by G Lawrence
I welcomed it. Norris’ love warmed me. It was like waking from a troubled night of broken rest amongst cold sheets, only to find the warm summer sun on one’s face.
Did Norris truly love me? I knew not, but in every action, word and conversation there was enough evidence for me to think he did. A wounded heart seeks solace. I found that with him, in him.
*
“The King has taken to checking and double-checking everything Cromwell sends,” said my father with cheery, undisguised relish as he came from Parliament. “He trusts him completely no more.”
“That is good,” I said, hoping Henry had heeded my warnings.
The bill to dissolve small religious houses, those with an income of less than two hundred pounds per annum, was poised to go through Parliament. On the basis of Cromwell’s, somewhat questionable, investigations, they would be dissolved on the basis of corruption, but there were many, myself included, who wondered if his motive was money rather than morals. The official line was that confiscated property and coin would be put to better use… but what that use was, was not specified. Indeed, many estates were already earmarked for distribution amongst nobles, and Henry had promised some to me and my family. Anything granted to me would be used to further my charitable aims, but I had to question whether all nobles would do the same. Not all of those at court were as dedicated to humanist principles as they protested.
A second act was to follow the first, granting leave for the Crown to confiscate property, land and goods of the suppressed abbeys and dispose of them in whatever way would be most profitable. A court would be set up, known as the Court of Augmentations, overseen by Cromwell’s cronies, which would control this second wave of attack.
These were revolutionary ideas. Never before had a layman ruled the Church, and never had a king taken upon himself the power to dissolve so many religious houses and profit from their destruction. I was unsettled.
It was the duty of nobles to protect the needy. That was why God had made some rich and some poor. It was in keeping with humanist and religious morals to do so too, and Henry understood that, even if he liked the idea of having more money to spend on his ships, on his court, and on his castles.
I had spoken to Henry about allowing exemptions to be made. Henry had welcomed the idea, but Cromwell had not. If the King granted licences for smaller religious houses to continue to exist, albeit with a watchful eye looming over them, the amount of property and money that Cromwell might be able to extract not only from the smaller houses, but larger ones, like Syon, which I knew he had an ravenous eye upon, was reduced.
Cromwell liked money. It had granted him power, freedom and favour. His relationship with Henry was close, there was no doubt of that, and the trust he had been shown by his sovereign was remarkable, but money bought much that favour could not, and Cromwell was well aware of its power.
As Parliament wore on, I made preparations to move from Greenwich to Whitehall. I needed to be there to advise Henry. I set myself into this task; to save what good was left within the Church. If I did this, I reasoned, God would bless me. No more would He take my children. This quest was my salvation.
The night before we left, I had a strange dream. I dreamt of a storm. As a falcon I flew against it, the winds battering my wings and rain lashing my feathers. I saw my brother, caught in the maelstrom, his hands flailing against the dark tempest, his form floundering in the storm.
I caught him in my talons. Against the wind we strove. But I could not hold him. The wind was too strong and I too weak. From my grip he fell, and as I dived to him, we were flung backwards, against a cliff I had not seen.
Smashed against rocks, we fell to pieces, shattering as though we were made of sand, falling to the earth as sparkling particles of silver dust.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Whitehall Palace
February 1536
I arrived at Whitehall for the feast of St Matthias, and was taken to Henry with all speed. He was not in his chambers, but his men greeted me with a hearty cheer, flocking about me to speak words of friendship and greeting.
“You look stunning, Majesty,” Norris said quietly in my ear. “I think sometimes you become more beautiful with every dawn.”
My cheeks coloured and my heart leapt. “As always, Norris,” I said, finding peace in his warm eyes. “You know how to flatter a lady.”
“With you it is not flattery, but truth,” he said, handing me a goblet of wine.
“Sweetheart,” Henry said as he entered some time later, finding me amongst a throng of men. “You are more beautiful than ever.”
Unlike Norris, I doubted him, for his eyes strayed to pallid Jane.
“My men have sorely missed you,” he announced, leading me into the company. “Norris has been quite lost without you!”
I did not welcome the glint of jealousy in Henry’s eyes, and from the slight flush that rose becomingly on Norris’ cheeks, I understood he did not either.
“I merely said, my lord, it was sad at court with no ladies,” Norris said. “But of course I miss the Queen’s fine counsel and company when she is not with the court.”
“As do we all, Norris,” said Henry, patting the seat beside him. “You are churched?” he asked gently as I took a seat.
“I am, and restored to full company with the world, my lord.”
“Then I shall come to you tonight,” he said. “Now that Katherine is no more, we will not suffer her curse.”
It was strange, at times, to see how a thought, once it had entered Henry’s mind, could possess him so completely. Repetition is a powerful tool. I often wondered, when Henry repeated himself, driving his friends to distraction, if he was attempting to convince them, or himself.
