Anne Boleyn: A Novel (17 page)

His voice became a bellow suddenly, so that Cromwell jumped in spite of himself.

“No one shall thwart me, not the Pope or the Emperor, or anyone in Christendom! And my subjects shall learn that all the bulls ever written from Rome are nothing compared to my word!”

“Your subjects are learning, Sire,” Cromwell murmured. “They’ll learn that Rome is very distant and the King’s justice very near.” Henry had released him, and he resisted the impulse to rub his aching shoulder.

“The Pope will reconsider when he sees the bishops submit,” the King went on; his voice was level again. “We’ll continue appealing to Clement for a stay of the trial until this thing is done. Take your papers. Master Cromwell, and go, now. I’m well pleased with you.”

It had never occurred to the bishops that Cromwell’s summons was anything more than a means of forcing a grant of money out of them for the King. The enormous sum of one hundred thousand pounds was offered to propitiate him, and then Cromwell struck his blow. The offer was refused; they were ordered to go on their knees and admit their offenses and expurgate them by acknowledging Henry as supreme Head of the Church.

Suddenly the significance of the move burst on the Lords spiritual and temporal. There was a concerted move of violent opposition when even the most timorous clergy recoiled, and the Lords forgot their jealousy of Church lands and influence long enough to make it clear that they would resist the measure. A petition signed by many bishops, including the formidable Fisher of Rochester, and backed by Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, was delivered to the Council, deploring the attempt made on the liberty of the Church and the Authority of the Pope. Cromwell’s scheme failed to materialize in full; the Act was amended so that Henry’s clergy swore to obey him “as far as God’s laws allow,” which, as Anne bitterly pointed out, took all practical value out of the Act, and the laws hostile to Papal authority were withdrawn from Parliament.

In his anger and disappointment, Henry’s wrath turned toward the man who had made the suggestion, but Cromwell had his safeguard. He sheltered behind Anne’s skirts, and the King’s rage was diverted to his nobility and his bishops. The method was the right one, as Cromwell pointed out as soon as he dared approach the King; he chose an occasion when Anne was with him, because he was sure of an ally. He had miscalculated on the timing, and for that he begged His Grace’s pardon; but he also begged His Grace not to abandon the idea. He had overlooked one stumbling block, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Warham was the rock on which the scheme had foundered. The complaisant compatriot of the dead Cardinal had been so long subservient to the royal wishes that his opposition and defense of his clergy had come as a violent shock to the King. How dared he, he roared, after conduct-ting, with Wolsey, the secret inquiry into the marriage all those years ago, after lending himself to every plan in the question of obtaining the divorce?

It was Anne who answered Henry, when Cromwell dared not.

“He’s old,” she retorted, “old and sick. He’s thinking of his soul instead of his skin now, that’s why he’s prepared to defy you.”

The King laughed harshly.

“In that case, we’ll find an Archbishop whose years won’t fortify him. And we shan’t have to wait long! Find me a candidate, Master Cromwell, and I’ll propose him to Rome, and by God, we’ll turn it so that the Pope accepts him!”

“I have the candidate,” Anne said, “the very man. My father’s old chaplain, Dr. Cranmer.”

“Cranmer?” Henry frowned, trying to place the man.

“He has lately been in Rome,” Cromwell explained. It was fantastic, Anne thought, how much the man knew; every name and face, every date and every letter connected with State business were engraved on his memory. And his facts were always right; behind Henry’s back they exchanged glances, and he nodded. Cranmer was an excellent choice. He was brilliant and ambitious, and he had made one mistake which Cromwell and his patrons the Boleyns had discovered. During a stay in Germany he had broken his vow of celibacy and married a free-thinking German lady. The marriage was quietly annulled and the King kept in ignorance of it. If he ever showed signs of resisting the divorce, like so many of the bishops who had gained their appointments and preferments by pretending to favor it, they had only to remind him of Henry’s views on married clergy...

“The Lady Anne shows excellent judgment in suggesting Dr. Cranmer,” Cromwell said. “He is a man of high moral standards and an ardent champion of Your Grace’s rights.”

