The Scarlet Peacock

by Field, David

  ‘Well your best has resulted in a tumult, my lord Chancellor, and there is only one strategy that I can fathom in order to put it at an end. I shall revoke the tax, and blame it entirely on you.’

  ‘Only fitting,’ Thomas mumbled, his eyes firmly on the carpet. While his head was down, Henry turned to the grooms in attendance.

  ‘Leave us,’ he commanded.

  As they melted backwards through the internal door, Thomas became aware of Henry holding a goblet of wine out towards him with a smile. Thomas shook his head.

  ‘I have a burning malady in my gut, and fear to make it worse.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Henry replied in a more friendly tone. ‘Now take a look around you, Thomas. Is this chamber not familiar?’

  ‘Indeed, I thought it so as I entered, but more recently my mind has been taken up with other matters.’

  Henry chuckled. ‘You must forgive me for my stern manner just then, but it was important that word be spread abroad that I am displeased with you, and how better to broadcast it to the nation than to let it be known by those fawning popinjays?’

  ‘Hal?’

  ‘You may recall,’ Henry continued with a distant look in his eyes, ‘that it was in this very chamber some twenty years or so ago now that we sat discussing what was to be done. I was a frightened boy, fearful that the mob would tear me limb from limb, and it was you who rescued me from that fate, and gave me wise counsel that secured my throne. Today that same mob – or, more likely, their offspring – are baying for your head on a spike, and I have returned the favour which I have long owed you. But it comes at a double price. First, as I have already informed you, I intend to repeal your ill-conceived tax and to cast the entire blame on you. However, once the hated imposition is removed, it will hopefully only be your reputation that will suffer.’

  ‘You are most gracious as ever, Hal, and I can only repeat my heartfelt sorrow that my well-meaning actions have led to this sorry pass. If there is aught else …’

  ‘There is, Thomas, as I have already presaged. It concerns Percy’s son, who is a page in your household, as I am advised.’

  ‘He is indeed, Hal. Has he caused you some displeasure? If so, he shall be dismissed from my service forthwith.’

  ‘He has caused me displeasure, Thomas, but not in the usual way. He has, it would seem, engaged in an understanding of some sort with the Lady Anne Boleyn, one of the Queen’s ladies.’

  ‘I know of her, Hal – she is the second daughter of your Treasurer Thomas Boleyn, I believe?’

  ‘And the niece of Norfolk, to boot. It seems that young Percy has of late been in regular attendance on the Queen and her ladies, and has so far captured the affections of the lady in question that she has eyes for none other.’

  ‘And there is someone you would rather that she favour?’

  ‘There is indeed, Thomas, there is indeed. I wish you to instruct Harry Percy that his visits to the Queen’s apartments must cease forthwith, and that he must make no other efforts to contact the Lady Anne. Or else.’

  ‘It shall be as you wish, Hal. Northumberland himself is a good friend of mine, as you will be aware, and it will be as naught to prevail upon him to take the lad back north to his estates.’

  ‘Excellent, Thomas, excellent. And now, if you wish not wine to seal this happy understanding between us, is there anything I can summon up from the somewhat meagre kitchen of this sombre place?’

  ‘Perhaps a pitcher of fresh milk?’ Thomas enquired, to hoots of laughter from his royal saviour.

  *

  It was almost a week before Thomas deemed it safe to leave the security of the Tower and return to York Place. The rest of his party had gone ahead of him on the first day, and everyone in his household, and further abroad, was aware of the shaky ground upon which he walked, although not of the more friendly conversation that had followed the formal dressing down from the King. One of the first to seek him out after his return was Thomas Cromwell, and he began by offering his resignation.

  ‘On what ground, Thomas?’

  ‘It was my folly that led to the royal displeasure.’

  ‘It was the refusal of the people to pay your excellently conceived levy that led to the royal displeasure, Thomas. And you did not introduce the cursed tax – I did.’

  ‘But it was my idea, master.’

  ‘And an excellent one, as ever. The King has not chosen to dismiss me simply because those upon whom the tax was imposed refused to pay it. Neither, therefore, do I seek your dismissal.’

