The Scarlet Peacock

by Field, David

  The directness of the question left Thomas with his mouth open and his mind reeling. So far as his information gatherers at Court were to be believed, Henry had not once strayed from his marriage bed, which for a leading courtier in those times was a remarkable sign of respect and affection for the one who shared that bed. Thomas lowered his eyes as if scandalised by the mere suggestion.

  ‘Has his Majesty given you grounds for believing that his affections have been wandering?’

  ‘His affections may wander where they will, Tomaz – it is where his hands wander that I would wish to know.’

  ‘And again I must ask, with the deepest respect due unto your royal person, whether or not you have grounds for such suspicion.’

  Katherine stared him out, and gestured towards the Privy Chamber with a slight jerk of her head.

  ‘I have seen how he looks at Mistress Blount, which is why I dismissed her from our presence. Have you heard ought regarding her and the King?’

  ‘Nothing, madam – I swear on my immortal soul,’ Thomas protested.

  ‘Talking of souls, and without the need to replace your hat, is it true that those who marry within the forbidden degrees are condemned to be childless?’

  Thomas thought carefully before he answered. ‘If you refer to the Book of Leviticus, it is certainly therein written that those who lie with the wives of their brothers shall not have issue. But I am bound to add that the books of the Bible were not written by physicians, and that the failure to have issue is a burden borne only by those whose former marriages were consummated. I do not presume to enquire of your Highness whether or not …’

  ‘I went to my marriage bed with Henry a pure maid!’ Katherine yelled back at him, then turned fearfully towards the Privy Chamber doorway in case she might have been overheard. She seemed to bring herself under control as she continued.

  ‘Henry knows this full well, since it took some time for him to overcome my maidenhead. Also, my duenna can speak of the blood on the bed linen the following morning.’

  ‘Madam!’ Thomas implored her, genuinely embarrassed and highly compromised by what he was hearing. ‘This is not something that should be heard by a man of God.’

  ‘Pah, Tomaz! You must hear much worse than that in the confessional.’

  ‘But not in so much detail, my lady. But if it is as you say, then you need fear nothing by way of God’s retribution.’

  ‘Then why do I only bear dead babies, Tomaz?’

  ‘I am no physician, Katherine. I tend only to souls.’

  ‘And will you pray for this soul?’

  ‘I do so nightly, Katherine. Yours and Henry’s, that you may gift England with an heir to the throne that you now grace.’

  ‘You are back to talking mierda, Tomaz, and I can hear sufficient of that from my prattling ladies. You may leave me now.’

  ‘Highness,’ Thomas mumbled as he bowed low before her, then bowed again several times, his mitre under his arm, before reaching the chamber door that an usher was waiting to open for him. Since the usher had been stationed outside the door, Thomas wondered whether or not their conversation had been overheard, a possibility that seemed to be confirmed when the usher gave him a lascivious grin before closing the door behind him.

  *

  ‘You are late, Thomas,’ Norfolk complained. ‘Are the children disturbing your sleep?’

  Thomas glared back at the Duke, reminding himself that he detested the man as much as he did his son, but for different reasons. If anyone at Court could outmanoeuvre Thomas in the matter of acquired intelligence – the tittle-tattle of the kitchens and backstairs - it was Thomas Howard Senior, recently glowing in the halo of his military success and restored to his father’s attainted title. And this particular piece of intelligence had probably come from within Thomas’s own growing household.

  His affair with Joan Larke had borne the inevitable fruit of the enthusiasm with which it had been conducted, and Thomas now had a five-year-old son named John, and a daughter Dorothy who had achieved her third birthday only days before this meeting of the Council. Not only did this make any priest of the Church of Rome vulnerable to the obvious jibes regarding the rigour with which he obeyed the vows he imposed on others, but it was particularly inconvenient for a bishop who was also a member of the King’s Council, seeking to impose moral imperatives on lesser men.

  ‘His Majesty advises that he will not be attending Council today,’ Thomas responded, ignoring the personal jibe, ‘but he has asked me to advise the members that the matter of the betrothal of the Princess Mary is beyond any further discussion.’

