by Anne Stevens
“Remove Sir Thomas More from the commission looking into your annulment,” Cromwell says. The king frowns, and shakes his head.
“You drive a hard bargain, sir,” he says.
“You offered, sire.”
“Very well. I shall tell him that he is over worked, and must have his load lightened. Anything else?”
“Put me in charge of it.”
“Oh, Cromwell, you do ask a lot.” Henry nods his agreement to the request. “A word of warning though. Lady Anne will not be delayed overlong. Do not let her down, because if you do, I will not be able to save you!”
14 Vindicatio
Walter ties the boat up, securely, and starts to unload the wares. Miriam Draper directs her girl, little Mary, as to how best to display them. The girl is a fast learner, and will soon be able to run the weekly market by herself.
Miriam has established the business, and wishes to move on to other locations. By Christmas, she will have a dozen stalls at a dozen markets, each run by one of the stray orphan girls, and each bringing in a good profit. By the time she is done, her market stalls will be bringing in almost six hundred a year. Enough to allow Will the choice of working, or staying home.
Will understands that sorrow for the lost child, is driving her on, and does not interfere. Instead, he encourages her, and does his husbandly duty, whenever she demands it, which is often. Miriam is strong, and can bear many more children, he thinks. Give it time, is his new motto. Give it time.
The king has a vague understanding that Montagu has done him a wrong, but is content to leave any punishment to Cromwell and his young men. Young Harry Fitzroy stays for a few weeks, but there are whispers that the king grows too fond of the boy, and he is sent back to Yorkshire. John Adamson travels with him, and will become a loyal personal servant, as long as the bastard son lives.
Mush, once aware of the entire story, is for cutting Montagu’s throat, one dark evening, and it is hard to dissuade him from the act.
“No man can protect himself from a willing assassin,” he says. “It only needs for him to make one mistake, take one wrong turning, and the deed is done.”
“The finger will point squarely at Master Cromwell,” Will tells him. “The master will look guilty in the eyes of some.”
“Will anyone care?”
“The king is waiting for us to kill the man,” Rafe Sadler explains. “He wants the man dead, but needs us to do it, without his orders, and salve his conscience. We kill Montagu, and he will beat his breast, and issue warrants against us all.”
“I never wanted him dead,” says Will. “How often does he say that about Cardinal Wolsey?”
“Then what?” Mush asks.
“We use clever methods,” Richard says. “I do not have enough wit to think what, but we must use ruses to bring the man down low.”
“There is a way,” Will says. “In these last few weeks, Henry has kept Montagu away from court, but he will weaken. Montagu will write a flattering pamphlet, or come up with a fine compliment, and Henry will fall for it, and allow him back in to the fold. So, why do we not beat him to it?”
“How?” Mush asks.
“I must pay a visit to Thomas Wyatt, in Kent,” Will Draper tells them. “His way with words may well be of great help to us.”
“Cromwell, have you seen this?” Henry is enraged, and is screwing the sheet of paper into an unmanageable mess. “This piece of paper, that is best used to wipe my royal arse?”
“Ah, you mean this scurrilous little ode,” Cromwell says. He is unaware of the plot thought up by his young men, so is able to appear quite innocent in the matter. “I believe it is printed by the hundred, and all about the court. No-one puts his name to it, but I fear that it is Montagu’s sly work. I was surprised that Harry Pole could turn such a witty, well rhymed, phrase.”
“Witty?” Henry almost gasps in horror. “He likens ‘the prince of princes’ dress sense to that of a ‘well tossed hayrick’, and says that ‘she that might be queen, displays her charms, like Cleopatra’. Do you not see? He calls me unfashionable, and a man of straw, and says my lady is overly familiar when … my God. The man has gone too far.”
“Oh, I see, Your Majesty,” Cromwell says. “The rascal means to blackguard you, as he did over his disgraceful mirror jest. I should have known what he meant when he wrote ‘and that my lips might drink from her limpid pools of woman’s beauty’.”
“He suggests that Lady Anne is a … a …”
“Whore, Your Majesty?”
“Summon the man to … no, not here … to your place, Austin Friars, and explain to him, forcefully, that he has written his last poem. Tell him … tell him that Henry casts him aside, and he is barred from court.”
“I could also have my young fellows administer a beating to him, sire,” Cromwell says. “After all, he has slandered Lady Anne’s tits.”
“Dear God. I should kill the fellow myself … but he was a friend, once. No, do not let your men strike him, simply dismiss him.”
“And the title?”
“Leave him with it, and let him keep what lands I gave him. That is my last word. See to it, Master Thomas.”
“Ah, Rafe, I have a legal problem for you,” Cromwell says, back at Austin Friars. “The king tells me I am to leave all the lands granted to Montagu, by His Majesty, untouched. How should I interpret the command?”
