Shaking the Throne

by Caroline Angus Baker

  ‘I worry Jane bears no son and they shall force me to behead another bride! Come, let us away.’

  Nicòla opened the doors of the office, though the other rooms were quiet, none of the clerks yet at work. But several guards and gentleman-ushers milled about, so Nicòla turned to Italian for their walk to the Queen’s rooms, as she and Cromwell so often did to cloak their conversations in solace.

  ‘I have worries of my own,’ Nicòla said, her voice lowered despite being in a language most never learned. ‘I fear that Lady Jane courts Lady Mary’s favour most heartily, as Mary is the King’s daughter. But what happens once Jane has power of her own? Shall she toy with poor Mary and then toss her aside once she has her own child?’

  ‘Jane Seymour shall do whatever her family tells her, by Mary supporters, by Norfolk, Suffolk, Carew, Exeter, all their supporters, and any of the Catholic nobility,’ Cromwell replied. ‘Let us not misunderstand Jane – for she will marry a man that ordered last his wife dead eleven days ago. She is not pious or meek as she claims to be. Jane is ruthless, and she is being taught by those who want Lady Mary back in the line of succession. I feel for Lady Mary, I truly do, separated from her father for five years, her mother now in heaven. But I will reform this country and Mary is opposed to all I believe in; I shall never allow her back into the line of succession.’

  ‘But how would you keep her out? Mary is the King’s daughter, and the King decides who is the heir.’

  ‘No, the law decides who is the heir. I shall ensure Parliament passes a bill that declares neither Mary nor Elizabeth are in the line of succession. I have a plan and it shall bring Henry into my hands, so worry not.’

  ‘Can we not just make Henry Fitzroy legitimate, for he would make a marvellous king.’

  ‘I know,’ Cromwell groaned. ‘We are so close to having a fine heir and yet I cannot make Fitzroy legitimate. But fear not, perchance parliamentary reforms shall see our dear friend on the throne one day. I feel pleased that Cranmer granted the dispensation for this marriage. Henry and Jane are not close cousins, but still family through Edward the Third.’

  ‘How is Cranmer?’ Nicòla asked.

  ‘The Archbishop is not at his best. He is about to marry his king to a devout Catholic woman and is scared that now we have lost Anne, our Reformation shall stall. I have tried to soothe his doubts, but he is not to be swayed. Cranmer is still much dismayed by Anne’s death.’

  ‘The King shall marry today in private ceremony in the Queen’s closet, a closet another queen occupied which just weeks ago. Even Henry must worry, for he has made no announcement of the wedding.’

  The conversation paused as they entered the Queen’s apartments, where all hints of Anne Boleyn were removed. The rooms were bare, furniture and tapestries moved, items in chests, no doubt Jane’s belongings being readied.

  Several people waited in the Queen’s presence chamber, messengers, courtiers, servants, where Nicòla too was to wait while the royal marriage took place. Cromwell noticed Ambassador Chapuys there and continued through the guarded doorway to the private rooms where the wedding would take place. But Nicòla had no such luck, and Chapuys moved to her side in a moment. He too wanted to speak in Italian, which he seldom did at court.

  ‘Good morrow, Ambassador Chapuys,’ Nicòla mumbled. ‘I see you are returned to court.’

  ‘I have been with the Lady Mary these past weeks,’ Chapuys explained. ‘It has been a difficult time for the girl.’

  ‘No longer a girl, but a woman of twenty years, ready for marriage long ago.’

  ‘Indeed, and the time has come for Lady Mary to be restored to her father’s favour. I think the King has always loved Mary, I do. But he sees her as a threat to his throne as a successor.’

  ‘How is Lady Mary?’

  ‘Mary asked after you, Mr. Frescobaldi, and says she has not had a letter from you in some time. Do not worry, I have told no one of your letters and gifts to Mary over the years. Mary wished to write to her father, as she has had many letters from Mistress Seymour. Our new queen, a devout and gentle woman, wants Mary returned to court.’

  ‘And the succession?’

  ‘Naturally, for Lady Mary is the King’s daughter and should be his heir,’ Chapuys said.

  ‘Have Mary write to my master. Secretary Cromwell likes Lady Mary, so perchance he could intercede with the King for her.’

  ‘I will not lie, Mr, Frescobaldi; I am happy the great whore is dead. I am pleased we have a new queen, as are most back in Rome. The Emperor is pleased to see a Catholic woman at the King’s side once more. Many great things could happen in England now that the concubine is gone, and Lady Jane is in her place.’