“In which case the Pope’s unlikely to agree to his appointment,” Henry objected. The secretary bowed.

“I believe he impressed Clement very favorably,” he murmured. “He had little chance of advancing your cause if he antagonized the judges and so I believe he presented himself as most loyal to the Pope, and thoroughly gained his confidence.”

The King turned to Anne and laughed.

“In other words the fellow’s a deceitful cur, trust my Lord Wiltshire to employ him! So he went out to help argue my case and sniffed round Clement’s skirts, did he? What makes you think I can trust him if the Pope can’t?”

“He’s ambitious,” Anne answered. “His fortunes lie in serving you, and he knows it. I can vouch for him; he’s more diplomat than priest. The See of Canterbury will buy him, body and soul.”

Cromwell was watching the King while she spoke. He always watched Henry, so that already he knew every shade of expression; the flicker of an eyelid, and that ominous compression of his little mouth when something jarred. She was too outspoken, he thought; that last remark about the See of Canterbury was a mistake. The King was a hypocrite at heart, hadn’t she learned that...Henry was ready to employ Cranmer, but he didn’t like the implications being brought into the light. If his marriage to Catherine was going to be dissolved, it must be done with the trappings of orthodoxy, so that in time the King could deceive himself as well as others. He coughed, and made good her mistake.

“Cranmer will follow his conscience, Sire. He’s clever, as my Lady says, but he’s a true man of God. If he obtains the Archbishopric he’ll use his powers for justice and your Grace’s rights, without fear or favor to anyone.”

The King grunted; he was glad Cromwell had said that. Sometimes Anne’s cynicism offended him.

“Warham is too near death to trouble us much longer, Tom. We’ve agreed on his successor, so let’s proceed to other business.” He paused. Norfolk and Suffolk had headed the deputation to the Queen and demanded that she submit to her husband and withdraw her appeal to Rome. She had refused. She answered them with dignity and restraint, and took the opportunity to state her case in such clear terms that several of her tormentors left her presence cursing the divorce and all who had instigated it.

“The Queen persists in her obstinacy,” Henry said at last. “The efforts of my commissioners failed to move her.”

“In fact,” Anne interrupted bitterly, “her efforts moved some of them! Guildford’s become her partisan, for one.”

The King’s eyes considered her.

“Guildford shall lose his office and be exiled to his estates,” he said shortly. “And Exeter with him and any others who opened their mouths in agreement with her. That should convince the rest that consent to the divorce is their only means of remaining at court.”

“A few were fools,” Cromwell remarked, “but the rest are wise. What does Your Grace propose should be done?”

“Catherine must bend,” he answered. “My daughter Mary will follow her example. She must be shown that her attitude can only result in evil relations between us. I’ve spoken to her often enough myself, and sent others to her, but nothing has any effect,”

“It seems to me there’s only one method,” Cromwell said after a moment. “If Your Grace will permit me to suggest it.”

The King nodded; he knew what was coming; he had heard it over and over again from Anne and resisted it, because he knew that she was motivated by jealousy. Even now he had no wish to hurt Catherine physically unless he must. But Cromwell bore the Queen no grudge and if Cromwell suggested the same course, he would feel justified in taking it.

“Send the Queen from court,” Cromwell said quietly. “Place her in a house in the country, with a household, of course, and all respect. But remove her from your presence.”

Anne stood motionless, almost holding her breath. She had begged and argued and stormed for this, and never been able to move him. If Cromwell could only succeed...A house in the country, that was the first step, nominal exile, and then actual imprisonment. If he consented to the first, the second would be easy, when he could not see his orders put into practice, or l hear Catherine weeping, or know how she was being treated...There was some regard left for her, Anne knew, and the thought drove her mad with hatred and anxiety. How could he care what happened to her, how could he go on tolerating her at court, knowing she was doing ever}’thing she could to keep him against his will, when he was such a tyrant to others? Any other man would have sent the creature to the Tower two years ago, executed her, if necessary...Her mouth was dry and her heart bounded.

She was jealous, she whispered to herself, she, beautiful Anne Boleyn, was so jealous of an old woman that she could have screamed at Henry to kill her then and there...her daughter too. Anne’s hands were trembling, clenched into fists in the shelter of the long silk sleeves.

