by G Lawrence
“I will do as you ask, my lady,” he nodded. “As long as you do not forget all that I do for you.”
“I forget nothing, Master Gardiner,” I said softly. He went to do my bidding.
The next morning I went to Henry as though nothing had happened, and told him that I had arranged, as a surprise for him, a picnic, three miles away and we would be gone all day. This meant Henry would not have to see Wolsey again before he had to leave with Campeggio. Henry disliked having to face unpleasant situations directly and I was giving him the perfect excuse to escape from one. He accepted the invitation gladly and seemed touched that I should have thought ahead to plan a surprise for his pleasure.
Just as Wolsey arrived at Grafton, we were all mounting horses. Wolsey stood, much amazed and confused. Gardiner had visited with Wolsey the night before, and had ably delayed his leaving the house in good time as morning came. Henry gave Wolsey but a rushed greeting, and told him that we were likely to be gone for a long time. Henry knew that he was abandoning Wolsey, and he did not wish to linger to see his old friend’s face as it fell. Wolsey was instructed to accompany Campeggio back to London.
As we rode off, I looked back and saw Wolsey gaping at the dust of our horses. He knew what this meant. He knew that he had lost, again. By the time we arrived back at Grafton, Wolsey and Campeggio had left. The Cardinal had lost, Henry was ours.
This was not the end of my struggles with the Cardinal, but Henry would never see Wolsey face to face again.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Greenwich Palace
Autumn 1529
Wolsey had lost, but he was not gone. He was still Chancellor and was still chairing meetings at court in London. My father wanted him entirely removed, in order to take his seat as Chancellor; a position that, after having spent the summer nestled in Henry’s ear, he had high hopes of attaining. Progress was still going on, but Henry left me in the country and briefly returned to London and Greenwich to start the business of setting up a new Parliament. Wolsey, it seemed, was attempting to shrug off the events of progress, and continue on with the King’s work. But Henry did not seek to see him and Wolsey knew nothing of Henry’s visit to London until the King had already come and gone. Henry’s avoidance of Wolsey was telling. He was closer now to making a choice than he ever had been before.
Henry was, for the first time in his reign, taking upon himself all the work that Wolsey had done before. I was more proud of him than I could say when I arrived each day to find him poring over dispatches and letters as he never had done before. I tarried with him, reading over papers with him, and offering advice where I felt able.
One of the first things Henry directly ordered was perhaps petty. He commanded that Campeggio be halted at Dover and his bags and chests be searched. This was, however, done only in part to annoy Campeggio. Norfolk had word that Wolsey was trying to sneak certain papers out of the country and send them to Rome. My uncle knew not what was in them, but a man in his pay had seen the Cardinal handing something to Campeggio in a most secretive manner when they parted in London. Norfolk suspected that Campeggio carried letters for the Pope and for the Emperor from Wolsey, letters intended to curry their favour. Perhaps Wolsey was offering to bring about reconciliation between Katherine and Henry in return for the support of Clement and Charles? But nothing was found amongst Campeggio’s belongings, and Campeggio complained bitterly to Henry about the indignity of the search.
Henry’s reply was rude and offhand. “How can we help it if the porters at the dock were rough?” he wrote. “You may infer from this that my subjects are not well pleased that my case has not come to a better conclusion.” Campeggio left England with his tail between his legs, and Henry and I laughed together to think of his panic when his bags were searched.
“We still do not know whether or not Wolsey has given something to Campeggio… Perhaps your men just did not find it,” I warned.
Henry shrugged. “They found nothing, sweetheart, and I have done all that I could.”
It was true enough, but still, I worried that Wolsey would try to make peace between himself, the Holy Roman Emperor and the Pope. He knew he had no friends left in England, but what if he could protect himself by reaching out to our enemies? I wrote an angry letter to Wolsey, showing him that I was aware he had worked for Katherine’s interests over mine “your lordship abandons my interests to work for those of the queen,” I wrote. “I acknowledge that I have put much confidence in your professions and promises, in which I find myself deceived. But, for the future, I shall rely on nothing but the protection of Heaven and the love of my dear King, which alone will be able to set right again those plans which you have broken and spoiled… The wrong you have done me has caused me much sorrow, but I feel infinitely more in seeing myself betrayed by a man who pretended to enter into my interests only to discover the secrets of my heart.”