  ‘You are most generous, master,’ Thomas mumbled, his head bowed.

  ‘And you are most loyal, and gifted withal with a fine head for matters of state. Not only that, but you have a wife and three children who depend upon you for their bread. I would not take that bread from their mouths simply because those over whom you have no control choose not to support the King during these straightened times.’

  ‘If there is anything I can do to repay your generosity …’ Cromwell stuttered, reminding Thomas of an almost identical offer he had made to Henry a week since, about which he had thus far done nothing.

  ‘There is, Thomas. Seek out Harry Percy, and have him attend me. Then send word to the Earl of Northumberland that I wish him to journey down here to escort his son back north. Then return to your family.’

  Harry Percy smiled his way into the great hall and bowed gently, unaware of the great storm that was about to rage around him. Thomas did not, as was his custom, offer him a seat, but sat staring at him as he stood there, a picture of youthful naivety.

  ‘What did you think you were at, Harry?’ Thomas enquired by way of an opening gambit.

  ‘My lord?’ Harry enquired, truly at a loss to understand what Thomas was referring to.

  “It would seem,’ Thomas continued, ‘that while I was with the King, conducting great matters of state, you were idling away your time in the Queen’s apartments.’

  ‘Indeed I was, sir, as you are well aware, since on occasions you saw me there. The company is most agreeable, the music is excellent, and the diversions most entertaining. Should I not have taken such opportunity to acquaint myself with the protocols of Court life? Was that not why my father sent me to London?’

  ‘Certainly for that,’ Thomas conceded, ‘but not in order that you might fritter away your noble title and line on some foolish girl.’

  ‘You speak of whom, my lord?’

  ‘Do not dissemble with me, boy!’ Thomas shouted. ‘I am reliably – very reliably, I might add - advised that you have allowed your affections to become attached to a niece of Norfolk – and I do not mean the one who tangles the bedcovers in this very place thrice a week.’

  ‘You speak of her sister Anne?’

  ‘Who else? Tell me, Harry, how far has it got with this spawn of Boleyn?’

  ‘I pray you, sir, not to speak of her in those terms. She is the sweetest, most chaste, most becoming, most gracious …’

  ‘And most anxious to wed one of the foremost titles in the land, no doubt. What did you think you were about, you foolish coxcomb? You will, in due course, inherit one of the greatest estates in the realm, one that will command a bride from the very topmost level of English society. And although her uncle Norfolk may, in his conceit, claim to have acquired one of those by the sheer effort of being born, Boleyn, when he is not in his counting house, is but one of the king’s emissaries, destined to travel Europe with the royal command in his saddlebags.’

  ‘As are you, sir,’ Harry replied unwisely.

  ‘Silence, boy!’ Thomas thundered, and Harry almost jumped backwards in surprise and fear, never having heard Thomas speak in that way to anyone. It fell uneasily silent until Thomas recovered his composure, and repeated his enquiry.

  ‘So I ask again, how far has it gone?’

  ‘In truth, sir, we have pledged our love, but no more than that. A furtive kiss once, in the corridor behind the Queen’s Bedchamber, and that but fleeting. But I have pledged my heart t
o her, and she has assured me that there will never be another call on her affections.’

  ‘You have not laid a hand upon her?’ Thomas demanded. Harry looked shocked.

  ‘Sir, you insult us both by that suggestion. Our love is of the highest, the most courtly, the most chaste …’

  ‘And the most inconvenient to the King, who wishes her for someone else.’

  ‘Himself?’

  ‘Have a care, Harry, for words such as that, if deemed treasonous, even I cannot rescue you from. All I know is that his Majesty wishes you to dissociate from this girl immediately, and have no further concourse with her. Not even of the chaste variety that you claim to have.’

  ‘But sir, how may I bring myself to attend upon the Queen, with all her ladies in attendance, when both the Lady Anne and I will be shielding broken hearts from the world?’

  ‘That question is easily answered, Harry. I have sent for your father, and by the end of the week I expect him here in Westminster to accompany you back to your estates in the north.’

