The King's Secret Matter

by Виктория Холт

  If the letters contained news which Wolsey did not wish Charles to receive they were destroyed; only those which were innocuous went through. De Praet was scarcely a subtle ambassador; Charles must realize this. He would have been wiser to have chosen a Spaniard rather than a Fleming. The Cardinal had always had more respect for the solemn subtleties of the Spaniards than for the brash bonhomie of the Flemish.

  De Praet concerned him but little for if he became dangerous some means could be found to remove him; it was the Queen with whom his thoughts were occupied. She would be an enemy of some consequence. He would never lose sight of the fact that she was not only the King’s wife and mother of the heir to the throne, but also the aunt of the Emperor. Relations between the King and the Queen were not of the best; but still she was the Queen and as such wielded a certain influence.

  She was therefore a potential enemy to be watched with the utmost diligence; and as the Cardinal had always believed in crippling the power of those who he feared might harm him, he began to think frequently about the Queen.

  In the meantime he burned the letter which she believed was on its way to the Emperor, and decided to be ready for the first opportunity which came his way.

  It came soon, as he expected it would.

  He had been going over the cost of the war with Henry, a subject which never failed to make the King angry. Wolsey could see that it would not be difficult to wean him from the Emperor, and that it was only the hope of marrying Mary to Charles that caused him to remain Charles’s ally.

  “This marriage is of such importance,” murmured Wolsey. “And it should be taking place within three years. The Queen already mourns because her daughter will have to go away. Alas, daughters must leave their royal homes; which is always so sad for those who love them. With sons…”

  The King was startled. Few people were bold enough to mention the subject of sons in his presence. He looked at the Cardinal who was staring idly before him.

  Wolsey went on as though to himself: “I do not altogether despair.”

  “What’s this?” growled Henry.

  Wolsey made a show of appearing startled. “Your Grace, I crave your pardon. My thoughts ran on. It is unforgivable in your presence, but I forgot…”

  “Of what do you not despair?”

  Wolsey pretended to hesitate. Then as the King frowned he went on: “It is a matter which occupies my thoughts day and night.”

  “What is?”

  “Your Grace’s happiness; Your Grace’s contentment.”

  The King looked slightly mollified but he said sullenly: “You speak in riddles.”

  “Louis XII did it satisfactorily. Your Grace’s sister Margaret did it in Scotland…”

  Light dawned in the King’s face; the little eyes were suddenly ablaze with interest. There was no need to ask what his Chancellor meant, because the people he had mentioned had rid themselves of unwanted spouses.

  “Well,” said Henry as Wolsey did not go on, “what have you in mind?”

  “I have spoken too soon,” murmured Wolsey. “I am certain there must be a way…I am certain that we can find it. But so far I cannot see it clearly.”

  “Thomas,” said the King almost tenderly, “I have known you but once fail to reach your objective and that was when you did not get the Papal Crown.”

  “I relied on false friends then, Your Grace. It is a good lesson to have learned. Henceforth let us rely on none but ourselves.”

  Henry nodded.

  “And you say there is a way out for me?”

  “I shall not rest,” said the Cardinal, “until I see Your Grace the sire of a healthy boy…nay, not one, but several.”

  “How is this possible?”

  “As it has been possible for others.”

  “Divorce!” whispered Henry.

  “Your Grace, let us make this our secret matter. Let us keep it constantly in our minds. That is what I do when a problem baffles me. Leave it there…maturing, one might say. It so often happens that after a while the answer presents itself.”

  The King grasped his Chancellor’s hand.

  “You bring me that which I had almost lost, Thomas. You bring me hope.” The Cardinal returned that affectionate smile. “It shall come to pass because Your Grace can only know contentment when he gives his country what it most needs.”

  “How well you know me, Thomas.”

  “It may be necessary for Your Grace to harden his heart. You will remember how nobly you married your brother’s widow. Your brother’s widow…,” he repeated emphatically.

  “I know full well,” replied Henry. “But I tell you this, Thomas, though I am a man with feelings most tender, I am a King also.” The little mouth was prudish suddenly. “And I would not consider the fine feelings of Henry Tudor if my duty to my kingdom dictated that I should overcome them.”

  “Then, Your Grace, let us bring our minds to bear on it…and for a time…this shall be our secret matter.”

  The King was excited and well pleased.

  So the battle had begun, the Cardinal told himself. Let those who set themselves against Thomas Wolsey beware—even though they be queens.

  The Jilting of Mary

  THE KING GLANCED AT HIS CONFESSOR, JOHN LONGLAND the Bishop of Lincoln, and shook his head gloomily. He had confessed his sins and received absolution; but he did not dismiss the Bishop who waited, believing that the King had not confessed all that was on his conscience.

  “Your Grace has something else to tell me?”

  “A certain matter hangs heavily upon my conscience,” began the King.

  “It appears so, Your Grace.”

  “Then I will tell you, for it may well be that you can find some comfort to offer me. I would have you turn to the twentieth chapter of Leviticus, and you will see what disturbs me.”

