by G Lawrence
It was said, too, that Edward IV had brought his love Elizabeth Woodville to this place whilst they were secretly married, and that they spent much time here together. For a woman who was in almost the same position as that earlier Queen, Henry’s own grandmother, Woodstock seemed to me to sing to me through its walls, telling me that it was a place for love and for lovers. All would be well, it whispered to me as I walked through its halls and corridors, all will be well…
All was not well all the time though. Once, on a rare break from spending time with me, Henry was out riding near Woodstock, a man yelled out, “Back to your wife!” and it was only because the guards were too late to catch him that he escaped Henry’s fury. He returned that night with a dark and angry face. It took a while for me to tease this information from him. When I did, I tried to laugh it off, but in my bed, in the dark of night, I was troubled and restless.
My father, Foxe and Gardiner came out to Woodstock with something new for Henry. It was a set of papers which became known as the Collectanea satis copisoa. Henry had not commissioned it. It had been worked on for some months that year by Fox, Cranmer, Gardiner and others. We hoped it would convince Henry to finally take on the role for which he was destined.
The Collectanea demonstrated the ancient assumption that the Pope was supreme in spiritual matters was erroneous. The work was full of scriptural and historical arguments that proved the King was the true leader of all matters, both temporal and spiritual, within his own Kingdom. This first draft of the text made clear that in the early days of the Church, each kingdom had its own jurisdiction, independent of the Pope. Since each kingdom had the right to decide its own laws and systems of justice, the true body that should decide on Henry’s marriage was therefore the Church of England. Another part of its argument said that all authority was the King’s in his own kingdom, and was given to the King by God Himself, therefore, there was no reason for the Pope to be involved at all.
Foxe pointed out that Henry’s authority in this matter already existed; he had, after all, been chosen by God for the throne, and therefore had no need to even vindicate his rights. It was the Church, and the Pope especially, who were the interlopers here… they were usurping power from Henry that was his God-given right. The works of Tyndale had called upon the King to act against previously sacrosanct law, but Foxe pointed out that Henry was already in possession of such authority. He was answerable only to God. He should be the head of the Church in England.
It felt then as though I was standing on the edge of something remarkable; a new time, a new way for the Church to be governed and ruled. Not by some corrupt and far-off entity like the Pope, but by my own King, a man I knew was most given to goodness and reason when guided well. With Henry at the forefront of this movement, we could bring England to a place of glory, and true faith. For me, this was like a light shining through the darkness of our troubles. Henry was already in possession of all he required to act for our own good, and for that of England. The only thing he seemed to lack was the confidence to do so.
Henry read over the document carefully, and we went over many points together, but he was still not fully convinced he could act in such a way and that it would be accepted, not only by his people, but by the rest of Europe as well. He feared war and invasion. Henry was happier to wait for Cranmer and his other envoys to bring back opinions from overseas, to give more weight to his case. But he allowed the distribution of the first draft of the Collectanea. And this soon caused a mighty noise all through Europe and beyond.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Greenwich Palace
Summer’s End 1530
In August, as Henry and I returned to London, I received further information from my father’s spies in Wolsey’s house. The Cardinal was now sending messages almost daily to Chapuys. We had managed to intercept some of the letters and the contents were shocking, even to me.
The Cardinal suggested to Chapuys that strong action on behalf of the Emperor and Pope should be taken to support Katherine; that the King should be ordered to put me aside, and return to his wife, upon threat of invasion or excommunication. Wolsey proposed that a papal envoy could arrive in the autumn, signalling the start of a coup that would remove the Boleyns from our posts. Henry would be forced to see reason; he would be made to reinstate Wolsey, and return to his wife, as a dutiful subject of the Pope. Wolsey implied that Chapuys should take his letter to Katherine, and gain her support.
What Katherine thought of all this, I know not, for she had made no attempt to answer the Cardinal, as far as we could see. I suspect that she was, in fact, reluctant to put quill to parchment, as she could see how very dangerous Wolsey’s suggested plan was. Katherine had no love for Wolsey, and she would not be sorry to see him ousted for good. He had worked against her in the matter of the annulment, and now he was trying to be her friend? Katherine was no fool. She knew this was perilous ground. She did not write to Wolsey herself, and any messages that were passed along were made clear that they were from Chapuys alone.
It was a shame for us, that Katherine was so cautious, for if Katherine were conspiring with Wolsey to bring her nephew, the Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain to our shores in a show of force, then she would have been guilty of high treason, and the king would have an excuse to arrest her. But Katherine was cleverer even than the mighty Wolsey. We had damning evidence against him now. It was time to move once and for all against the Cardinal. It was time to take this to Henry.
George took the letters we had intercepted to Henry. That night Henry came to my chambers, pressing his sore head with his hands, his face grim.
“My brother has shown you the truth, my lord.” It did no good to pretend that I knew not what assailed him. I poured wine into fine goblets as I spoke. “Now you know what I have said for so long is true; the Cardinal is no friend either to you or to me. And more even than this! He is an enemy to England for he works to bring the horror invasion upon your people.”
