Shaking the Throne

by Caroline Angus Baker

  Nicòla had spent some time calculating the many bribes which came Cromwell’s way. He already had prized lands in this possession, or in the hands of his friends, and soon also with those Cromwell needed to bribe. Twas a busy project, with hundreds more monasteries needing to be destroyed.

  ‘Your Majesty, all works are happening with the King’s consent, all done the way he wished the dissolutions to proceed.’

  ‘I am your queen and I demand more for the people of England!’ Anne cried, and stomped one of her feet on the carpet she stood upon. ‘It is bad enough I have been forced to lose my precious son! I know the Lady Mary still walks the Earth and wants to destroy me! I must endure gossip over my husband’s eyes watching Jane Seymour! But I shall not have the women and children of England starving and uneducated because you have destroyed the monasteries.’

  ‘I work at the King’s command!’ Cromwell rose his voice. Even from her hiding spot, Nicòla knew he would be in a panic; no one could yell at the Queen.

  Anne wandered to Cromwell, her face close to his. ‘There are some 7,000 monks, 2,000 nuns and 3,500 laymen who shall be homeless and without their religious guidance, and all shall be harmed by the dissolution of the monasteries, to say nothing of the commoners who shall be affected. You push too hard for the Reformation, Cremwell. And you could not have the Reformation without me upon the throne.’

  ‘Do you know the story of Icarus, Your Majesty?’ Cromwell asked quietly. ‘Icarus, a common man, was given wings to escape imprisonment, but was giddy at his new-found power, and flew too close to the sun. His wax wings melted, and he drowned in the sea.’

  ‘You dare threaten me, Cremwell? You, a commoner? For I am the Queen, married lawfully. You created the laws that made my place on the throne and by Henry’s side. You should watch yourself, Cremwell, for I could have your head at any time. Perchance I should ensure you are parted from that resplendent head of yours, should you dare to disagree with me on any matter.’

  With a swirl of her gown, Anne pulled open the doors and was gone in an instant, a whirl of movement as she left the Cromwell Chambers. Only once Cromwell closed his doors did Nicòla crawl out from under her desk.

  ‘Anne means to kill you,’ Nicòla said.

  ‘Yet another reason to be sure this Imperial alliance is firm, which makes Anne safe on the throne,’ Cromwell swallowed hard. ‘That shall appease her.’

  ‘All are talking of Henry abandoning Anne. Even the King himself has mentioned it to you. You made a queen, Tomassito, you can unmake her. Especially if she means to have you dead.’

  ‘Anne threatens with the fancies of a woman.’

  Nicòla folded her arms. ‘Nothing is as powerful as the fancies of women.’

  ‘We are to Greenwich again this week. Let us be calm for now.’

  ‘I could not dare see you harmed.’

  Cromwell turned to Nicòla and smiled his smug grin. ‘Worry not, Nicò. I have planned for this situation before, and I shall be ready if Anne comes for me.’

  F

  Chapter 36 – April 1536

  when people lye, it means you are not worth the trouth

  Greenwich Palace, outer London

  Cromwell felt Anne’s eyes upon him as he sat in the chapel. She naturally sat in front of him but continued to turn and look to him and Nicòla, who sat beside him, rather than with those of her rank. The grumblings of those who disliked Cromwell’s prized Waif had long passed now – and yet Anne appeared to want the scorn of Cromwell’s creature to return, complaining that the Waif rose too high at court. Cromwell knew Anne did it solely to anger him, so he could not to look at Her Majesty.

  There was no need to play games to upset Anne. Just the day before, Sir Nicholas Carew, the newfound ally of Cromwell, and enemy to Anne, was ordained as a Knight of the Order of the Garter. This hurt Anne, not just because Carew was a strong Katherine and Mary supporter, but also because Anne wanted her brother George to be ordained; yet Henry chose Carew instead, without mentioning anything to Anne or George, who were forced to watch proceedings. The space between the King and Queen seem to widen all at once, which only served to make Cromwell’s alliance with Rome seem close to becoming real, more so than he could have dared hoped just a month ago.