  The Bishop took his bible and turned to that chapter.

  “I pray you read verse twenty-one,” said the King.

  The Bishop read: “‘And if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing; he hath uncovered his brother’s nakedness; they shall be childless.’” He stopped reading and was silent, not daring to make comment.

  Then Henry said: “You see! You have read that. Does it not state clearly God’s will? They shall be childless…and in all these years…”

  Seeking to comfort the King, the Bishop said quickly: “God cannot be displeased with Your Grace. He has given you the Princess Mary.”

  “A girl!” snarled the King. “I think of those sons which were born to us. Born dead. Again and again God gave us signs of His displeasure…and we heeded them not. We went on living…in sin.”

  “Your Grace distresses himself unduly. There may yet be a son.”

  “There will be no son,” Henry shouted.

  “Your Grace, there was a dispensation. There is no need for Your Grace to feel anxious.”

  The King’s eyes narrowed. He snapped: “There is every need. This burden of sin lies heavy on my conscience. I, who have lived as near to God as a man can live…I who have heard Mass five times a day…have confessed my sins regularly and have always obtained absolution…I, the King, have offended against the laws of God. I have lived for all these years with a woman who is not my wife in the eyes of God. So He tells me this…He denies me my son. Do you not see that while I live thus there will never be a son!”

  “Your Grace, let us pray for God’s help.”

  Henry could have cuffed the Bishop. He was no Thomas Wolsey. He was anxious to please the King but he lacked the Chancellor’s wits. He thought to please him by assuring him that he had nothing to fear, that his marriage was legal.

  Fool! Fool! he thought. Then he remembered the Chancellor’s injunctions: As yet it is our secret matter.

  He went on to his knees, and while the Bishop prayed he thought: Thomas is right. Good Thomas. ’Tis a delicate matter. There is the Emperor to be thought of. He will never stand aside and see his aunt repudiated. We have to go carefully.
So…caution for a while.

  When they rose from their knees, the Bishop said: “Your Grace is unduly concerned; I shall redouble my prayers that you may be blessed with a son.”

  And the King’s feelings were under such control that instead of roaring “Fool” at the man, he merely murmured: “I thank you, Bishop. I too shall pray.”

  * * *

  IN HIS PRIVATE CHAMBER at Hampton Court the Cardinal was reading the letters which de Praet had written to the Emperor. There was matter therein which if laid before the King could bring about the man’s downfall.

  Had the time come to expose the ambassador to the King?

  Wolsey was for prompt action. François and Louise were restive, and they were anxious for an immediate secret alliance with the English against the Emperor. An end, thought Wolsey, to this senseless war. What could be more desirable?

  Although his spies worked well for him, there must be occasions when it was impossible to learn all that passed between the Queen and her nephew’s ambassador.

  The case against the Queen must necessarily move slowly. But, thought Wolsey, you are doomed, Madam. You have yet to discover that. But I shall find a French Princess for Henry, and then the bonds with your perfidious nephew will be cut forever.

  What of Mary? Well, that marriage was three years away and more royal marriages were proposed than celebrated.

  He wished that he could take de Praet’s letters to Henry and say: You see how your ally’s ambassador works against you. You see what an opinion he has of your Chancellor who cares more for your welfare than his own.

  He was sure Henry would be furious; and then would be the time to bring forward those French ambassadors, whom he had waiting in hiding, that they might treat with Henry.

  Yet how could he go to the King and say, My spies bring me the ambassador’s letters; I have a method of breaking the seals and resealing them so expertly that none could guess they have been tampered with. Might not the King question the honor of his Chancellor? Of course he could explain that what he had done had been in the interest of the State; but it was never wise to expose one’s methods too freely.

  Wolsey had an idea. The city gates were closed each evening, and if any foreigner tried to pass through them he would be arrested by the watch and brought before a royal officer. If the Cardinal gave orders that any letters found on suspected persons were to be brought to him personally, and if he could delay de Praet’s courier until the gates of the city had been closed, it was certain that the letters found on that courier would find their way to his table. It was almost certain too that those letters would contain words which would not please the King. And what more reasonable than that the Cardinal, so assiduous in the protection of the King’s realm, should read those letters in person, and lay them before his master?

  It was the way to deal with the matter and not difficult, with so many spies surrounding the ambassador, to waylay his courier and prevent his attempting to leave the city until after the gates were closed; and as the man did not know the city’s laws the plot worked as smoothly as Wolsey could have hoped. In a very short time the courier had been arrested by the watch as he attempted to leave the city, searched, and the letters found. They now lay on Wolsey’s table.

  Luck was with him. Both the King and Wolsey were referred to in these documents in a manner which was slighting, and Wolsey could scarcely wait to reach the King’s apartments.

  “A matter of some importance, Your Grace.”

  The King waved a hand and those men who had been with him immediately departed leaving Henry alone with his Chancellor.

  Wolsey quickly told Henry what had happened and as he laid the documents before him, was delighted to see the rich color flood the plump cheeks and the eyes blaze with anger.