  Harry’s jaw sagged, and tears began to well in his eyes.

  ‘I beg you, sir, not to have me removed from the very soul of my heart’s desire! I am naturally most contrite, should I have occasioned some displeasure in the King, but whoever it is that he has in mind for the lady, he will never love her as truly as I. Nor, I may take the conceit to assert, will she now settle for any hand in marriage other than mine. I pray you, sir, reconsider this act of cruelty that will tear two hearts apart!’

  ‘You may leave me now, and prepare your bags for their northern travel,’ Thomas replied coldly, shaking his head at the folly of youth.

  *

  Henry walked with his head down against the Kentish breeze, with its smell of hops borne on the wind from the nearby oast-houses. On his arm, the younger daughter of the family that owned the house that came with the gardens, Hever Castle, a day’s ride from London. Thomas Boleyn had taken to welcoming their royal visitor more frequently these days, and it was all down to the demure girl barely out of her teens who the king was currently endeavouring to cajole out of her gloomy mood.

  ‘Why are you so dispirited, Anne?’ Henry enquired as he leaned forward slightly to peer solicitously into her dark eyes.

  ‘Why did the Queen banish me from Court?’ Anne replied with a question of her own. Henry opted for the diplomatic reply.

  ‘She advises me that your mood of late was not conducive to merry concourse,’ he replied softly. ‘It would seem that your sadness of heart infected all around you, and cast a gloom over the entire company. Pray what was the cause of that?’

  ‘She banished me, I think,’ Anne countered, ‘because I protested so loudly when Harry Percy was taken back north by his father, on the instruction of that dreadful Wolsey. What would a man of God know about the love between a man and a woman?’

  ‘You were in love with Percy?’ Henry enquired gently. Anne shrugged her delicate white shoulders and smiled wanly back at him, reminding him of a delicate rose petal wilting in the heat of the summer.

  ‘What would a mere girl such as I know about love, your Majesty? I believe it to have been love, and indeed my heart seemed to turn itself upside down inside me every time I saw him admitted to the presence. And he tilted at my heart with every noble and gallant device such as courtly chivalry demands. He wrote me sonnets, he brought me garlands of posies, he sighed in my face and he sang so sweetly when Seaton played a tune with which he was familiar.’

  ‘You must call me Henry,’ the king invited her, ‘instead of “your Majesty”. And if I were to write you sonnets, and send you garlands of flowers composed of precious jewels, would you perhaps find me also to be gallant?’

  Anne blushed slightly, and gazed up at the windows of the new house that her father had created out of the medieval ruin that he had inherited before replying.

  ‘Why would you bestow such attention on a mere heartbroken wretch such as I, Henry?’

  ‘Because I do not wish you to remain heartbroken for one more moment,’ Henry assured her. ‘Such graceful beauty as yours requires to be lit by the sun of joy, not darkened by the icy chill of regret. Since you seem destined not to have this young stag of Northumberland, would you not prefer the gentler attentions of a fawn of Surrey?’

  ‘Of whom do you speak?’ she enquired under lowered eyelids.

  ‘Of myself, Anne,’ Henry replied, taking her hand as they halted briefly just before they were about to reach the terrace that gave access to the rear hall of the great house. ‘I would deem it an honour if you would let me compose sonnets for you, and craft jewellery with my own hand, to send to you as a token of the deep regard in which I hold you.’

  ‘You are most generous,’ she blushed, ‘and most attentive. I would welcome such favours from someone as exalted as yourself, and would deem it an honour to receive such tokens. But I would also wish to be back at Court, where I may see you more often.’

  As they ascended the steps leading onto the terrace, Norfolk and Boleyn looked down on them through the mullioned glass of the upper chamber.

  ‘She seems content in his company,’ Norfolk observed with a smile. ‘Says she aught about how their relationship is progressing?’

  ‘In truth,’ Boleyn replied, ‘she is still sick at heart at the departure of Percy to his northern estates. It is to be hoped that the King does not press his devotions too hard upon her.’