I shared my letter with Henry, who whistled when he read it. “I did not know you felt this way,” he said. “I am so sorry that this man has caused you pain.”
After further urging, Henry finally agreed that Wolsey must be charged with praemunire. Henry was by now genuinely suspicious of his friend, and after all that had been presented to him that summer, and his understanding that I hated the Cardinal, he agreed to move against him. My family exulted. Norfolk even laughed; something I had rarely witnessed before. It was like watching a cat spit up a hairball. We thought this was the end of Wolsey, but we were mistaken.
As Wolsey arrived at Westminster Hall for the first day of the new legal term, he found himself alone in court. He waited for a while, wondering where everyone was, and then found himself called to the King’s Bench where the charges were laid out for him. Wolsey must have known about the pamphlets that had circulated about him and his loyalties. He must have known something was coming, for he was prepared.
The charges of praemunire were read against Wolsey. He was accused of abusing the powers of the Legatine Court, of not acting in the interests of his sovereign, and of receiving bulls from Rome that directly opposed the wishes of his country and King. Wolsey surrendered. He decided it was wiser to throw himself on Henry’s mercy and plead guilty rather than surrender to an Act of Attainder from Parliament. An Act of Attainder allowed Parliament to declare a person guilty of a crime and punish them without a trial. It nullified their common rights, their rights to property, to their wealth, and even the right to life itself. Had Wolsey declared himself innocent, he had plenty of enemies who would have used this legal right against him. Deciding that it was better to throw himself on Henry’s mercy, rather than that of his enemies, Wolsey pleaded guilty, surrendered his property to Henry, and begged for the King’s leniency. He was clever, really… for Henry would have been more likely to utterly destroy Wolsey if the fat bat had chosen to defy him. After accepting the charges, Wolsey wrote to Henry,
“Most gracious and merciful sovereign lord,
Next unto God, I desire nor covet anything in this world but the attaining of your gracious favour and forgiveness of my trespasses. Grant me your grace, mercy, remission and pardon for my sins. Aside from all worldly considerations, the sharp sword of Your Majesty’s displeasure in me hath penetrated my heart.
Your Grace’s most prostrated, poor chaplain, creature and bedes-man,
T-Cardinalis, Ebor, Miserimus.”
He said to others that it was impossible to challenge a “continual serpentine enemy about the King,” meaning me, presumably.
The country as a whole, and the nobility in particular, were pleased to see Wolsey tumble from grace. He had taken all of Henry’s favour for himself, leaving little for others. People blamed him for their own lack of advancement and money; for the expense of the wars into which Henry had entered and for any and all ruin about the country. Since the Cardinal acted on behalf of the King, all of the failures and problems of the past years were set squarely upon his shoulders. He was censured now in public for his pride, for his carnal sins, for his av
arice, and people openly mocked at the manner in which he used to ride through the streets, with his feet in golden stirrups. Ravening crows were gathering over the head of this once all-powerful Cardinal…
Wolsey was removed from his post as Chancellor, and Norfolk and Suffolk took great pride in being the ones sent to him to take the seal of office from his hands personally. Even then, though, Wolsey demanded to see Henry’s signature before he would surrender his seal. Suffolk stared at Wolsey in disbelief, wondering that even now he could be so arrogant. But the two blundering Dukes had not brought Henry’s signed order with them, thinking they did not need it, and Wolsey refused to give up the seal. They had to come back to his house early the next morning. Wolsey broke into tears and crashed to his knees when he saw that Henry had, indeed, signed the order.
