Shaking the Throne

by Caroline Angus Baker

  ‘We have worked hard to ensure your head was not the one on the block, uncle,’ Richard said. ‘Never, never laugh of such things, we all beg you!’

  The conversation broke off, for the four hundred guns shot from the Tower down the river. The country had a new queen, and everyone for miles could hear it.

  ~~~

  ‘We cannot have men such as Ambassador Chapuys lament on the human cost of the dissolution of the abbeys,’ Cromwell said as he stood in parliament. The lords sat in peace, all looking weary in their seats. Not so for Cromwell; he was back right where he belonged, the centre of attention, which remained crucial to his plans for England’s future.

  ‘I proposed the Beggars Act, which I intend to pass hither today. We have 376 smaller religious houses to be closed, and eighty more spared. This shall leave twenty thousand monks and nuns who know not how to live. This shall be on top of the homeless beggars who litter our country. These people shall be restricted to their home villages and towns, and the parish or municipality shall assume full responsibility for these people. Work must be given to these people and children must be educated, and those who refuse shall be whipped until they bleed. Each parish shall also need to raise funds to provide for the sick and diseased. This gives each local area control over their people, caring for those who need help to be Englishmen and women.’

  Cromwell knew little argument would come through that law. No one liked the poor, and this act stopped the lords from needing to do too much personally to control the people. Cromwell himself had been a beggar once; to rely on the village for support was a luxury few received until now. Now, the sick and poor would be housed, fed and healed for the betterment of themselves and their village. The needy could be warm, dry, safe, and have work and food. Children could learn to read, no longer only a luxury for the rich.

  ‘But, Your Majesty,’ Cromwell gestured to the King high above the seating, ‘your noble lordships, we are gathered hither not only to ensure we seize the wealth and control of monasteries and religious offices, we will ensure the second bill for the Act of Succession. I ask you to vote on this bill to legislate that King Henry’s first two marriages are invalid and that his marriage to Queen Jane is lawful. Therefore, all male children born to Queen Jane, or any future wife His Majesty may have, shall be the only heirs to the English throne.’

  At once, pompous Suffolk rolled his seat, from sitting back calmly to suddenly upright. ‘What of the Lady Mary, Cromwell?’ he called.

  ‘The Lady Mary is an illegitimate daughter of the King,’ Cromwell said and looked to his papers. ‘Shall the King himself remind you of such?’

  Suffolk rose to his feet. ‘I need no instruction, common Cromwell,’ he said coldly. ‘The King’s family is my family.’

  ‘I have read a letter which Lady Mary has written to her father, His most gracious Majesty, and Lady Mary has accepted her father’s authority, has rejoiced in his new marriage to Queen Jane. Just as all of you did so last night. None can disagree with the state of England now.’

  Cromwell glanced up into the gallery again where the King sat, with a greedy smile. As the nobles mumbled amongst themselves, discussing this new act would not restore “their” heir Mary, as Queen Jane had promised to do, Cromwell knew he would make even more enemies pushing this law through. So be it, for none had the power of the King on their side. Cromwell could behead queens, so he could decide who would inherit the throne. Power meant nothing if you could not use the law.

  ‘Thomas,’ Henry called from where he stood in his privy chamber. Queen Jane sat nearby, taking in the sun through the window out onto the Thames. Cromwell had been in his chamber dining room beside Nicòla, drinking wine with their friends after a good day when Henry summoned him.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Cromwell bowed, holding his papers to his chest. ‘How may I be of service?’

  ‘I wished to thank you today, for you pushed a bill through parliament in a single day, and so my Jane’s children shall be my heirs.’

  ‘The Act of Succession is of the utmost importance.’

  ‘I got a complaint about you, Thomas,’ Henry said as he fetched his wine glass from a nearby table, ‘from my dear cousin Henry Courtney.’

  ‘Yes, the Marquess of Exeter was unhappy with the bill today, but he submitted.’ And it felt so good. Courtney had a terrific claim to the throne, with his Plantagenet blood, championed by his overly ambitious wife.

  ‘Many in my court, many in parliament, feel they may tell me who my heirs shall be,’ Henry said. ‘I am glad for the law tonight.’

