by G Lawrence
“The clergy will take that to mean His Majesty’s titles are meaningless, will they not?” I asked, keeping a wary eye on Henry.
“They may well interpret it that way, my lady, and might vote based on that assumption, but this qualification will not mean His Majesty’s titles are empty.” Cromwell turned to Henry. “Majesty, you know the law of Christ grants you full and unquestioned authority in your kingdom. Since you are subject only to God, this qualification merely reinforces that. It gives the clergy no power to defy you, but they will think it does. As soon as your titles are agreed, you will be Head of the Church. From there we can proceed.” He sat back. “You lose nothing by accepting this, Your Majesty, but the clergy will think you do.”
Henry was staring at Cromwell, his expression unreadable. I knew Henry. He wanted the clergy to accept him on his word, not on tricks, but this was no time to assume scruples. As soon as Henry was Head of the Church, we could have the annulment. What did it matter what the clergy believed?
“Please, Your Majesty,” I said. “Master Cromwell is right. This qualification, to my mind, only demonstrates your greatness, for it shows you respect and honour your Master in Heaven. It is not really even a qualification, my lord… it is simply confirmation of all we have said. The King is Pope and Emperor in his own realm, subject to God and to God alone. That is what is being stated. Let the clergy take it as they will. As soon as you are Head of the Church, you can begin to mend their sinful ways.”
Henry’s face cleared. “You are right, as usual,” he said, nodding to Cromwell. “We will do as you suggest, Thomas. Let the clergy interpret the qualification as they wish. To those who understand, all will be clear, and to those who do not, we shall make them understand.”
The proposal was taken to Convocation, and it was met with angry silence. Many of them would take it to mean that Henry’s title was empty, but others, like sagacious Fisher, believed this was a trap.
Archbishop Warham stood and announced, “Qui tacet consentire videtur,” The silent are seen to agree. I have no doubt Warham had been prepared for this by Cromwell. Many believed the Archbishop of Canterbury had betrayed the Church, but none moved to question him.
The fall of Rome’s power did not come with a crashing thunderbolt, or a rallying cry of rebellion. It came in silence.
And in that silence, the English Church recognised a new master.
Chapter Ten
York Place
February 1531
I was February’s fool that year. I might as well have donned a jingling cap, taken up a striped staff, and joined Will Somers in peddling jests about court. When Convocation agreed Henry’s titles, albeit in silence, I thought this was the end of our hardship and the beginning of our new life. I ordered York Place into furious rounds of celebration, put on pageants and dances every night, and took my ladies out each day to watch Henry joust, wrestle or play tennis.
I could not tear my eyes from him. He was the greatest man I had ever known! He had brought me my dreams, and offered me his heart! Ah… I thought, watching him prance across the tennis court like a bold stag. Was there ever a man as handsome or as wise as the man about to be my husband? I thought not. I believed I was about to be handed my crown, that Katherine would be a phantom of the past, that Henry would bite his thumb at Clement and the Emperor, and take what he wanted of life. I went about court with a smile on my face and a trip in my step. Everyone marvelled at my delight, for there were many who thought ill of what Henry had done. But I was joyous. I thought everything I wanted was about to be placed in my hands.
Oh yes… I was a fool.
Rather than push his advantage and start using his title to annul his marriage, or reform the Church, Henry and his men seemed bent on rowing backwards. Time was spent on blocking the hearing of the case in Rome, and securing papal approval for the trial to be heard in England. When I learned this, my heart slipped into my velvet shoes. Why is the world ruled by men? I thought. When they are such cowards?
“There is room to grow, from here,” Cromwell told me. “The first step has been taken, now we must break the path.”
But there were pitfalls in that path. The first was the surprising refusal on Warham’s behalf to negate papal authority. Warham had so long been obviously terrified of Henry that we thought he would not dare stand in our way. But as Henry’s title was granted, the Archbishop miraculously grew a spine. Without the Archbishop of Canterbury we could not compel the Church to do as Henry wished. Henry had been accepted as Head of the Church in England, but the clergy still saw Clement as his overlord. Henry’s powers were vague, as Cromwell had left doubt in them deliberately in order to get the vote carried, but that also meant Henry was not entirely sure of himself, again.
Aside from Warham’s rebellion, there was also a clear spilt appearing at court. Some, firmly on our side, started to gather retainers for my royal household, believing marriage to be the imminent, inevitable conclusion of Henry’s title. This landed them in trouble, as Henry suddenly became nervous at the amount of opposition to my becoming Queen and scolded them for acting in haste. Common men were speaking out. Terrified by this split with Rome, they objected to Henry’s title. Henry feared rebellion, so he delayed.
Even those who had supported us, even family, defected. Nicholas Carewe, my cousin, had been a firm supporter, but as Henry donned his new title, Carewe turned traitor and went to Katherine. This was a great blow to us, as Carewe was also Henry’s friend, and had been brought up with him at court. He was a member of the Privy Council, and held great sway with the old orders of court, since he was friends with the Poles and Courtenays. He kept his support for Katherine subdued, knowing it would anger Henry, but it was clear which side he was on.
