by Jean Plaidy
Many loved him!
The King's eyes narrowed. The people would remember that the man had been put to death because he had obeyed his conscience rather than his King. The King's good servant, but God's first.
The King cursed all martyrs.
This man must not live in the memory of the people. He must be seen as a traitor, a man deserving death, a traitor whose head was in its rightful place, looking down from London's bridge on London's river.
But Henry knew that, as the people passed by the bridge, as they looked at the head of the man, they would mutter prayers and ask his blessing. Too many of them remembered his kindness, his piety and virtue.
Living, he had been Thomas More, the kind, good man; dead, he would be Thomas More, the saint.
That should not be; it must not be.
Had not More stated that he believed the sowing of seditious heresies should be prevented at all costs? During his reign as Chancellor one or two people had been burned as heretics. The King would have it bruited abroad that this great good man had not been averse to inflicting suffering on those who did not share his views. Could he then complain at the King's treatment of himself?
There would be some who would say: “It is not the duty of a Chancellor to pass sentence on heretics. That lies in the hands of the clergy.” But who would examine that too closely? The Tudors and their friends, who had found it necessary to suppress many historical facts, would have no difficulty in supressing or garnishing wherever it was expedient to do so.
The King remembered the case of a heretic who had been ordered by Sir Thomas More to be flogged. The King had been amused at the time of the offense, for the man concerned had crept behind women kneeling in the church and, lifting their clothes, had cast them over their heads. The just sentence for such an act was flogging; but this man, as well as being a lewd person, was also a heretic. A little adjustment of the reports of such cases, and there was More, a flogger of heretics.
The King doubted not that his good friends would have no difficulty in providing the necessary evidence.
For, thought the King, we cannot have martyrs in our kingdom. Martyrs are uncomfortable men, and I like them not.
The King must always be right; and the King was uneasy, for he also found it hard to forget the man. Norfolk was right: More had been a lovable fellow.
I liked him, mused Henry. It gave me pleasure to honor him.
He remembered their pleasant talks together over the writing of the book; he thought of evenings on the balcony with his first Queen beside him, and Thomas More pointing out the stars in the heavens; he thought of the pleasant family at Chelsea and walking through those fragrant gardens with his arm about his Chancellor's neck.
“I loved the man,” murmured Henry. “I… as well as the others. It was not my wish that he should die. God bear me witness. I loved him.”
His Queen came in.
He was not pleased with her. She had not brought him all that he had desired. She had filled his heart with jealousy and his mind with misgiving.
He had noticed a quiet, pale girl among her maids of honor. Jane Seymour was her name; and although this young woman was modest, she had shown that she was not unconscious of the King's regard.
The King lost control of his temper suddenly as he looked at his Queen; and he was filled with fear because the murder of a great and good man lay heavily upon his conscience.
“You have done this!” he shouted at his Queen. “You have done this. You have demanded of me the death of a good man and, God forgive you, I have granted your request.”
8
HERE WAS NO SOUND ON THE RIVER BUT THAT OF THE oars as they dipped in the water.
The stars in the July sky scintillated like jewels in the doublet of a king, and the outline of hedges was clear along the banks.
The bridge and its ghastly relics came into view.
The boat stopped and, when Margaret alighted, Will was beside her. He put his arm about her.
“Meg … Meg … you still insist?”
She nodded.
“ 'Tis a dangerous thing to do, my darling. I know not what the penalty would be if…”
“I know not either,” she said, “and I care not.”
They walked away from the rivers edge up and on to the bridge.
“Meg … go back to the boat. I will do it.”
“Nay. 'Tis my task and mine alone.”
The air of the hot summer's night caressed her face as she stood on the bridge and firmly grasped the pole in her hand.
“Meg, you torture yourself.”
“Nay,” she answered. “Let be, Will. Let be.”
And together they pulled down the pole, and they took that which was set upon it.
Margaret wrapped it tenderly in the shawl she had brought, and, putting his arm about her, Will led her back to the boat.
Tenderly Will Roper watched his wife and swore to cherish her until the end of their days. He and their children between them would give her such love that Thomas himself, looking down from Heaven, would smile upon them and bless them.
Now Margaret stared before her, her arms about the shawl which held that terrible and precious relic.
London Bridge was behind them, and they went swiftly up the river to Chelsea.
Reading Group Guide
About This Book
Sir Thomas More (1478—1535) was an English lawyer and statesman who first served in Parliament during the reign of King Henry VII, where he made a name for himself by taking a stand against the king's practice of appropriation. Once the king died, More quickly moved up the ranks in King Henry VIII's court due to the new king's recognition of his impartiality. As secretary and personal advisor to the king, More became increasingly influential in the government, welcoming foreign diplomats, drafting official documents, and serving as a liaison between the king and the Archbishop of York. He was eventually honored as lord chancellor in 1529.