  “I had long suspected him,” said Wolsey; “and now Providence has enabled me to lay evidence of this man’s perfidy before Your Grace.”

  “He shall go to the Tower!”

  “A foreign ambassador, Your Grace?”

  “By God, this is treason.”

  “As he is an ambassador of the Emperor, might I suggest that we place guards at the door of his house and forbid him to leave?”

  “Let it be done!” commanded the King.

  * * *

  THE SEIGNEUR DE PRAET stood before the Cardinal in the latter’s private chamber at Hampton Court. The Flemish nobleman looked with something like scorn at the red satin garments of the Chancellor; he had felt incensed, as he disembarked at the privy stairs and walked across the grass, at the sight of that magnificent edifice; but when he had entered the place and seen the gloriously apparelled servants, the valuable treasures in every room, he had said to himself: Is it possible that a man of the people could own so much? He was resentful, believing possessions and honors to be the prerogative of the nobility.

  It was easy when he was not in the presence of Cardinal Wolsey to sneer at his origins; when he stood before him he could not help being conscious of the man’s intellectual power; the rather protruding brown eyes of the man of the people seemed to look into his mind, discovering his secret thoughts, to suggest that the reason he clung to the importance of his noble birth was because, knowing himself at a mental disadvantage, he sought to flaunt every little asset he possessed.

  Archbishop of York, Cardinal, Papal Legate and Chancellor. So many great titles for one man to hold—and he a man who had risen from the people. In spite of one’s prejudices, one must feel in awe of such achievements.

  He was received almost haughtily by the Cardinal’s stewards. They would make His Eminence aware of the Seigneur’s arrival. Had His Eminence summoned him to Hampton Court? Because if this was not so, they doubted whether they could disturb His Eminence at such an hour.

  This was an insult. It did not occur to him that it might be intended. He presumed the servants to be ignorant of his standing.

  “Tell the Cardinal,” he said in his haughtiest manner, “that the Ambassador of His Imperial Highness, The Emperor of Austria and the King of Spain, calls upon him at his own wish.”

  He was kept waiting for fifteen minutes and then, fuming with rage, was led through the eight splendid rooms to the Cardinal’s private apartment. Wolsey was seated at his table and did not rise when the ambassador entered.

  What can one expect of a butcher’s son? de Praet asked himself.

  Wolsey continued to study the paper before him for a few seconds until de Praet said angrily: “I have come as you asked me to, my Lord Cardinal.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Wolsey, laying aside the paper with what appeared to be reluctance. “I have bad news for you, Mr. Ambassador.”

  There was insult in the title and de Praet felt the blood rushing to his face. Was he, the Emperor’s ambassador, to be kept standing while the Cardinal remained sitting at his desk! He might be a servant come to receive a reprimand.

  “Bad news!” he cried. “What bad news is this?”

  “Your courier was arrested last night and certain documents were taken from him.”

  “My courier! This is an insult to the Emperor.”

  “It happened quite naturally,” explained the Cardinal. “He delayed his departure until the gates of the city were closed. As you may know, the law says that all foreigners, attempting to enter or leave the city after the gates are closed, are arrested and searched.”

  “But he should have left before that. What delayed him?”

  The Cardinal lifted his shoulders and smiled. “It is useless to ask me to keep an eye on your servants, Seigneur. This is what has happened. The letters you have written to the Emperor were brought before me. I had no recourse but to read them. We have to be very careful when dealing with those whom we believe to be spies. As it so happened I considered the contents of those letters treasonable, and I saw that it was my duty to lay them before the King.”

  De Praet was startled. He remembered the frankness with which he discussed the King and Cardinal in his letters to his master; he rem
embered the slighting comments he had made about them both—particularly this man who was now smiling blandly at him.

  “His Grace,” went on Wolsey, “was much displeased. It seemed to him that we have been harboring an enemy in our midst.”

  De Praet shouted: “You have done this. You had the man arrested. It is a plot.”

  “And the letters? Shall you say that I wrote those treasonable documents?” Wolsey demanded with a smile.

  “They were intended for the Emperor.”

  “I did not expect for a moment that they were intended for the King and myself.”

  “I shall go to the King,” said de Praet. “I have evidence against you, Master Wolsey. I know that you have been receiving a spy from France. I know that you are working to destroy the alliance between the King and the Emperor. The King does not know the Cardinal whom he trusts. If he did he would not trust him. But he shall know. I have the evidence. I shall go back to my house; and when I have collected this evidence, which shall bear out my word, I will lose no time in going to the King and laying before him all I have discovered.”

  Wolsey continued to smile, and the ambassador turned and walked quickly out of the apartments. The Cardinal went to the window and watched him hurrying across the grass to his boat.

  “Helpful of him to explain his intentions in such detail,” he murmured to himself, and then called his stewards to him and began to give orders.

  De Praet cursed the slowness of his boat as he was rowed back to London. His indignation increased as he rehearsed what he would say to the King.

  When he reached his house he went in and collected certain documents which he had kept in a safe place, and made a careful list of all the people he would call as witnesses against the Cardinal.