir John. For some time we have had no Earl of Northumberland worthy of the name. Given your recent military success, what could be more natural than for me to bestow that honour on you? Would you accept the title of Duke of Northumberland?’

  ‘Gladly, Your Majesty,’ Dudley said.

  ‘This is all to the good, since it will give you added weight in Council, where I expect you to begin work without delay. Now leave me and be reunited with your family.’

  By the end of that month, Edward Seymour could smell his own impending downfall. The boy King who had been content to accept whatever policy he brought to him was now insisting that he would not do so unless it was in writing and signed by every member of Council. Almost as a matter of course, Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, Archbishop Cranmer and Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, refused to add their names until there had been full debate, and the loudest voice against any policy that sought merely to appease rebels at the expense of the landed gentry and nobility came from the newly created Duke of Northumberland.

  It came to a head three meetings later, when a stubborn minority in Council were refusing to put their names to a Bill that Edward Seymour had proposed. As tempers rose, Archbishop Cranmer suggested an adjournment to allow tempers to cool.

  As the Council members left, Dudley smiled at Cranmer. ‘My thanks, my Lord Archbishop. It would seem that my Lord of Somerset does not take well to organised opposition.’

  ‘He is not used to it, that is why,’ Cranmer said. ‘But there is something related to the succession of which you should be aware, in case there be truth in the allegations regarding the Seymour ambition that led Thomas to the block while you were away in Norwich.’

  Dudley sat down and motioned for Cranmer to take the seat next to his. ‘Of what do you speak, your Grace?’ he asked.

  Cranmer’s face became even more solemn. ‘As you may not perhaps be aware, the King, in his youthful inexperience often relies on my advice during private audience. During his last illness he was convinced that he was dying and he dictated his dying wishes regarding the succession. If it be not amended before Edward dies — as die he must, of course, one day — then it has the potential to plunge the nation into civil war.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘In his own will, the late King Henry took the sensible course of devolving the crown first to Edward and his heirs, then to Mary and her heirs, then to Elizabeth and hers. He took no steps to legitimise their births and so they remain technically bastards. But out of an abundance of caution, he also added to the succession the descendants of his sister Mary, in order to prevent the crown going to any Scottish descendants of the other sister, Margaret. I believe he did so in a fit of pique because of the refusal of the Scots to betroth their own Queen Mary to Edward when he was still heir apparent.’

  ‘And so?’

  ‘This opened up the possible succession to the Grey family, but for some unaccountable reason Henry excluded his own niece Frances Grey and this left young Jane Grey in the line of succession.’

  ‘So what has changed?’

  Cranmer sighed. ‘I tried to talk him out of it, but could only pursue my argument so far, since Edward’s motives seem to have been religious in origin, and for that of course I must take much of the responsibility.’

  ‘I would hazard a guess that he excluded the Lady Mary, who is still unrepentantly Catholic,’ Dudley suggested.

  Cranmer nodded. ‘Indeed he did. But he also excluded Elizabeth, for the second reason he gave for excluding Mary, namely that they are both still adjudged bastards.’

  ‘So if Edward were to die without heirs?’

  ‘The crown goes to Jane Grey.’

  Dudley was stunned by this revelation, but not enough to prevent his devious brain from considering the next steps he might take. ‘Has the will been registered in any way?’ he asked.

  Cranmer shook his head. ‘It is being copied to be issued as letters patent, which will require the consent of not only Council, but also the Parliament.’

  ‘So at present it is known by the clerks of the Lord Chancellor’s office, but no-one else?’

  ‘Correct. And I believe that I can delay its publication while Edward lives. But of course, should Edward die heirless, it will come in due course before Council and I need hardly emphasise the uproar it will provoke among the remaining Catholics such as Wriothesley. Thank God that Norfolk is still in the Tower and likely to see out his days there. But what steps will you take to avert a constitutional crisis?’

  Dudley smiled reassuringly. ‘Since Edward is still alive, we have time. Time which I can use to my advantage.’