Henry could never stand to look into the eyes of one with whom he had broken… As I was eventually to understand only too well. All that he did to Wolsey he did through other men. He never had to witness Wolsey’s terror and pain… I encouraged him not to see Wolsey. Later, much later, I would come to regret this characteristic in my husband… I would come to regret that I myself taught him how to leave a loved one behind.
Wolsey retained his clerical positions, and there was nothing that Henry could do to deny him these. He was still a Cardinal, and an Archbishop, and as such held some residences and revenues in York, and in other Sees, which were beyond the reach or authority of the King. So he was far from destitute, although to a man who had lost such fabulous riches, it must have felt as though he had lost everything. Wolsey had his servants compile lists of his palaces, houses, coin and belongings, which were sent to Henry. The lists went on for page after page after page after page. The amount of goods, plate, cloth, furniture, coffers of coin, jewels, land and buildings he owned were staggering. Wolsey added a crawling note at the end of this list, saying he would have his men strip his houses, or leave the goods in place; whatever the King desired him to do would be done.
Wolsey was to move to a small house in Esher, which belonged to the See of Winchester. A new Chancellor was needed, and Henry favoured Suffolk for the post, but Norfolk protested to me, saying that it would give Suffolk too much power. I agreed, and asked Henry to choose another, recommending my father. Henry wished to please me, but he said that if Suffolk was not to my liking then he wanted Sir Thomas More in the post. My father was disappointed, but I could not argue that More was qualified for the position, despite my dislike of him.
More took the post with reluctance. Although he was on Katherine’s side in the Great Matter, he had promised Henry, as a friend, that he would not involve himself with it, nor would he speak against Henry… But he did, however, make it clear that he thought the King’s marriage was valid. More worried that in taking this post he would be unable to fulfil his promise to Henry. As Chancellor, would he not be asked to take on Wolsey’s responsibility, and find a way for the King to legally separate from his wife?
Henry went to More’s house to persuade him to take the post, saying that he wanted him as Chancellor because he was impartial, and because he had great faith in his honesty and virtue. I am not sure why Henry thought he was impartial, for More had made his views on the annulment clear. More finally accepted, believing Henry would value his opinion, and perhaps also believing that the King himself was becoming unsure in his previous convictions about the illegality of his marriage. My family were not best pleased, for More despised people like us. He was determined to use his new position, even though he had not wanted it, to stamp out heresy in England. We were going to have to be careful with the new Chancellor.
With Henry, however, I was jubilant. I had won! We had won! Finally, Henry was free of Wolsey’s poison!
They say that when Wolsey came to leave London, he stood on the banks of the river at York Place, waiting for his barge to take him to Esher. An early autumn mist was rising over the river, hazy in the light of the dawn. The Cardinal stood looking back at his palace, swathed in swirling grey fog. A huge mass of people had turned out to watch him depart; both crowds along the banks and crowded in boats along the river. Some had come because they loved him, but many more were there to witness his disgrace. Many of them expected he would be taken to the Tower, but Henry was satisfied with confiscating the majority of Wolsey’s holdings. Wolsey was, in effect, going into exile. Any other man who had acted as he had would have gone to the block. Henry loved Wolsey too much to allow that to happen.
Wolsey looked back at what had been his rich palace, now being picked over, inventoried and confiscated by the King’s men. Already Wolsey’s emblems were being taken down and replaced with Henry’s. George Cavendish, a retainer of Wolsey’s turned to his master, putting a hand on his arm and said, “I cannot but see that it is the inclination and natural disposition of Englishmen to desire change in men of authority, most of all where such men have administered justice impartially.”
Wolsey nodded his head sadly, and replied ruefully, drawing on the bull emblem of the Boleyns, and the dun cow of the Tudor line to make a point. “When the cow doth ride the bull, then priest, beware thy skull.”
When I heard of this, I shook my head. Cow was not the worst name he had called me. Night crow was his favourite name for me, or serpentine witch. I wondered if he knew I called him the fat bat?
