Chapter 3
The weeks flew by yet Lady Sadb still couldn't believe what was happening to her. She had always known that when the time came for her to marry it would not be her own choosing but the choice of her father. Her marriage would be a union of two kingdoms, two realms of power. She had always accepted that as a part of her privileged life as a princess, a duty she had to perform, a sacrifice she had to give for living such a sheltered and agreeable life. But she had never anticipated that her heart would have already been taken, that there was no heart left for her to give to her new husband. She wished to be a good daughter and a loving wife but now she found herself in no position to fulfil these demands. Her heart was not hers anymore to give away freely but was in the safe possession of the English Secretary of State. There was not even a tiny bit left which she could give to Prince Eugenio. She almost regretted this for it would make her new life so much easier and agreeable if she could feel a hint of affection for Eugenio. Although the Prince was vain, he was not a cruel or disagreeable man. He liked to make Lady Sadb laugh and sometimes looked at her in a way that she knew he'd not only saw her as a new possession but actually really fancied her. It would be so much easier to let herself fall in love with him but she just couldn't. It was all Cromwell's. It was his all along.
XXX
"Master Cromwell, I hear ill news.", Henry bristled with anger in the general direction of his Secretary. "Why was I not informed earlier of this untoward alliance of that Irish lass Lady Sadb and that Italian upstart Prince Eugenio?"
Cromwell's insides constricted. Not also this, on top of that cherry pie that was his life right now. Granted, he should have informed the King earlier of this alliance, should have made him aware of the opportunity which arose for the English crown to swoop in and grab Ireland for itself. A suitor, carefully selected by the King and Cromwell himself, should have been presented to Lord Conan, one who would have outweighed that Italian buffoon in wealth and prospect, and also one who was not only loyal to the English crown but also controllable.
Yet alas, Cromwell couldn't do it. He couldn't arrange for it because he couldn't stand the notion that some moronic English nobleman was to besmirch his beautiful Lady, that he would have to see her at court functions in attendance with her new husband, that she would be forever in his presence but also a thousand miles apart from him. He couldn't do it and so he made his first 'flub', his first 'mistake' and 'forgot' to send a suitor to Ireland. It was not an easy decision to be made for Henry's anger and fury were dangerous and more often than not deathly. However, in the end Cromwell deemed it worse to live a life perpetually next to Lady Sadb instead of with her than to suffer the King's rage and its potential consequences. At least in this version of hell the torment would not be forever but only as long until the axe stroke would hit him.
Henry was furious, "Well, Master Cromwell, I'm waiting. What is your explanation for this omission?"
"Your Majesty, it was not an omission at all. I deliberately didn't send a suitor." Cromwell heard the King inhale sharply and just hoped that Henry would not explode before he had finished his desperate ruse. "Why should your Majesty be pleased with an indirect rule over such an insignificant place as Ireland? Why be constrained to the intelligence of a servant of your Highness? If his royal Highness should even consider such a godforsaken place it should surely be only as direct and absolute Sovereign?"
Cromwell was well aware what kind of game he was playing and could only hope that Henry would be appeased with it for the moment and not investigate further into this option. To rob Sadb of her country would be something he would never forgive himself. Henry glared at Cromwell suspiciously. One could almost see his mind checking and validating the claims his Secretary had made, weighing the evidence for and against such a plan. After a couple of minutes, Henry exhaled deeply and slapped Cromwell on the back. "Cromwell, you sly fox. You almost had me doubting you for a moment."
Cromwell relaxed inwardly, "Your Majesty. I am only your humble servant."
"So, Cromwell, tell me about this plan of yours."
Cromwell had to buy some time, he needed the King to not be so eager about this new venture.
"Yes, your Majesty, but could we first talk about your revenue from the dissolved monasteries?"
He knew that if something would distract Henry, it would be talking about his profits.
XXX
The whole Irish Court was illuminated, every room ablazed with light in celebration of the Lady Sadb's marriage. Luscious flower arrangements in white, green and orange and red were placed in every corner and golden intertwined bands were hanging from the ceiling, sparkling enchantingly. Cromwell marched unfazed through the beautifully decorated hall – he'd rather found it in a desolate state and pitch black. This was not a cause for celebration. It was a cause for mourning.
Why could he not marry her?, he kept repeating in his mind. He was an honourable and able man, he could provide for her. More than that. He could shower her with gifts. He would. He would love and honour her. They could be truly happy. They would be truly happy. She was his love.
He was hers.
She would make him happier than any other person alive could ever be. He would spent the rest of his life to thank her for that. But because he was unfortunate enough to be born a commoner, the son of a sooty blacksmith, he was not allowed to even think of her in that way! A small, tiny word in front of his name would make all the difference though. Lord Cromwell. And suddenly he could tell her all that he felt, could cup her face with his hands, kiss her tenderly. He could touch her and hold her in his arms, he could make love to her until she moaned with delight. She could bare his children and he could kiss her every morning before he went to work. She could be the last thing he sees as night.