  Cromwell’s eyes crossed the aisle and noticed Cranmer steal a glance in his direction. Cranmer had written to Cromwell, rather than coming to see him, to say he supported Queen Anne and her desire to disperse the wealth of the monasteries to the needy. The notion! Cromwell only carried out Henry’s orders. And yet Cranmer suddenly decided he would support Anne instead of Cromwell and the King himself! Cranmer, the reformer to beat them all, knew nothing of Cromwell’s alliance plans.

  Almoner Skip’s prayers began, but Cromwell listened not, rather bowed his head and looked to Nicòla’s little hands now brought together in prayer. How he missed being so powerful and free to do as he pleased, rather than plagued by whispers of his queen’s downfall. He spent years destroying one queen to make another, and to lose all now seemed too hard to bear. How he missed those earlier days, after Nicòla first came home to England, with baby Jane strapped to her body like a peasant woman, easier times when he could lie in bed at night and touch Nicòla’s rose-gold hair, playfully kiss her, feel her slender fingers on his skin when he tried to sleep.

  Nicòla’s leg moved a little and bumped Cromwell from his dreams. He glanced at her, not daring to move his head. She shot a worried expression back, she too wishing to seem calm, though her face said something else. Her green eyes looked Cromwell and then shot to Skip at the altar, back and forwards, so Cromwell returned to listening to the morning prayers.

  ‘These are times when a man must stand up,’ Skip said, passion in his tone, ‘stand up and defend the ancient ceremonies of the Church. None here need to be reminded of the sacred traditions of the faith which lies in our hearts and souls.’

  Cromwell’s ear heard the faintest whispers behind him but thought not of them.

  ‘Now be the time, pious ones, to rise and defend the clergy against defamers, and from the immoderate zeal of men. These men, they hold up faults in single clergymen, and yet put these faults to the public as if they are the fault if every man of the Church.’

  Cromwell again heard a whisper; Skip was talking of Cromwell himself, and the whole congregation knew. The faults of the clergy had spread far and wide since the inspection of the monasteries; no man in the Church was safe from speculation now.

  ‘Hither in England we have a wise king,’ Skip continued. ‘The people of England are in need of a king who is wise in himself and can resist the evil councillors who seek to tempt him into taking ignoble actions. We all must condemn these evil councillors who dare to alter the established customs of the Church.’

  Anne turned her head just enough to glance back to Cromwell, a smile on her face, as the whispers in the chapel grew louder, all shocked to hear that Anne had instructed her almoner to slander Cromwell himself in church. For everyone still thought of Cromwell as Anne’s man, as she had so often said at the beginning of her time upon the throne.

  ‘Calma,’ Nicòla whispered.

  But how could Cromwell be calm? He turned slightly in his seat to see many hundreds of eyes upon him, some talking behind their hands, others too nervous to look him in the eye. He looked forward once more to Cranmer who looked to his feet rather than the faithful of the Greenwich chapel.

  ‘Let us remember the story of Haman, the evil enemy of Queen Esther. Esther was the loved wife of Ahasuerus, and she replaced his first wife, who was not as faithful as Esther. The King took wise counsel from many, but lurking within was the evil Haman, who showed no respect for Esther, or indeed any person, including the King’s other advisors. Haman sought to slaughter all the Jews in Persia and confiscate their lands and possessions. Haman sought to destroy Mordecai, the Queen’s most trusted advisor, and have him beheaded for being a Jew. Haman was cunning, he was greedy, and he was faithless. But Esther threw hers
elf at the feet of her king and master, begging for the lives of all Jews, even admitting her own Jewish blood. Haman begged at Esther’s feet for forgiveness, but the King pulled Haman away and had him beheaded on the very same scaffold that Haman had built to kill Mordecai. For Queen Esther was faithful, showed resolve, mercy, caution and courage. She could reign at the King’s side and served to aide her son when he took the throne. Evil, such as Haman, can always be toppled, always be defeated by those with God on their side.’

