Chapter 10 – Devil Take The Hindmost: George leaned against the wall, chatting idly with William Compton as he watched the dancing. Compton was an odd one, he took up with women from time to time but he wasn't nearly the flirt that his friends Brandon and the King were. Even Knivert was known for spending more time with the ladies than Compton. But George liked talking to him, the two of them usually trading sarcastic comments about the older circle of courtiers.

"Your sister and the King are growing closer, I see," Compton said, watching Anne dancing with the King. "What exactly is going on there? Usually Tony and I would know if he had taken a new mistress, but this time..."

"Nice try, Compton," George said, and he might have said more except a commotion at the door stopped him.

"Make way, I have most important news," the messenger called, and when the guards barred his way he called over their spears, "Majesty! Rome has been sacked!" A shocked silence fell, broken by the King commanding that the man be let through. The messenger approached the King, bowed,and then said, "Your Majesty, I bring most terrible and calamitous news. Rome has been captured and sacked by the German and Spanish mercenaries of the Emperor. They have plundered and defiled its churches, destroyed its relics and holy treasures, tortured and killed thousands of its priests."

The King's face was murderous, and his tone dangerously level as he asked, "And what of His Holiness?"

"The Pope is a prisoner in the Castel San Angelo."

"You mean he is the Emperor's prisoner."

"Yes."

The King turned and gave the Queen such a cold, furious look that even George felt chilled by the sight of it. After he stormed off, the Queen recovered quickly enough to shoot Anne an unreadable look before standing and leaving calmly. As the courtiers drifted away, George lost track of Anne, but someone caught his wrist, yanking him into an alcove.

"Well, that's just made a mess of everything, hasn't it?" Edward said grimly.

"A bit," George agreed. "I doubt the rest of Europe will stand for it, though really, with King Francis having been so roundly defeated by Charles already, we're the only force with any real power that doesn't belong to the Emperor. I mean, there's Portugal but they're allied with Spain, and Scotland, but God knows they're not strong enough. Nor could we trust them."

"For this we probably could, but it won't happen like that. I don't think there will be a war over it at all, no one will dare. What I don't understand is, the Emperor is devout, almost ridiculously so at times. Why would he sack Rome?" Edward shook his head. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well, it's a power play, obviously, but what's he going to do with it?" George said, scowling. "He's just made all of Europe hate him in one stroke. But more important than that, what does this mean for us? For Anne? Do you think the King will give up on the annulment now?"

"Do you?"

George sighed. "I guess not, no. He's set his mind to it, and God knows our King is stubborn."

"And thank God he is. This will make it more difficult, I'm sure, but not impossible. Maybe the King will even find that he doesn't need the Pope at all."

"You don't mean...?" George had a feeling he knew what his brother was talking about, and if so, well, he liked the idea, but... It was quite the risk. "Now's not the time for that, is it?"

"No, of course not. But you never know, do you?"

"Cardinal Wolsey is going to France," Boleyn informed his younger stepson, earning him an only just suppressed eyeroll from Tom. Really, the young man thought irritably, he knew that already, he was part of the Cardinal's household, wasn't he? And he was supposed to go with the Cardinal to France, so why was it being brought up?

"I know that, Father, I'm in the traveling party."

"I am aware of that, you foolish boy. That is why I'm speaking to you. I want you to understand how important it is that you pay close attention to Wolsey, Note how he behaves, who he speaks to and for how long. We know he's dealing with the French, but we need proof. Not to mention, if he knows the King means to marry your sister, I don't think he'll put in his best effort for the divorce any longer. So watch him, and see if he's figured it out."

Oh, it was the crusade against Wolsey again. His stepfather and Norfolk had been trying for that for years now. When were they going to give it up? The Cardinal was smart, and had made himself all but unassailable. He was a bit nervous now, since he hadn't gotten the King his annulment yet, but it was probably only a matter of time before he managed that and was on top again. Tom found it hard to believe that anything could topple Wolsey forever.