A kind father who put as much emphasis on educating his daughters as on his son, More declared among his scholar-friends that women were just as intelligent as men, and often would exhibit works by his children as proof of his theory. His warm and loving household in Chelsea stood as a testament to his beliefs in the power of education and devotion to Catholicism, a startling contrast to the licentious Tudor court. Overall, More's love of faith surpassed his duty to the crown, and his refusal to accept King Henry VIII's claim to be the supreme head of the Church of England ended his political career, leading him first to the Tower on charges of treason, and eventually to his execution.
Throughout his life, Mores strong sense of values sheltered him and his family from the harshness of the world. In The King's Confidante we meet not just Sir Thomas More, the king's subject, but Thomas, the devoutly Catholic and loving husband, father, and friend, a man who creates a peaceful existence on earth, and who is so steadfast in his beliefs that even the threat of death does not make him falter, but makes him stronger.
Reading Group Guide
This guide is designed to help you direct your reading group's discussion of Jean Plaidy's The King's Confidante.
1. What do you enjoy about historical novels like The King's Confidante? Does knowledge of history enhance your enjoyment of the story or detract from it? How much did you know about Thomas More, King Henry VIII, and other important figures of the time period before starting this book?
2. The main character of the novel, Thomas More, lived with the Carthusian monks at Charterhouse for four years before deciding he was better suited to marriage, family life, and civil service. Carthusian monks are often characterized as a “community of hermits” due to the fact that the monks live together but spend most of their time in solitude, studying and praying. Through the course of The King's Confidante, Plaidy portrays More as someone who takes great pleasure in family, friends, and work, but also as someone very attached to monastic practices such as wearing a hair shirt and flogging himself. What do you make of More's decisi
on to leave the monastery? Given his personality traits, do you think he made the right choice? How did his choice ultimately affect the intellects and government of his time?
3. More was a remarkably loving father, especially to his first child, Meg. What were the most interesting aspects of their relationship? Considering the desire of many men of the era to have a son, how was More different? Do you think that his desire to prove that women are just as capable of learning as men are was a factor in his love for Meg?
4. More had both a stepdaughter, Ailie Middleton, and an adopted daughter, Mercy Gigs. How was his relationship with them different than that which he had with his own children? How was his relationship with Ailie different than his relationship with Mercy? What do you think are the reasons for the differences?
5. After many years of living in London, More decided to move his family to a new estate in Chelsea. How did this move affect his family? What were the impressions of visitors from London? How did they view the family and their new lifestyle?
6. Everyone who lived with the More family seemed to have great fortune. All of the More children married well and happily, the artist Hans Holbein eventually found employment at King Henry VIII's court, and even Dorothy Colly found a husband who adored her, even though he far surpassed her in wealth and prestige. What is it about the Mores that brings out the best in people? What characteristics do they exhibit that differ from others of their era?
7. Perhaps one of the most interesting characters in The King's Confidante is Alice Middleton. What did you make of her boisterous personality and the way she interacted with those around her, especially her husband and children? Why do you think that More chose to marry her after Jane's death? Do you think there was something that he understood about her that is perhaps hard to see on the surface?
8. In what ways was More a feminist? How did the women in his life play a role in developing his idea that women are just as capable as men? How did this belief affect his decisions to marry Jane rather than her sister, to support Queen Katharine, and to marry Alice?
9. Jean Plaidy paints King Henry VIII as a very attractive and vivacious character, especially in his youth. From portraits you've seen of King Henry VIII, and from characterizations you've seen of him in films and on television, does the image Plaidy conjures of him match with your previous impressions? Why or why not?
10. When King Henry VIII chose to dissolve his marriage with Queen Katharine in order to marry Anne Boleyn, did you find yourself rooting for one woman over the other? If so, which one? Why?
11. Did you find yourself intrigued by the depiction of Anne Boleyn? Was it surprising to hear Ailie say that the fashion in the courts was to wear long sleeves and neck ribbons because Anne Boleyn had a deformity on her hand and a wart on her neck (p. 188)? Was this something you knew prior to reading The King's Confidante? Did it make you question why she would be so highly regarded by people in the court or by King Henry VIII?
12. In 1516, More published Utopia, his book about a fictional island nation where people live in peaceful communion with one another and are allowed to practice many different religions without the fear of punishment. As Meg notes when her father calls her husband, Will Roper, a heretic (p. 149), More seems out of synch with the ideas put forth in Utopia. What do you think of this discrepancy? Do you believe More is right to think that “drastic change, such as Luther advocated, could mean nothing but misery and bloodshed” (p. 146)? Was it surprising to learn that More was instrumental in prosecuting and putting to death these so-called heretics?
13. When More speaks with Meg about her husband's new beliefs, he is shocked to learn that she already knew, for that meant that she had kept a secret from him. How does this revelation affect their relationship? What does Meg's keeping a secret from her father say about how she has matured?
14. At several points throughout The King's Confidante, More tells Meg that he plans to resign from his post at King Henry VIII's court; however, each time he returns from his intended mission, not only has he not resigned, he also has gained a better title. Do you think that More was simply afraid to refuse the king or do you think that he secretly cherished his rise in status? Why?