  ‘We have filled the court with changes and new alliances of late, Your Majesty.’ Cromwell paused; had he spoken too closely of Anne’s death? Henry said nothing, perchance the mention troubled him not. ‘Some feel they may speak their truths as if the treasons laws shall ease.’

  ‘That shall never happen,’ Henry said. ‘I have total control over my country and the Church!’

  ‘Until the new Act of Succession is complete and signed by all, Princess Elizabeth remains the heir. We need to fix this and change the law to ensure you can choose your heir, legitimate or not. You could even choose the beloved Fitzroy as an heir if desired.’

  ‘My love,’ Queen Jane spoke from the corner. Cromwell had almost forgotten the tone of her voice as she spoke so little. ‘Surely it shall be Lady Mary who shall be the heir?’

  ‘She is a girl and a bastard,’ Henry snorted. ‘You should speak only of your own children.’

  ‘But Mary has agreed to make peace with you, Your Majesty,’ Jane said as she stood up from her seat. Her blonde hair was now under an English gable hood. Jane had banned French fashion from the court. Not as meek as she claimed to be, stamping out signs of Anne Boleyn in such a way.

  ‘You have agreed to meet with Mary for the first time in five years,’ Jane continued as she walked to the King. ‘Mary had a fine Catholic mother, and while they led you to believe your marriage was legal…’

  ‘I was not led into anything!’ Henry cried at his wife. ‘I am no fool!’

  ‘Of course, Your Majesty, but...’

  ‘But nothing, woman!’

  Cromwell stood still and bit his tongue.

  ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty. I thought as Mary is so loved by the Emperor, and England would trust…’

  ‘Lady Mary has not even signed the Oath of Supremacy, has she, Thomas?’ Henry turned to Cromwell with wild eyes. ‘Mary has not acknowledged me as Head of the Church in England. She has not accepted her mother’s marriage was unlawful, that she is illegitimate. All Mary wants is to overthrow me! She is no better as an heir than my son, Henry Fitzroy, the finest of men.’

  ‘Indeed, Your Majesty,’ Cromwell added. ‘Fitzroy is the finest man at court and has sworn the Oath.’

  ‘But Mary is the daughter of Katherine,’ Jane said as she took Henry’s hand. ‘She believes in the true faith…’

  ‘True faith?’ Henry spat in his wife’s face as he pulled his hand away, strong enough to knock the new queen back a few paces. ‘Hear this from me, wife,’ Henry seethed. ‘I am in control, not the snakes in Rome, do you hear me?’

  Cromwell tried not to smirk his greediest of grins. Henry would never give up the power and money of the Church. The Reformation seemed safe at this moment.

  Henry swung back to Cromwell, still inflamed. ‘I want Mary to sign the Oath of Supremacy, and if she says she shall not, then she shall be charged with praemunire. Remember what happened to Thomas More for this crime!’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, we shall have a copy for Lady Mary to sign.’

  ‘Do you know what Norfolk said today?’ Henry continued. ‘He said if Mary were his daughter, and to be so obstinate, that he would beat her head against a wall until it became as soft as baked apples.’

  ‘Lady Mary is a strong and stubborn woman,’ Cromwell replied. Even if she would not sign the Oath, Cromwell never considered harming the girl. ‘I can have a letter written up, in my own hand, stating Mary’s conf
ormity to your will, Your Majesty. She can rewrite in her hand and sign it, and along with the Oath of Supremacy, and I can give the papers to you. I think now that we have a good new queen, Lady Mary shall sign.’

  ‘Mary shall never sign,’ Jane replied. ‘She is of the old faith, steady in her belief…’

  ‘Oh, shut your mouth, woman!’ Henry screamed at Jane, who fell back into a chair. ‘If you had a mind, you would use it shut your mouth and stop telling me what to do with my daughter!’

  Henry swung back to Cromwell. ‘I want you to go to Mary at dawn and get her to sign.’

  ‘With respect, Your Majesty, some in the court gossip I should marry your daughter to make my grandchildren kings. While this is preposterous, a lie made in jest, if I were to fly to Mary’s side, it may disgrace her poor name to be associated with me.’

  ‘You, marry my Mary?’ Henry laughed, and Cromwell joined him. ‘These nobles can be of the worst minds. Then I shall send Norfolk and a group of his men, and he can threaten Mary’s head with baked apples. But, I want you to send your Waif.’