Suffolk, too, placed himself against us, and my aunt of Norfolk had, of course, already flown her war banner in opposition. Bishop Fisher started to rile the Church, encouraging preachers to speak out openly against Henry’s claims to spiritual authority. Thomas Abel, Katherine’s chaplain, preached sermons in support of his mistress. The man had already been banished once from court for declaring anyone who aided the annulment was “a traitor to God and the King,” and when he lifted his roaring voice over the pulpit, Henry demanded that Katherine chastise him. Katherine merely told her husband Abel was correct, and refused to inflict punishment. Elizabeth Barton, the Holy Nun of Kent, started proclaiming prophesies apparently sent to her by God, and all of them spoke against Henry and the wicked influence of the fiendish Boleyns.
This was no longer about Henry’s marriage. It was barely about which Queen the people wanted. Katherine symbolised the old faith, dedication to Rome and traditional values, and I was the emblem of reform, new thought and change. In times of trouble, many turn to what is old, known and understood, rather than that which is new. I lost many supporters. They blamed me for leading Henry astray. They were enamoured of the shackles that bound them and wanted to remain slaves to Rome.
We were no longer asking people to choose between queens, or matters of opinion. We were asking them to choose their faith.
Henry started to avoid Chapuys and papal representatives, sure he was about to be handed a bull of excommunication. With Henry dodging him, Chapuys started to speak openly about Clement’s threat at court. Henry wanted his people kept in ignorance of this, but Chapuys ensured everyone knew excommunication loomed near.
My uncle Norfolk began to backtrack on radical changes in policy and law. Even my father demonstrated timidity. They required a true master. Henry needed to lead from the head, but everyone could see he was treading water and they followed his example. If Henry was the sun, everyone else in England were plants who blossomed under his light, turning their flowers to follow his path through the skies.
I berated my father about his cowardice, which led to him accosting Chapuys, declaring he could prove by authority of Scripture that when Christ had left earth for Heaven, he had left no vicar behind in his stead. This gave me hope. If Henry
was not going to lead his men, I had to keep them focussed on our goal. My main problem was that my supporters were dwindling. My brother, Edward Fox, Cromwell and Cranmer I knew I could rely on, but my father would only ever do what was best for him and Suffolk and Norfolk were useless even when they were on my side.
But it was more than just resistance within England. Europe was uniting against us too. François began diplomatic proceedings to reconcile Henry and Clement, granting Henry false hope that he may gain the papal-endorsed annulment he had always desired. To my mind this only caused more delays, and I could not help but wonder if Clement had asked François to intervene in order to hinder Henry. In Rome, Reginald Pole, Henry’s cousin, abandoned his previous tepid response to Henry’s Great Matter, and started to publish critiques of the King’s arguments which worried Cranmer greatly.
“They are so well-written, my lady,” said the poor man. “I fear them reaching general circulation. No matter that the Bishop is wrong… his words will convince many he is right.”
I sighed. I had read some of Pole’s papers. They all warned of the same things; civil war, invasion, a disputed succession, economic damage if the Emperor blocked trade routes to Flanders and Spain… Pole was clever with his quill and his arguments made it clear that Henry faced a choice between taking a new queen and losing his crown, or returning to his old wife to retain his power. All of this was quite enough to scare Henry.
“I will speak to His Majesty, my friend,” I said to Cranmer. “But he has already ordered Pole’s tracts to be confiscated.”
As Cranmer left, I wondered what good were Henry’s new titles if he and his men were not willing to act. Henry was heard talking to de Borgho, the Nuncio, at court, and had said, “I have always upheld the authority of the Church in this, my kingdom, and fully intend to do so in the future.”
“What?” I screeched at my sister-in-law, Jane, when she informed me. “The King has just had his power confirmed and he would say he upholds the authority of Rome?”
My sister had no answer for me, and raced away as soon as she could. That night Henry and I had a furious row, leading to him leaving York Place at two of the morning, running back to his soft, quiet bed at Greenwich. The next day he arrived contrite, but I still simmered with rage.
Henry feared Clement would issue mandatory bulls against him, and even though I came to understand Henry was warding off this threat by saying things like this to Clement’s servant, it made me nervous.
Just as we took one huge step forwards, we were forced to scuttle back.
I worried that if François brought Henry and Clement into talks, Katherine’s suit would be put forth anew. I was frustrated, angry and fearful. I had almost been handed everything, only to have it snatched away. But if no one else dared to move, I would. I would not sit quietly at this chessboard. I could do nothing about the clergy, Rome or the courage of men’s hearts, but there was something I could do.
I would rid Henry of Katherine.
Henry had to be separated from Katherine. I had to take her place. When people thought of the Queen of England, they had to think of me. Henry, too, had to cease believing that he was married to this woman. Katherine’s time was spent. It was time she was removed.