But he also knew better than to argue. "I understand, Father," he said with a nod. Thinking to the recent siblings' meeting, he wondered how he might be able to use this trip for good use as concerned the marriage. It surprised him that his stepfather hadn't mentioned that, but maybe he had a plan of his own for it. Or he was biding his time on the matter. Something.

When he was allowed to leave his stepfather's presence, he went in search of his friend Wyatt. "So, I hear you're to come to France as well," he said lightly, clapping the other man on the back.

"Yes, well, I don't think the King liked the poem I wrote for your sister and so he's having me sent to France instead," Wyatt said ruefully.

"I told you to give up on her, my friend," Tom pointed out. "It's your own fault for not listening."

"Yes, I thought as much. But my God, it's not as though I had an affair with her," Wyatt said ruefully. "All I did was play at bowls with her on occasion, and write a brace of poems about her. And this was before she was absolutely the King's sweetheart. Still, I can't complain about the opportunity to go to France, I suppose."

"Plenty of beautiful women for you to drown your sorrows and me to fight off boredom with," Tom said with a smirk.

"God, do you think of nothing else?" Wyatt teased.

"You're claiming that you do?" Tom retorted.

The other man drew himself with a mock-arrogant expression on his face. "I am a poet, I'll have you know – and not all my poems are about women."

"Just the ones you write, eh?" Tom laughed. Wyatt rolled his eyes but chuckled as well.

She had spoken to Mendoza, and now all she could do was wait. Katherine hated waiting, but she was quite good at it. Her entire childhood, she had been waiting to marry Arthur, and then seven years in England she had waited for Henry. Sometimes she felt that all she did was wait. But as her ladies readied her for bed, she allowed no trace of her weariness or the hope that had come with the news of her nephew's conquest to show.

She was, of course, horrified by the sacking of Rome, but... Charles was devout, as she was. He would not have dared attack Rome unless he somehow felt it was the right thing to do, and perhaps it was God's way of starting a chain of events that would save her from ruin at the hands of her own husband. Katherine did not know but it was the only answer which she could accept. Charles had to be working at God's direction.

She had to stop herself from stiffening when it was Lady Anne who placed her nightcap on her head, calmly asking if she had any letters instead. But when Anne reached for the ties of Katherine's cap, the older woman snatched them away. Sometimes in tying the cap, a lady's hands would brush Katherine's skin, and she could not bear to have this... woman touch her.

Because she knew now. She could not believe it, but she had known it the day she had watched Henry dance with the chit, before the messenger had come. It was madness, but Henry meant to set her aside so that he could marry this Englishwoman. He would choose the daughter of one of his own subjects over his wife, an Infanta of Spain. Katherine thought she might, might have been willing to retire had Henry wanted to marry one of her own nieces, for example, either one of Charles' sisters or one of his cousins, her sister Maria's Portuguese children. At least she could trust family to keep Mary secure, and at least Katherine would not be moving aside for someone lesser,

But Anne Boleyn? One of her own ladies, of good breeding, yes, but still a subject? Even Elizabeth Woodville, rumored by many to be a witch, had been royalty through her mother, even if her father had been only a knight when the two had married. Katherine would not stand aside for her, not if she died in the battle.

Anne curtsied and moved away, the last of the ladies to leave, but a sudden impulse seized Katherine, refusing to allow the younger woman to leave without making sure she understood the truth of all this. "Lady Anne?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Oh, she was brazen, her voice polite yet somehow... smug.

"I know what you are doing." Katherine turned to face the girl, voice and eyes like ice. Anne stared back with a calm face, which only infuriated Katherine more, though she kept it in check. "But do not think to take the King away from me. Let him play with you, let him give you gifts. But he cannot give you his true heart. For I have that in my keeping."

The two of them stood there for a long moment, eyes locked, neither of them giving way to the other. And in spite of herself, Katherine was almost impressed. But at the same time, she felt a deep chill. Henry was one thing. Her husband was easily led, and left to his own devices he would come back to her. But Anne, standing unaffected by her Queen's anger, was dangerous. This was her real enemy, perhaps even more so than Wolsey.

