Shaking the Throne

by Caroline Angus Baker

  ‘Mr. Kingston,’ Anne said, and the Constable turned to face her, ‘shall I go to the dungeon?’

  ‘No, madam,’ Kingston said with a gentle shake of his head. ‘You shall have the Queen’s rooms hither in the Tower, where you stayed during your coronation.’

  ‘It is too good for me,’ Anne wept, ‘Jesu, have mercy on me.’

  Anne fell to her knees as she cried and both Kingston and Willingham jumped to help. But Anne just laughed, as she so often did when in anger. Cromwell had seen her do it many times.

  ‘Mr. Kingston,’ Anne said again as tears streamed about her cheeks, ‘I need the sacrament in the closet of my chamber, so I might pray for mercy. I am the King’s true wife and free of the company of sin and men. Tell me, for I am to be accused of sin with three men, but I know of only two charges. Smeaton accuses me? Norris accuses me? My mother shall die of sorrow. My dear friend, Lady Worcester, she shall worry about me, and she has a child in her belly. My father, have you seen him? Surely he looks for me? What of my brother? Is the King hither, does he look for me? Am I to receive justice, Mr. Kingston? Even the poorest man deserves justice.’

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Kingston began, and paused for Anne’s laughter again, and Cromwell knew this time it was fear, not anger, that caused Anne’s laugh.

  ‘Take me to the Queen’s Chambers,’ Anne said as she stopped her laugh. ‘Mr. Kingston, Mr. Willingham, I allow you to show me to my rooms. Cromwell, leave me; I cannot answer your questions.’

  Cromwell bowed. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said as he stood. ‘I shall leave you for now. But I can answer so many of your questions. The King resides with Mistress Seymour at present. Your father remains at Greenwich Palace. Your brother shall be hither soon, for he is the third man with whom you are accused.’

  Cromwell turned away as Anne screamed at him, a vile, unholy scream of a wronged woman. Cromwell left the doorway where Kingston and Wallingham looked to steer the Queen, and he hurried away toward Nicòla’s room. The way Anne screamed told Cromwell he had done the right thing by Nicòla with her “arrest,” as Anne would hurt Nicòla to harm Cromwell’s reputation. Already Smeaton, Norris, Frescobaldi and soon George Boleyn himself would be locked in the Tower.

  But as Cromwell headed along the hallways towards his Nicòla, his confidence faltered. He had arrested a queen for the most hated act against God and law, conspiring against an anointed king. Yet to face Nicòla the day after arresting her for adultery with the Queen was too much to bear, but Cromwell risked losing all to keep Nicòla safe.

  Cromwell turned the corner and neared Nicòla’s rooms. All sat silent, as the surrounding rooms stood empty, awaiting other men accused and arrested. He wondered what Nicòla was doing; reading, praying, watching the river? Did she see Cromwell bring the Queen to the Tower? Would she see George Boleyn arrive, who would be arrested by Richard and brought with palace guards? What did Nicòla think of the plan so far? Cromwell could not ask, for he doubted Nicòla would see him. Palace rumour would now know Anne got arrested for incest, and for adultery with Smeaton, Norris and Frescobaldi. While Anne laughed and cried at her situation, Cromwell felt a deep shame that would never abate.

  Instead of seeing Nicòla, Cromwell turned away from her room and headed again for the barge to take him to Whitehall to continue his work. The King needed to stay away from everyone, locked away where no one could petition on Anne’s behalf. The only company for His Majesty could be Jane Seymour and her family. The Seymours wanted a queen and Jane would happily play her part in this vile masque.

  Two days passed before Cromwell set foot in the Tower again. Two more days he did not see Nicòla, did not hear her sweet accent, nor hear her educated opinion. Ralph took care of everything while Cromwell focused on the adultery and incest case. Seeing Sir William Brereton arrested and sent to the Tower warmed his heart, for it had been years since Brereton had his old friend John ap Griffith Eyton murdered in Wales. Brereton had long gotten in Cromwell’s way, refusing the dissolution of the monasteries. Brereton’s uncle was a better man, a reformer who could take over and allow Cromwell to better control North Wales and Cheshire with ease. Yes, everyone at court seemed stunned by the arrest of Brereton, but he was guilty, perchance not of adultery, but it was a great opportunity for Cromwell to rid himself of the stubborn old man.

