When Men Quarrel (Exodus 21:18,19)
The two Thomases looked each other in the eyes. They did not know yet that they would one day be bitter enemies on the spiritual battlefield, but they both knew that there was something about the other that was worth noticing. They owned –perhaps – the sharpest minds of their times, using them determinately to labour in their course. It was a biting twist of fate that they would happen to have exactly opposite opinions. One of them was Thomas Cromwell; a young, obscure lawyer and former mercenary who had risen to the position of the King's secretary. The other was Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor, humanist, lawyer, author, and unflinching Catholic.
"Sir Thomas," Cromwell began is his usual low, dark-timbre voice. "I notice you allow yourself none of the trappings of your office."
More turned around and sought his way through the labyrinths of folios and quartos towards his table.
"I'm not so vain as to display its power, Master Cromwell," he replied. "But I tell you this: I fully intend to use it." He smiled and pointed towards the seat in front of him.
"May I ask to what effect?" Cromwell went on as he sat down.
"Here, for example," More pulled out a parchment. "Here is a report of a sermon recently given in Cambridge by a certain Hugh Latimer, a senior member of the university. And I quote: Mister Latimer said that Holy Scripture should be read in the English tongue of all Christian people whether priest or layman."
Cromwell swallowed some words unnoticed by More, who went on reading.
"He raged against the gilding of images, the running of pilgrimages, and superstitious devotion. He said that all men were priests and that we had no need for priests or popes on Earth."
More's face was heavy with meaning as he folded the parchment. "Times have changed, Master Cromwell. Now I plainly see the risk and danger involved in such an open-door policy towards these newfangled, erroneous sects."
Cromwell's face was completely deadpan. "You condemn all Reformers as heretics?"
"Wolsey was far too soft on them," More nodded. "I intend not to be."
They exchanged glances, both fully aware of the other's brightness and quick thinking. Cromwell knew well enough not to venture too far, but More did not know he was giving away information to the enemy.
"Will you burn them?" Cromwell asked unblinking.
More looked at his vis-à-vis and raised a brow. It was obvious that heretics must be burned, why would he even ask? Was there something about Thomas Cromwell that he did not know yet? No, it was impossible, he was one of Wolsey's men, and he was most likely just as reluctant to burn them as his former patron had been. But More would show him his wrongs as a substitute for showing Wolsey. He would make them all see the truth.
"It is insufferable," Boleyn coldly remarked. "First he honours Catherine and her bastard daughter, and now he takes Wolsey's mistress into his services. Is he out of his mind?"
"He asked me about it, and I agreed with him that the Cardinal had been a man of many talents," Norfolk replied.
"You did what?"
"I agreed with him that it was the least he could do to honour the highly talented Cardinal," Norfolk insisted unmoved.
"Why in God's name…"
"Calm down. She is nothing but a harlot and a seamstress; nobody will care about her again. I could not care less about her and her brats, and I am certain that the King will forget about them, too," the duke argued. "It is far more important that you pressure your daughter into accepting the King's hand and spreading her legs for him. Once she bears him a son, Mary will be forgotten, too."
"And you would be the most important man at court, as you should be," Boleyn agreed.
They cheered each other with their ale cups. "To our fortunes! The father of England's queen will certainly receive his fair share, too," Norfolk laughed coolly. "Only make sure that your daughter spreads her legs right after the tedious mourning period is over. Where is she, anyway?"
"I believe she is in the gardens walking this pesky little dog she bought this morrow," Boleyn mused.
"What a waste of time. You had better keep a keen eye on her, Boleyn, so that everything will go smoothly for us."
"Do not worry about it," Boleyn said sourly and emptied his cup. "She will do just as I say."
The green-leaved bushes of Hampton Court Gardens reverberated a delighted yapping. Its origin was a small North Country beagle that Anne Boleyn had only just bought. He had fair colourings of white and brown, and was barely more than a puppy. His chestnut-brown button eyes were sparkling like little stars. It was undoubtedly impossible to resist his charming nature, at least for a woman. Anne pitied the fact that she could not keep him, but she knew it was for a higher purpose.
She strolled down the paths together with her brother George who had his difficulties in trying to keep the beagle at the leash. They spoke of things to come, things that would change both their lives forever. And they spoke of their sister Mary who was far away with her husband and whom they both missed dearly. They did not speak, however, of how they had tricked their father into believing they would simply go out for a walk. He would not like what they were about to do, but George thought it high time that they made their own decisions.
"I can see them," he whispered. "How do we address them?"
The beagle answered his question before Anne could by barking loudly. It was impossible to overhear the pup. A group of women noticed him, too, and they changed their steps into Anne's direction. She gave her brother a quick smile before sinking into a deep curtsey.