  ‘More’s the pity,’ Foxe muttered, glaring across the table at Thomas as he took his seat. ‘We should be siding with Spain and the Empire, if we are to preserve the Pope from the French incursions into Italy.’

  ‘If rumour be correct,’ Archbishop Warham added in a tired voice full of resignation, ‘we are doing that as well. Not only does Master Almoner possess a filed tongue, but also a forked one, it would seem.’

  ‘Master Almoner is now My Lord Bishop of Lincoln,’ Thomas growled back, hoping to provoke an argument with Warham that would divert attention from his latest advice to Henry, namely to keep open the back door to negotiations with the Emperor Maximilian, through whom Thomas was anxious to secure preferment from the Pope.

  ‘His Majesty has certainly made some strange decisions of late,’ Warham sneered with a sidelong glance at Norfolk, clearly intending to fall out badly with every other member of the Council. ‘It must be the prospect of becoming a father at last.’

  This last piece of vitriol verged on the treasonous, and it was as if the Archbishop and Chancellor was determined to be stripped of both offices at once, along with his head. Thomas committed this particular indiscretion to his copious memory, and comforted himself with the thought that during their recent audience, Katherine must, whether she knew it or not, have been in the early stages of pregnancy, which would account for the alarming nature of her confidences towards Thomas. The child was due at the very end of the year, and Henry was celebrating by chasing down wild boars in Bedfordshire.

  ‘If we may not debate the marriage with France,’ Norfolk enquired, ‘what may we take first on our agenda?’

  ‘There is the matter of the ancient privileges of the burgesses of Canterbury,’ Foxe threw in mischievously. ‘His Majesty has asked that we deal with it, and since his Grace of Canterbury is with us today, and clearly in a mood to express his opinions, perhaps we might get that over with before his Grace falls asleep as usual.’

  ‘They are claiming revenues that have belonged to Canterbury for as long as there have been records kept!’ Warham protested.

  ‘Records kept by the diocese itself,’ Foxe reminded the Council. ‘As the head of a diocese myself, I must express my uncertainty regarding their reliability.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that the office of the most venerable see in the land keeps forged records?’ Warham spat back. ‘If so, then his Majesty shall have my resignation!’

  ‘Don’t tempt us, my Lord Archbishop,’ Norfolk grinned back at the assembled company, most of whom smirked at the table in response. Warham was so easy to provoke these days that it was almost a shame to indulge in it. Thomas could see what was coming, and did not wish his name mentioned when it did.

  ‘As a diocesan bishop myself, and in deference to my lord of Canterbury, are there any other records that might give credence to the matter one way or the other?’ Thomas enquired in what was intended to be an ingenuous tone.

  ‘The suffragans claim to have their own records, which clearly reveal that the transfer of money to the diocese has only ever been informal, and was never part of the Cathedral charter granted by Henry II,’ Norfolk replied.

  ‘Informal?’ Foxe prodded. ‘Do you mean that the Archbishop has been taking bribes?’

  That was sufficient. Warham angrily grabbed his papers and rose from his seat.

  ‘I do not intend to remain in order
to hear my holy office further insulted. I shall seek out his Majesty, in whichever whorehouse he may currently be located, and relieve myself of my burden of office.’

  ‘And your head, if you continue in that manner,’ Norfolk snorted as the Archbishop slammed the door noisily behind him.

  ‘What do we recommend to the King?’ Foxe enquired through his broad grin.

  ‘That he allow the current arrangement to continue in the absence of any evidence of malpractice,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Also that he may need another Chancellor – and possibly another Primate of All England.’

  ‘And which of those roles do you covet for yourself, Thomas?’ Foxe enquired provocatively.

  ‘Both of them, no doubt,’ Norfolk muttered. Thomas had heard enough.

  ‘At least I do not have upon my conscience the fact that I achieved high office by butchering ten thousand Scots.’

  Norfolk smiled back triumphantly.