  ‘The Waif, Your Majesty?’

  ‘Yes, as a show of fealty. Ensure your Waif gets Mary’s signature. Send the Waif and I shall know you mean nothing but good for myself and my heirs.’

  ‘As you wish, Your Majesty. I shall inform Norfolk.’

  ‘No, I shall do it myself. He is hither at court and I shall inform him. He is probably in the company of those two young ladies I saw earlier. Perchance I married too soon,’ Henry chided in Jane’s direction, who sat in the chair, her dull eyes filled with tears. ‘Ready the Waif, for I expect great things, since you and Frescobaldi both owe me so much.’

  F

  Chapter 49 – June 1536

  lyes can mayke great promises

  Hatfield Palace, Hertfordshire

  God must have been on Nicòla’s side, for they met with hard rain as they rode north to meet with the Lady Mary. If rain lashed their faces, no one wanted to talk on the ride. To be riding north again; Nicòla had not done so since her visit to the great Queen Katherine upon her death. Now she was threatening the Lady Mary with the Duke of Norfolk and Ambassador Chapuys, who came more out of pity than as a threat, for Chapuys adored Mary like a daughter of his own. Nicòla let herself rock in the saddle for the 25-mile journey, glad to be free of London for a while. Her master held the entire country of England, and Wales, plus most of Ireland, in the palm of his hand yet they seldom left the confines of the palace walls.

  The morning after their late arrival, Lady Mary appeared from her private rooms, looking every piece the royal daughter. A beautiful twenty-year-old woman, Mary should have been the prize every prince in Europe fought over, remained an outcast in the countryside, like her charming mother in her final years. Mary’s hair shone a brilliant auburn, like that of her parents. She bore her mother’s eyes, and Katherine’s powerful stature and confidence.

  ‘My Duke of Norfolk,’ Mary bowed gently.

  ‘My Lady Mary,’ Norfolk said and bowed in his green doublet, something he had not been slim enough to fit in some time.

  Norfolk stepped aside and Chapuys stepped forward, and Mary allowed him to kiss her hand. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the ambassador, one of the very few friends she still had on this Earth. The pair exchanged genuine kindness and Nicòla felt relieved Chapuys had come, for Norfolk, with a group of courtiers on hand to strengthen his confidence and anger, would have met this poor young woman on less friendly terms.

  ‘Mr. Frescobaldi,’ Mary said as Nicòla bowed low. ‘I am much surprised they sent you to see me. Are you Cromwell’s spy in my household?’

  ‘His Majesty sent me,’ Nicòla replied as she stood up straight. ‘I confess I was surprised, but His Majesty made the decision with my master.’

  ‘Why did the King send you, in your words?’

  Nicòla paused and looked Norfolk and Chapuys, who both narrowed their eyes. ‘Lady Mary, we came for a very specific purpose and I believe His Majesty wished the party that met with you appear as a range of different opinions and backgrounds. That way, it shall not appear that we threatened you write what we demand today.’

  ‘You dare demand of me?’ Mary scoffed. ‘I have had many kind letters from both yourself and Cromwell. Why threaten me now?’

  ‘We need you to sign the Oath of Supremacy, Lady Mary,’ Norfolk gruffed behind Nicòla. ‘You must sign it today as we shall return to London to present the papers to the King. From there, the King shall have a view to meet with you, and one day return you to court.’

  ‘Me? Back in court?’ Mary asked. ‘That is my prize for selling my soul and defying God?’

  ‘No, my Lady Mary, it is not that simple…’ Chapuys began.

  ‘I shall meet with each of you privately. My Duke of Norfolk, I am sure you wish to threaten me with signing and you may do so before my ladies and myself. Then I shall talk to my dear friend Ambassador Chapuys, and then Mr. Frescobaldi.’

  ‘You want to converse with the foreigner and the commoner?’ Norfolk barked.

  ‘Frescobaldi is the commoner who sits at the side of the man who wrote the document you wish me to sign!’ Mary admonished the Duke. ‘He is also the commoner who sat at my mother’s bedside upon her death! Do not presume to tell me who I may speak with, Your Grace!’

  Nicòla and Chapuys left Mary with Norfolk, but stood outside the door of the parlour, unsure of their next move.