Understanding that, still Katherine dismissed the girl with a gesture, like the nothing she still was. And if Katherine had her say, a nothing was all Anne Boleyn would ever be. She would certainly never allow a girl young enough to be her daughter to take her place, not when she was just an Englishwoman.

Katherine was not about to step aside for anyone's subject.

Margaret heard the servant boy announcing Thomas Boleyn and stopped dead a few feet away from the door to Charles' study. What in God's name was Wiltshire, of all people, doing here? As far as she knew, he spent most of his time scheming with his brother-in-law by his first marriage, Norfolk. And Norfolk hated her husband.

Which made it even odder when she heard Boleyn claim that Norfolk had sent him. Charles echoed her thoughts, pointing out that Norfolk hated him.

"Yes, that may be true, Your Grace," Boleyn said smoothly, "but there is someone he hates more.

"The Cardinal." Well, Margaret thought, that was no surprise. Almost everyone but her brother hated Wolsey. She herself had no opinion on him either way.

"Of course," Boleyn agreed.

"But what is that to me?" Charles asked, and outside, Margaret nodded. After all, as far as she knew, Charles had no grudge against Wolsey, one of the few who didn't. But then, one of the only things Margaret had known about her husband prior to the voyage to Portugal was that he avoided politics, so he would have no reason to take issue with Wolsey.

Boleyn was speaking again, voice low, and Margaret had to stop her musings and strain to hear. "Do you miss the court, Your Grace? Perhaps you don't. Down here in this green space you have so much leisure to enjoy, so many idle pursuits." Margaret thought that she might like to stuff some of those idle pursuits – and the man's mocking tone – down his throat, but it was obvious what game he was playing as he continued.

"Yet I have heard it said by some that the King's presence is like the sun, and when you are away from it, there is only eternal night." Henry as the sun? God, she hoped her brother never heard that, it would only make him even more insufferably arrogant. But that wasn't the point right now, she reminded herself.

"You're a clever man, Boleyn," Charles said, and Margaret relaxed at his sharp tone. Good, so Charles wasn't fooled either, he knew he was being toyed with. "That is what people say. They say you are charming and clever. What does Norfolk want?"

"He wants you to help us destroy Wolsey." Now she really had to strain to hear. "And in return, he will persuade the King to forgive you and welcome you back to court."

"Thank you, my lord." It was a clear dismissal, and Margaret listened for receding footsteps and a door closing before she stepped out of her shadowed alcove and through the doorway into the study. Charles, seeing her out of the corner of his eye, she assumed, sighed but did not look around.

"What did you hear?" he asked tiredly, his head tipped to rest on the back of his chair.

"Everything," she said, crossing the room to him and gripping the back of his chair with both hands. "What will you do?" she asked, looking down to meet his eyes.

"What should I do?"

She was, frankly, a bit surprised that he had asked her at all. With the way things were going between them lately, she would not have expected it. Resting her chin on his forehead, she ran her hands down his chest. "You once told me that sometimes Wolsey had been kind to you," she observed. She wanted to go back to court, yes, and she had no particular fondness for Wolsey, but she knew quite well that the country wasn't likely to run half as well without him.

"Did I? I'd quite forgotten?"

Margaret lifted her head, eyes widening slightly. So, he was going to do it, then? She should have known he'd already decided. She just hoped that her husband, a man who avoided politics, knew what he was getting into, joining forces with two of the court's most wily schemers.

Cromwell saw Anne Boleyn coming his way, and decided now was as good a time as any to put himself in her path. "Lady Anne," he said in polite greeting.

She turned her head, giving him a surprisingly warm smile. "Mr. Cromwell," she said with a nod.

"I have some news. The King is dispatching a good man to see the Pope with letters about the divorce. A Dr. Knight."

The lady smiled faintly, as he'd expected. "I know Dr. Knight, he was good friends with my late tutor, Mr. Jenner. He even stayed with us and involved himself with our lessons for a month one year."

