by G Lawrence
Summer progress was a distraction for us. Henry tried to bury his disappointment and frustration in the pleasures of hunting, food and drink, but he was troubled. His headaches had become worse. We did not talk about the trial, or the Great Matter for a while, trying to escape them, but they hung over us every day.
We could run from our troubles, but they would only be waiting there for us when we returned.
Chapter Fifty-One
Waltham Abbey
Late Summer 1529
Whilst we progressed about England under the beautiful summer sun, negotiations for peace between France and Spain began in the border town of Cambrai. Thomas More and Bishop Tunstall wrote to Henry that their efforts to engage in negotiations were constantly ignored. Although strategically important to both empires, England was a small sprat to the great pikes of France and Spain. Wolsey had not been happy that Tunstall was sent to the talks in his place, as the Bishop was one of his most outspoken rivals on the Council, and wrote to Henry slandering his abilities. Tunstall believed Wolsey was too lenient on heretics, and saw his lack of motivation as laziness. For all Wolsey’s faults, I did not see his comparatively moderate stance to be a flaw. Wolsey did not mind Thomas more attending, since he was respected throughout Europe as a scholar and philosopher. Henry had a great love for the man, and trusted his wisdom. Many times over the years, when Henry had wished to escape the court, he had gone to More’s house and spent the night charting stars in the heavens. His friendship with this enemy of reform did not please me.
Wolsey had become ill in the aftermath of the trial. Although I thought this was a feint, Henry was worried. “He is an old man now, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It is easy to think of him as an active and healthy, hale man, but it is not so. He is almost sixty! We must remember that when we look at his recent failures… The Cardinal is not a youth anymore. It is only to be expected that he may trip where a younger man would leap. But I believe he still has much wisdom to offer.”
I agreed, reluctantly, but Henry’s words were to haunt him later as England’s envoys failed in their task at Cambrai. The Treaty of Cambrai, the so-called ‘Ladies Peace’ for it was largely the doing of Marguerite, her mother Louise of Savoy, and my old mistress, the Archduchess Margaret, was signed in August. The French and Spanish were now at peace, and England had all but been left out of the talks. Henry hissed sour words about François’ turncoat nature, but we all knew the true issue for us was that the Pope was now the Emperor’s slave. The only light on the horizon was that the Treaty of Cambrai had to be ratified by England, since Henry had loaned money to both François and to Charles in their war. François, in particular, needed England’s favour, since his two eldest sons were Charles’ prisoners. If England were to cause problems for the Treaty, François might never see his sons again. Wolsey wrote to Henry suggesting it might be possible to force François into continued, and public, support for the annulment, but it was not without risk. There was a possibility that causing problems could make Charles and François ratify the treaty between them instead, leaving England out entirely. But it was the best plan we had, and Wolsey set about trying to make it so.
Du Bellay started pressuring Henry to ratify the treaty, but failed over and over to give him a full copy of it. This made Henry suspicious. I urged du Bellay, as my good friend, to let Henry see a full version, for how else could he agree to it? But du Bellay deferred the matter. François was also pushing for various agreements from an earlier treaty between France and England to be upheld. Wolsey pointed out that the French were pushing for military support from England based on this earlier treaty, but said they had had omitted a stipulation he had negotiated and therefore their demands were invalid. Henry received Wolsey’s letter one afternoon as we returned dirty, and hot, from a day’s hunting and he frowned at the letter, handing it to me.
“The French treat me with small care and much deception,” he growled. “I am much kindled and waxed warm in their hands. They mould me to what they want. Then I am discarded as though I am a lump of wax.”
I sighed, reading the letter. I wanted Henry to be friends with France, for I loved that country and her people. But it was more than that. England needed allies and in the present situation, we were hardly good friends with Spain. “Are we certain that Wolsey is right about this?” I asked. “Should we not ensure that the Cardinal is correct in his assessment before attacking du Bellay and François for their demands?”
“I will ask that Wolsey’s points are checked on this matter,” he said. It was a strange moment, such a small thing to be said, and yet Henry would never have questioned Wolsey’s judgement before this time. It showed how much his faith had been shaken in his minister.
“My father and Master Gardiner are both familiar with the treaties, and are in this building, my lord,” I said. “Shall I ask that they check on these stipulations Wolsey speaks of?”
He nodded. “Send for them,” he said shortly, playing with his hat as though he did not want to meet my eyes. “I will bathe and then speak to them.” Henry went off to wash, and I sent for my father.
I handed him the note when he arrived. “The King wants Wolsey’s assertions on the treaty to be checked,” I said. My father’s eyebrows shot up. He did not have to say a word to understand the implications of this. “I would like that we remain friends with France,” I continued, looking at Gardiner. He had recently been appointed secretary to Henry, moving away from Wolsey’s service. He had also promised to be my loyal servant, and now here was his chance to prove himself. “We need at least one friend in this world, my lords, and I would rather it was France than Spain. If we can keep François on our side, he may be able to support us more in the King’s Great Matter. Without him, we are alone in Europe, with the Emperor against us.”