  Sir Francis Weston was also taken that day, an arrest which brought no surprise. Anne’s ladies had pointed to him, and he was long known to be a companion of Queen Anne, constantly praising her beauty. Cromwell took Brereton and Weston both to the Tower and waited. Richard had gone to Sir Thomas Wyatt’s home to arrest him on adultery charges. Nicòla would again be livid, for she, Wyatt and Smeaton had long been close.

  Cromwell stood with Kingston as the boat with Richard and Wyatt arrived. Wyatt even dared to smile when he saw Cromwell waiting for him.

  ‘Could all this be so?’ Wyatt asked in his gentle voice as Cromwell helped him from the boat.

  ‘I am afraid I must question all in this grave matter,’ Cromwell said as he bid his friend hello.

  ‘They have arrested even Nicòla for adultery? Your own secretary?’ Wyatt frowned.

  ‘All those close to Anne, those who spent time in her chambers. You are childhood friends with Anne, and I am sorry for this, Sir Thomas, I am.’

  ‘I had the Duke of Suffolk come to visit me, to say someone would arrest me for adultery with England’s queen. The man has an evil will towards me.’

  ‘I am sorry for it, Sir Thomas, but I cannot change laws now,’ Cromwell replied as they walked inside to Wyatt’s cell, right next to Nicòla’s. ‘You know well the love I bear you, I would cut out my heart if you were guilty of the crimes thrown against your name.’

  ‘I would never wrong the King, not even in thought!’ Wyatt said as they began climbing stairs, Kingston before his prisoner, Cromwell and Richard close behind him. ‘I cannot deny my boyhood love for Anne, but it was love pushed aside when His Majesty took Anne’s heart. I feel as though the safe land I could count upon has been ripped away, and I am left in an ocean of lies.’

  ‘I shall personally see to your interrogation,’ Cromwell replied. ‘Fear not. And I shall write to your father with all haste to comfort him that you are cared for hither. You shall receive no dungeon cell, but instead a fine room with all care. I promise no harm shall come to you.’

  ‘I hear they tortured Smeaton,’ Wyatt replied as they squeezed around a narrow hallway.

  ‘A fate you shall never have to consider as a nobleman.’

  ‘And Frescobaldi, our sweet Waif? What shall become of him as a common born… man.’

  Kingston showed them into the room and Cromwell paused; would Nicòla hear their voices through the wall? Most likely not in this part of the Tower, fortified with thick walls. ‘No, there has been no need to torture Frescobaldi, for he has answered all our questioning.’ Nicòla was not asked a single question; no one visited the Chief Minister’s secretary.

  ‘I dare say all is most confusing,’ Richard commented as the three sat down in chairs about a short table and Kingston left them to talk.

  ‘It surprised me not when Suffolk came to me to say I was accused of adultery with Anne,’ Wyatt sighed. ‘For I have written many a love poem about Queen Anne. I have always loved Anne. But I have never touched her, nor ever wished to do so. We know Anne for her virtue, her honour, her privacy and her honesty. Henry craved all those things, that is why he has loved her for the last ten years. Henry defied Katherine for Anne. You, Cromwell, have turned England upside down due to Henry’s love for Anne. Can that be undone so fast?’

  ‘Jane Seymour sits on Henry’s lap now, with her youth, her flowing blonde hair, dim conversation and ripe womb. Pure love can turn to pure hate.’ Cromwell paused and thought of Nicòla once more.

  ‘Little Jane Seymour?’ Wyatt scoffed.

  ‘Little Jane Seymour is ready to be a queen, so doubt her not,’ Cromwell replied as he leaned back in his seat. ‘Soon we
shall bow to little Jane Seymour if she has her way. We may know her as meek and mild, and while she may not read or write, she can conspire.’

  ‘Are others being arrested?’ Wyatt asked.

  ‘I still have Sir Francis Bryan, Father William Latimer and Sir Richard Page to arrest,’ Richard replied.

  ‘What do you intend with this plan, Cromwell? What you accuse the Queen and men of is punishable by death.’

  ‘Fear not death, Thomas, for that shall not be a result for any,’ Cromwell tried to calm his newly arrested friend. ‘I shall have you released in due time.’

  ‘Is Queen Anne well, is she well attended?’

  ‘Anne is in the Queen’s rooms, not locked in the cell like a common thief. Ladies attend her, for Kingston’s own wife is there, and two of Anne’s aunts, Lady Anne Shelton and Lady Elizabeth Boleyn. Lady Stoner, mother of the maids is there, and Sir William Clifton’s wife Margaret. All fine older women to soothe and consul the Queen.’

