Shaking the Throne

by Caroline Angus Baker

  ‘But the most important question is, will Farnese give you and Alessandro an annulment?’

  Nicòla managed a gentle smile. ‘That is your worry? You have turned a whole country from the Catholic Church, making powerful enemies, yet you wonder of my annulment?’

  ‘Please do not leave for Florence. Alessandro would never let you leave again.’

  ‘I care nothing for what treasures the Pope’s death has bestowed upon me,’ Nicòla sniffed. ‘I shall never leave you.’

  ~~~

  Nicòla stood in silence in the King’s presence chamber as Cromwell went ahead into the privy chamber to tell the King of the Pope’s death. She heard the King’s cry of joy through the thick palace wall. Nicòla prayed for home, for the Pope’s soul, as much as she could, but the feeling of loss had already turned to relief. After only a few minutes, the door to the privy chamber opened and Cromwell beckoned Nicòla inside to the King.

  The privy chamber appeared oddly dim in the early morning light, the sun not yet shining through Henry’s windows. Only a candle set upon his writing desk stirred, the opulent room of golds and greens dull and subdued. Henry stood still in his bedclothes, feet wide apart, his hands clasped together, almost as if ready to pray. Both men looked in eagerness to Nicòla as she bowed.

  ‘Well, Waif, the man whom you have been reporting on has died,’ Henry said. ‘As a mark of respect, I shall not try to be so happy about Clement’s death in your presence. I am but a humble gentleman.’

  Nicòla worked hard not to move her expression, lest show her contempt for the King’s words. She said nothing, though her eyes shifted towards Cromwell for a moment.

  ‘I suppose all shall struggle in panic to appoint themselves the new Bishop of Rome.’

  ‘The College of Cardinals are ready to meet in the papal conclave.’

  ‘Corrupt bastards all bribing their way to the top,’ Henry commented.

  ‘Things are done fervently in Italy, Your Majesty.’ Nicòla could barely raise her voice to even speak, so disheartened and broken by the news. After all those years of being the favourite of the Pope, to think he was not in the Apostolic Palace in Rome, at his desk, having a servant pour wax to set his seal on all his letters, seemed too much to imagine. London truly was home now, for there was nowhere left to turn.

  ‘We need none of Rome, Your Majesty,’ Cromwell said with all confidence. ‘You shall be the Head of the Church in England, far from Rome’s corruption. You shall be the Supreme Ruler of England in all matters. Your marriage to Anne is the only legitimate match you have ever made.’

  ‘Still, our enemies would be much soothed if this new Bishop of Rome would rule my marriage to Katherine invalid.’

  Nicòla sighed out loud and understood her misstep too late. Perchance the lack of sleep had affected her courtesy. Henry looked at her in surprise, his red eyebrows raised in suspicion.

  ‘Yes, Waif, do you have any thoughts to share?’

  ‘I cannot speak on behalf of the Catholic Church, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Yet that is the reason I allow you in my court beside my Chief Minister, in the form which you are permitted to live.’

  ‘Pope Clement prayed long and hard over your marriage, Your Majesty. He truly cared for making the right decision. He ruled in favour of Katherine and the validity of your marriage without a doubt. A new pope would care not for an annulment. That is why Master Cromwella broke your country away from the Catholic faith. The opinion of Rome does not matter. Master Cromwella has saved you from the opinions of Rome. A new pope will no doubt seek to excommunicate you from the Catholic faith as a show of strength against Protestants. You must be ready to fight with your conviction that your new Church of England is the right decision.’

  ‘And is it the right decision?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Of course, Your Majesty, and a new pope may wish to form an alliance with you and leave all the hate in the past. The break allowed you to marry freely and gain a legitimate heir by your wife,’ Cromwell commented.

  ‘Only Anne has given me no son,’ Henry sighed. ‘Yet I am most pleased to hear of Clement’s death. How did he die? It is usually poison with you Italians, is it not?’