“I am so tired, Anne,” he said weakly. A stab of annoyance hit me in the gut for his feebleness. How many times did he have to be proved that Wolsey was a traitor? Once? Twice? A thousand times?
Henry took the goblet from me and sat down. “I thought Wolsey was my man, my friend… and yet it seems that he works against me. Whom can I trust when my own friends turn against me?”
“Trust in me and mine,” I said. “For have not we always worked to satisfy your conscience and desires? Perhaps you wish the Cardinal to have his way? To see me sent from court? To put me aside and return to the sinful bed with your brother’s wife? To have peace with the Emperor and the Pope, who stand against the wishes of God and against what you know to be true and right?” I sat down next to him, and his face that told me this was not so. “If you want not this, Henry,” I said, sipping my wine, “then you must take action against the Cardinal. He has proved himself a traitor… Not only once before when he failed you, but again when you forgave him! You cannot afford to be so gentle with those who work evil against you, my love.”
“He is but a weak old man,” Henry protested. “He has lost his head in his desire to return to my love.”
I set my goblet to the table at my elbow and tried hard to hold on to the frayed edges of my temper. “A weak old man?” I asked, my jaw twitching. “A weak old man?” I stood up and walked to the fire, staring balefully into it. “This man makes pacts with your enemies, Henry. He has sent letters asking the Emperor and the Pope to order you back to Katherine! Asking that direct action be taken by a foreign prince against England!” I turned to him, my eyes wild. “Are you the King in this country?”
“I am the King,” he said coldly, taking a large gulp of his wine and sulking like a sullen child. A second chin was growing under his first and he was coming to look more aged in these days of such struggle and trial. I still thought him handsome though, in those times when he was not frustrating me…
“Then for the love of God, Henry!” I cried. “Open your eyes! Th
e Cardinal has betrayed you. He means to separate us! He seeks to send me from your side and ruin me! And more than that, he asks that the Emperor and the Pope offer force to reinstate Katherine! Wolsey would bring war upon your country, invasion! He is no friend to you, to me or to England and if you are too weak to see that and do something about it…”
Henry leapt from his chair, spilling wine all over the floor as he grasped me by the shoulders. He shook me, my teeth rattling in my head. “I am not weak!” he bellowed into my face. I stared back at him with icy eyes.
“I should have married another whilst I was still young,” I said coldly. “I see now that I was right; you will pardon mine enemies and leave me in the cold. You will bow to the wills of other Kings rather than face them in pride and glory! You will leave me… You will cast me aside and see my good name disgraced… You have no care for me. You do not love me.”
I was desperate. How could I make him finally understand what had to happen here? If Wolsey came back, or even was allowed to live, then he would undo me, and Henry was doing nothing to stop it!
Henry stared at me, and shook his head. There was anger in his expression, but beneath that there was weariness. He hated to hear me speak so. “It is not so, Anne… All that I do, I do for you… How can you not see that?”
“What is easier? To walk beside me, or face my enemies?” I asked. “If you will not move against the Cardinal now then you are no friend to me. If you would work against me and befriend my enemies then I see you are not my love and my husband, you are an enemy to me too!”
He tried to hold me, but I struggled, wild in his arms. As I broke free I stared at him with a contemptuous gaze. “I thought that I had the best man in all the world ready to make me his wife,” I whispered harshly. “But I see now that I have none such. There is no love in your heart. You must want me taken from you! That is the only reason for this betrayal! I have wasted my youth waiting for you… By now I might have been married to another and borne sons… But I see now that I am never to have such a blessing. For when you throw me away, no man will come near to me again. The people will rip me into pieces, for I suffer all their hate for my love for you… And you? You will suffer nothing, other than the return to the cold bed of your infertile Queen… And I will suffer all, for having loved you! For having given up my life and my honour for love!”
Henry stared at me, dumbfounded. I could see the horror in his face… the thought of losing me… the thought of my disgrace… He went to speak, but could not find the words to comfort me.
Tears came to my eyes. I chased them back and bit my lip to stop from crying. “You have ruined me, my lord,” I whispered. “Despoiled my honour, and stolen my life from me. I have waited in vain, like a fool, believing in a love that does not exist. I have wasted all this time, blinded by my love for you, and it is all for nothing. All will fall to dust and ash about me. You have undone me… You have ruined me…”
Tears flooded Henry’s eyes. He looked helpless, and distraught. He walked towards me, opening his arms, as though an embrace would set all this right. I put up a hand, stopping him. “No,” I whispered, staring at him blankly. I felt empty… hollowed out. “Come not near me… I cannot be held in your arms even once more if you are to take me from them forever…”
My hand shook. “How can you do this?” I asked, breaking into tears. “How can you do this to us?”
Henry rushed forward, but I fought him off and ran from the chamber. I heard him call my name but I fled. I went that very night to the stables, took a horse and two guards and rode for the river. The city was dangerous at night, and as we clattered through the dark streets, torches blazing in my guard’s hands, shadows of thieves and murderers moved in the alleyways.