“Why, it’s plain to see, sir,” Rafe replies. “The king means for you to remove all the lands in Montagu’s possession, not granted by him.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Cromwell is pleased. Under the strict legal interpretation, inherited property is fair game. “We will start with the two castles in the north. Have them deeded over to His Majesty, King James of Scotland. Then we shall take the deer park in Cheshire, and the Welsh border farms.”
“What if Montagu protests?”
“Refer him to me,” the lawyer says. “I will explain the legal niceties to him.”
Baron Montagu is enraged. He finds his lands being sequestered, and must apply to Austin Friars for redress. It is too much that he must speak with Cromwell, and on his own patch. He rides into the court yard, attended by six armed men, who are immediately surrounded, and disarmed by Will Draper and men armed with cumbersome pistols.
Montagu is alone, and must dismount, and meet with his oppressor. Thomas Cromwell appears, and bows to the great lord.
“Good day, Master Pole… I mean Baron Montagu. I forget that we leave you with the title the king bestowed, if nothing else. I wonder what you will say?”
“I don’t understand,” Montagu replies.
“Will you bluster, or will you beg?”
“I come, only because the king commands it. Otherwise, I have no business with a blacksmith’s whelp.”
“The king forbids me from letting my men beat you, sir,” Cromwell says, “so, let me introduce you to Mistress Miriam Draper, who is not constrained.”
Miriam steps forward, and without a word, slaps the man’s face. He staggers back, and closes his eyes, even as the second slap lands. The third slap brings tears to is eyes.
“Well,” she says. “What have you to say to me?”
“Nothing, wench,” Montagu responds sharply. “Though it seems I must take your slaps. For if I raise a hand I see your husband, waiting to run me through.” Miriam raises her hand and delivers two more fierce slaps. Then she turns, and walks away. It will take her more than a few slaps to recover, but at least, she feels a little better.
“May I leave now?” Montagu asks.
“Had you apologised, or shown any sign of remorse,” Cromwell tells him, “I might have relented. As it is, I abandon you to your fate. Good day, sir!”
Will Draper buys another round of drinks, and has them delivered to the table where the Lord Chancellor’s men are drinking, in the Lazy Dog Inn. After a while, he joins them, and proceeds to complain about his master.
Cromwell is a hard task master,” he tells them. “I am sup
posed to be his right hand man, yet he sends me on children’s errands. I doubt the Lord Chancellor would treat me so frivolously.”
“Masters are of a like, the world over,” William Porter replies, helping himself to the free ale. “What does he want you to do?”
“He wants me to lead a search party against a house in the Strand, where I might find incriminating documents.” Will shakes his head. “I told him … Baron Montagu would not be so stupid as to keep his latest slanders there.”
“Ah, yes. The poems about Henry,” Porter sniggers. “All about his lady’s titties, I hear?”
“Oh, but that is old news. These latest are about Cromwell, and Sir Thomas More. My agent tells me that your master is slandered as a papist lap dog, with a liking for young … well, you get the drift, Porter. We are all men of the world, and Montagu must know something we do not about old Tom More!”
“The Lord Chancellor will not be happy with this,” Porter replies. “It is his office who have jurisdiction in the matter of written calumnies.”
“Feel free,” Will says. “I am not applying for the warrant until tomorrow.”
William Porter finishes his ale, and goes off to report to his master. Sir Thomas More is incensed at the idea that Montagu thinks him both a lap dog, and a panderer. He decides to steal a march on Cromwell, and raid Montagu’s home, himself. The king will be grateful that the proposed pamphlets have been stopped.
Eustace Chapuys is at Austin Friars for dinner, again. The food is better, and the company far more amusing. This evening, he has some gossip of his own, which he doubts Cromwell has heard yet. He waits until the soup is out of the way.
“What do your agents tell you about today’s fiasco, Thomas?”
Cromwell raises an eyebrow, as if to say ‘what ever do you mean’. He waits for his guest to explain all. The little Savoyard is pleased to think that, for once, he is ahead of his friend.
“The Lord Chancellor’s men descended upon Montagu House in the Strand this very afternoon,” Chapuys says. “In search of rude ditties about the king … and your good self.”
“Really?” Cromwell shrugs, as if he does not care. “My life is an open book, Eustace. Let the man prattle on about me all he likes.”
“I believe Master More was more worried about his own good name. It seems that the latest poems concern his … liking … for nice, young men.”
“Nonsense,” Cromwell says, smiling. “His wife would kill him. Did they find the offending articles?”
“No, they did not,” Eustace replies, smiling broadly. “The search party uncovered a carefully concealed book.”
“A book?” Cromwell asks.