  ‘Rumours mix, Your Majesty, yet the full news on the death shall arrive from Italy presently,’ Cromwell explained.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me this news,’ Henry said to Cromwell and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Not weeks ago, Henry had punched Cromwell so hard his bottom lip split open. ‘To reward you, Thomas, I shall name you Master of the Rolls. This comes with the Rolls House hither in London. You shall be the first secular Master of the Rolls, the highest judicial position in the land. The Rolls House on Chancery Lane is a grand and ancient manor. All the records of the Court of Chancery shall be in your hands, worked by your household on all matters of equity, and shall have greater power than common law courts. The private cases of the country shall come to you at the Rolls House. You may leave us, as I am to tell my wife of the good news about the Pope’s demise.’

  Cromwell and Nicòla exited the privy chamber, Cromwell’s golden eyes in a frown as he made calculations. Nicòla took out her notebook as he would surely soon give orders.

  ‘How lucrative is the post of Master of the Rolls?’ she asked as they left the presence chamber, their long coats skimming the stone floor.

  ‘The post outshines most, just in bribes alone,’ Cromwell said, his voice low despite the palace still quiet early in the morning. ‘The Chancery manor is big enough for us to set up our own court.’

  ‘Have we not done that at Austin Friars?’

  ‘We can move much of our work to the Rolls House; all government work can be done from there, Ralph can run it, and let Thomas Avery run Austin Friars. Richard can work from Austin Friars on royal court matters and be on the Privy Council. The number of courtiers, of patrons and envoys sent to us will be like a swarming of bees searching for a hive. This manor shall prove most useful, and is only one mile from Whitehall, and the same again to Austin Friars.’

  ‘Not that it is safe for us to walk that far in public any longer,’ Nicòla mumbled.

  ‘It shall ease the pressure upon our other offices.’

  The pair turned into a hallway to find Imperial Ambassador Chapuys there, dressed in his usual drab grey furs, Cromwell and Nicòla both stunning in their black velvet and fur sewn in silver thread. Chapuys gave the smallest nod of his head in acknowledgement, and Nicòla almost heard him whine in pain at having to be civil.

  Chapuys looked right at Nicòla, ignoring Cromwell entirely. ‘Is it true?’ he asked, his French accent soaked in a weak tone.

  ‘His Holiness passed away two days after writing a goodbye letter to Emperor Charles. Has your master not written to you? The Pope has been with God for weeks now.’

  ‘Rumours told me of a letter sent to you, Mr. Frescobaldi, sealed by the ducal arms of Florence. I know His Holiness has been sick for some time… do we know the cause? Was he murdered? Poisoned?’

  ‘I know not,’ Nicòla sighed. ‘Pope Clement had three tasters for this food and wine. But he travelled constantly and has been complaining of ill pains for years. I have known His Holiness, God rest his soul, to be gravely ill for a year now, Ambassador Chapuys. This comes as no surprise, I am certain.’

  ‘I shall write to my master at once,’ Chapuys replied. ‘They shall already have summoned the cardinals to the papal conclave.’

  ‘Indeed, Ambassador,’ Nicòla said, and stood tall. It felt so nice to have the upper hand over an adversary. Cromwell probably felt this way daily.

  ‘After eleven years of the Medici Pope, and his uncle a pope for years before him, the Medici family shall still have much control over the papacy. The Medici popes created almost all the cardinals.’

  ‘Most true, Ambassador Chapuys,’ Nicòla said. ‘While there may be no more Medici men on the throne of God, the influence shall reign for some time.’

  ‘Any idea of who shall be the next pope,
as you are… the… brother-in-law of a powerful Medici duke?’ Chapuys asked and looked Nicòla up and down.

  ‘My opinion would be Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, Dean of the Cardinals’ College and the Duke of Parma. Cardinal Farnese is a Medici man, educated in Pisa, has five children and healthy grandsons. He would do well to preserve the Catholic faith. Your master, Emperor Charles, has had too much influence over papal matters. I sense that shall now end.’

  ‘A new pope could mean war.’

  ‘If a pope wants war, he can have war,’ Cromwell interrupted. ‘As can your Emperor. For you threaten us, you sneak about our palaces and cause nothing but dissension. We rule, Chapuys. Remember well.’

  Nicòla and Cromwell swept past Chapuys back towards their chambers. Nicòla knew it would serve well to turn her grief into a wish to turn England from Rome forever, just as Cromwell wished.

