by G Lawrence
This was how the Church controlled its worshippers; through knowledge, or rather through the lack of it. I saw this as further evidence of its corruption. Why should the Church fear its people knowing God better? Why should the Church hesitate to be made better than it was? Those who feared such changes, or gaining wise followers, were corrupt. The only reason to resist change is if one profits from stagnation. The only reason to fear wisdom is if one does not possess it.
The leather-bound volume was printed rather than hand-written. Printing had been a great advance in the manufacture of books, and printed books were spreading all over the world. Although the small volume was not beautiful, not like the hand-lettered, decorated volumes that had once been the only texts available, and only then to the very rich, the ideas in it pages were better than beautiful; they were exciting.
The book was entitled The Obedience of a Christian Man and was written by Master William Tyndale, that same exiled Englishman who had made such a wonderful translation of the New Testament. As I read through it, I marked passages that I thought might interest Henry, pressing my fingernail to gently indent the pages. Although the book was banned, I thought that, when presented by me and in his interests, he would not mind that I had acquired such a volume. At the whim of royalty, the nobility often lived under different laws to the common people… and I was his beloved…
As I read, I became inflamed by Tyndale’s ideas and convinced by many of his arguments. It was a work of reformist philosophy. He wrote that each man needed to be obedient to God and God alone, not to the Church; that the Pope and the Church were not God’s true emissaries; that the King should be the father of the Word of God in his own kingdom; that the King was the true servant of God and each of us owed our allegiance to him and God alone. Church affairs should be under the control of the King rather than the Pope, the book argued. “One king, one law is God’s ordinance in every realm.” The ideas were revolutionary, enthralling, and dangerous. I understood why George had pressed me to keep the text secret. If Wolsey, or any of Katherine’s supporters, knew I held such an inflammatory book, they would use it against me. With the backing of the Church, owning this book could be seen as heresy.
To me though, it was not heresy. It was truth and it was knowledge. If God had never wished His people to possess wisdom, then why make us able to read? Of God had never wished all people to understand His will, then why did the Apostles write the Gospels at all? Knowledge was not for the Church to control and dictate; it was a gift from God. We read, we enquire, we discover… so that we might understand God better, and rejoice in our faith. “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you” so said Matthew… I was a seeker. I was an asker. I was a curious mind. I sought God in all I read and I was not about to be stopped in this most glorious of studies, by those who feared what others might find… by those who trembled to lose their power as the bright light of knowledge vanquished the darkness of ignorance.
Thomas More was already furiously writing a response to the book, so I heard from George. Given permission, by Bishop Tunstall, to read heretical works in order to contradict them, More was writing his first work in English, called, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, or as it was later to be called by those who read it, A Dialogue Concerning Tyndale, for Tyndale was, in More’s eyes, an agent of the Devil himself.
I cared not for men like More who fawned and grovelled before the Church. Long had I held reformist sympathies, and seeing his violent reaction to such works only confirmed the truths within them for me.
It was not only for my own studies that I found the book captivating. I was excited to think of what this might mean for our cause. The ideas it contained were revolutionary; that a king, in his own kingdom, should be the representative of God rather than the Pope. Interesting ideas indeed... No wonder the Church had banned this work! It spoke of replacing their cardinals, bishops and Pope with kings! It spoke of the ancient right of kings, as the chosen of God, to rule over matters both temporal and spiritual. This book was arguing to limit the power of the Church, and hand it instead to rulers. With the annulment ever on my mind, I could see that this book argued it was not up to the Pope whether Henry and Katherine’s marriage was valid; the Great Matter was for Henry to decide.
I thought back with some wonder on the day Henry had proposed to me. I had been uneasy with how lightly he had talked of God’s will; as though he understood the thoughts of the Almighty… But here, in Tyndale’s text, was a vindication of this. It was clear to me that this idea was open to much abuse, as a ruler may not always act in the way God would wish, but kings were the chosen of God. They were placed on their thrones by God, not by man, as popes were. I thought back to Henry’s impassioned words about God, fate and destiny. Was it indeed possible that God was reaching into Henry to alter the course of England’s future? That He had brought me to Henry’s side… Brought one who was interested in reform to the King of England, just as the King was deciding on the path England would take? Was Tyndale right? Should Henry take up the right to govern religion in England on all matters, and act as God and his conscience instructed him?
It was a radical notion. Perhaps too radical. Henry was deeply conservative and saw himself as the Pope’s good servant. It would be a risk to show him Tyndale’s book. He loved the Church, and believed it was a true and almost infallible institution. Whilst he and I agreed on many points of theology, I had been raised to question, rather than simply accept. Henry had not.