  ‘What does she think of Mary’s cavortings?’

  ‘She is revolted and scandalised by them, and only yesterday expressed the hope to her mother that Henry does not seek a similar liaison with her, for she finds him physically repulsive.’

  ‘Will she change in that?’ Norfolk asked with a frown.

  ‘If she knows where her best interests lie, she will,’ Boleyn replied with a knowing smile.

  *

  ‘I hope you’re not going to claim the credit for this,’ Norfolk sneered at Thomas across the Council table as they awaited Henry’s arrival.

  ‘Why would I?’ Thomas enquired breezily, ‘since I could have negotiated better, although Francis was hardly best placed to dictate his terms.’

  It was early March 1526, and news had just reached them of the signing of the Treaty of Madrid, under which Francis of France was to be released in return for two of his sons being held hostage for his good behaviour towards Spain, to which he surrendered all further claims in Italy. He also handed over Flanders, Artois and Burgundy, and agreed to take the hand of Charles’s sister Eleanor in marriage. All in all, a somewhat humiliating surrender by Francis, who had sent word to England that he wished to sign a treaty of perpetual peace. They were principally met to discuss what this should contain, and who should negotiate it, but Henry was late again. Rumour had it that he had been closely closeted with Thomas Boleyn, now styled Viscount Rochford, allegedly in return for his loyal service as Treasurer of the Household, but Norfolk at least knew better. Thirty minutes after the meeting had been due to commence, Henry strolled in with a broad smile, his arm around Boleyn’s shoulder.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Henry announced, ‘since our business today concerns the requested treaty with France, I have invited Rochford here to attend, given his many years of experience as our Ambassador to Paris. Then later he and I shall be riding to the hunt in Kent.’

  Thomas was convinced in his own mind that the diplomatic duties with France were about to be allocated to Rochford, a suspicion deepened when he caught Norfolk’s grin of triumph across the Council table. But, to his immense surprise and relief, Henry turned to Thomas and asked if he would make yet another journey across the Channel on England’s behalf, and leave Francis in no doubt that England was his friend.

  ‘May we also tell him that Charles is so much our continuing enemy that we will join with Francis and his Holiness the Pope in league against him?’ Thomas enquired ingenuously.

  When eyebrows began to shoot up around the table, Thomas explained.

  ‘I recently receiv
ed an envoy from Pope Clement, seeking our support against Charles, who advances daily nearer and nearer to Rome. He would have us sign a treaty to oppose any threat upon the Holy See, and I am led to believe that similar proposals have been sent to Francis. Do I have the authority of Council to intimate our provisional agreement to such a proposal?’

  ‘You and I will discuss this privily,’ Henry interjected sharply, and it fell silent until Norfolk could no longer resist the opportunity to make further trouble for Thomas.

  ‘I am bound to observe that thanks to the Chancellor Wolsey here, we have not the finance to enter into any alliance against Charles that would require an army.’

  ‘That is the fault of Charles himself,’ Suffolk fired back in Thomas’s defence. ‘Had he come to our banner outside Paris, we would have been the ones with our feet on Francis’s throat, and we would now be in possession of those French estates through which Thomas will need to travel in order to meet with Francis.’

  ‘That is now history,’ Henry interposed, ‘and our thoughts must be turned to the future. Particularly the immediate future, and Rochford and I have an appointment with the Master of the Hunt in Kent. Thomas, walk a little with me outside. In the meantime, this meeting of the Council is at an end.’

  ‘Thank you for your renewed confidence in me, Hal,’ Thomas murmured as Henry steered him into a far corner of the outer chamber, following a hand gesture to Boleyn that he should hang back.’

  ‘It is not renewed confidence, Thomas, since it was never lost. Call it, instead, ‘ongoing’ confidence. But this matter of the Pope’s of which you spoke – will you have an opportunity to visit Rome, in order to pledge him our support?’

  ‘I do not think so, although of course I could always make the time, if you deem it that important.’ Thomas replied with a raised eyebrow to invite further confidences. Henry looked furtively behind him before adding