  Nicòla sighed openly. ‘Anne Boleyn was an exciting woman, she was educated and talented. Anne could talk politics with the men and sew and dance with ladies and outwit the lot. She made Henry love as he has never loved, fight like he has never fought, brought him happiness a heart can only be so lucky to find on this Earth. Anne was a reformer, yes, but a smart, pious woman. Jane Seymour is boring.’

  ‘Jane Seymour is quiet, yes, but the King is tired of fighting, tired of factions between friends. Jane Seymour is perfect because she is not Anne Boleyn. Jane is pale, Anne was dark. Jane is silent, Anne was loud and intemperate. Yes, Anne Boleyn was beautiful, and Jane Seymour is not attractive and not young either. But it must be God’s will! Jane loved Queen Katherine, served her honestly and faithfully.’

  ‘You speak of nothing but flattery,’ Nicòla commented, ‘so no doubt you have written to the Emperor to talk of Jane’s many qualities.’

  ‘It is hard, for Jane is an ugly woman who barely speaks, but is that not what men look for in a wife? I personally took holy orders and shall never marry, but if I were to marry, I would not want a woman meddling in my affairs. But yes, I am filled with flattery for Jane as I believe she shall be nothing but good for England.’

  ‘Cromwella instructed we were to speak ill of Anne and talk of little but Jane’s virtue, of her chaste and pious nature, so people can be ready to embrace her. We went to oversee work on Hampton Court Palace; They are replacing at the “A’s” at court, throwing “J’s” over them, so the HJ symbol is everywhere. Greenwich is mostly complete, and Whitehall as well. Hampton Court looks rushed, and many other royal houses are being restored now. All the while, Jane Seymour has been taught on how to be the perfect royal bride by Sir Nicholas Carew out at Sir Thomas More’s old Chelsea manor.’

  ‘We must have faith that the difficult times of the court are now over, and put our personal feelings aside,’ Chapuys said as Nicòla nodded in agreement. ‘It matters not who we loved or hated, for this is a new time and we must make sure we are in everyone’s favour. I know you and I, and your master and I, have not always been friends, but perchance we can build a new world.’

  Nicòla waited only a short time before Cromwell reappeared from the wedding, along with the Duke of Suffolk, Sir Nicholas Carew, Henry Fitzroy, Thomas Audley and Thomas Cranmer, all the loyal men around Henry. They sent messengers and servants off to tell of the news, though there was no public announcement. Cromwell wished to set off back to his offices, not letting Nicòla talk with Fitzroy for long.

  ‘How was the ceremony?’ Nicòla asked as they moved down hallways filling with people beginning their day.

  ‘Brief,’ Cromwell said. ‘Jane promised to be buxom and bonny in bed and board. God let the woman do nothing but lie on her back until a child comes. Henry is taking her to his bedroom as we speak.’

  ‘Not something I wish to imagine.’

  ‘We have no time to waste on the King’s amorous intentions. Queen Jane shall sit at Henry’s side at dinner at Greenwich in two days’ time, and on June 4 we must have Jane attend Mass at Greenwich where she shall receive the treatment of a queen and walk in the royal procession. We have many vacancies to fill in the King’s rooms with the executions, and Queen Jane needs ladies-in-waiting. We must be very careful about whom we choose. I have
a list.’

  ‘I am certain you do,’ Nicòla smiled as they reached Cromwell Chambers.

  ‘Queen Jane shall sit beneath the cloth of estate at Greenwich, less than five weeks since Queen Anne did the same,’ Cromwell shook his head. ‘And we must smile and pray for a royal son to come soon.’

  ‘Seven years to annul Henry’s marriage to Katherine, and less than seven weeks between Anne’s fall and today’s wedding,’ Nicòla commented.

  ‘From today we must never mention Anne or the Boleyn family. It is Queen Jane now. With good fortune, she is the last queen I create. Now please help me out of this awful red doublet and hose.’

  ‘Can I have it altered to fit me?’