  XVII

  Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, sat staring distractedly into the fire in the apartments he shared with his wife Anne at Greenwich Palace. Anne couldn’t quite believe the change in his normally confident manner and put her needlepoint down on the table beside her chair opposite his by the fire and stared into his blank face. It was late January 1550 and she was glad of the warmth from the blazing logs, but the desolated look on Edward’s countenance sent a chill right through her.

  ‘What ails you?’ she asked tentatively, not confident of any meaningful response.

  ‘Nought ails me — yet,’ Edward muttered, ‘but as for what is to come, who knows?’

  ‘Your meaning?’

  ‘I fear a plot.’

  ‘Against you, or King Edward?’

  ‘Is that not the same thing?’ Edward replied testily. ‘There is a mood abroad in Council that would seem to be aimed at undermining anything I suggest for the benefit of the realm and therefore its King. King Edward gives the appearance of going along with it, but I cannot be sure that he is not the dupe of others, most notably Dudley, who has now been elevated to the Dukedom of Northumberland.’

  ‘What makes you suspect Dudley?’

  ‘He was close with my brother shortly before his attempt on the King’s life. Thomas may have gone to his death, but you know as well as I that the man was a mindless peacock. As for who was really behind the plot we can only conjecture, but it led almost immediately to Dudley’s rise in the King’s estimation.’

  ‘Isn’t Wriothesley charged with the duty of smoking out those who were behind the plot?’ Anne asked. ‘That being the case, why do you trouble your mind with it?’

  Edward shot her an exasperated glare. ‘Did I not just say that since the failure of the plot, Dudley has risen to favour in Edward’s eyes, whereas I have fallen? I fear that my nephew has received secret but false counsel that I was somehow involved in Thomas’s lunatic scheme.’

  ‘From Dudley?’

  ‘Who else? At the same time that Dudley’s fortunes have risen, mine are being held down with King Edward’s approval, if not his actual instruction. It is as if I am suspected of complicity in what Thomas did and I fear that Wriothesley has been quietly instructed to look no further than me for an explanation of how someone as famously brainless as Thomas could have contrived a bid for the crown. A crown, what is more, that could never have been his
in the ordinary course of things.’

  ‘But if it could never have become his, how can anyone argue that it could ever have become yours?’ Anne replied. ‘And if not, then what could you possibly have stood to gain by Edward’s death?’

  ‘If you were listening correctly, mind that I said “in the ordinary course of things”?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So who was it who made such great effort to have the Lady Jane Grey residing in his house? And for what purpose, think you?’

  ‘Knowing your brother Thomas and his taste for young girls, I dread to think,’ Anne grimaced. ‘His attachment to that fading baggage Catherine Parr was a surprise to anyone who knew him even vaguely — she was at least twenty years older than the age he preferred them.’

  Edward sighed. ‘Think, woman — and think beyond the obvious! Jane Grey has no beauty above average and Thomas had a ready supply of innocent young girls through his sickening patronage of several city orphanages. If not, then, her beauty, why did he go to the trouble of having her brought down from her father’s estate three days’ ride to the north?’

  ‘It was to please King Edward, was it not?’

  ‘That was the reason at first, yes. But then it became known — to members of the Council anyway — that Jane had been mentioned in Henry’s succession. Given certain future events in her favour, she might one day aspire to be Queen.’

  ‘So it is your belief that Thomas befriended Jane Grey in order, first to get closer to King Edward, and then stab him in the back and assist Jane to the throne? And for what reward? Her hand in marriage? Surely, not even a simple girl from the country would be so desperate?’

  ‘She is far from simple, believe me,’ Edward insisted, ‘and Henry Grey’s wife is ambitious for their daughter.’

  ‘But now that Thomas is dead, surely any hope she might have had of stepping onto the throne is no better than it ever was? You forget the royal princesses Mary and Elizabeth, surely?’

  ‘Were Edward to die before reaching maturity, the future of the realm would lie in the hands of Council,’ Edward reminded her. ‘The majority of them would be against Mary, because she would return us to Rome in her very first act as Queen. As for Elizabeth, she is barely fifteen and given to being frivolous and empty-headed, insofar as it is possible to read her. Compared with those two, even the thirteen-year-old Jane might be acceptable to a Council dominated by Dudley.’