  ‘And report to you?’ Wyatt offered.

  ‘Naturally, for no one is above scrutiny in matters of adultery, not even the Queen.’ Cromwell paused for a moment and felt his confidence grow. ‘I shall leave you and perchance you can answer questions Richard has, so we can quicken your release. I must away.’

  ‘Thank you, Secretary Cromwell,’ Wyatt said as he stood up again next to Richard, who accepted his uncle’s embrace.

  ‘Be well, Sir Thomas, for you will be safe in our care.’ Cromwell turned on his heel and gestured to a guard to open the door. He waited in the dark of the hallway as the guard locked Wyatt and Richard in together. ‘Please allow me to see Master Frescobaldi in the next room,’ he instructed.

  Nicòla jumped from a seat by the window when the door unlocked. Her fear turned to anger when she saw Cromwell enter the room. Neither spoke until the guard again closed the door.

  ‘Have you come to tell me of my daughter?’ Nicòla challenged.

  Cromwell felt taken aback by the coldness in her voice. ‘Jane is fine, safe at Austin Friars, as always with her nurse and tutors.’

  ‘She is not tortured by the screams at Stepney?’

  Cromwell sighed. ‘I am sorry for what happened at Stepney. Would I want torture in my home? No, I am not Thomas More. I do not wish such behaviour close to Gregory and Jane. Nicò, please.’

  Nicòla unfolded her arms, her shoulders loosening, and her eyes softened towards him. Nicòla knew him better than that.

  ‘When will I be interrogated?’

  ‘I have no plans to send any interrogators.’

  ‘Who else is arrested? I saw Anne arrive several days past. George Boleyn?’

  ‘I have not spoken to Boleyn, for we are to wait before questioning. All of Anne’s ladies rounded upon Boleyn in a moment, so we have all the evidence we need. Wyatt is in the next room, is safe and will not be questioned, as planned.’

  ‘Smeaton was not to be imprisoned or questioned either,’ Nicòla shot back.

  ‘Brereton put up a fight when arrested and is in a small cell at present. Weston came quietly and has denied all, begging to return home to his new son, Henry. Latimer, Bryan and Page will be here in a few days’ time, all planned by us. I am following the plan.’

  ‘I feel abandoned in here.’

  ‘I feared so. All the court is gossiping. Anne has muttered that you are a woman, and the new ladies I appointed to wait on her laugh.’

  ‘Will my name be blackened by the scandal?’

  ‘Henry knows you are innocent, but I told him you are being questioned because we believe in total honesty and have to arrest and interrogate every name mentioned. Having you here makes Henry convinced I am doing the right thing and being honest. You are safe hither, and Henry is at Whitehall in private rooms with the Seymours. I have contacted Henry Percy, who is now the Duke of Northumberland. He is in very ill health but shall travel to London to say he was pre-contracted to Anne back in 1523. Everyone knows Anne loved Percy. He shall travel to London and if his health permits, I shall get him to sit in the council of jurors who shall try Anne for adultery. Their pre-contract shall render her marriage to the King illegitimate.’

  ‘Is that what Henry wants?’

  ‘Henry very much wants away from a woman like Anne now she is tainted by scandal.’

  ‘A scandal we invented,’ Nicòla replied. ‘Was it not you, so many years ago, who told Percy to shut his mouth about any pre-contract with Anne, so she could marry the King? Now you ask him to say the pre-contract was real?’

  ‘Tis the way this has worked,’ Cromwell shrugged. ‘But fear nothing, as the plan is working out well.’

  ‘Not for Mark.’

  ‘If not Mark, it could have been you tortured, Nicò, and so I am not sorry.’

  ‘Is this to be our lives, forever doing evil deeds to serve a king?’

  ‘Is there any other kind of life for people like us? We can only pray to God for forgiveness. What I want is your forgiveness.’

  ‘It was me who came up with this adultery plan to slander the Queen,’ Nicòla said. ‘While you stayed in bed filled with woe, and Jane Seymour casually threatened me in my garden, I came up with this plan to attaint Anne. But I wanted no one hurt.’

  ‘I shall try to make sure that no one gets hurt from now on,’ Cromwell said. ‘You must admit that having you arrested was a goodly plan. I am sorry to surprise you with it, but if you appeared not shocked, not angry, then suspicion would creep into the plan.’