“Yes. A rather fine copy of Tyndale’s new English bible!”
“Are you certain?”
“I am. The man was dragged off, in chains.”
“Henry will forgive him,” Cromwell says, “but it is the end of him. The court will shun him, and his friends will melt away like snow in the thaw.”
“He swore he was innocent,” Chapuys says. “He insisted that the book was placed in his house by another.”
“He would hardly confess,” Cromwell replies. “Perhaps if Sir Thomas were to rack him… just a little bit?”
“The king will not allow it,” Chapuys says. “Not when they were such close friends.”
“Ah, friendship. Such a delicate commodity, Eustace,” Cromwell tells him. “Montagu must spend the rest of his days keeping out of the king’s way, and all for the sake of a jest, or two.”
“Montagu spent an uncomfortable night in the Tower,” Thomas Cromwell says, at the breakfast table. “The gaoler tells me he is a broken man. It seems he thought he was to be racked.”
“May he never know rest again, sir,” Will Draper replies. “Any other man would have lost his head, or been drawn, and then quartered. It seems that being King Henry’s friend excuses you from treason.”
“Put all thought of him aside, Will. The man is ruined, in every way. Tell me, how is Miriam?”
“She hides her sorrow well, Master Cromwell,” Will replies.
“Can she be left alone yet?”
“I think so. She buries herself in work.”
“Then I have need of you.”
“So soon?” Will Draper wonders which minor lordling has stepped out of line now. “What would you have me do?”
“Go to Rome.” Cromwell reaches for some freshly drawn up documents. “Can you be ready in two days?”
“May I take Mush with me?” Draper asks. “He speaks some Italian, and looks the part.”
“Why not?” Thomas Cromwell unrolls the first, official looking parchment. “I want you to speak with Clement for me.”
“Pope Clement?”
“Who else?”
“He is surrounded by a Spanish army,” Will says.
“Of course. That is why I am sending a soldier, rather than a diplomat,” Cromwell replies. “There may be a … degree … of violence called for.”
“Thomas Wyatt knows Rome well,” Will Draper says. “Might he not do a better job?”
“Take him with you,” says Cromwell. “I think three Englishmen will be enough to take Rome, don’t you?”
“As you wish, Master Thomas.” Will Draper accepts the mission, without knowing what he is getting himself into. “I must get home, and tell Miriam. It will be hard for me to leave her behind.”
“I know, but that you must, Will. I cannot lie to you. If this goes wrong, I will not be able to save you.”
“What’s all this?” Richard Cromwell comes bustling into the kitchen, in search of food. “Work, before food? Unheard of. Master Chew, fetch me breakfast… at once… for I could eat a horse!”
end
After Word
Born about 1492, Henry Pole, Baron Montagu, was the son of the 8th Countess of Salisbury, and became a courtier, and friend of the king. He remained a staunch supporter of the catholic cause, and was often out of favour, because of his ambivalent attitude to the matter of Henry’s divorce.
On 4 November 1538, Montagu along with his wife, her brother, Edward Neville, and several other relatives were arrested on a charge of treason against the king. Thomas Cromwell, despite being opposed to Montagu’s aims, wrote to the king, begging mercy for the family, claiming that they had "little offended, save that he is of their kin."
Despite all interventions, they were committed to the Tower of London, and Montagu’s remaining lands were attainted to the crown, and his honours forfeited. On the 9th day of January, 1539, with the exception of Sir Geoffrey Pole, Henry's brother, all the arrestees were beheaded.
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Henry Fitzroy, 1st Duke of Richmond and Somerset, was the son of King Henry VIII of England and his mistress, Elizabeth Blount. The child was the only illegitimate offspring acknowledged by Henry VIII. He was born on the 15th day of June, 1519 in the Priory of St. Lawrence, near Blackmore, Essex.
After coming under the protection of Cardinal Wolsey, the young child was commended to his father, who formally recognised him in 1525, and bestowed several great titles on him. Fitzroy spent a happy time at Sheriff Hutton castle, where he was treated like a true prince of the realm.
The Duke of Norfolk took an interest in the king’s bastard son, and arranged a marriage between him, and his daughter Mary, whom he married in 1533. Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk was his godfather.
Fitzroy was a popular young man, destined, because of his illegitimate birth, never to rival his sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, who both went on to rule England. The idea that Henry might put his daughters aside, in favour of the bastard son he loved, never really caught on, and Eustace Chapuys, writing to his master Charles V, stated that ‘the boy shall never become king, for it is widely known that… his health is suffering.’
The condition, described in various letters, and records, sounds like tuberculosis, or ‘consumption’ as it was then known. Henry Fitzroy spent his last days in St. James’s Palace, in London, and died on the 22
nd day of July, 1536.
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