As Henry moved away to talk to George and Brereton, Norris came to me. “There have been rumours that you should know of, and should also know are false,” he said, handing me more wine.
“That the King will abandon me and seek a new wife?”
He blinked. “I did not think any other would dare repeat them to you.”
“I know the minds of my enemies. They think to spread falsehoods and make them true by repetition.”
“Like the King?”
I had to smother a giggle. “Perhaps,” I said. “But I thank you for telling me this.”
“The Courtenays spread rumour that the King will seek a new wife, one of the daughters of François, but you should not be alarmed,” said Norris. “The King has said nothing of the sort, and Cromwell has gone out to dampen the rumours at court, although…”
“Although?”
Norris leaned closer. “Although, madam, he has, whilst protesting the King is dedicated and devoted to his marriage to you, also declared that he never supported your union.”
“He tries to keep both sides appeased,” I said. “He will shout praise for me to keep Henry happy, and protest he never supported me to endear him to my enemies.” A trill of panic fluttered through my heart. Once I had said I would not envy one who got on the wrong side of Cromwell. I was now in that position.
“One thing he did of late failed to rouse their affections. Chapuys especially was outraged,” said Norris. “Cromwell demanded property from the Lady Mary that had once been her mother’s. He said that a necklace in her possession, which reportedly holds a sliver of the true cross, was part of the Queen’s jewels that the King demanded from Katherine before we went to Calais.”
“I assume the Lady refused to give it up?”
“Indeed. She said she would rather die than part with it.”
“Mary would rather die than do many things, so it would seem,” I said dryly, making Norris smile. “But I see no cause to separate her from this comfort. Cromwell only does this to try to convince the King that he is on our side, and yet at the same time, he blusters in support of my enemies.” I sipped my wine. “He will be uncovered soon, and shown to be the false friend he is, to all parties.”
I glanced at Henry, noting his incons
tant eyes on Jane. “But the King has said nothing to suggest he was thinking of another marriage?”
Norris stoutly shook his head. “He has nothing but praise for you, Majesty. He declares you are the bravest woman who ever lived, and he is honoured to have such a soul as his Queen.” Quietly, he added, “As he should be.”
“Good,” I said, feeling more than a little relieved.
That night, a grand procession of Henry’s men escorted him down the halls of Whitehall and to my chamber door. Our coming together was awkward, and it took many hours before our aim was achieved. Henry said he was tired, but I persevered. Tempting him with my allurements, speaking softly of my love and admiration, I brought him to life. As he spilled his seed in me that night, I hoped, hoped for a child I might carry to term. Hoped for a future that could not be cursed by my enemies.
Hope… a strange beast. It can live in the most barren wilderness and survive without anything to sustain it. It lives because we will it to, and endures because we need it to. It is the grass that grows in the desert, the animal that struggles on whilst bleeding to death. It is the agonising joy that love brings and the last lingering light of the sun, glimmering against the storming night.
I held hope in my hands, warming its fragile, cold body with my courage.
*
At the end of February, Cromwell made ready to release his Compendium Compertorum, a document which held the full list of all monastic abuses. This sordid tome would lend weight to the ongoing arguments in Parliament. I gained a copy, and whilst I found many of the abuses horrific, I also had to question the frequency with which those abuses occurred.
Once the bill passed, royal consent had to be granted for the houses to be suppressed. With Henry and me on good terms, I had hope of convincing him to grant exemptions and use any dissolved houses for educational purposes. If Henry supported me, there was little Cromwell could do, but I wanted to speak to Cromwell. This man had once been my friend. If we could come to the same way of thinking once again, I would be in a better position at court and he would profit from my support. I wanted him to understand that even if exemptions were made, many unworthy houses would still close, so there would be money for him and the nobles who supported him, but I could not stand aside and allow complete obliteration of England’s religious houses. I would not be silent.
If I could not bring Cromwell on side, I would become his adversary in truth.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Whitehall Palace
March 1536
“You requested my presence, my lady?” came Cromwell’s soft voice as he was escorted into my chamber by Nan Gainsford.
“I did,” I said. “Will you take some ale, Master Cromwell? I have much to speak to you about, and would not want your throat to run dry.”
He smiled warily and accepted a cup of cool, frothy ale from Margaret Shelton. “Come,” I said, gesturing to the cushions beside the hearth.
The day was cold and bright. A cloudless sky stretched above Whitehall, bringing a chill to the late winter air. Hoary frost lingered on branches and twigs, sparkling in the sunlight. As Cromwell took a seat on the cushions, I went to my throne. I wanted him to labour under no illusions of his place.