  ‘Did you hear what Norfolk said of Mary?’ Chapuys asked Nicòla as they stood by a large window which looked down at the stables.

  ‘That he would bash her head until she became soft like boiled apples? Oh yes, Cromwella told me.’

  ‘What shall you say to Lady Mary?’

  ‘I can only beg her,’ Nicòla explained. ‘My master has done all he can to make the letter Mary must write to the King appear gracious, but she must also sign the Oath. I fear what would happen to Mary if she does not. You did not see Anne’s head smitten off.’

  ‘His Majesty could never hurt his daughter in the way he hurt the concubine.’

  ‘There are many ways to hurt a woman, Chapuys, some are with a sword, others are slow and painful.’

  ‘For my part,’ Chapuys said with a sigh, ‘I can only beg Mary to sign and then beg God for forgiveness later, as so many have already done in England. But Mary’s integrity is perfection, and to get her to sign the Oath and go against her mother is a tough choice for the girl to make. But we must accept the truth – while the whore was queen, the Roman Emperor and Rome were ready to fight for Mary. But now a Catholic queen is at Henry’s side, and the Emperor no longer feels any anger towards Henry, who has remarried to a virtuous bride. Lady Mary no longer has the support of Spain and the Empire.’

  Hours passed before Nicòla got a turn to see Lady Mary, leaving her weary. One of Mary’s ladies let her into the parlour but left them alone. Mary’s eyes were red from crying; which of the two men made her cry, Nicòla knew not.

  ‘Please sit down, Mr. Frescobaldi.’ Mary sniffed as she sat in a chair in the stale room and dabbed her face with a white cloth.

  ‘You appear pale, my Lady, allow me to get you something,’ Nicòla said.

  ‘No, please sit and speak with me.’ Mary took a deep breath and rested her hands on her lap. ‘Have you ever been harmed by those you trusted, Mr. Frescobaldi?’

  ‘A great number of times,’ Nicòla almost scoffed. ‘Faithless men are everywhere and faith in each other can be lost.’

  ‘Did you know my cousin, the Holy Roman Emperor, is no longer ready to fight for my cause as heir to the throne?’

  ‘Ambassador Chapuys spoke of such, yes.’

  ‘I am so alone now. I have Norfolk saying he shall hold me down to sign the Oath, and I have Chapuys begging me to sign for my safety, at the cost of my soul.’

  ‘I was one of the first to swear the Oath, my Lady,’ Nicòla explained. ‘My soul is no worse for it. I believe your father rules this country. The Pope is still t
he head of the Catholic Church while the King rules the Church in England. God anointed your father to rule this realm. I do not feel it damages my soul, I assure you.’

  ‘My mother made me swear, above all else, to never turn from God.’

  ‘You never shall turn from God, Lady Mary,’ Nicòla implored. ‘We never wrote the Oath to turn people from the Church, I promise you. We spent many months drafting the Act of Supremacy, and many more revising and voting on the issue, with scholars of all kinds throughout Europe lending their opinions. We did not create the Act lightly, I swear.’

  ‘I would have to swear that my mother’s marriage was unlawful, and I am a bastard. My mother words, with her dying breath, were that she was a lawful queen.’

  ‘I heard those words, my Lady, and it grieved me, I promise you. You do not have to swear that your father’s marriage to Anne Boleyn was lawful, nor swear that Elizabeth shall be the heir to the throne.’

  ‘What of Princess Elizabeth?’ Mary asked. ‘Is she still a princess?’

  ‘She is, as the bill to make her illegitimate has not passed in parliament yet. Elizabeth shall be a bastard, like you, in a few months.’

  ‘She is still my sister,’ Mary replied. ‘Who shall care for her now? Does Lady Bryan still care for her?’

  ‘Yes, and Lady Bryan writes to Secretary Cromwella and asked him for money for the little princess. Cromwell obliged, from his own purse, with a promise to keep the money a secret.’

  ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  ‘Elizabeth is only a few years younger than Cromwella’s adopted daughter, Jane. I persuaded Cromwella to think of Elizabeth as he does Jane and see her needs and her innocence.’

  ‘I hear the orphan Jane is your niece, Mr. Frescobaldi.’

  ‘Yes, my sister’s daughter. I brought young Jane to England when my sister married a duke and could not keep her child.’