But just as Wolsey despaired, he was offered a ray of hope. Unbeknownst to our faction, Henry was not done with his former friend. As Wolsey stood at the riverside, Norris was secretly sent to him with a note and a small golden ring from Henry. The message assured Wolsey that he could not be arrested without the King’s express authority. Henry wrote to Wolsey that he had been brought low “only to satisfy more the minds of some, which I knoweth be not your friends, rather than through any perceived indignation of mine own.” Henry went on to say that should the chance present itself, then he would restore Wolsey to his former position and wealth, “in better estate than ere you were.”
Wolsey knelt on the dirty riverbank, to give thanks to the Lord God and to the King. He gave Norris a golden crucifix, which he said contained a part of the true cross, and furthermore instructed his fool, Patch, to enter Henry’s service. The fool put up a great show of not wanting to leave his master, and six Yeomen Guards carried him off to be presented to Henry. I doubt that Patch was genuinely so downcast to be leaving the service of a disgraced master, entering instead the service of the King of England. He would have been well aware of the rewards of such a position. Fools were canny mortals. Patch knew that in entering Henry’s service he would be richly rewarded if he pleased his master, and the position, too, gave him greater scope for his audacious announcements, than even the Cardinal’s service might have brought to him. He howled as his master stepped onto his barge and sailed down the river. Many watching Wolsey from the boats and on the river banks jeered and insulted the Cardinal, happy to see him leave.
Wolsey was fallen, but not forgotten.
We Boleyns and Howards rejoiced. We believed then that Henry might order Wolsey’s arrest rather than simple exile. But we were fools. Henry was just waiting for a chance to save his friend. He was waiting for a time to bring him back. My father was right. Henry did not know what was good for him.
Chapter Fifty-Six
York Place
Autumn 1529
When the Cardinal had departed for Esher, Henry and I went to see his new property of York Place, which had been surrendered by Wolsey. It was stunningly beautiful. The Cardinal had such expensive tastes. Even Henry’s palaces and castle paled in comparison to the richness within York Place.
At York Place, there were no chambers for the Queen. Wolsey had built York Place for himself, as his personal seat in London. It was a house that had known only one, unmarried, male owner, and so there had never been a need to construct a second, equally grand set of chambers for a wife. This pleased me for although, whilst Henry was on progress, Katherine had been forced to stay at Greenwich, now she seemed d
etermined to follow him, and to set up her household in opposition to mine at every turn, often forcing me to take lesser apartments with my ladies. Like a fawning lapdog, she panted at Henry’s heel. It made life in London more and more uncomfortable. Katherine seemed to believe that now the King’s Great Matter was in peril, and Henry had been called to Rome, he would go back to her. When they were in the same palace, she would ask daily for audiences with him, which were usually denied. She sent word to Henry that he might visit her at night, if he pleased, and arranged feasts for him in her chambers, and diverse entertainments. She was trying to woo him back, trying to emulate me. Henry did not attend. He tried to avoid her at all costs. But at York Place, there was nowhere for her to stay, which made me happy.
Katherine was acting as though the events of the past few years had not happened. But, smarting from the humiliation at Blackfriars, and finding himself bogged down by all the work that Wolsey had once performed for him, he was in no temper to pander to Katherine. Her unvarying protestations of love and adoration fell upon deaf ears. Although, at the time, I revelled in his coldness towards her, I would one day come to understand the pain she suffered then.
Although, on that summer’s progress, I had been as Queen in my own right, in the real world Katherine still held on to that title with her fat, stubby hands and would not let go. Worst of all, the common people loved her for it. When they saw the crests and emblems of the Boleyns on litters or carts, they threw stones and mouldy bread. My father’s men were repeatedly accosted in the streets by screaming commoners, and even when the King’s guards, or my father’s men, saw them off, they persisted in their hatred. Their voices were raw, ragged with disgust and revulsion. It made me nervous to travel through London. I took to travelling by barge when I could, and at less busy times of the day or night, but still, I heard their words. They scared me, I do not deny it. They were turning Katherine into a martyr, and people are not swift to give up their heroes once they are made.
