Hello to all my readers!
Many thanks for your enthusiastic reviews, it warms my heart to see so many reactions.
To my anonymous reviewer, I would like to answer all your questions, but I can't do it here, that would spoil too much of the story, I'm afraid. At least one of them will be answered in this chapter, by the way.
While I'm a it, the usual disclaimer applies : I don't own The Tudors series, and am just borrowing the set. I'm not making any money with it. The characters own themselves, so guys, don't come to haunt me because you don't like the story.
Now, the chapter. Good reading to you all!
I. Pleading for a head
May 1535, London
The sweet month of May was just beginning to put flowers on the trees and garden beds of Whitehall and the atmosphere there was already turning sour and thunderous. The king was once again displaying his short temper, for the greatest damage of his councillors and closest advisers.
All England, or nearly all of it, had sworn the oath of allegiance acknowledging the king as Head of the Church, and the children he had and would have from Anne Boleyn as his legitimate heirs. The « nearly » was already six feet under or in jail. And amongst those who still rot in a dungeon, two « nearly » particularly exasperated the king.
The first of them, John Fisher, newly promoted as cardinal, was already waiting for his execution in the Tower of London. Despite the Pope's threats, Henry did not intend to pardon. He did not care – or at least, that was what he claimed – for excommunication. He wanted his subjects to admit his authority, no matter that they wore a cassock, or the colour of said garment. At Court, only Charles Brandon had contested the planned execution awaiting the old prelate and he was now residing on his lands with his young wife and his numerous brood (well, it was his fourth marriage, after all...), with orders to remain there until the king changed his mind.
Brandon's departure suited Queen Anne very well. But the shift taken by her husband's policy pleased her a lot less. She knew herself to be ambitious and too quick to anger, but she had the habit to weight and balance all the consequences of a decision before making it. For now, she was carefully studying the likely repercussions of the death warrant the king was about to sign. She could not see any positive aspect in it. However, she did not know whom she could share her thoughts with. Certainly not her sister Mary, swimming again in marital bliss... with a commoner, soldier in Calais, that she had not even tried to introduce to her touchy family. Her brother George took great care of her, showered her with delicate attentions, distracted her from her dark thoughts, but he could repeat their conversation to their father and this, Anne wanted to avoid at all coasts. Thomas Boleyn was not a man to spare his enemies, nor for a good gesture neither for any other reason. He would come and lecture his younger daughter like he had done after Elizabeth's birth.
Shivering, Anne realized she would have to plead directly with the king. Fortunately, she had received something that would help her.
##
The council session was coming to an end and the ten men attending it left the room without noticing the queen leaning against the panelling of the corridor.
Anne waited for her uncle Norfolk's broad shoulders to disappear before entering the council room, but she was disappointed to find the king still conferring with his unavoidable secretary. Cromwell started to rise from his seat when the queen entered, but she signalled him to stay. She would rather have a witness for the coming meeting.
"My dear Anne, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
She arranged her face to look as innocent as possible.
"- I dare disturb you, Henry, because I recently received a letter from France that may be of interest for you.
- From France? the king exclaimed, surprised.
- I still have friends in the French Court who write me from time to time. Between private events, I often find some lines concerning politics."
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Cromwell lifting his head from his papers.
"- This seems a promising start, Henry said. Tell me everything.
- My correspondent is an Englishwoman married to a French lord, Anne explained while picking the letter in the folds of her sleeve. She still minds our interests and sends me some intelligence when she considers it necessary."
The king's eyes lit up with laughter. So his queen had her own little intelligence service. Wasn't it piquant?
"- Your Majesty's decisions regarding the Act of Succession are debated in all Europe, Anne went on with a more formal tone. The Pope is ready to excommunicate you if Fisher dies.
- And why should I care? Henry said, shaking his head. The Pope's authority does not exert on the English Crown.
- But it still does on the others, the young woman pointed out, and that is where the shoe may pinch. Let us imagine that His Holiness manages to convince the princes of Europe, the kings of France and Spain first of all, that your policy is harmful and could generate new conflicts based on religious claims, no doubt they would agree... at your expense, Majesty. It would be like a crusade to bring England back in the generous arms of the Roman Church, out of the rule of a king deemed as an heretic. Even without coming to such extremities, excommunication, if it extends to the whole realm, would deprive us of relations with any other country, either political or in trade.
- And you think that keeping Fisher's head on his shoulders will change anything ? Henry asked, losing any hint of a smile.
- It will be seen, be it right or wrong, as a gesture of good will towards the Pope, and will give him one less argument against you. There are so many ways to punish cardinal Fisher other than kill him. Put him under house arrest, exile him to Rome, you have the choice to silence him without having his blood on your hands, my lord, Anne concluded, her voice getting more high-pitched as her concerns grew.
- Good will? the king repeated. Good will? Why should I care to show some good will towards the bishop of Rome? Fisher is my subject, and as such, he owes me his obedience. If he refuses, he must suffer the consequences. The authority of the Crown is here at stake, madam!