But no. There was no word in front of his name, hence his hands touched only air and the last thing he saw at night was only darkness.
There were things Thomas Cromwell despised even more than papacy and all the superstitious rites of Catholicism - hierarchy of rank. A man should be judged by his abilities and not by the circumstances of his birth.
XXX
The whole court of England attended the wedding, this lusciously elaborate wedding, all in honour of the Great Catholic Alliance which was to take place.
"Our Faith stands strong and will prevail" was written across a large and heavy tapestry, beautifully stitched in fine golden and silver threads. Hanging over the entrance of the chapel, it greeted the guests from afar and silenced all critical voices which were not that happy about a Great Catholic Alliance as the Irish and the Italians.
"But how should I prevail?"Lady Sadb thought to herself. She knew that Thomas would have to attend the wedding and she couldn't bare the thought of him being there, witnessing her marrying somebody, being forced to comply to the wishes of the Irish Court. Serving her country.
How could she look into his eyes and touch his hand when he would congratulate her on her wedding – her wedding! - knowing the way these hands once had touched hers, knowing that it should be his hand that hers should be joined with. It seemed impossible.
XXX
The ceremony went by in a blur. She remembered to walk down the aisle and join hands with Prince Eugenio. She remembered his warm touch and the scent of sandalwood. She remembered to frantically avoid looking at the audience for fear of meeting his gaze because this, she could not stand. And so she kept staring at the priest and at Eugenio which pleased the Prince, her father and the guests tremendously for she seemed to be smitten with her new husband.
"She can't take his eyes of him. What a good lass! She gives it her all for Ireland.", Lord Conan whispered fondly to his ministers.
After they were proclaimed husband and wife, Prince Eugenio took a step forward and made a deep bow. "Most graceful Princes, rulers of glorious Kingdoms! Your Graces and Lordships! I thank thee to witness this most precious and important of moments – the joining of a man and a woman and thus the joining of two countries, two realms of true Power and true Faith!" A murmur went through the crowd and King Henry started to twitch nervously and narrowed his eyes. A declaration of a 'true faith' was not only a quite explosive topic, it was also an incredibly foolish one. Sadb groaned inwardly about the stupidity and foolhardiness of her husband. He was not half the diplomat she was.
"He is not half the politician she is", Cromwell thought. He so could not hold a candle to her. The Prince would sooner lose his head than anticipated when giving speeches like that!
"How dare that little upstart besmirch the Church of England!" Henry was fuming. This was not to be borne! This would have consequences!
"For a long time, Ireland has enjoyed way too much leniency from me, the most fair and most merciful of all Princes!", Henry was thinking to himself and tried to make out Cromwell in the crowd to give him a subtle sign that he needed to talk to his Secretary of State. Stat! However, since they all were at that damn wedding ceremony and also in a House of God – "blessed be his Grace and also I, Head of the Church of England!" - Henry and also no one else would start trouble here. And that little Italian parvenu knew that all too well. So all they could do was to continue to listen to Prince Eugenio, intrigued at what he had to say next.
In this most impossible of all moments their eyes met for the first time in two years. It should have felt awkward and distant yet in fact, it feels warm and familiar. Not a day seemed to have passed since the two said their goodbyes in her drawing room. Not a single feeling had changed. On the brink of starting her new life, her former life, her true life, presented itself vividly before her.
She is standing on the steps of the altar, a few steps behind her new husband while he stands in the rows of attending English guests. Her heart pauses, cannot process this moment, nearly fails to recuperate.
He looks at her and sees only her. He remembers every thought he had of her. Every instant he had to suppress his feelings. And now, now he cannot take his eyes of her, cannot stop himself thinking of her, cannot stop himself from being overwhelmed.
All is lost.
Even more lost than it was before.
She will forget him, he is sure of it.
Yet her love stands strong, stands in the middle of the room, something tangible like an entity. Cromwell thinks it absurd that nobody else notices it. Their gaze never lose the one of the other and their affection for each other towers over Prince Eugenio, over the Irish Court and also over the possible itself.
Edward Seymour, standing next to Cromwell notices this incident. In spite of himself, he is impressed and this perplexes him. How can he be impressed by this? By something which flies in the face of tradition, of propriety! This largeness. This liveliness against all possible odds. They flaunt it in front of everyone and they don't even seem to care!
"They are bloody lucky that her fool of a husband is antagonising most of the wedding guests."
Against his will and reason, Edward Seymour stares transfixed on their wordless communication, on this impossible display of regard for one another. Regretting his own poor choices, he thinks back to his his own wife, to the woman he had married all these years ago and tried to remember if there ever was something between him and Anne which was remotely comparable to this. Ashamed of the result of his pondering, he frees his gaze from Cromwell and Lady Sadb and concentrates on the ongoing tirade of Prince Eugenio.