15. When More refuses to sign the Oath of Supremacy, he learns that he will be sent to the Tower on charges of treason. Though this charge could mean that he will be executed, and most certainly that he will be detained in the horrible conditions of the Tower, More seems at ease. Why do you think he has a peaceful resignation about his fate, even after he learns that he will be executed? Do you think his last words (p. 279) speak to the reason he could accept what the king was doing to him?
An Excerpt from
The Sixth Wife
IN BOOKSTORES NOW
1
PRING HAD COME TO ENGLAND. THERE WERE MARSH marigolds along the banks of the river, and in the royal park the saxifrage showed gold and green on the damp sweet-smelling earth; the buds were bursting open in the hedgerows; and the songs of the thrush and the blackbird filled the air.
In his royal palace of Greenwich, his “Manor of Pleazaunce,” the best loved of all his palaces because it was his birthplace, the King was aware of the coming of spring. He was melancholy and he knew the reason for his melancholy. It was little more than a year since his fascinating but unfaithful wife had, at his command, lost her head. A whole year! It was a long time to be without a wife.
The small eyes seemed to sink into the puffy face, the mouth grew prim, as he thought of all he had suffered at the hands of his wives. The first and second had deceived him; he had divorced one and beheaded the other; the third had died giving him his son; the fourth he had not loved at all and had lost no time in divorcing her; and the fifth—that faithless wanton, Catharine Howard— whom for the last year he had been unable to banish from his thoughts, had walked out to Tower Green on a February day of last year and laid her head on the block.
This was an unnatural deprivation for a man to suffer; and, he reminded himself, if I am a King, I am also a man.
And the remedy for his melancholy? A wife.
The King must look for a sixth wife.
BLUSTERING MARCH winds buffeted the walls of a mansion close to the Charterhouse Priory in the City of London. On one of the window seats, her tepestry in her hands—although she was paying little attention to the design she was working—sat a woman. She was small and her hair, which was fair and abundant, showed beneath her hood of black velvet; her gown of the same material was richly embroidered, but in dark colors; and the skirt was open in the front to display her silk petticoat, which was a somber shade of purple; the long veil flowing from the back of her headdress proclaimed her a widow. Her face was charming, but the charm came from its expression rather than a regularity of features; at the moment it seemed to wear a borrowed beauty; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and it was as though this beauty had snatched away ten years of her thirty and made her a young woman of twenty again.
She was in love; and the eager glances which she cast down at the courtyard suggested that she was waiting for her lover.
Why should she not have a lover? She had married twice to please her faimly. Why should she not marry this time to please herself?
Soon he would come riding into the courtyard. He would look up and she would wave her hand, for there was no subterfuge in her nature, and she would not hide her feelings. He was quite sure that she loved him and that he had only to ask her to become Lady Seymour and she would most readily agree.
He was the handsomest man in the King's court. It was not only her love that told her this. Others said the same; even his enemies—and he had many—granted him that. He was the brother-in-law of the King; and he was a favorite of the King, for all knew that the latter liked to have about him those who were gay, young and handsome. Some thought that Thomas Seymour had become too ambitious since his sister Jane had married the King; others said that favors won through a female relative and not as a reward for a man's prowes
s, were built on flimsy foundations. Thomas, they said, lacked the ability of his elder brother, Edward, Lord Hertford. Edward had crafty diplomacy to set against Thomas's charm. Edward was cautious; Thomas was reckless.
It mattered not, Katharine, the widow, assured herself. He was the most charming, the most delightful of companions. He was the only man she would ever love, and he loved her too. He was going to ask her to marry him and she—widow of a few months though she was—was going to marry him.
Comtemplating her third marriage must naturally make her think of the other two. They had been no real marriages. She smiled now, a little tenderly, thinking of the poor frightened child whom they had married to Lord Borough of Gainsborough, an elderly widower, with children who had seemed to Katharine quite old. Her mother had arranged that match, and she and her sister and brother had always obeyed their mother without question. Katharine could not remember her father, for Sir Thomas Parr had died when she was only four; and in the capable hands of his wife, Maud, he had left the care of this children.
Lady Parr had been a stern mother, continually scheming for the advancement of her children; and when young Katharine had been told she was to marry the rich Lord Borough, it had not occurred to her to protest.
And perhaps, Katharine told herself, as she threaded her needle with crimson silk, she had not been so unfortunate, for my Lord Borough had proved to be a kindly man, gentle and tender, and not so demanding as a young man might have been. She had been sorry when at the age of fifteen she had found herself to be a rich widow.
The first widowhood had been allowed to last only two or three years when another wealthy widower had been found for her. John Neville, Lord Latimer, was an excellent match, so said her family; and recognizing in him the same kindly tolerance which had made her first marriage less frightening than it might so easily have been, and finding friendship with his grown-up children, Katharine had allowed herself to be married a second time— indeed, she had had little say in the matter—and had taken up residence in the beautiful mansion of Snape Hall, or sometimes in another of his houses in Worcester, or, when they visited London, here in the mansion near the Charterhouse.