  C

  Chapter 16 – January 1535

  one spoils everythyng with their lyes

  Greenwich Palace, outer London

  King Henry may have been at the head table of the dining hall, but Cromwell felt like a king. After lavish meals, processions and parties for the epiphany only weeks ago, yet another opulent evening could have felt wasteful. Though not when it came to Cromwell, who was sitting like a king on this throne, seated not far from the King and Queen themselves. By Christmas, the final parts of the Act of Supremacy and Act of Succession had completed their journey through parliament, Cromwell’s new treason laws were in place, restricting a man’s right to speak ill of the King. Sir Thomas More and Bishop John Fisher were still locked in the Tower. Everyone bowed to Cromwell.

  Especially now. For today, on the twenty-first day of January, the King had bestowed a new honour on his Chief Minister and Chief Secretary. Henry awarded Cromwell the title of Vicegerent, or Vicar-general. Cromwell now had enough power over the churches in England to keep them or shut them down. Every new law Cromwell crafted seemed just to oppose any person who defied the King’s new marriage. Cromwell had no political superior.

  Across the table where Cromwell leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, appeared Queen Anne’s father and brother. While the elder Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire served as Lord Privy Seal, Anne’s brother George, Lord Rochford, did little, which was why Cromwell intended to send him abroad on dull diplomat missions, if only to get the slippery Boleyn out of the way.

  ‘My Earl of Wiltshire,’ Cromwell said as the elder Boleyn sat down, and flicked his eyes to his son. ‘And my Lord Rochford.’

  ‘Chief Secretary Cromwell,’ Wiltshire said with a crooked smile. ‘You have won so many titles at court I fear I no longer know how to address you.’

  ‘Vicar-general Cromwell shall suit me,’ Cromwell laughed in a gentle tone. The wine of the evening had gone to his weary head. The dining hall wore a dewy glow, so warm during the dead of an English winter.

  ‘I am certain we can make you a lord before long,’ Rochford said as he considered his wine.

  ‘You believe none the rumours of your wife being in love with me, do you, George?’ Cromwell asked with a snort of laughter.

  ‘That sour woman?’ Rochford laughed. ‘No, for the court is filled with beauties and there is much fun to be had.’

  Cromwell glanced up to where Nicòla positioned herself, her back to the wall as she waited like a patient servant to her master. It was Rochford’s own wife, the Lady Jane, who whispered into Nicòla’s ear, the conversation locked away from the party. The shine from Nicòla’s new necklace, a huge jewel-laden cross on a gold chain, shined in the candlelight and gave Cromwell an angry shiver. A gift sent from Florence, a trinket owned by the dead Pope now hung around Nicòla’s neck. Yes, the cross was beautiful, gold and covered in diamonds, yet it hung around Nicòla’s neck, leaned against her deep red doublet, and reminded Cromwell of all Nicòla had done in Italy.

  Rochford followed Cromwell’s gaze to see his wife speaking with Nicòla. ‘My wife is no doubt filling your Waif with gossip,’ he said and sipped his wine. ‘Gossip about my sister.’

  ‘What news is there of Her Majesty?’

  ‘My daughter is with child,’ Wiltshire said with his crooked grin at full stretch.

  ‘God’s blood!’ Cromwell sat forward and raised his glass. ‘To the health of the Boleyn queen!’

  The three men raised their glasses together, and Cromwell glanced up again for a moment; many people hovered close by, eager to have a word in his ear. None could speak with him; they had to be called, for they could not touch Cromwell now. He was above all others.

  But Cromwell’s old friend Thomas Audley could join. He slowly came to the table and Cromwell eagerly gestured for him to sit down.

  ‘Lord Chancellor,’ Cromwell said with a smile and rested his hand upon Audley’s fat shoulder. ‘Come and join in my revelry.’

  ‘Many congratulations on your appointment, Thomas,’ Audley said as the Boleyns nodded a welcome hello. ‘I am certain you have already considered your first task in becoming the Vicegerent.’

  ‘I shall create the Valor Ecclesiasticus, England’s largest survey of the land and its value. The King has privately awarded me the task of crossing all of England and Wales to assess both the value and spiritual morality of every monastic house. The eight hundred or so monasteries shall be very closely checked. I shall have the profit of their lands, the very buildings, and all their relics and false idols. Every man and woman in England shall be assessed, and either left to their work under my watchful eye or destroyed.’