As I had seen with Wolsey, the best way to get Henry to abandon someone was to remove them from his presence. That way, it was easier to get him to hear arguments against them and have those arguments settle in his mind, becoming truths. This was no easy task. Katherine had powerful supporters, and she also held sway at court. But with her there, in my place, I would never be Queen. I had to pluck her from the hearts and minds of England’s people and England’s King.
As I started my plot against Katherine, George arrived in a great flurry, with ominous news. “Someone tried to poison Fisher!” he announced before my ladies had even left the room, causing many of them, including Bess Holland, Norfolk’s mistress, to stop and stare. I waved at them to leave, but heard them twittering as they departed.
“Have a care, George,” I said. “Some of those women, Bess Holland in particular, are Norfolk’s creatures.”
“Sorry,” he said. “But surely you understand why I was overcome?”
“Of course.” I motioned to a chair. “What happened?”
“Fisher was holding a dinner,” he said. “More was there and so were others committed to Katherine’s cause. Tom’s man told us that the first course, pottage, was served, but More declined, as he was fasting and Fisher too, for he said he was not hungry. In a few hours, everyone who had the soup was taken ill. Two of Fisher’s guests have died, as well as several beggars and a poor widow who were given the leavings from his table. Fisher’s cook, Richard Roose, has been arrested. He would not say who told him to put powders into the pottage, but protested he was given to understand it would only make the men sick, not kill them. He said he thought it was a jest, for he had been told the powders were a laxative.”
“If he truly thought it was a jest, why would he not say who gave him the poison?” I asked. “Roose must have known what that powder was and if he will not talk he must have been threatened by someone with power enough to harm him or his family.”
“I agree. Roose has been racked, but still he will not talk. It takes a powerful motive to overcome the agony the rack imposes on flesh and bone.”
“Could it have been Norfolk?” This clumsy attempt spoke of Norfolk’s hand.
“I wondered if it was Father.”
I was silent for a moment. I would not have put it past my father. Fisher was proving a nuisance, and were he to be removed, the peril he posed would go with him to the grave.
“If it was Father,” I said slowly. “Then he is a fool. The blame for this will be placed at my door. All men in England say I am to blame for anything and everything ill that happens. They will believe without question that I would stoop low enough to poison Fisher.”
“Oddly enough, Anne,” George said. “Even Chapuys believes you had nothing to do with it. Someone whispered it into his ear, and he was heard saying that the Boleyns were too clever to poison the Bishop so obviously, as it would be hard to avoid suspicion.”
“Could Father have relied on that?” I asked. “A double feint?”
“I will not deny he is capable of it.”
When Henry arrived that night, he was no less worried than I. “The full force of the law must fall upon this cook,” I said. “No one can be allowed to believe that you or I were complicit in this appalling deed.”
“I have already ordered his execution,” said Henry. “He will be hung by chains over boiling oil, and dipped inch by inch into the brass cauldron.”
I shuddered. “A terrible death,” I murmured, “but it must be done.”
I saw Henry staring at me, and I caught a hard glimmer of suspicion in his blue eyes. Should I have been surprised? Everyone at court thought I was capable of anything to have my way. I was not surprised that Henry might have lingered over the possibility, but I was hurt he would continue to nurture it in his soul.
What does he think I am? I thought. Does he know me so little to think I could do such a thing, or know it was going to be done?
Henry started to talk of other topics, events at court, pageants he would have put on when I was Queen… But even as he spoke, I could see the shadow of suspicion floating over his head. A cowl of darkness had fallen. I had altered in his eyes. Something had changed.
Henry believed I was capable of murder.
Chapter Eleven
Greenwich Palace
Spring 1531
Suffolk dusted off his war banner that spring and entered Council advocating a pro-imperial stance in policy. Henry was amazed, and he was not the only one. My father had long known Suffolk was not our friend anymore, but he had never believed the Duke would go against Henry’s wishes so blatantly.
“We have utterly lost him,” my father said. “Suffolk heeds only his wife, now, and Mary Tudor speaks for Katherine.”
&nb
sp; “Did Henry reject his proposal?”
“It was said the King would think about Suffolk’s proposition, but there is nothing to be done. To make friends with Spain the King would have to go back to Katherine. Suffolk knows that. He has never been a crafty soul, but this is the least subtle gesture I have seen him make.”
“How quickly allies turn when they achieve their own goals.”
“Indeed.”
“I cannot think you have not heard about Fisher?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Aye, and been blamed for it from more than one quarter. Fortunately the King believes it was some radical. He does not think you or I are capable of it.”
“I am not,” I said. “Are you?”
My father stared long and hard at me. “I do not deny it would be valuable for us to have Fisher dead,” he said, flicking a speck of dust from his tunic. “But I would hardly poison him knowing the blame would be immediately placed on us.” He took his cap off and wiped his face with a linen cloth. His ride through London had evidently been a wet one. Either that, or he had a reason to sweat. “I did wonder if it was George,” he said quietly. “He is young… sometimes impulsive. If he did, I can only believe it was done with the best intentions, but he may not have weighed up the consequences.”