"Lady Anne," a clear voice said her name. "It is a pleasure to see you again. Would you introduce me to your companion?"
Anne nodded eagerly. "With pleasure, Your Highness. This is my brother George, the Earl of Ormonde."
George ventured forth to hint a kiss on the noble lady's hand. "Princess Mary, it is an honour for me to be presented to you. My sister has told me much about you, but she has neglected to tell me how beautiful you are."
Princess Mary blushed into a crimson colour. Never before had she met someone so charming. Keep calm, you're a princess, she reminded herself and smiled. "What a lovely little dog you have, Lady Anne," she changed the topic. "What's his name?"
"I have not come up with one as of yet," Anne replied. "I had thought to name him for England's patron saint, but everyone would then confuse him with my brother."
Mary chuckled. "That may well be true," she agreed and knelt down. The pup barked happily and leapt forward to lick her face. She couldn't help but laugh, and everyone else joined in her laughter. "I still think George would be a most fitting name," Mary said while struggling to keep the dog from licking her dress, too. She finally managed to get up. "He is such a lovely little creature."
Anne and George exchanged glances, their hearts beating faster. Just one more thing and their plan would work out.
"In that case," Anne began. "You should have him."
Mary's eyes widened. "What, me? But… but… I can't… he's yours!"
Anne shook her head. "It does not matter, Your Highness, for he seems to love you more. I would not destroy such sweet affections." And with these words, George handed over the leash to Mary's governess.
"Do you really mean it?" Mary couldn't believe her ears.
"Of course," George was quick to reply. "As His Majesty's good friends, it is only right and proper that we should repay his generosity. It is but a humble gift to his most beloved daughter."
His words sounded like warm fire filling up her body. Mary's cheeks were burning. She looked at the two siblings in desperate search for appropriate words. Finally, she brought herself to say: "I shall ever be grateful to you, Lady Anne, Lord George, and I shall thank the Lord in my nightly prayers that it has pleased him to send my father the King such gracious and loyal friends."
George the beagle woofed happily as Mary took him into her arms and walked away. Anne and her brother followed her with satisfied smiles.
"Father will be mad beyond imagination," George said in the end.
"Do you not think it was right to treat the dog to her? I had thought we had agreed on the fact that the girl needed some cheering up," Anne frowned.
"We did, and we still do, dearest sister. Now that I have met her I could not agree with you more. She is a sweet child and deserves not to be victim to other men's lust for power. I was only saying that father will not be pleased with us."
Anne's ice blue eyes sparkled fiercely. "Then he is a fool, and I will not argue with him about it."
"What if I told him we were just trying to get into her good graces to secure our fortunes? If she were your friend, you could be a most beloved queen," George mused.
"He might just believe that," Anne laughed and placed a kiss on George's cheek. "What a terribly cunning brother I have!"
She had been given a small apartment for her and her children's use alone. Joan could barely believe it. Even in her wildest dreams she could not have imagined to gain her own lodgings at Hampton Court when she first wrote her plea to the King. He had not received her himself as of yet, but neither had she expected him to. It was an honour that he had sent his personal secretary Cromwell to deal with her.
"The King trusts you will find your accommodation to your satisfaction," Cromwell said gently. "He knows of the pains you have gone through since the sad demise of Cardinal Wolsey and hopes to repay you for your good service to him."
"I like it all," Joan nodded like a sleepwalker and looked around the sitting room. She could hear her children happily laughing from next door. This was more than she could have ever hoped for after Thomas's death.
"His Majesty is also kind enough to secure a position for you at court. He has heard of your talented hands and offers you a place among his seamstresses, all of which are highly esteemed craftspeople," Cromwell went on.
"Master Cromwell, I… I do not think…"
The secretary smiled kindly. "You should write a letter of thanks to his Majesty and when you do, make sure to include the talents and virtues of your children, for he might as well find suitable positions for them in time."
Joan Clansey nodded gratefully. "I will, Master Cromwell, and I believe I know very well who to thank for all this." They exchanged knowing glances. "Thomas always spoke highly of your talents, and I see now that he might have even understated them. You are the only loyal friend he has had in the end."
Cromwell bowed his head. "I owe much to him, and I trust now to find in you as good a friend as I had in him."
"You will. I am forever in your debt, Master Cromwell, and promise to never forsake your side no matter the cost. You have secured the future of my children; there can be no greater gift to a mother."
"Yes. It is a pity my intervention was necessary in the first place, since the law sees them as bastards when they need not be such," Cromwell agreed.
Elizabeth and Harry rushed through the room in frenzy trying to catch each other. Their crystal clear laughter was so soothing, yet still Joan could not turn her eyes away from the man in front of her. She raised an eyebrow.
"They need not be?"