  ‘My Lord Bishop of Lincoln should be able to speak with authority about butchery. It was his father’s trade.’

  The responding laughter burned in Thomas’s ears as he wished them all, in his mind, the most painful death that God might devise. When the Council meeting ended, he hurried downriver to Bridewell, drank two flagons of Beaujolais, and was later carried to his chamber by two of his grooms, crying tears of self-pity.

  *

  A week later, Thomas sat outside the King’s Presence Chamber deep in thought. He was now Bishop of Lincoln, and was drawing the fat incomes from a variety of benefices. He was certainly wealthy beyond the dreams and aspirations of his own parents, who had worked hard all their lives, but whose time on this earth was rapidly drawing to a close. Thomas would soon be able to supervise the massive task of transferring all his acquired plate, ornaments, tapestries and jewels to the new palace at Hampton from the house in Bridewell that seemed too small to house, not only these, but also his rapidly growing household, including his mistress and two children.

  By any standard of measurement, he was successful. But he was still the son of a butcher, and he would always be open to such taunts from his peers. Unless he could rise to such a position, either in the Church or at Court, that none dare challenge his lowly origins, it was a stigma he would always have to live with. The likes of Norfolk and his cronies, who had done nothing except be born, could only be put in their place by fear of the power wielded by men in a position to take their lives or their livelihoods from them. No-one dared insult the King, because of the power he held over life, death and wealthy status. It was time that Thomas put himself beyond the point at which men dared recall the dirty hose in an Ipswich puddle.

  The business was routine, but important to Henry, and when Thomas was admitted to the presence, as Norfolk slipped past him in the open doorway with an arrogant sneer, he was fully prepared to explain to Henry.

  ‘The Earl of Surrey will accompany the train to Dover with a company of mounted knights, and litters have been commissioned not only for the Princess Mary but also six of her ladies, two of whom are, I am advised, nieces of Surrey’s anyway. My Lord of Norfolk will meet the train at Dover, and will accompany the royal party to Calais, where he will hand over responsibility for passage to Abbeville to the Governor. Should you wish to accompany the progress as far as Dover, the Earl will of course defer to you at the head thereof, and will ride at your side, with half his command in the vanguard, and the remainder to the rear. It is to be hoped that this inclement Autumn weather abates before the end of the month.’

  Henry smiled.

  ‘You have such an eye for detail, Thomas, and as ever you have the matter managed down to the last piece of baggage. How well might you handle great affairs of state?’

  ‘That is surely your great burden, Hal,’ Thomas murmured, his eyes to the floor.

  ‘A burden considerably lightened by your presence on my behalf in Council, where, or so I am advised by Foxe, you suffer insults because of your humble origins.’

  ‘My father is a butcher, it is true,’ Thomas reddened, ‘but it is an honest trade, and my father is the finest in the county. Not a day passes, when I sit down to my dinner, that I do not thank God in his infinite mercy for the beasts of the field, and men with skills such as those of my father to convert those beasts into fine roasts.’

  Henry chuckled. ‘You must also thank God for your filed tongue, Thomas, and one that I would use for greater matters than simply deflecting the spleen of my somewhat arrogant Council. Your eye for detail, your constant thirst for tasks to be performed, and your skill in matters beyond the wit of mere soldiers have signalled you out as the obvious replacement for poor old Warham, who is nearing the point at which he will hang himself on his own tongue if I do not mercifully relieve him of those burdens that have made him an old man before his time.’

  ‘Hal?’ Thomas enquired, his heart beating at a rate perilous to health, and his rebellious stomach launching waves of acid into his throat.

  ‘I wish you to become my Chancellor in due course, Thomas. In due course, but not yet. I have persuaded Warham to remain in that office for a little while longer, because I have a more urgent need for you on the Continent. However, you will not cross the Channel yet again simply in your current style. You have presumably received news of the death of Dr. Bainbridge while engaged in ambassadorial work for me at Rome?’

  ‘God rest his soul,’ Thomas muttered piously and hopefully.

