Above All Others

by G Lawrence

  In the place of silence, there was sudden noise. Whispers grew, shouts were heard and people turned to each other asking what had been announced. Nobles who were versed in Latin mumbled to their servants what had been said, and this information trickled down through the crowds.

  What we did not know then was that in the Italian city of Landriano, in June, the Emperor had won a crushing victory over the French, in effect bringing the war between France and Spain to an end. This had rendered the Emperor’s control of Italy absolute, and Charles was now in total control of the Pope. We later heard that the Pope had said, “I have quite made up my mind to become an Imperialist and live and die as such.” The Emperor and the Pope had signed the Treaty of Barcelona, whereby the Pope’s stolen lands were restored to him… but which also rendered Clement nothing but Charles’ puppet. Clement even offered his own nephew in marriage to Charles’ bastard daughter. The Pope was now the Emperor’s plaything. He was never going to decide against Charles’ aunt, thus shaming his new master. We heard of these events only days later, but evidently Campeggio had already been informed, and that was why he made this ruling. When I heard the news, I wondered if Katherine had also known about it ahead of time… perhaps in a secret dispatch from her no-doubt crowing nephew.

  Henry was staring at Wolsey and there was murder in his eyes. His great servant had finally, and utterly, failed him. Henry marched out of the court without speaking to anyone and suddenly there was a great noise as some people cheered and some shouted in rage. The court erupted into chaos.

  Suffolk crashed his fist into the table in front of him. “By the Mass!” he cursed. “It was never merry in England while we had cardinals amongst us!”

  My father and Norfolk who were seated near him rose to shout at the two Cardinals. Wolsey stared at the three of them. He had failed, and now even Rome had abandoned him to his enemies. Pale-faced and haunted-eyed, Wolsey rose and spoke, his voice shaking and breaking. “You of all men in this realm have least cause to be offended with cardinals,” he said to Suffolk. “For if I, a cardinal, had not been, you should presently have no head upon your shoulders, Your Grace!”

  Wolsey was reminding Suffolk that he had spoken for him when the Duke married Henry’s sister and incurred his wrath. Was that old tie enough to save him now? Looking at Suffolk’s face, I saw that Wolsey’s words had hit a nerve, but one man, even the King’s best friend, could not save Wolsey now.

  Amidst the noise and chaos, one singular notion played over and over in my mind.

  Wolsey had failed his master; it was time to bring him down.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Greenwich Palace

  Summer 1529

  The Legatine Court was dismissed by Campeggio. He could hardly be heard over the raging noise of the crowds. People were shouting, arguing and hissing. The great hall at Blackfriars had become like a cock-fight; crowds leering, roaring and screaming over each other. And amidst all of this, I could hear Katherine’s name being said over and over, with love. It was dangerous to stay there any longer. I had to get out.

  I was hustled from the shouting masses and bundled into a litter provided by my father. We fought through streets thick with people cheering for Katherine. Since she had said she wanted the case heard in Rome, they all believed now that the Pope agreed with her. This only made her stronger and us weaker. Inside the litter, I cringed from the stench of sweat, ripened and intensified by the heat of the summer sun. I flinched from the cries of support for Katherine. I heard shouts: “We’ll have none of the Boleyn jade!” “God bless the Queen and our little Princess!” and “His Majesty will return to his godly wife!”

  Would he? Would Henry capitulate and return to Katherine? The trial had not decided either way, of course, but another delay, another postponement… Henry had suffered greatly already. Would he continue to fight on, or would he abandon me now, just as Percy had done so many years ago, when obstacles were thrust in our path?

  I put my head down and hid my features inside the cover of my hood. The braying screams resounded in my mind. Should I be recognised, there was a good chance the people here might tear me apart. I pulled the curtains of the litter to, hiding in the darkness. The men bearing the litter ran on through London as tears of disappointment, anger and sorrow slipped from my eyes and blossomed on the lap of my green silk gown. When we reached the palace I ran to Henry’s apartments and flung myself into his arms. I wept and he held me in grim silence. We were both bitterly disappointed and I was panicked by the notion he might give up.

  “The Pope does nothing but stall!” I raged. I rose from his embrace and put my hands against the fireplace. I leant against it, trying to absorb its stability. I felt I had none in my life then. “He sent Campeggio only to hold us off, my lord. He sent Campeggio to dupe us. The Pope is not concerned with whether or not our cause is just, he is only concerned with the Emperor’s guards breathing down his neck. He cares not for God’s law, only for the Emperor’s! We will never see justice with him presiding over this the Great Matter.”

  “By God’s Blood I believe you are right, Anne!” Henry stalked around the room like a man possessed. “I would never have believed it before but I think it is true. He will not give us justice.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief to hear his anger. Anger was good. Or at least it was better than sullen, ineffectual hopelessness. “We must find other ways, Henry… We must find other paths to lead us to justice. The Pope has shown he cannot be trusted. We cannot leave this in his hands anymore.”