  ‘Whatever your little heart desires.’

  ~~~

  The week seemed to go smoothly; the stories of a secret wedding spread among the court and everyone bowed to Queen Jane as if there had not been another queen only weeks earlier. An enormous party was in the planning, to be held at Chapuys’ country home along the banks of the Thames between Greenwich and London. The Lady Mary wrote Cromwell, and while Henry was flushed with new love, and appetite in the bedroom, while adoring Jane’s quietness and ignoring her looks, Cromwell gently asked Henry to write to his daughter, much to Henry’s preferment. In a matter of weeks, they had erased the royal marriage, had a new marriage sworn before God, everyone seemed happy and Lady Mary looked to be reconciled. If only the ease could have come at a cost that was not Anne Boleyn’s head.

  Nicòla trailed behind Cromwell as they moved through the palace to the King’s presence chamber, where they would award honours to Edward Seymour, now the older brother of the Queen. The Seymour family were not well ranked within the nobility; and had few lands until Jane’s wedding gift of 104 manors and their surrounding estates, with enough profit to pay for her household. Today was the day to change all that.

  ‘Ah, Thomas,’ Henry said as he watched Cromwell and Nicòla come into the room and bow to His Majesty, who sat upon his throne, two velvet-covered steps above everyone else. Nicòla scurried out of the way to where courtiers often waited in the corner. But now Smeaton would never be in the King’s rooms, and Wyatt had vanished. Norris was dead, Weston was dead. But at least Ralph was there, along with several new faces, all men desperate to gain Cromwell’s favour.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Cromwell replied as he handed Henry the patents needed to give a new title to Edward Seymour. ‘I trust you are well this morning.’

  ‘All is well when there’s a new bride in bed,’ Henry laughed, and Cromwell smiled. Any person in the room could see Cromwell had no desire for the conversation.

  ‘Let us move quickly so I might enjoy the day with my new family, Thomas,’ Henry said as he stood up and watched Cromwell prepare his sword. ‘I am certain all other matters of running the realm can be left in your hands?’

  ‘Always, Your Majesty,’ Cromwell smiled at Henry’s side. ‘Edward Seymour,’ Cromwell called to the antechamber where the Seymours waited.

  Edward Seymour, dressed in a fine gold doublet and hose, came in and bowed low to the King and sank to his knees.

  Henry took the sword from Cromwell. ‘Edward Seymour, of Wulf Hall, I name you Viscount Beauchamp of Hache.’ The King placed the sword gently on each of Edward Seymour’s grateful shoulders. ‘You shall review a sum of monies and lands owing to you, as stated in the patents drawn up by Secretary Cromwell.’

  ‘I thank you, Your most gracious Majesty,’ Seymour muttered.

  Nicòla sighed; Edward Seymour was a boring man, much like his sister, and to top it off, Seymour had married Anne Stanhope, an awful woman who had leered at Cromwell near and far.

  ‘My brother-in-law deserves the title,’ Henry said as he stepped down to embrace Seymour. ‘We are to hunt today, Thomas,’ he said to Cromwell, who at once stepped down away from the throne, so to not stand above the King. ‘Shall you join us?’

  ‘Alas, I have much to ready for Queen Jane’s procession down the Thames tomorrow, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Thomas, I know you are a busy man, scurrying about with your spies and your many roles in the court and parliament, but please tell me you shall enjoy the party in honour of Queen Jane tomorrow night?’

  ‘I promise to enjoy myself.’

  ‘Perchance even find you a woman,’ Seymour jested, and Henry laughed.

  ‘Thank you, Lord Seymour,’ Cromwell replied through gritted teeth.

  ‘Thomas,’ Henry said, and placed one hand on his shoulder, ‘a solemn marriage, lawful in England and officiated with God’s blessing is a beautiful thing. I urge you most heartily to choose someone who can give that to you. Hold not onto old ideas.’

  Nicòla narrowed her eyes. After all this time Henry thought Cromwell needed a woman, after years of supporting the creature who followed Cromwell everywhere?

  ‘One other thing,’ Henry said, his hand waving in the air, ‘we have no Lord Privy Seal at present. I want to elevate you, Thomas, to that position.’

  Cromwell fell to his knees in a moment. ‘I humbly thank you, Your Majesty, for such an honour.’

  ‘Come,’ Henry said and let Cromwell take his hand, ‘you all but run this realm for me, so you as Lord Privy Seal makes sense. Leave your work, come hunting, I command you.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ Seymour added, though Nicòla heard his tone fill with envy. ‘Such a pity we cannot call you Lord Cromwell.’