Gardiner nodded, tucking his great hands behind his back. “The Cardinal allows his annoyance at the French for signing the Treaty of Cambrai to cloud his judgement.“ He frowned, making the indentation between his eyes deeper. “He blames the French for leaving him out in the cold by making peace and abandoning the Pope to the Emperor… thereby thwarting the King’s annulment… but what could the French do for the Cardinal? He could not be their first responsibility. He is being unreasonable.” Gardiner stared at me with shrewd eyes. He knew what another failure could mean for his once-master. “I will look over the treaties, with you, my lord,” he said to my father. “But I believe your daughter is right. We cannot be left without friends in Europe, and France is our natural, if not only ally at this time. We cannot allow Wolsey’s sullen anger to stand in the way of that by disputing the ratification of this treaty.”
My father grinned like a slinking fox. “We will go over the papers most carefully, daughter, and counsel the King on this.”
“He will meet with you when he has finished bathing,” I said. “Ensure that he knows nothing of what I have said to you, other than that you are to look again at this matter. I do not want Henry knowing that I pressed for peace with France. This must appear to stem only from Wolsey’s error, not from any other consideration. Henry says Wolsey still has worth. Let us prove to him this is not so.”
My father nodded, and Gardiner bowed to me. As they left, my mind was plagued once again by the notion that I was manipulating Henry. But it is for his own good, I told myself. And you are right, Anne, England cannot be left without friends in Europe, no matter how upset the Cardinal is with France!
The following day, the tide had turned. My father and Gardiner had gone over the treaties through the night, and they counselled Henry that Wolsey was wrong and his recommendations should be ignored. They said they suspected he had brought these arguments up due to annoyance with François, and that his spite would bring great trouble for England. Henry wrote to Wolsey, telling him that full concessions would be made to the French, and ordering him to desist from allowing personal feelings to cloud his judgement. What Wolsey thought of this, I know not, but it can hardly have been easy read
ing. Henry was now openly distrustful of his judgement. The Cardinal was in grave danger.
I know not, in truth, if Wolsey’s judgement was wrong for I did not ask, but if it was not so, my father and Gardiner made it appear convincing. We used this slip against Wolsey; another thread sewn into his winding sheet. Perhaps the fact that Gardiner had once been Wolsey’s man, and owed much of his rise to power to him, made this blow against the Cardinal smart all the more harshly. Wolsey struck back by attacking Gardiner; saying that Gardiner understood such affairs not at all, and could not be trusted in his assessment. But Gardiner protested his judgement was true and honest, and accused Wolsey of wanting to stir Henry against the French. Wolsey was forced to apologise to Gardiner, by Henry, but it was clear that the Cardinal neither trusted nor liked his former servant anymore.
Du Bellay wrote to France, pleased that the English King was set to give the requested concessions to France, and thanked me for my role in preserving the peace between our two countries. “I will let my master know how much we owe to you, my lady,” he said, kissing my hand. “For as long as you are here, I know we Frenchmen will always be treated well. And you see? Once again it is the great ladies of this world who strive for peace over war. You act in England as the royal ladies of the house of Valois do, in France.”
“It pleases me more than you can know, my lord ambassador,” I said in French, “to know that there is friendship between our countries. I will work always for brotherly love between your King and mine.”
Henry smiled to see me treated as a queen by the ambassador. Henry and I were inseparable. It was rumoured that I was indeed his mistress now, even though we had still not lain together as man and wife. Du Bellay was heard saying that he expected any day to be told that I was with child, so deep and obvious was Henry’s passion for me.
My father was there that summer as my supposed chaperone, but it was an empty title. Henry and I were now somewhat settled in sating our need for each other in all other ways but in actual sex, and my father was there for the sake of appearances only. He did nothing that might get between us. But his position also meant that he was around Henry a great deal. Although he said nothing, I knew he was positioning himself as a replacement for Wolsey. He was a great deal subtler than Norfolk and Suffolk who danced about Henry that summer as though he were a maypole and they the merry maids of the dance. My father simply arranged it so that he was always on hand to offer advice, and took on any work the King wanted done. All of them wanted the post of Chancellor. But that position was still not yet vacant.
At the urging of my father and uncle, I continued to shake Henry’s trust in his beloved advisor. Once Wolsey was gone, we Boleyns and Howards would be the only ones he would listen to. Once Wolsey was gone, we could find another path for the annulment.
It was going to take a great deal of courage to bring down this old man… It was hard at times, when I thought of his age. But I reminded myself of all Wolsey had done, all that he was, and then it was easier to think on him not as Henry did, as a weak and old man, but as an enemy. If I merely left Wolsey wounded, he might prove all the more dangerous. We needed to bide our time and strike when the time was right.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Grafton Lodge
Summer’s End 1529
In August, Eustance Chapuys of Spain arrived to present his ambassadorial credentials to Henry. It was soon obvious that Mendoza’s replacement was on the side of Katherine and her faction. Although friendly enough to my father and brother, at least at first, he refused, if at all possible, to speak with me, or even to acknowledge my presence in a room. He considered me the King’s whore, this, I knew. But I was too busy with Wolsey at that time to think on the arrival of the new ambassador of Spain.