He drew closer and lowered his voice. "There are some, Mistress Clansey, who think it strange that priests should advise our lives when they themselves miss a very important part of it. Some even think it right and just that clerics should get married the same way laymen do. I hear that in Germany it is already happening."
"Who says that?" Joan asked stupefied.
"Certain people," Cromwell said unmoved. "Learned people. Open-minded people. People who are not afraid to ask questions."
It sounded too perfect. If these people were right, she could have been Thomas's wife, her children could have been lawful, and everything could have been so much better! Why had nobody thought of it before? It had always seemed unfair to her! She looked at Cromwell with determination.
She lowered her voice. "Could you introduce me to them?"
Finally, a subtle smile found its way into his face. "If you wish."
Henry angrily scrunched up the letter in his hands and tore away the massive amount of seals attached to it. "Damn you," he cursed the clerk who had written these words. They were the Pope's words and consisted of good wishes of health after the end of the Sweat. As if his wishes of health had saved any life! Presumptuous prelate, why could you not convince God to let Wolsey live? Or Margaret? Or even Catherine?
And the Pope even went on to offer his hand in friendship, to "forget about past quarrels", as he said, and to work together as father and son once more. He would recognize any new marriage of the King as lawful and children born from it as legitimate heirs to the throne. He would even offer a dispensation should the King wish to marry a woman whose past made it necessary to do so- if, for example, he had had previous carnal knowledge of one of her relatives.
Henry threw away the letter. He knew very well who the Pope was referring to- his sweet Anne. As if he needed an old man's permission to marry her now that his previous marriage was undoubtedly over! He needed no licence from the Pope to make Anne his wife. If there was any impediment, he himself would be the one to sort it out. He would not trust the dispensations of any pope any more. The Pope might even be the puppet of the Emperor still, who knew? The Emperor was, after all, as Catholic as he was narrow-minded. Henry did not need any of them. He was his own master now!
The courtiers in the main hall were surprised to see their sovereign rush out his chambers so quickly and ill-tempered as they had not seen him since the end of the Sweat. Ambassador Chapuys was the unfortunate man to stand right in the King's way.
"Ambassador Chapuys," Henry's voice firmly called upon him. He would test his latest creed right now and here.
"Your Majesty," Chapuys bowed.
"I hear you are a very able and intelligent diplomat. Like me, I'm sure you are aware of all the new religious controversies."
"I know of some new heresies that have sprang up here and there, certainly," Chapuys said.
Henry feigned a smile and tried to lure him deeper into his confessions. "If only the Pope and his cardinals could set aside their vain pomp and ceremony and start living accord to the gospels and the early fathers."
Chapuys's face became slightly sour. "I am well aware that Your Majesty is in the midst of an argument with His Holiness."
The King laughed. An argument? You have no idea! But he would not let his thoughts show. "I'm not talking about myself," he went on. "You see, Excellency, when Luther attacked the vice and corruption of the clergy, he was right. Had he stopped there, and not gone on to destroy the sacraments and so on, I would have gladly raised my pen in his defence rather than attacking him. The need for reformation in the Church is manifest. The Emperor has a duty to promote it, as do I in my own domain."
Henry triumphed to see the ambassador turn away his gaze like a criminal caught. And there was someone else, a certain Secretary Cromwell, who was pleased at the turn of events; even though he was clever enough to hide it from the world.
"I'm glad we've had this opportunity to exchange opinions," Henry finished the conversation.
I will not be your master's puppet or the Pope's, he thought as he went on walking. I don't care what you do in Spain or Rome, I will do as I please here! Damn his dispensation, I shall marry Anne and no one can keep me from it. I will see her straight away!
"Thank you for what you have done for my daughter," Henry looked at his beloved Anne with so much joy. "She has not been so happy since her illness. Anne, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for my family, but let me attempt to. I have made alterations to Wolsey's old palace at York Place. You once said you liked it. I'm giving it to you."
Anne blinked thrice to make sure it was not a dream. She wanted to thank him, but her mind could not stop thinking about telling him the truth.
"What is it? Are you unwell?" Henry seemed very worried all of a sudden.
"No. It is just that I need to free my soul of certain things that weigh down my conscience. Your Majesty knows I asked to speak to you about something," Anne carefully began.
"Please, my love, call me Henry. And do go on, for I promised that we should always be true and honest to each other."
Her fingers began to tremble as the words poured out of her mouth. "Henry, you know well that I first laid eyes on you during that fateful masquerade, when you so keenly made me your prisoner and asked for my name." The King began to smile, seemingly lost in thought. "I see it as my duty to your promise of honesty that I now tell you it was my father's plan all along, so that I could replace my sister Mary in your affections… and in your bed."
Henry woke up from his dreams. "What? Why would he do that?"