  ‘This obviously leaves open the see of York, Thomas, and I would recommend to the Pope that you be appointed to replace Bainbridge as Archbishop. I cannot place you in Canterbury while Warham lives, but once his days are ended we may once again combine Primate of All England with the office of Chancellor. For the time being, you must content yourself with York, and await the dead shoes of Warham. The Chancellorship shall be yours next year, regardless of what years Warham may have left to him.’

  ‘As ever, Hal, your generosity leaves me speechless,’ Thomas murmured.

  Henry burst out laughing. ‘The day you are without an appropriate word, Thomas, shall be the day the sun shines up my royal arse. And it is your skill with words that I would employ with the Emperor.’

  Thomas looked doubtful.

  ‘He may have me strung from the walls of Bruges, after your recent insult to him.’

  ‘An insult that I would have you sweeten, Thomas. Go you to his Court and advise him that the check was intended only to Ferdinand of Spain, and that it was unfortunate that the dignity of the House of Habsburg also thereby appeared to have been slighted.’

  ‘And if he does not accept your reassurance?’

  ‘Then you may indeed be hanged as a decoration from the walls of his ducal residence. But that is the risk taken by all my emissaries, Thomas – surely you know this by now?’

  ‘Indeed, Hal, and I do not shrink from the task, trusting as ever in God to be my guardian against the forces of injustice. But it might be better were I to delay my journey until I may undertake it in the regalia of York. While Ferdinand may not scruple to hang a bishop, his nice conscience might stay his hand against an archbishop.’

  Henry smiled.

  ‘It shall be as you wish, but do not delay your installation.’

  The last thing Thomas intended was to delay his ordination into this rich new post, and within days he took considerable personal delight in facing a grim faced William Warham as he invested him with the regalia of the second most important see in England. Thomas was now entitled to call himself ‘Primate of England’, with only Canterbury himself above him as ‘Primate of All England’.

  Thomas sent urgently to Rome for the return of the York Cross that was always held high in the air immediately in front of the incumbent, and when it was brought into the courtyard at Bridewell he looked admiringly at the tall young priest who had carried it across Europe.

  ‘You were cross-bearer to York?’ Thomas enquired.

  ‘Yes, your Grace,’ the young man replied in an accent that was pure Yorkshire.
‘Me and my brother. I’m Giles Wakely, and he’s Roger Wakely. We shared the honourable duty between us.’

  ‘And where is your brother now?’

  ‘Still in Rome, your Grace, seeing to the appropriate preservation of the body of the late Dr. Bainbridge, ere it be brought back in state to York where he was dearly loved.’

  ‘Do you and your brother wish to continue to serve York?’

  ‘We would deem it an honour, your Grace, and in truth there are few men of my acquaintance who could hold this cross so high for as long as is sometimes required.’

  ‘And your brother is as tall as you?’

  ‘An inch taller, your Grace. He received the extra inch, while I received the call of God, which I also made audible to him.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Thomas enthused. ‘You shall remain here, and send word to your brother to join you. It is fitting that the dignity of York be held so high by so comely a pair of brothers. My steward will see to your accommodation, and do you see to it that this cross is conveyed with due ceremony to my personal chapel.’

  *

  Maximilian smiled as Thomas bowed before him, one hand cautiously raised in order to retain the mitre on his head.

  ‘It seems that each time we meet, you have been advanced in the Church. The first time was as a mere priest, then as a bishop, and now as Archbishop of York. When we meet again, shall you be Pope?’

  Thomas smiled back at him.

  ‘Please God that Giovanni has many years ahead of him, your Excellency. But should his Holiness have need of a cardinal, you would do me a great service by recommending me to such office, that I might further the work of defending Rome against the indignities of Louis’ advance through the Italian states.’

  ‘Your ambition, as ever, precedes you, my Lord Archbishop. Do you still enjoy our local wine? If so, and if it is not beneath the dignity of your new office to partake of the fruits of God’s vineyards, shall we share a hogshead before you endeavour to explain to me how your king intends to make amends for the insult to my house and family by marrying off his sister to that old bastard of France?’