As Cambrai drew to a close, Wolsey wrote to Henry asking for an audience, so that he could impart information too sensitive to put down in a letter. Wolsey was clever, he was aware we were trying to undermine him. Henry was a deeply sentimental man and Wolsey knew that if he could get to Henry in person then he might be able to worm his way back into the King’s full friendship. I asked my father to advise Henry that the Cardinal must commit all he had to say to writing.
“For what can the Cardinal have to say that he cannot write down?” my father asked as I stood next to Henry. “I believe, Majesty, he wishes to meet with you in order to discredit me and my family in Your Majesty’s eyes. For all who know him well know of his resentment towards my daughter.”
“He has always shown great respect to Anne,” Henry protested feebly. I hated Henry in moments like this; hated to see him defend one who would see me destroyed before he would ever bow to me as Queen. It is often the strange way of the world, that those we love the most can also be those we rage against the hardest.
I sniffed. “I fear the Cardinal would prefer Your Majesty married to a foreign princess rather than to a daughter of England as myself,” I said. “I wonder if he thinks that your affection could be drawn from me, like poison from a wound...”
Henry leapt to contradict me, his face distraught. “There is nothing in you of poison, Anne! And no man could take the love that I bear for you from my heart.” He crushed me against his great chest and went to kiss me, but I turned my cheek away. Henry released me, sighing heavily. “The Cardinal is perhaps not as he once was, but he is an old man now and he has done good service to us in the past.”
I allowed Henry to take me in his arms then, but my father and I continued to speak against the Cardinal, suggesting to Henry that his beloved Wolsey had in the past been in the pocket of Louise of Savoy, François’ mother, and so who knew whose money he took now… the Emperor’s? My father suggested that Wolsey had been responsible for Suffolk’s failure to take Paris, oh so many years ago when we were at war with France. Suffolk was more than happy to lay this blame on Wolsey too, stating that the Cardinal, in his position as Chancellor, should have responded to his requests for more men and more money with which to take the French capital. My father had even recently intercepted a letter of Wolsey’s on its way to France which clearly stated that the Cardinal thought the King should make a match with a French princess rather than with me. Henry took the letter from my father, and read it with a grim expression.
“You see, my lord?” I asked. “The Cardinal does not work for your interests, or mine.”
Henry could hardly deny the truth of my words, but attempted to defend the Cardinal all the same. “Perhaps, sweetheart, it is just a feint to lure François into offering more support for the annulment.”
“I would beg of you to excuse me, Your Majesty,” I said, rising. “But there is a sudden pain in my heart.”
“You are unwell, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up with a face full of pale concern.
“My heart is torn, Majesty, by the betrayal of your friend.” I left him.
Henry was surrounded by those who urged him not to meet with the Cardinal. Distressed by the intercepted letter, he told Wolsey to put his matters into writing and send them to him at Grafton, but he was ill at ease. It was then we heard that Wolsey was coming to Grafton after all. Campeggio was due to leave the shores of England to scurry back to his master in Rome and was to come to take his leave of the King officially. He had requested, no doubt at the fat bat’s urging, that Wolsey come with him.
Henry could not refuse to see Campeggio, and so it seemed Wolsey had found a way to get to Henry at last. But our faction united to ensure that when the Cardinals arrived, at least one of them would find a cold welcome waiting.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Grafton Lodge
Summer’s End 1529
We had settled for some time at Grafton, a small hunting lodge in the country, far away from the summer stench of London and the pressures life had dealt us of late. The rest of Henry’s court had to lodge at various houses nearby, as Grafton was so small it could only accommodate a small, intimate party. My ladies and Henry’s personal servants were the only ones who stayed with
us there, although my father, Norfolk, Suffolk and George rode to join us daily. It was refreshing to be not so surrounded by people all the time. Henry’s nobles and the rest of the court joined us for entertainments and on the hunt, but more often we were a small party whilst there.
There was a goodly park near to Grafton and we spent much time hunting in it. There was also a new passion for bowls at court, which we played upon the green lawns at Grafton. The aim was to roll one’s ball as close as possible to the jack, which was painted white, and whosoever got the closest won. I was not as good at this game as I was with many others, and Henry had to pay out large sums to cover the losses I made in wagering against his men and my ladies. He never minded though. He looked at me with indulgent eyes and motioned to his man to hand over the sums I named. Henry was a vastly generous man, and his father had left him a fortune, which he had no problem in spending. Archery butts were also set up, and Henry played against his Yeomen Guard’s best archers, often besting them, for he was a superb shot. I would play against the men in Henry’s retinue, and against my own ladies, and sometimes instructed them also, since it seemed I had been given more education in such arts than had many of my women. Bridget, in particular, was never an able shot, and grimaced often as her arrows bounced ineffectually from the butts, landing in the thick grass.