"He told me that all our fortunes were sealed as long as Mary was your mistress. When you tired of her, it was my duty as his daughter to supplant her in your affections."
"He dared to trifle with my emotions?" The King's temper began to rise.
Anne went on obliviously. There was no going back now. "It is true; I dare not deny it now. He and my uncle placed me in front of you… because they wanted to see Wolsey gone."
Henry was puzzled. "What is he to do with all of it?"
"I know not their true reasons, but they wanted you to rid yourself of him."
"They wanted to rise to his positions?"
Anne nodded and lowered her gaze. "I think it possible. Oh, Your Majesty, Henry, you must forgive me for playing my part in it, I did not think it wrong to obey my father! It was only the cold hands of death that made me see my wrongs and made me wish to come clean to you, for I do long to be your wife!"
He turned his face away, but she would not let him go. She followed his gaze and threw herself into it.
"Please, I beg you to forgive me. I may have been placed in your way, but I stayed on my own account. There is nothing in this world that I desire more than to be your wife, only I could not whilst this lie was in between us. Please believe me that I love you with all my heart!"
Henry closed his eyes and focused on staying calm. What he'd just heard was too much for a single man to bear. These impudent men had dared to play him like a puppet. If anyone ever knew, he would look like lovesick fool! It was even worse than what Margaret and Charles had done to him long ago. His face turned red.
"I will have their heads," he said as calmly as possible.
"No!" Anne almost fainted as the shock stirred her body, but she felt the warm hands of the King holding her tight before she dropped from the bench. "Please… don't."
"Anne," the King said gently. His anger had been replaced by worry since he'd seen her reaction. "You must see that I cannot allow this behaviour in my court. They cannot think to get away with it."
"I know," she breathed heavily. "And I condemn their actions, too. But they are my family still. I cannot wish them dead."
Henry wanted to object, but the word "family" reminded him of Margaret. Suddenly, he understood Anne's feelings. Despite everything his sister had done to him, he had not hated her or wished her dead. He nodded silently.
"I know that you must punish them, but if you could find it in yourself to be merciful, I would forever be in your debt," Anne pleaded.
"What do you suggest?" He asked coldly. His heart felt somehow numb.
She frowned. "Me?" It was her chance of revenge, she knew it, but she would rather make them see their wrongdoing if she could. She would not ask for their heads, but for something far subtler. "If you denied them whatever titles and offices they had hoped to gain, surely you would punish them where it hurts the most."
Henry opened his eyes wide. He had not thought of that. Why had he not thought of that? Maybe because there were some impediments?
"But I had thought to invest your father a duke to celebrate our wedding," he said more to himself.
"And he would see his place if you did not. Surely Your Majesty knows of other men worthy to be elevated?"
"What about your brother? Was he… was he part of this, too?"
Anne shook her head. "No, he follows our father's orders just as I did. He is Your Majesty's most loyal servant and friend."
"Then I shall give him the chance to prove it by freeing him from his father's rule. I shall make him Duke of Ormonde, so that your father will have to bow to him. Let him taste his own medicine," Henry announced vengefully. And suddenly, he thought of something even more sinister. "And I shall do something else to show him his place. Norfolk and he will never cross me again."
"What is it you plan?" Anne asked fretfully.
"Do not trouble yourself with it now, sweetheart," he said before kissing her forehead. "I promise not to hurt your family, and I know you will be pleased with the outcome. I wish only to please you." Henry smiled, but it soon vanished as he saw his darling's sorrowful face. "Have I made you unhappy?"
"No," Anne gasped. "I would only be unhappy if you ever stopped loving me."
"London will have to melt into the Thames first." The King pulled her close and kissed her with so much love and passion that he thought his heart would explode any second now. When he opened his eyes again to find that it didn't, he could not help but smile. "Say you will be my wife."
Glassy tears of joy began to fill up in Anne's eyes. "I will, and nothing would please me more than to give you a son, a healthy son to be the living image of his father," she said. "But I can only be your wife with one condition."
Henry frowned and pushed her back a little. Another drawback? "What condition?"
"We must ask Princess Mary first. I could not marry you without her approval- she is your daughter. I would not want the Tudor family to be unhappy because of me." Anne smiled. Her old self could have said the same words, but only with expedience. Now, she said it because she meant it. She wanted a happy family.
The King suppressed a tear and pulled her close again. "Oh Anne, my sweet Anne! You are the milk of human kindness, how could I deny you this wish?" He kissed her raven hair. "We shall ask her soon, and I am sure she will happily agree. I hear she has been speaking of you and your brother a lot since you gave her the dog."
They looked into each other's eyes and felt nothing but pure happiness. Still, Henry thought to add one more thing. "And if she agrees, we shall announce it publicly on Christmas."