I spent an ill night on a freezing barge down the Thames, and then made for Hever across country. It took me another day, riding on hired horse with my men to reach home. Rain fell as we rode and I did not even put up my hood to protect myself, so lost in misery was I. My mother and Mary took me in, sodden wet and weeping, and they took me, shivering, to the chambers I had shared with Mary as a girl to wrench the dirty, wet clothes from me and wrap me in wool to make me warm again.
Henry was frantic. He did not know where I had gone, and he made a desperate search through the palace, then about London for me before sending messengers to the homes of my friends and to Hever. The note we received urged my mother to send word if I was there, and to beg for my return to London. He promised that he would never cast me off; that he loved me, and that if it was my will, he would move against my enemies.
Wrapped in blankets, shivering at the fireside and sneezing mightily, I was warmed only by his letter. My mother wrote to Henry on my behalf, saying that I was here, and that I had received the message. She promised him that I would be back at court in a week’s time, for my flight had made me ill. The day after he got the note, Henry sent his doctors to me, four of them, out of his mind with terror that I might die of this small cold I had contracted. But at least his panic was a measure of his love.
The next morning I sat still wrapped in blankets, cupping ale warmed with hot ginger and lemon in my hands as I looked from the window at ploughmen urging their heavy horses over the last of the fields they had to tend. I thought on my flight, on Henry’s promises, and wondered if this time he would be true to his word.
Henry sent another missive.
The Cardinal was to be arrested for High Treason, a crime punishable by death.
I returned to court a week later, and Henry was overcome with relief and joy. He assured me that he was not going to let me down. That he had been brought low by all that I had said to him. That he was dedicated to me, and only me.
I was victorious. No more Cardinal… No more fat old bat, wrapped in red silk and encrusted with riches he had stolen from his King, from the poor and from God. Soon, I would be at Henry’s side, as his chief advisor, as his wife and as his equal. I would have my way. I would be Queen, and no one would stop me.
Chapter Seventy-Three
Greenwich Palace
Autumn 1530
In September, Cromwell came seeking an audience. He had been working on an issue Henry wanted resolved. Wolsey had granted certain Church lands to Henry in St Albans and Winchester as well as lands belonging to colleges Wolsey patronised. Henry was able to take revenues and give grants from these lands, but only whilst Wolsey lived. If the Cardinal died, ownership would revert to the Church, or to the colleges and universities. Henry wanted full possession for the Crown, and had enlisted canny Cromwell to ensure this came to pass. Courtiers who wanted to receive grants from these lands sought Cromwell’s favour. The King’s new favourite was making a tidy profit in his new line of work. Many gifts of money, property and goods were coming his way to ensure he suggested the right names for the grants.
Wolsey, however, unaware Henry was preparing to move against him, had been grieved to hear that the King wanted to seize his lands for good, and had written to Cromwell asking him to do all he could to save them. When the Cardinal received no answer, for Cromwell was, in fact working to achieve just the opposite outcome for his King, the Cardinal’s letters became increasingly aggressive towards his former servant. Wolsey learned that Cromwell was doing well out of the situation, and the two began to argue via letter. This friction troubled Cromwell, but not enough to desist in working for Henry.
“And you tell me of this for what reason, Master Cromwell?” I inquired smoothly as he told me of the rift between himself and his erstwhile master.
He regarded me with those light brown eyes and shrugged. “I perhaps wished for some advice, my lady,” he said. “The Cardinal appears to be unable to accept the reality of his present position. He seems to think that all is as it was in the old days; that he has only to lift a hand and all will scramble to do his will. He does not seem to appreciate that I am now, first and foremost, the King’s servant. The Cardinal believes that any who have once been his servants, are always
his servants.” He paused and his eyes narrowed. “I know also there is much being spoken of at court about him. Much that implies trouble.”
“Then you must also know that the Cardinal continues to meddle where he should not,” I said warningly. “The time is coming, Master Cromwell, as I think you have long known, when you will have to choose which master to serve… Will it be the Cardinal, who now does not now note the many services you have done for him in the past? Or will it be the King, who loves you as his own brother?”
Cromwell started at that and I smiled. “Do you not know the heart of your own King, Master Cromwell?” I asked. “For I, who have had the privilege of being loved by such a man, can see well when he offers affection to another.” I breathed in and let the air out though my nose. “Choose well,” I advised. “And let me give you fair warning and prove that I am your friend in truth. To be associated with Cardinal Wolsey will become imminently most dangerous. As a friend, I would advise you to cease communicating with the Cardinal, and to instead work with all your passion for the King.”
He watched me steadily. I could almost hear his mind ticking away like one of Henry’s clocks. He knew I was taking a risk in warning him, for if he proved loyal indeed to Wolsey, then such an admission could forewarn the Cardinal that he was in grave danger. But it was a wager I was willing to make, for if it won me into the trust of Henry’s newest favourite, it was worth taking.