  ‘Destroyed how?’ Audley asked.

  ‘I shall choose.’

  ‘No one shall call my daughter a whore again,’ Wiltshire said, and raised his glass to Cromwell. ‘The Church created to make Anne a queen shall hold this country.’

  ‘And shall change the country throughout history, my Lord,’ Cromwell replied. ‘Gone are the days of monasteries and churches sending bribes to maintain their debauched lives. I shall send my most loyal men across the land. I may even attend a few myself.’

  ‘And where shall all these riches go?’ Audley asked.

  ‘To any person I wish to receive the bounty. I follow the King’s orders, and as the ruler of this country, the money is his, at his discretion.’

  ‘There are things you can do to rise even higher in the Queen’s reverence,’ Wiltshire mumbled and looked over to his daughter at her husband’s side. ‘Many speak ill of Anne and it hurts her. Privately, her anger against the Dowager Princess Katherine and the bastard Mary vex Anne greatly. It would do well for those women to no longer be upon this Earth.’

  ‘That may soothe Queen Anne, but we cannot find any reason to harm either Katherine or Mary,’ Cromwell sighed. In truth, he would never harm either of them, although they would never swear the Oath. They were innocents in Henry’s quest to rule both his earthly and spiritual realms.

  ‘Where be Archbishop Cranmer on this evening?’ Audley asked and took another drink.

  ‘Called away to an important meeting. Cranmer is a good friend and ally and shall control the Protestant Reformation with faith, vigour, calmness and honesty.’

  Across the room over the heads of the Boleyns, Cromwell noticed Nicòla staring back at him. Her stern look told him to move at once. ‘You must excuse me, gentlemen, for even at my celebration I must attend to the kingdom.’

  Nicòla pulled Cromwell into a dark corner, against a heavy red curtain which shielded them from the cold glass. ‘I have just received word from Stepney, where Cranmer is with his wife and son.’

  ‘Has Margarete delivered of their new child?’ Cromwell asked. They continued to move Margarete around manors at intervals, so no one knew Cranmer had a wife, but surely the secret of the German accent of Margarete would one day be noticed in Cromwell’s properties.

  ‘Messengers brought a note directly from Cranmer. Margarete struggled a whole day and night with the birth. She delivered of a daughter without life.’

  ‘Oh, Thomas,�
�� Cromwell sighed for his great friend, who should have been at court tonight to celebrate their new power. Instead, he would baptise his deceased daughter in her mother’s weary and heartbroken arms.

  ‘The child was to be named after the Queen herself, had she not been stillborn. And less than six months since Anne’s own stillbirth.’

  ‘Yet our Queen is with child again,’ Cromwell said. ‘At least some good news comes tonight.’

  ‘I do not wish to ruin the night with this sad news from Cranmer. I only request we bring Margarete and baby Thomas back to Austin Friars to be close to Cranmer. He shall be back at Lambeth Palace to resume duties within days and that would be cruel to them both.’

  ‘I shall have Margarete Cranmer brought directly to Lambeth Palace. The Archbishop’s palace is so large that having a woman, niece to a foreign friend of Cranmer’s at Lambeth shall not seem strange. People can think Cranmer is caring for a friend while she is in London. That can give Thomas and Margarete some time to heal.’

  ‘You are a good man, even if you are rising in enough favour to destroy the fabric which holds together the towns of England,’ Nicòla smiled.

  ‘Those filthy monasteries are going to get pulled apart. The Catholic Church rules us no longer. I do God’s work. I do the King’s work.’

  ‘The King’s work is to plant a seed in Anne,’ Nicòla replied with a sly smile. ‘Sorry to sour your party but I felt you ought to know of Cranmer’s misfortune at once. I shall send a barge to collect the Cranmer family back as soon as Margarete can travel. These people are our family.’

  ‘You are permitted to enjoy yourself tonight.’

  ‘Tomassito, you sat down to a twenty-course meal. It has taken five hours to complete. We servants have stood in the corner for all that time and I am tired! My day began eighteen hours ago and my back hurts!’