  Cromwell needed no more time for thought. He stood from his place and stepped into the aisle of the chapel. Without a word nor a look, he stormed from the chapel, his eyes directly on the doors, which opened for him by two guards eager to serve. Hushed voices accompanied his long walk of shame out into the halls of the palace, but Cromwell heard their none of the worst. His blood pumped so strongly in his body he felt a little faint. He stopped and leaned back against the cool stone wall and closed his eyes, desperate to catch his breath; he had stormed from the King’s chapel without permission and seen by all who heard the words of his own humiliation. Nicòla had not followed him, which seemed for the best, yet all he wanted to do was hold her close to calm himself, if even only to stop him from doing something ridiculous.

  Cromwell opened his eyes to see a handful of his personal guards there, waiting patiently for their instructions. ‘Two of you, stay hither, make sure you see Master Frescobaldi is accompanied to my offices the moment he leaves the chapel. The rest of you, wait for Almoner John Skip to finish his vainglorious sermon, and then see to it he is brought directly to one of the cells beneath the palace. There he may wait until such time I am ready to inspect his conscience. I, as Vicegerent of England, demand his arrest.’

  With nobles in the chapel and their servants about their work, Cromwell stalked unseen back to his chambers, where gentlemen-ushers opened the doors and fetched food and ale. Cromwell brushed them aside with a double click of his fingers, and dropped into his high-backed chair behind his desk, his head in his hands, his headache refusing to abate. The Queen of England wanted his head.

  Time passed, Cromwell knew not how long, but his pains persisted when Nicòla flew into the office also, her pace at a run when she charged in and pushed the doors closed.

  ‘You are not the sole man to leave the chapel this morning,’ Nicòla said as Cromwell looked up at her, his eyes only half open. ‘For the King himself left at an angry pace. It seems Anne first had you attacked from the altar and then had Skip move on to Henry! Skip told the story of Solomon, who lost his true nobility towards the end of his reign due to his sensual and carnal appetites. Henry’s face was reddened with great anger as he stormed from the chapel, and poor Jane Seymour looked most ashamed at the reference to Solomon and his concubines! Naturally Chapuys is loving such twists and turns. I left the moment I could, escorted to see you. I left both Rich and Wriothesley to listen for the gossip of the courtiers, so we shall know all minds before the sun gets too high in the sky.’

  Cromwell rose from his desk and pulled Nicòla into his arms, his lips desperate to touch hers. He kissed her deeply, as desperate to hold her as a dying man may seek water in the desert. Her little hands, so pious at prayer, rested upon his cheeks as he drank her in, happy to be devoured, to be pulled tightly in a long kiss searching for relief. Lust had barely entered Cromwell’s mind since his mystery illness one year past, for neither time nor events permitted such thought.

  ‘Remember me like this,’ he said as he pulled her against him, one hand on her back of her head, her soft cap warm in his palm.

  ‘I have no need to remember, for you are before me,’ Nicòla said as her hands whispered around his waist. ‘I shall you remember fondly in many ways, as will all the world and history. The Queen shall not defeat you, Tom. For you are not alone.’

  ‘Be it true that any person would wish to aid me?’ Cromwell scoffed.

  Nicòla pulled herself gently from his arms to look upon him. ‘The Exeters and the Poles have Plantagenet blood in their veins and want Anne gone. Lord Lisle is the King’s bastard uncle, another Plantagenet who seeks change. If we keep them on our side, they shall not seek to usurp the throne, rather sit happily with Henry as their king. Norfolk is disquiet with his niece as queen. All those who support Lady Mary, and they are in their thousands, would support you if you were kind to her. Catholics would weep with joy to see Anne dethroned. Sir Nicholas Carew and Sir Francis Bryan are lifelong friends of Henry and would back your endeavours, and both men have the ear of the Duke of Suffolk. As for the Seymours, Edward has long been a kind friend…’

  ‘To do this would simply align me with the men so opposed to my ideals, especially the Catholics.’

  ‘We must move swiftly to protect you, Tomassito.’ Nicòla paused as she rubbed her hand on his arm, as if soothing little Jane when she tripped in the garden. ‘For now, we align and plot a safe course through Catholic waters. To be aligned with the Roman Emperor sees us aligned to the heart of the Catholic faith. Yet your Reformation continues to sweep this country, so we must be prudent, we must stay this course with careful guidance.’

  ‘I must ask a favour.’

  Nicòla stepped back, no longer the lover but the servant. ‘What is your wish?’