  ‘I shall admit to the good ideas in your plan, Tomassito.’

  Tomassito. Perchance Nicòla’s mood had cooled. ‘Cranmer is attending Anne, so she might pray. I can arrange Cranmer to pray with you as well.’

  ‘Have you spoken with Cranmer?’

  ‘Barely; he believes in Anne’s innocence, but was swayed by the evidence I continued to create.’

  ‘Cranmer is a good man and seeks only peace. Yes, I should like to pray with him, for we are all bound by God, our families and our service to our king.’

  ‘I will save us, Nicò, I swear before God. I swear I shall do everything to see this plan have a smooth result.’

  Nicòla walked to Cromwell and slipped her arms around him, her arms wrapped inside his warm black overgown. The relief made Cromwell fold himself over her small frame, so they could both have a moment of respite in the hell of their own making.

  F

  Chapter 43 – May 1536

  When you lye to the world, the world will lye back

  The Tower, London

  Without a clock in the cell, Nicòla had no idea of the time, though the bell over Westminster Hall helped. But nothing had rung today, a day she perceived to be May 12, if she remembered rightly. Was this day twelve of being locked in the Tower? Cromwell had not come in a week, no doubt distancing himself from his secretary, accused of being in carnal lust with the Queen. No one else came either. Cranmer never came to pray with her. Neither Norfolk nor Fitzwilliam nor any person came to question her. The guards allowed her to pass letters to Wyatt in the next room, but he too knew precious little. England was on fire with the royal couple in turmoil, yet the silence of Nicòla’s cell told none of the sordid tales.

  The sun had not met its full height when the Thames seemed to fill with more barges than usual about Westminster. Nicòla watched with keen curiosity but was too far away to see any detail, her view obscured by the curve of the river and the small buildings on the bank. Further along at Whitehall, Cromwell would be in his office, without his secretary. Ralph probably stood in Nicòla’s place once more. All they would have to do is “lose” the key to Nicòla’s cell and it would be as if she never came to England at all.

  The bang of her cell door tore Nicòla’s eyes from the tiny window, and she turned, for it was not time for someone to bring a meal. Instead, a friendly face appeared from behind the bored guard.

  ‘My Lord the Duke of Richmond!’ Nicòla exclaimed as she bowed.

  Henry Fitzroy gleamed a wide smile as he st
rode across the room to embrace his small friend. The King’s own bastard son visited; surely that was a good sign.

  ‘What brings you to the Tower from St. James’ Palace?’ Nicòla said as she offered him a seat. ‘I must confess I cannot host you in the manner you deserve.’

  ‘I care not, I only care to see you,’ Fitzroy said as Nicòla sat in the sole other comfortable chair in the room which sat beside the cold fireplace. ‘I see your lodgings are at least enough.’

  ‘I am fortunate to have a large room with a real bed. I have paper and ink, books, and the food and wine is constant. They even send me water for bathing. Many endure far worse in the Tower.’

  ‘I came to see for myself, though Secretary Cromwell assured me of your comfort. To see Cromwell stalking the palace halls without you coming behind him is quite a sight, as if the man has sustained an injury and lost a limb. Everyone asks after the missing Waif, and he scurries away like a wounded animal. Cromwell is a man bereft.’

  ‘They have accused me of a crime which shames my master.’ Nicòla thought of Cromwell alone in the thongs of vile people which occupied court.

  ‘I come to tell you the news. Can you see much of the Thames from your window?’

  ‘A little only.’

  ‘Today there shall be a trial at Westminster Hall. Secretary Cromwell shall be there in his finery, and the jury shall hear evidence against four of the accused – Smeaton, Norris, Weston and Brereton.’

  ‘Already?’ Nicòla croaked. ‘They got arrested but a week ago.’

  ‘Father is pained by all this news, as you can imagine. It shocks His Majesty that his wife, the woman he loved for ten years, would betray him so. To commit adultery, to say that the King is not virile enough to satisfy a woman, which shames Father… they have instructed Cromwell to move this along with all haste. I am to be in court, so everyone might see me as a symbol of the King’s virility.’

  ‘A symbol all sons must play to powerful men,’ Nicòla commented. For she would not be as a man if not for her father’s desire for a son. ‘My father paraded me as his precious bastard heir for years.’