- And the honour of the Crown, what will you do about it ? What will the princes of this world think and say when they see you sending to death an old man whose faith is exemplary, and another you called your friend since childhood ? Kill them, and you will have their corpses, but not their obedience.
- Enough, madam."
His icy tone caused Anne to take several steps backwards.
"The topic of politics, the way I rule my kingdom, are not your business. The only thing you should be concerned with is giving me an heir."
Anne blanched at this reminder. Two months ago, she had lost her child, and the Court doctors still argued over the causes of this disaster. No matter the reason why, her womb was empty again, she had lost a chance to hold another baby in her arms, to give a brother or sister to Elizabeth...
The poor woman dropped in a quick curtsey, then backed towards the door, and took flight.
The king slammed the door behind her.
"Wretched woman! he raged. Can you imagine such impudence?" he added, turning towards his secretary.
Cautious, Cromwell put on a sceptical expression.
"And the speech she made! Is there anything sensible in there? What do you think of it?"
The other man put his quill down and took his time to think.
"- Am I allowed to speak frankly ?
- I am paying you just for that, the king sharply retorted, so speak!"
His secretary took a deep breath before answering.
"- There is a lot of truth in what the queen reported, he said, carefully balancing his words. Politics being what it is, no doubt the king and the emperor would consider any condemnation from the bishop of Rome as an opportunity they should grab with both hands. The intelligence I receive tallies the queen's. Two heads, it is not much, but if they fall, the damage caused could be beyond belief.
- So she is right? So, I must let those two fools challenge me, event from their cell?"
Seeing the murderous look in the king's eye, Cromwell reflected that, for once, he should have played the perfect courter...
##
He had raised the collar of his doublet as high as possible, but it was barely enough to cover the purplish-blue mark spreading along his jaw. If the king did not dare beat his wife (at least not before witnesses), he had no such qualms concerning his retainers. Cromwell cursed himself once again for talking too much. Like he needed to come to his office the following day with this little expression of the royal « esteem » on his face... All the great lords were already sniggering behind his back, of the work pace he demanded himself, of his low birth... He just needed Suffolk or another to learn that he was also His Majesty's scapegoat.
"I assume he is still not convinced?"
The queen's voice startled him. He was not expecting to meet her in this nearly deserted corridor he used to come in and out of Whitehall. It seemed that the charming lady was not only spying on King François...
"Indeed not", he managed to utter.
Of course, his unusual diction caught Anne's attention. She came closer, and forced him to turn his head.
"Pathetic, she groaned. Well, come with me."
He realized a bit late she had dragged him in her chambers. Luckily enough, her ladies-in-waiting were all busy somewhere else, and no one saw him enter.
"- Your Majesty, I do not believed it is prop...
- Not another word!" the queen barked, before disappearing in her wardrobe.
He heard her rummaging through her things, and ranting too.
While the queen was searching whatever item she needed, Cromwell found himself studying her. He had to admit, he did not know where to stand with her.
She was a reformist. She was also his fiercest enemy's niece. His former patron Wolsey had fallen for her and by her. She could be incredibly stubborn. Sometimes violently angry. And her last discussion with Henry Tudor proved it, she was really interested in the foreign policy of the realm.
He could forgive her Wolsey's disgrace. She had had valid reasons to be mad at him. The cardinal had broken the young woman's engagements to her dear Henry Percy, allowing her uncle Norfolk to use her as bait for the king. As a whore. Something she had vehemently refused for years. The exile and the accusations of treason had been the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk's doing, and the king had been very quick to endorse them to satisfy his new conquest's greedy family.
The worst of it was the strange fascination this unique woman exerted on him. Since... since the day Henry had crowned her, yes. She had seemed larger than life, perfect for the crown laid on her head. Since that time, he had nearly become her shadow, and she frequently required his presence. Her conversation was most pleasant, and she was extremely well-learnt. She asked his advice on the best way to manage the considerable lands she possessed at Pembroke, in Wales, and as far as he was concerned, she did the job properly. He had gotten used to the idea that he would be nothing more than a trusted councillor. He wanted nothing physical, even though Anne was a rather attractive woman according to his tastes. But she was The Queen and a kind of Noli me Tangere floated around her. Gaining her friendship should be enough for him.
"Aha! I knew it was here!"
She came back with a small ivory box.
"- It will lessen the damages, she said, handing him the box. Well, Anne went on, I suppose that if His Majesty got angry with you, it is because you supported my opinion?
- You suppose right.
- And now, do you?"
He tried a smile that quickly turned into a pained grimace.
"- It takes more than a punch to make me change my mind. Your Majesty, he added hastily.
- So we are now back to working together", Anne said, thinking of the small English Bible that Cromwell had offered her some years ago, that she kept hidden amongst her anthology of poesy with other forbidden books.
They would have to play very carefully to make Henry change his mind. The peace of the realm, inside and outside, demanded it.
A/N : just a quick little note before leaving, the respective historical ages of the characters have been respected. Henry was born in 1491, Katherine of Aragon and Thomas Cromwell in 1485, and so on... Since Anne's birth date is still debated, I chose 1502, and the fictional Anthony Knivert was born in 1496.