  ‘Your rooms hither at court. I wish to move into them. Naturally you will be there with me, but we shall hold the pretense you sleep elsewhere for now.’

  ‘Why shall we not preside in your rooms? My room is but a bedroom, a place for servants to place my clean clothing, a place to store shoes, to dress, to bathe…’

  ‘I am happy to be in that one tiny room with you, Nicò. For I shall give my large rooms, presence rooms, bedrooms, washrooms, all to the Seymour family. A room for Edward, Thomas, and old Sir John if he visits. And he shall visit, if Lady Jane is to become the King’s new love.’

  ‘Queen Anne shall breathe fire to learn that Lady Jane and her family have rooms that connect directly to Henry’s privy chamber!’

  Only now did a smile grace Cromwell’s lips. ‘When it comes to parties, I am king, not Henry. Say, four nights from now we hold a party. We have Chapuys hither, ready to talk real terms of an Imperial alliance with Henry. We must have the French ambassador here too, and show that France is not an ally, and that we need Rome. We bond to Rome, gain that alliance, gain your annulment from the Pope, and make Anne appear to be completely forgotten, as if she were never an influence at court. We must denounce her in subtle manners.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘First, we have Chapuys finally meet Anne. Chapuys will not like it, but we shall have to deceive them both for the meeting to occur. That shall vex Anne, throw her from her confidence, as she knows of Chapuys’, and Emperor Charles’, hate for her. Then, my alliance with Rome shall be submitted to Henry, then we seek to divorce Anne from her crown. We have destroyed a royal marriage before, and we shall do it once more.’

  ‘And Almoner Skip and his words?’ Nicòla asked.

  Cromwell shrugged lightly. ‘I shall speak with Henry at once, for he shall be most vexed over proceedings, as am I. Skip is but a puppet for Anne’s words and ambitions.’

  ‘To do what you say, to bring down Anne Boleyn, that is treason, treason by your own laws,’ Nicòla warned. ‘All involved could be killed, like all those quartered monks, or old More and Fisher on the block.’

  ‘Either we topple this queen, or we go to the block. They are the only choices now.’

  F

  Chapter 37 – April 1536

  lyes are beautyful when dressed as promyses

  Greenwich Palace, outer London

  Nothing more than the early morning stirrings fluttered in the hallways near the mighty Greenwich chapel after morning Mass. Naturally Almoner Skip did not oversee proceedings, even though his detainment and interrogation by Cromwell was short. Skip had been sent from court for a while, removed from Queen Anne’s circle of allies. Cranmer himself had overseen all in church for the past few days, a man Nicòla never
thought she would have to keep her thoughts and plans from – for he and Cromwell has been almost brothers in years past. Now, Cranmer sided with Anne on all matters, and Cromwell was determined to serve only his king.

  Nicòla stood humbly alongside Ambassador Chapuys, the pair always catching the gaze of any person at court. The exciting gossip of Nicòla punching Chapuys at Austin Friars still delighted those with weak minds and loud mouths, and only time could possibly end that story. Chapuys was Europe’s biggest gossip, and yet even he did not write about the incident, so surely the story would fade.

  Chapuys stood, his ageing hands ever clasped before him, resting upon his dark grey fur, and turned only slightly to Nicòla, looking down to her face. ‘I can presuppose that Secretary Cromwell has all in hand for this evening?’ he muttered, his thin lips barely moving, his voice barely rippling the quiet of the gallery.

  ‘Yes, for no issues have set themselves against us,’ Nicòla replied. ‘Tonight, the King shall enjoy the party and agree formally on an alliance with the Emperor. You shall have both his word and his signature on the terms.’

  ‘I never thought I would see the day when Cromwell agreed to an alliance with my master,’ Chapuys replied and turned his eyes to the gallery before him, people talking quietly. Cromwell stood on the other side of the wide room, in deep discussion with Lord Chancellor Audley.

  ‘I met with the Seymours yesterday, as you surely know,’ Chapuys continued. ‘The rooms that Cromwell gave to the family are most excellent, lavish and well-positioned. The Lady Jane can catch the King’s eye any time of the day… or night.’

  ‘I thought you wanted Jane on the throne not on her back,’ Nicòla retorted.