“I wanted to speak to you about the suppression of the lesser houses,” I said.
“You have read the report?” Cromwell asked. “There are so many abuses, Majesty, that I admit I was astounded. I see no other option but to disband them and take their property for the King. He will make good use of it, much better than that which the abbots and monks put it to.”
“Whilst I agree the offences are numerous and shocking,” I said. “You have long known that the suppression of all religious houses in England is not dear to my heart. Where would the poor be without the charity of the abbeys? Where would sick folk, without coin to pay a doctor, turn when they are in need?”
“The King and I have already spoken of this, Majesty,” he said. “And have agreed that part of the confiscated wealth should go into trusts to aid the poor, and building hospitals to help the sick.”
“Yet there is no solid promise of these great aims in anything I have read,” I said. “It seems to me that it will be left to the conscience of the nobles to act as they see fit. We can hope great lords understand the necessity of using their power, influence and riches to aid those less fortunate, but there is no provision to force them to do so. This troubles me.”
“Do you have no faith, madam, in the consciences of the nobles?”
I smiled. “Come, Master Cromwell… play not the fool with me. You know as well as I that men may promise to do much for others when they catch sight of riches soon to come their way. But if they hold true to their promises when their coffers are filled is another question. For some, too much is not enough, and when a rich man gazes into his purse, he always thinks it empty.” I twisted the rings upon my fingers. “If the wealth of the monasteries is granted to nobles and to the Crown with no hope of charity coming from it, then how are we doing anything different to the past corruptions of the Church? The clergy stole from the people and hoarded their riches, growing fat on them. Is not the same being done again? The same vice, the same evil? How are we doing God’s work if we repeat the same sins, albeit with different beneficiaries?” I gazed down upon him. “And it is not this concern alone which troubles me.”
“What more is there, Majesty?” Cromwell asked.
“The uniformity in the reports,” I said, noting a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “It seems strange that all monks and all abbots engaged in exactly the same level, amount and types of abuses. That they are all drunkards, gamblers and lechers. Am I to believe that only the most despicable of England’s people are drawn to the worship of God? That all men who take the cloth are bound to the same sins? The marked similarity in your men’s reports troubles me, Cromwell, for they are all so very alike. Too alike, one might say.”
“I assure you, madam, my men have acted only as instructed, and were diligent in their duty.”
“Perhaps too much so. Do you not think that their zeal to provide the evidence you needed might have caused them to fabricate or exaggerate?”
“I would stake my honour and my life upon their honesty, Your Majesty.”
Despite his calm words of reassurance, there was a thin sheen of sweat on Cromwell’s upper lip. The voice may hide many things, but the body does not lie.
“Do you ever think of your old master, Wolsey, as you walk these halls?” I asked, as though on a whim. “I do. I think of the days when this was his house. Many people do not know it, but there was a time when he and I were united in purpose, before he decided to attempt to sway the King against me, before his corruption and ungodly behaviour were discovered.” I paused, noting a fresh outbreak of pearling moisture on Cromwell’s heavy brow. “As Wolsey discovered, Master Cromwell, those who have much to hide never rest easy. And yet for all our differences, I would have stayed a friend to the Cardinal, had he remained so with me.”
I stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “I should not take up all your time, Master Secretary,” I said. “I am sure you have much else to do.”
“I am much occupied,” he admitted, gratefully handing his cup to Nan. “And rest assured, my lady, I will look into your concerns. If I find that any of my men have been overzealous, I will discipline them.”
“I am glad to hear that,” I said. “But know, too, that I will investigate. If there is anything hidden, I will uncover it.”
*
Elated, in the aftermath of threatening Cromwell, I was swiftly brought crashing to the earth. From Norris and George I heard that the Emperor was willing to become friends with England again, but only on the condition that Lady Mary was restored to the succession as heir presumptive.
“The King told us not to say a word,” said George, “for fear of frightening you.”
“But he surely did not agree?”
“Of course not,” said my brother. “He s
aid he would not for anything be held as a liar and dissemble in the eyes of God, and therefore could never agree to placing a bastard daughter above his legitimate one.”
I tried to smile, but it froze. Was this not the actualization of all my fears? I had thought that many in England would attempt to persuade Henry to restore Mary, but that this demand had now come from Spain was harrowing.
“Norris, give us a moment, will you?” George said. Norris departed to pay court to Mary Shelton, and my brother kissed my cheek.
“What was that for?” I asked, touching my cheek where the warmth of his love lingered.
“To cheer you,” he said. “Anne, you must have known that this demand would arise at some stage. But there lives no danger in it as long as Henry refuses. Cromwell would have England allied to Spain, but this is not the only option open to us. France has not been a true friend, I agree, but perhaps we have enough true friends, and may settle for a temporary one.”