  Henry nodded. But neither of us spoke of the other path we could take to resolve our Matter. The words of Tyndale echoed in my mind, calling to me… But what would it take for Henry to act on them? To become lord and master in his own kingdom? I wanted to urge him to take Tyndale’s theories and make them real, but Henry was so overwhelmed with anger that he could hardly think. He left me to go to the tennis courts; the walls there held many deep impressions of the King’s fury now.

  George told me that Wolsey had begged Campeggio to release into his hands the papal bull which authorised the annulment, and Campeggio, not surprisingly, refused. “This will be my ruin!” Wolsey had apparently cried out as he stormed from his brother-Cardinal’s rooms. Wolsey went to Katherine, pleading with her to give up her position, and again, not surprisingly, she refused. Why should she capitulate to Wolsey now? She was stronger than ever she had been before. We heard that the Pope had signed his treaty with the Emperor which assured his freedom, but one of the conditions was that Clement would never agree to the annulment unless Katherine did.

  Doors were closing all around us. Our way was blocked. Every day I wondered, what could be done now?

  As days passed, many at court offered their counsel. Advice from the French ambassador, du Bellay, was unhelpful at best. “Perhaps, my lady, you and the King should simply marry?” he suggested, lifting his hands into the air, because even he knew it was an outlandish suggestion, “and then the Pope will have to accept a fait accompli?”

  I told the ambassador I would certainly consider his notion, but the desperation in his plan gave me small hope. I would not be recognised as Queen if we married whilst Henry was still joined to Katherine. My uncle Norfolk called another family meeting. It seemed all we did was get together and talk. Talk, talk, talk, words, words, words. That was all there was; words and talk and no action. But my uncle had a plan he thought would aid us. He wanted to bring Wolsey down, and end his reign of power at Henry’s court and in England.

  “With Wolsey out the way,” Norfolk said with barely concealed relish. “We will be rid of the greatest traitor in this realm.” He turned to my father. “I have called upon a scholar named John Palsgrave to write a pamphlet against Wolsey. I had it put into production even before the trial, for I knew that snake would find a way to deceive us. It demonstrates that the Cardinal’s rule has been a period of waste, pride, repression and ineffective thinking, which has brought our country to its knees. When the Kin
g sees all that Wolsey has done, when it is laid bare before his eyes, we will have the power to move against Wolsey and remove him.”

  “But what is to be done for our Matter?” I asked, “I have no love for the Cardinal, but how does this help us further in my marrying the King?”

  Norfolk stared at me as though I were a fool. “With Wolsey gone, niece, we have the way cleared for one loyal to you and to the King to move into his place. This trial was never going to go anywhere. We all knew that. But if we can place our faction where Wolsey stands now, we will be in a stronger position.”

  “You tell me now that you had no faith in this trial at all?” I asked, my voice rising. I had ceased to care what my uncle thought of me. I was the important one here, not him!

  My uncle grunted and shifted in his seat, uncomfortable due to the boils on his bottom. I loathed him suddenly, this tired old general to whom, as a woman, I was forced to bow to in public. “There was always a chance, Anne,” he said reasonably enough. “But it is always advisable to have a second stage of attack planned should the first fail.”

  “Yes, and you knew it would fail, didn’t you, uncle?” My words escaped from between gritted teeth. In truth, it was not really Norfolk with whom I was angry. It was Wolsey, it was Campeggio, it was the Pope… It was everyone standing in our way.

  “We are all disappointed that the trial did not go as planned, Anne.” My father exhaled noisily. “Long have we waited already to see you Queen and our first prince on his way. But your uncle of Norfolk is showing us a way to bring down one of the greatest obstacles in your path. The Cardinal will not allow you to become Queen, Anne. He has set himself in the way of that ever happening. Now is the time to pluck Wolsey from the King’s skin, as one would remove a tick. With him gone, your seat beside Henry will be assured.”

  “Much good will this seat be if it comes not with a crown,” I hissed.

  My uncle ignored me. “The Cardinal has held up this process at every stage and now he has failed, publicly and fully, in a way the King can no longer ignore. When he was young, the King loved the Cardinal, for Wolsey bore all the pain and toil of kingship, leaving Henry to enjoy only the pleasures. It is time our monarch had a new set of guardians to do that for him. It is our time now.”

  I could see the sense in my uncle’s words. “My spirits fail with the waiting…” I apologised wearily. “I am eager to become Queen and to bear sons. I want to be a wife. This waiting tires me.”

  My uncle nodded with approval. He liked it when I was humble; that was how, he believed, women were supposed to behave. I despised him for that. “But you must stand strong, Anne. You share blood with generals and warlords. We Howards have never failed in our duty to the crown. You must keep this in mind, for it is for the good of the crown, for the good of England that we must remove the Cardinal.”

  My mouth twisted wryly. I thought about my uncle’s father, who went to the Tower for fighting on the wrong side at Bosworth. Norfolk himself had also spent time in the Tower for treason to the crown. Oh yes, Howards were loyal… But only when the crown’s desires agreed with their own.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  My uncle and my father smiled at each other and then at me; two wolves baring their teeth. “Here is what you must do, Anne,” my uncle counselled. “And do it carefully. Your temper gets the better of you and Henry will tire of these outbursts of yours in time.”

  I shrugged. “He likes my fire better than the chill of his cold wife, uncle. Some men are not threatened by a woman with courage and spirit.”