  ‘Lord Privy Seal is a great honour,’ Cromwell replied.

  Indeed, it was, for now, he could write on the King’s behalf and use the wax seal of the King himself. All those Imperial alliance negotiations had not soured Henry’s love for Cromwell. The beheadings probably helped that cause.

  Nicòla waited until Henry ushered his new brother-in-law from the room to head out hunting before she ran over to Cromwell with a wide smile, one of many keen to congratulate him on his new title.

  ‘Lord Privy Seal!’ Ralph said as he embraced Cromwell.

  ‘Yes, that is precisely how you are all to address me from today,’ Cromwell laughed. ‘It makes sense I would hold the title and run the Privy Council. We need new people in old roles. It is a new world. Let us away, for I have to prepare for a hunt.’

  Nicòla smiled, but the King’s words stuck in her mind. A solemn marriage, lawful in England and officiated with God’s blessing is a beautiful thing. I urge you most heartily to choose someone who can give that to you. Hold not onto old ideas. Was Henry about to eject Nicòla from the court, for being part of the old world?

  C

  Chapter 48 – June 1536

  half-trouths can be worse than full lyes

  Westminster, London

  Queen Jane stepped from the royal barge to wide applause. The most impressive members of the royal court stood upon the grass along the Thames outside Chapuys’ country manor, hundreds of people clapping with joy over their new queen consort. Henry held Jane’s hand as she stepped onto dry land, gesturing at her as if she were the latest jewel he had purchased. Perchance that was the best way to describe Jane. Chapuys stood there, eager to be the first to bow and flatter Henry and his new bride, with many a number of courtiers eager to do the same. All the world now knew King Henry had married yet again.

  ‘Whilst I know that His Majesty is happy with Jane,’ Cranmer said as the Cromwell faction stood together beside a banquet tent emblazoned with the Holy Roman Emperor’s arms, ‘I do so worry for you.’

  ‘Worry not, Archbishop,’ Richard Rich said as he adjusted his golden cap. ‘As chancellor of the new Court of Augmentations, I shall see that we destroy the monasteries and abbeys. We shall remove Catholic preaching at once, no matter who is queen.’

  ‘I fear if a Catholic woman sits by Henry’s side, all our work was for nothing,’ Cranmer replied and turned to Cromwell. ‘We have lost too many lives, too many sacrifices made to stop and be ruled again by the Catholic men of Rome.’

  ‘Fear not, for Henry shall never wish to relinquish his role as He
ad of the Church,’ Cromwell replied.

  ‘Our heads could all be next for the block,’ Cranmer muttered.

  Cromwell held his tongue, for Cranmer worried so often but saw nothing of plans in parliament. He paused as the King and Queen approached, and all bowed low to their masters.

  ‘My Lord Privy Seal,’ Henry called to Cromwell and slapped his shoulders with a hearty grin. ‘You wear royal blue tonight, and in satin! Glad to see you embracing the celebrations. And just look at your Waif, dressed in red! What a pair you make!’

  Behind the King stood many of the men of the privy chamber, Ralph in among them, dressed in green. Ralph held his cheeky smile, as he often teased Cromwell for his usual boring fashion, for Cromwell had chastised young Ralph so often for dressing in a sumptuous manner. Now Cromwell stood in royal blue, sewn in silver thread with pearled buttons, the gold Collar of Esses draped upon his shoulders.

  Nicòla bowed again as the Queen moved toward her, and Jane frowned at Nicòla. ‘Sir, you have a curious pectoral cross about your neck. I heard it belonged to the former Pope?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, Pope Clement willed it to me.’

  ‘I find you and I could be friends, Mr. Frescobaldi, for we believe in many of the same things.’

  Nicòla nodded politely as Henry and his new prize drifted along a sea of flattery and vanity. But Cromwell stood in place with Nicòla, Richard, Cranmer, Rich and Audley, all watching from afar as Chapuys fell over himself to impress the royal couple while the rest of the court flittered like moths by candlelight.

  ‘Little over a month ago they would have flocked like that to Anne, had there been some benefit,’ Audley sniffed.

  ‘The Catholics have won back the crown,’ Cromwell whispered to his group, ‘and now all the people who taught Jane, who pushed her, cajoled her, displayed her will want something in return. They want Lady Mary as the heir to the throne, Catholic rule once more. They will try to stop our Reformation and expect Jane to provide a son to make all their dreams happen. Fear not, for none of this shall happen, lest it is my head on the block.’