"Indeed. All things connect," Cromwell said, because of course he had known that. He bowed and moved aside to let her pass him, and she began to, before stopping.

"A favor, Mr. Cromwell?"

That, he had not expected. "Yes, my lady?"

"My brother, Edward. He and Dr. Knight had quite the rapport, and as I recall, corresponded for a while. Do you think you might be able to convince the good doctor to let my brother join his traveling party?"

Ah, the elder Seymour boy, the one he'd seen at the meeting months before. A request he had not thought she would make, but an understandable one. Clearly, Lady Anne meant to play this game for herself, inserting her own players, and Cromwell made note of it. It was impressive, and possibly dangerous. For now, though, he saw no reason not to oblige her.

"I'm sure something can be done, my lady," he said evenly, and she nodded graciously to him before continuing on her way. Cromwell continued on his, deep in thought. He now knew one more thing about Anne Boleyn; she would not be content to stand idly by as all this went on. In that, he reflected, she was very much like her rival the Queen, who he suspected was also not passively waiting for help.

There were rumors that George Boleyn supported the new religion. Edward Seymour certainly did. And Anne Boleyn's time in France had been spent primarily in the household of Francis' sister, the Duchess Marguerite. Duchess Marguerite was becoming more and more known for her reformist attitudes. Was it such a stretch, then, to think that Anne Boleyn might also? Cromwell didn't think so. Of course, he also didn't know for sure, and it would be foolish to move preemptively. But if his suspicions proved true, well... It was a chance, If the woman the King loved supported the true faith, then the King himself might be brought round to it. And if the King was converted...

He was getting ahead of himself. But there was a possible chance here. He would be wise to keep an eye on the situation, and if the opportunity presented itself, to nudge the Lady Anne into broaching the subject with the King. Perhaps England could be brought to the truth after all, with planning and a little luck.

"Jane, leave it alone. Really, stop worrying about me," Anne said, shaking her head. Jane frowned at her sister.

"Anne, I saw the look on your face, as though you were besotted with him. I'm just afraid that if you fall in love with him, he'll break your heart in the end."

Anne put down her hairbrush and smiled wryly at Jane, coming over and placing her hands on the blonde's shoulders. "I appreciate it, Jane, honestly, I do. But you don't have to worry about me. Everything is going to be just fine. I know it."

Jane wasn't so sure, but there was no arguing with Anne when she was in this sort of mindset, so Jane left instead, heading out to walk in the gardens. She stopped by a rosebush, toying idly with one of the blossoms and trying to avoid any thorns. Anne was so sure it would work out now, when just a few weeks ago she had called all six of them together to talk about the fact that her place was an uncertain one. Which it was. After the King had given Anne the necklace and left, people had whispered and stared at her sister, because the King had obviously chosen her over the Queen. Anne had tried to withdraw when Katherine was announced, but the King had stopped her, and Katherine had turned on her heel, clearly furious although she remained calm.

Anne hadn't been the one to issue the challenge, but Jane knew it was Anne who was likely to be blamed if blame was handed out. And that was not a good thing. But there was nothing she could do, and so she tried not to think about it.

"Mistress Seymour!"

"Sir Anthony," she said, smiling slightly as she saw him coming toward her. Easily, she turned away from the bush and fell into step beside him. "You seem to be in good spirits."

"Well, it's Charles. He wrote to me, says he's not sure but he thinks he's found a way back into the King's good graces."

"Oh?" Jane said, raising an eyebrow. "Did he say how he might manage that?"

"No, unfortunately, but it will be a relief to have him back if he does. You don't know, the King is not... quite right without him. They've been practically brothers for years, those two, almost inseparable. It was what saved Charles when he first married the Princess, and it might get him back to court now."

Jane eyed him carefully. "Are you telling me this to prove that the King can be loyal after all? Since I was so harsh about him in that regard before?"

Anthony shrugged. "Not as such, no. I'm just hoping to have the last of my friends back, especially right now. William is moping for some reason, he won't say what, and the King is not in the best of spirits as he waits for Wolsey to get back from France, so I can only hope that having our entire circle restored will also restore our balance."