  “For now,” my father warned, ignoring my emphasis on ‘some’ men to avoid another spat breaking out between me and Norfolk. “The King finds it different and exciting, but you must learn to read him, Anne, and know when to alter yourself to his moods.”

  “As every wife should,” interjected my brother in a bitter tone.

  “Listen carefully, Anne,” my uncle went on. “And for once, do as I say.”

  I liked Norfolk not at all, but I listened to him and my father. I needed help, I needed advice… where was I to turn if not to them?

  When I saw Henry again he was leaning with a head against a wall, cooling one of the headaches that plagued him. He was holding a letter. When he turned towards me, his face was shadowed with rage and pain. He thrust the parchment at me wordlessly. As I read, he started to pace the room.

  The letter was a summons to Rome. The Pope decreed that the trial of the King’s marriage would be heard in Rome. Given the distance from Rome to England, this letter must have been sent long before Campeggio had dissolved the trial here. Perhaps it had even been sent before the trial began in England! The Pope never had any intention of allowing a verdict to be reached in England. He had staged this whole farce in order to play for time. And now Henry had not only been let down by the Pope, but was summoned to Rome, as though he were a villain, to present his evidence there. Everything that had been said in England, everything that had shamed Henry and embarrassed him, would be heard again. The King of England would have to crawl on his knees before the Holy Father, begging to be heard and Clement would never rule in his favour. Henry would go to Rome only to be shamed before the world. Henry would go to Rome only to be sent back to his wife.

  I glanced up. Henry was watching me. He looked ready to kill. “I will not do it, Anne,” he bellowed, his voice shaking with anger. I had never seen him so angry. There was something predatory, something dangerous about him.

  I pushed back my shoulders. “And why should you?” I said with defiance. I threw the letter across his desk, glowering at it as though I could make it burst into flames with my very thoughts. “How dare he? How dare the Pope command you to Rome? He knows he will only bring you all that way, away from your country, your duties, your people… and for what? To hear all the evidence and ignore it, just as Campeggio has? Just as Wolsey has? You would be shamed before the world, my lord, and Clement will only find for Katherine.” I shook my head. “They want you to play a part for them, my lord, so that it appears they are doing their duty by God. Clement would make you a puppet, just as he is!”

  Henry’s face, lined deeply with disbelief, misery and anger, told me more clearly than words could ever have done that he would never go to Rome, with his tail between his legs, to face trial. Henry had reached a breaking point. I could feel him, feel him wavering on the edge of rejecting Rome’s authority. His anger was intense. It radiated from him like heat from the noonday sun. But even in his rage, his shame and his wounded pride, he was not quite ready to take the last step. Not yet. He was afraid.

  “We will go on progress… together.” He marched to the table, snatched up the parchment and threw it into the fire. “And on progress, you shall take your rightful place.”

  I opened my arms and he fell to his knees and put his head against my stomach. I held him, cradling his head as though he were my child. For a long time we were silent, our mutual thoughts of disappointment and despair coursing through us. “That bishop of Rome has no power to command you, Henry,” I said. “We will find a way to be heard. We will find another way to bring justice.”

  My words were empty. If the Pope would not annul Henry’s marriage, then who could we turn to? Could I convince Henry that he should take this into his hands? Convince him to become as Pope in his own kingdom? I knew not. They were radical ideas, and although there was rebellion in some states of Europe against the Pope and his Church, Clement still held power over most of Christendom. If Henry defied the Pope, England could face the armies of many nations uniting against her in holy war. Clement could excommunicate Henry, setting every Christian soul in the world against him. There were paths we could take, but none were without peril. I would need to think carefully, and, at present, my head was far from clear.

  We packed and made plans for progress. Henry’s spirits lightened, if only a little. The thought of many months of hunting and riding brought him happiness, but the black shade of the Pope’s summons hu
ng over us. And the Cardinal was still in power.

  My uncle had ordered Lord Darcy, an enemy of Wolsey’s, to create a bill of praemunire against the Cardinal; the crime of introducing illegal foreign authority to England that undermined the power of the King. The foreign authority was, of course, that of the Pope. My uncle was sure that Henry would accept this bill, given Henry’s present rage at Clement. Pamphlets against Wolsey were sent out anonymously as my uncle’s men prepared the bill. My father and uncle sent it to Henry, along with a plan on how Wolsey might be arrested and held to account. The plan outlined that Wolsey would have his personal papers impounded, whilst a full investigation went ahead, but they found Henry oddly unresponsive to their badgering. Henry was not interested in moving against his old friend. He seemed to be taking on the example of the Pope, and stalling.

  The praemunire bill held in it the very fall of the Chancellor and yet, to my chagrin, Henry received it, and did nothing. He did not speak of it and I could not question him about it, as I was supposed to know nothing of it.

  My father raged at the King’s inactivity in the face of such evidence. My uncle was concerned that this hesitation showed Henry’s lasting affection for Wolsey. I watched, waited and planned. We could still bring the fat bat down, but it seemed to me that Henry needed further convincing. We needed Wolsey to make more mistakes and then parade them before Henry.