I read the book over and over in private, but for now I did not show it to Henry. Campeggio was at Calais, and was making ready to sail for England. If the trial went as planned, I might have no cause to show Henry this most interesting work…
But if it did not go as we wished, this book may well open another path for Henry, for England and for me.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Greenwich Palace
Autumn 1528
Finally, one grey October day as the clouds hung fat and black over England, Campeggio landed at Dover. Wolsey was sent to meet him. Our envoy, Francis Bryan, had visited Campeggio in France, met with François of France to gain his support, and had gone on to Rome, to further our case with the Pope.
Henry delegation to Rome included his Latin secretary, Peter Vannes, who was commanded to beg, cajole, and, if necessary, threaten the Pope. Vannes was instructed to say that should the Pope not give in to Henry’s wishes, England’s allegiance to the See of Rome would be in jeopardy. It was a heavy and extraordinary threat. But Henry was bluffing; I and all his men knew that. All the same, uprisings in the Low Countries and the Holy Roman Empire over the last years had brought mayhem and had shaken the foundations of the Church. Peasants, inspired by the works of Luther, had risen up and challenged their masters and the tyranny of the Church causing two years of chaos. But even though these rebellions had been subdued, these events had led to nobles and even princes questioning the authority and goodness of the clergy. In Sweden, King Gustav Vasa already held dominion over the Church and had sanctioned the preaching of many Lutheran ideas. Frederick I of Denmark protected reformist preachers, as did François of France. Threatening that England might take on the example of these states, and turn her back on the authority of Rome, was not as inconceivable as Pope Clement might wish to believe it to be.
Wolsey was frightened, and had warned Henry that trying to force the Holy Father into submission was not wise. But I encouraged Henry. I had not shown him the Tyndale book, but it seemed to me that Henry was starting to think as I did… If the Holy Father could not be relied upon, perhaps there were other ways to achieve our aims…
Bryan had written to me after he had met with François, and his news was not only of the annulment. Bryan wrote that the French King had questioned Wolsey’s loyalty to his King, and said that such men of the Church were loyal first to Rome, and only second to their sovereign. And, given Wolsey’s ambition to one day rule as Pope, François doubted that h
e would ever go too far against the wishes of the Holy See.
“If the Pope is not in favour of this annulment, then you can wager the Cardinal will not be either,” François had said to Bryan. “I do not mean to say the Cardinal would wish to go against his King, whom I know he loves more than any prince or man in the world… but his loyalty must be questioned. How can one man serve two masters?”
I took the letter to Henry, whose face turned an unhealthy purple as he read it. “It is not so, sweetheart!” he said miserably. “Wolsey is my man first, and he has always acted in my interests.”
I shrugged, making the dark furs upon my shoulders brush against my cheeks. “I but hand on what was reported to me, my lord.” I turned my gaze to the window where rain lashed the dark panes. “But I see no reason to think that François, who has ever been your good friend, would lie to you. Perhaps they are only his suspicions, my lord, but he clearly believes Wolsey cannot serve both you and the Pope equally. His vows to the Church as Cardinal, or his oaths to you as Chancellor… Which will he obey? To whom will he stand loyal?”
Henry’s face went dark. His eyes narrowed to icy shards. I had angered him greatly. Rather than discuss the subject further, he left the room abruptly. On the way from the chamber, he knocked into one of his guards and almost threw the man from his path, cursing at him. Many would fear to see their King so angry, but I did not. Henry could not stay away from me. He would always come back, even when his temper was riled. I understood why he was upset. Any king would be enraged to think his most trusted servant was not loyal, of course, but with Henry… the idea that his friends, that the ones he loved might not be true to him alone was unbearable. It undermined him, and hurt his fragile pride. It struck deep into the most vulnerable parts of Henry’s heart. In many ways, my love was a most insecure man. Under all the bluster, the boasting, the active life he led, the power he exuded as King, under all that there was a young boy who knew he had never been intended for the throne. Under all of Henry’s confidence, there was a fragile soul; a soul that demanded absolute love and devotion, in order to be kept alive. At heart, Henry was a frightened boy. His mother’s death, and his father’s preference for his brother had impacted on him deeply. That was why he wanted to be loved; to make up for her loss, and to contradict his father’s belief that Arthur would have made the better king.
He came back to me later that night, his face haunted. When we dined together I did not bring it up again, and he seemed relieved. But I knew the first seeds of doubt had been sown.
There were further complications, too. Bryan wrote from the Pope’s Citadel upon his arrival. His letter was bleak. He had been unable to present his credentials to the Pope, or to petition him, as Clement was suffering from ill-health and could see no one.
“I dare not write unto my cousin Anne of the truth of the matter.” Bryan wrote to Henry. “Because I do not know your grace’s pleasure, whether I shall do or no; wherefore if she be angry with me, I must humbly ask your grace to make mine excuse. I have referred to her in her letter all the news to your grace, so your grace may use her in this as you think best.”
“Why did he not write to me?” I demanded after reading the letter.
“For fear that you would react, thus, my love.” Henry’s tone was placating. I was glad he had shared this missive with me, for the letter I had received from Bryan was evasive at best. This explained the situation better.