Jane nodded, feeling vaguely guilty for having been so suspicious. "I hope so too, then, because that doesn't sound pleasant."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Anthony stopped abruptly. "I feel I should apologize to you."

"What? Why?"

"Your brother, Ormonde, spoke to me. He seems to think the time I'm spending with you will do your reputation harm. I tried to tell him we are simply friends, but I'm not sure he believed me. I will stop seeking you out if you prefer that."

Damn George and his overprotective nature. Jane appreciated it when she considered that it meant her brother cared, but that didn't make it less infuriating at times. "Don't worry about George, he's bark and no bite."

"No, but he's not the only one. Will thinks that we're... Well."

"But we know we're not," Jane said, confused. She honestly didn't see Anthony that way. He was attractive, yes, and if for some reason she found she was to marry him, she would not object, but he was her friend. Like her brothers, in a way, only outside the family, which was oddly refreshing.

"Yes, I thought so too, but everyone who mentions you to me seems so convinced that I'm deluded, and so I'm starting to wonder if they can see something that I can't."

Jane shook her head. "You shouldn't let your friends get to you that way. My siblings have acted the same, but I just ignore them." Seeing that he still looked a bit unsure, she sighed. Glancing around, she saw that no one was around, and she tugged him behind a hedge. "If you have to prove it to yourself either way, somehow, now is the time to do it." This wasn't like her, this was like Anne when they lived in France, bold and unafraid. But she didn't want to lose her friend, and so she would mimic Anne for that purpose.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Anthony's hand came up to curl around the back of her neck. She lifted her head, knowing what he wanted, and his lips brushed lightly against hers before they broke apart. For a moment they stood like that, staring at each other, and then the sheer awkwardness of it all hit them both at the same time, and they couldn't hold back the laughter.

"So, no sudden attraction to me coming from nowhere?" Jane quipped, feeling like she was one of her teasing siblings all of a sudden. Anthony glared at her, a faint tinge of red on his cheeks.

"No," he grumbled, "and you can stop laughing at me now. God, I've made a fool of myself."

"You have, but that's all right. I won't tell anyone," Jane assured him with a gentler smile. "Besides, it's just as well, isn't it? Didn't you tell me you were betrothed? To the daughter of your father's friend, or something like that?"

"Yes, that's true," Anthony admitted. "I've never even met her, though. So we shall see how that goes."

"George has never met his betrothed, Catherine Grey," Jane pointed out. "But according to our father they're to be married next year. It's only normal for us, and you two are both men. My marital fate could be far more unpleasant than yours."

"Well, hopefully both of us will be fortunate in our spouses, as we are fortunate in our friends," Anthony said with a wry smile.

"If so, we'll be very lucky," Jane said with real feeling.

As she dried the Queen's feet, Anne wondered if being commanded to do this job was Katherine's way of putting her in her place. If that was the case, the older woman was sure to be disappointed. It was Anne who had the King's love now, and while she knew that Katherine could not yet be counted out, she found the disdain of the Spanish woman hard to swallow.

"That necklace," Katherine said quietly. "Who gave it to you?" Anne kept silent, and the Queen prompted, "Answer me."

Anne kept her eyes lowered for a moment before raising them as she answered. "His Majesty."

Katherine scoffed before reaching forward and grabbing the necklace, pulling Anne forward by the neck as she did so. The position was uncomfortable and Anne longed to move backwards, but thought better of it. She didn't know what Katherine wanted here, but for now she would play along.

"It's expensive," Katherine mused, before adding a phrase in Spanish that Anne was able to figure out meant "an expensive whore." Her temper flared up, and she forgot her promise to herself to hold her tongue and pretend, for the sake of keeping gossip down, that she was just another lady-in-waiting.

"I am no whore," she said, an obvious edge to her tone. "Your Majesty," she added belatedly when Katherine's eyes flashed. After all, for now, the other woman was still Queen. "I love His Majesty and I believe he loves me." Again, as she said the words, she wondered about the truth of her own feelings, but now was not the time to ponder it, not with Katherine giving her a mocking smile and half-laugh.

"He's infatuated with you as men often are by new things," the older woman declared. She stared contemptuously down at Anne, who looked up defiantly, refusing to be cowed. "Soon he will see you for what you really are, and he will tire of you, as of all the others."

Anne wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was Katherine touching on her own deeply buried fears, or simply that Anne could never stand to be passive in a confrontation. But she sat back on her heels, raised her chin, and met the Queen's eyes squarely before issuing her own challenge in a voice that was almost innocent. "And what If he does not?"

Katherine's eyes flashed again. "I did not give you permission to speak! You are a servant," she hissed, her calm giving way to temper. Anne felt a flash of triumph at breaking through that damned composure, and it helped her keep her gaze steady and her confidence high. "Go now!" Katherine ordered, and for a moment Anne did not move.

"Go!"

With that second command, Anne nodded minutely, rising gracefully to her feet and curtseying slightly before leaving. Outside, she waited until she had walked three corridors away before falling back against the wall, breathing hard. It was a mix of exultation and fear making her heart race now. She was glad to have finally confronted the Queen, to have the battle lines drawn between them. But at the same time... She had known Katherine was an enemy, but now she knew that the woman was even more of an obstacle than she'd thought. The angry woman she had just faced down would stop at nothing to keep Henry. Anne knew that without being told, knew it down to her bones.

Anne's little scheme to get him into Dr. Knight's party was just like her, Edward mused, but that wasn't a bad thing, really. He'd been happy enough to go, if only because at least this way he'd be able to give a firsthand account of what was going on. And that could only be for the better.

Being stopped by Wolsey's men had been unexpected, but, in hindsight, not a surprise. While Dr. Knight himself was taken off to see Wolsey, Edward looked around for his brother. He didn't think he could manage to eavesdrop on the conversation between the Cardinal and the doctor, but if there was any way to do it, Tom would know.

Sure enough, it seemed that there was a servants' stair that ran directly past the Cardinal's office, and there was a tiny crack in the wall. It was too small to see through, but the words came through loud and clear. Edward would have asked just how Tom managed to find out about this, but after thinking about it for a moment decided he was probably happier being left in the dark on that particular subject. Besides, next to what the two men in the office were saying, it was irrelevant.

"I make it my business to know the King's business," Wolsey was saying. "Did you really think you could go to Orvieto without my knowing all about it? Now, you've been sent by the King to the Pope with this bull, is that correct?"

"Yes," Dr. Knight replied calmly, though Edward could hear a hint of nervousness in the old man's tone. He didn't blame him; judging from Wolsey's tone the Cardinal was in a temper and angering the Cardinal could be almost as risky as angering the King.

"This is quite an extraordinary document. Do you know what's in it?"

"No, I was not informed."

That did not sound good. Edward had known that Dr. Knight didn't know exactly what was in the paper he was to take to the Pope, save that it had to do with the annulment. Edward had considered opening the bull and reading it for himself, clandestinely, but he hadn't had the chance to do so yet. Now Wolsey had beaten him to it, which could be a disaster.

"Well, just as well. I wouldn't want to be the man who has to present this to the descendent of St. Peter. It asks this: if no way can be found to nullify the King's marriage, the Pope should simply allow him to take a second wife. Do you understand? He's asking the Pope to sanction bigamy!"

Edward and Tom exchanged shocked looks – that was a surprise – but obviously they couldn't say anything while in the stairwell. However, Wolsey was soon talking again, and what he said spelled even more trouble. "I don't understand, this seems as though the King has a new wife in mind. What woman does he think will accept to be a second wife if it comes to it?"

"Lady Anne Boleyn, Your Eminence."

Damn it. Damn it to hell. Of course, no one had told Dr. Knight that Anne's place as the King's future wife was to be kept quiet, and the King himself was surely making no secret of it. That did not make Edward feel any less frustrated by the fact that now the Cardinal knew, a thing which the entire family had hoped to avoid.