“Do they all think I am such a dragon, Henry?” I asked plaintively. My heart was heavy. Did my cousin fear me, then? I had always thought Bryan and I got on well…
He chuckled. “Have you not noted your own fiery temper, my Anna?” he asked, gathering me up in his arms. “That fire will serve us well, but you cannot be hard on those who shy from its flames… Poor Bryan! He is such a man, and a noble lord, and yet he trembles to displease his future Queen!” Henry grinned. “It is better that our subjects hold a touch of fear for us in their hearts, my love,” he consoled. “That way they always know who their betters are. But we offer them love, too. In such a way is a king and his queen made strong; through love and fear. Do not despise this knowledge. Bryan’s terror shows me, yet again, how suited you are to be my Queen!”
I laughed, and allowed Henry to comfort me. But there were still more delays for Bryan in Rome and I was starting to think Campeggio meant to take up residence at Dover. Henry spoke of sending another envoy to Rome, to aid Bryan and Vannes. I agreed that if we heard of no further progress soon, then it would be a good idea to send more men. I suggested Gardiner or Foxe, since the last time they had visited a good result had come about for us. Perhaps they would be more persuasive than my wily one-eyed cousin.
Wolsey, however, was not enamoured of this plan. He was keener to wait for Campeggio to arrive in London, and for the trial to begin. Wolsey told us Campeggio was a wise man, someone he knew well, and assured us that the Italian Cardinal would be favourable to us.
“After all,” the fat bat declared as we three wandered the gardens of Greenwich. The grounds were crisp with early, thin ice and bathed in the glittering light of the golden-leaved trees. “Campeggio watched the Holy City sacked by the ruthless mercenaries of the Emperor, why should he have any love for that ruler when faced with Your Majesty’s friendship and peaceful nature? Campeggio is much more likely to find for us because of the Emperor’s cruelty. And he assures me he will decide as is just and right. He knows England is a greater friend to Rome than Spain.” We crossed ourselves for the thought of those men and women of God who had suffered at the hands of those soldiers. I shuddered in the sunshine, remembering the reports we had had of rapes, murders and rampant slaughter.
“My lady…” The nefarious rodent beamed at me, clicking his fingers to Heneage to bring forth a velvet-wrapped package. “I found this, it is but a slight trinket, unworthy of you in truth, but knowing your great eye for beauty, I thought you would like to have it.”
Slight trinket? Indeed it was no such thing. Inside the layers of velvet was a necklace made of emeralds and diamonds, set into delicate gold links. A great cross was at its centre, also with diamonds and peals set into it. It was stunning. Henry drew back the edge of the wrapping, as he saw the ‘trinket’, his eyes bulged. “You are always so generous, Thomas,” Henry breathed, drawing a finger along the folds of smooth, brilliant, yellow gold. “This is worth a prince’s ransom.”
“Anything for the Lady Anne,” Wolsey said, attempting to affect humility.
“Thank you, Eminence,” I said as Henry pulled it from the wrapping and slipped it about my long throat. “Although I am astounded what you consider a trinket!”
Wolsey was at his most courteous, but he fooled no one apart from Henry. He often made shows like this before Henry. But in secret, in the hidden places of the court, he was working against me. There were laundresses in my household whom I knew to be working for Wolsey. Heneage was often found loitering just outside my chamber. The Cardinal was looking for things to use against me. He was watching me closely. But I was not one to be caught out so easily. And I was making plans of my own…
Henry was becoming more reliant on the judgement of my uncle and Suffolk, and less on the great Cardinal. My love was starting to make decisions on his own. I encouraged him in this. Although Henry, of course, ruled in his kingdom, Wolsey, as Chancellor had taken much of his authority and power out of his hands. The fat bat had a hand in every matter in England. He had influenced almost every decision Henry had ever taken. But now, it seemed Henry was losing faith in Wolsey after all. In the face of all the delays, Henry was starting to believe other men might be able to help him where the Cardinal could not. And the message from France had unnerved Henry, even though he might protest it had not. His faith in Wolsey was shaken, perhaps for the first time. The seed of doubt about Wolsey’s loyalty had been planted. We just had to let it grow…
I knew that he loved Wolsey, but he was wrong to do so. I was not sure François was entirely right either. I did n
ot think Wolsey’s loyalty belonged to the Pope. Wolsey looked after Wolsey: that was his first loyalty. After that… who knew whether the King or the Pope was his next concern?
But if Henry was to see this, I had to move carefully, and Wolsey was the best-placed man to advance the Great Matter, so I needed him still. But he could still be of use to us even if he was reduced in the King’s eyes. I had taken my father’s advice; I did not berate Henry about his chief advisor, but I did not miss a chance either to point out when Wolsey delayed or did something wrong. It was time for Henry to stop putting his faith in this one man, who more often acted for his own benefit than for his King’s.