"Anne Boleyn. The King loves Anne Boleyn?" The usually smooth-spoken Cardinal all but stumbled over the words, and Edward would have given a lot to see Wolsey's face when Dr. Knight confirmed it. "And so he is sending you to the Pope with this. Well, if the King commands it, you must be on your way, Dr. Knight. But with no hope of success, or honor."

Edward and Tom made their way out of the staircase, and immediately Tom said, "Good God, can you believe that? D'you think Anne would accept being a second wife if it came to that? I mean, it's basically a mistress with better legal standing, I can't see her doing it."

Edward frowned. "If it was that or nothing, she would," he said thoughtfully. "But that's not even the point. I don't think the King means it to be taken seriously, he's just making a point. He's saying that he wants to marry Anne badly enough that he will even offer such a ridiculous 'compromise' to do it. The real problem here is that now Wolsey knows everything."

"I can't see why that's so bad," Tom argued. "I mean, the Cardinal is the King's man, whatever he thinks of our family. He won't dare work against him. And Anne is what the King wants."

"Perhaps you're right," Edward conceded. "But then you might not be. The problem with Wolsey is that while he will always do as the King commands, he will also always serve his own interest. Now that those two things are in direct opposition, considering that Father and Norfolk will use Anne to help destroy Wolsey if they can... Which part of Wolsey's nature will triumph?"

For himself, Edward could admit that he almost hoped the Cardinal would fail. Not because he had a personal grudge against the man; he left that to his stepfather and the Duke of Norfolk (and Suffolk, if his suspicions were correct) to worry about. But if the Cardinal failed and the Pope would not give the King what he wanted, well... As he'd implied to George, there were possibilities there, weren't there?

Things were worse than he could have imagined. Even after Knight had told him that the King's choice for his new wife was Anne Boleyn, Wolsey had been sure he could still salvage the situation. The girl might be influenced by her father and uncle, but perhaps he could make himself a friend to her as well as the King. There was hope for it. Or, perhaps he could convince the King that he would be more likely to get his divorce if his planned bride was a foreign princess. No matter what strategy he chose, there were ways to handle this situation.

But after the cardinals refused to come to Paris for the conclave, after More refused to take his side, he began to worry. More had influence on the King, and would have been a useful ally, but really, Wolsey should have known better than to try and make that idealistic, arrogantly self-righteous fool see sense. It was an annoyance, a blow, though nothing compared to the cardinals' failure to come.

He'd been worried enough about having to report that to the King, and then... Then he had found himself faced with both the King and Anne Boleyn, wearing a headdress that looked very much like a crown. As if she were Queen already. And the way she had looked at him told him one thing; she saw him as her enemy.

Wolsey hoped he could change that, if nothing else went wrong. Clearly, the cardinals would listen only to the Pope now; well, he could work with that. Surely Clement would be bitter over the Emperor's actions, enough hopefully to finally rouse the Medici fire that seemed to be sorely lacking in the man thus far. No Medici duke of Florence would have allowed a slight like the invasion of their city to hold; what better way for Clement to prove he had the same mettle than to deliberately do something that would infuriate the Emperor? It was a slim hope, yes, but it was something.

The Pope was in exile but he was away from direct Imperial control. It might be enough. It had to be, because Wolsey suspected that if the Pope would not give Henry what he wanted, the King would look elsewhere. If he could make sure the Pope knew that not granting the annulment would mean that the Church would lose England, well... That might be enough.

Perhaps Joan had been right, and he should have escaped when he had the chance. But now it was far too late, wasn't it? He had to see this through, though he was becoming less and less convinced that he could survive it. He knew that if he could not change her mind, Anne Boleyn would be all too happy to see him fall, and with the way the King looked at her... That alone might doom him.

A/N: I know one of the bulls was missing, but Henry never slept with Mary in this 'verse, so Henry and Anne need no dispensation because of affinity. Also, apologies for the Jane/Anthony ship sinking, but I can't have them together, I have plans for them.