That pale, haughty brat was fifteen now, and marriageable. She had her mother’s dignity and her father’s vivid looks, and her face was long and her eyes were red because she was always weeping over the estrangement between her parents. That was the gossip, often loudly repeated so that Anne could hear.

The Princess Mary’s Grace. She used to be gay and laughing, with the promise of rosy prettiness, like her lovely aunt the Duchess of Suffolk; now she was pallid and often ill. The doctors said she was grieving because someone had turned her father against her and was trying to take her mother’s place. Pray God, replied the fiend of jealousy in Anne’s heart, pray God that the Princess Mary’s Grace should die like all her mother’s other brats!

“I shrink from hurting her.” It was Henry’s voice at last. “But her presence at court is unseemly now. She must leave.”

“When, Sire?” Cromwell asked quietly.

“When we go on our hunting trip, in a month’s time.”

Henry had put his arm round Anne, and she turned her head quickly and kissed his hand. She was not quite sure of him, Cromwell thought suddenly. And the hatred of Catherine which affronted so many people, that was a symptom of that uncertainty. She would never admit it, she was far too proud, but the longer the proceedings dragged on, the more men who had to be cut down in the process, the less sure of herself Anne became. The strain must be enormous, and it was telling, was making her harsh and tactless with the King, and she was making enemies as if she couldn’t help herself.

Whom could she trust, Cromwell considered. Him, but only as long as it suited his interests; her father to exactly the same degree. Her brother—yes, he was true to her, and she adored him, but he was young and comparatively unimportant, and not nearly as clever as her Uncle Norfolk. There was a man to watch; a man not to offend.

She was really alone, and in her instinct she knew it, like an animal in a jungle clearing, surrounded by attackers, waiting for the lion who sheltered her to move away.

She had only the King. Whatever the beginning, Cromwell thought dispassionately, this was her punishment. Sooner or later, unless he married her, he would tire, and when he did, the pack would leap on her and drag her down. One thing was certain; the King must take her with him if his plan to meet the King of France at Calais materialized. The idea was only tentative, but Henry was set on a fresh alliance with Francis, believing that the coalition would frighten Clement and the Emperor Charles as much as his negotiations with the Protestants at Lübeck and Hamburg. The alliance with France would soon be concluded, and the King hoped to demonstrate his friendship with the French King by making a State visit. Cromwell glanced at her as she stood, flushed and smiling with triumph, in the crook of Henry’s arm, she had yet to realize, as he did already, that banishment wouldn’t rid her of Catherine.

In time she’d see that and that was why it wouldn’t be safe to leave her in England if the King went abroad. If anything happened to Catherine in his absence, the English people would march on King and government, with the full approval of the Lords and Church. The Church was in disrepute; its wavering authority was held together by the defiance of the dying War-ham, and the people and the Commons welcomed the measures taken to reduce its privileges. The Church could be destroyed with safety; but Catherine and her daughter Mary were sacred to the people in their misfortune. If Anne or her faction harmed either of them, Henry would lose his throne.

He wondered if Henry knew how much his subjects hated the woman he wanted to make his Queen. Cromwell knew it, as he knew everything; he had begun recruiting the army of spies which was to make him the most dreaded man in England in the next few years. They brought him copies of street pamphlets, describing Catherine’s rival in the coarsest terms; she was accused of witchcraft, of wanting to poison the Queen and the Princess; ironically, some even blamed her for the miserable fate of Wolsey. She was hated for her riches, and her arrogance when she appeared in the streets, while Catherine’s generosity and piety were remembered and prayers offered for her safety in the country churches.

With a weaker or less politic King and a determined Church, the project of divorce would have been overthrown long ago.

Circumstances favored it, and Henry was proving a genius in turning those circumstances to his own ends. The prestige of the Papacy was at a pitiful level, and the vacillations of Clement for the past five years had done nothing to raise it. Henry had presented the Pope to Parliament as the Emperor’s tool, refusing justice to England at the behest of Spain, He had also encouraged criticism of the Church, advancing the popular theory that the tithes due to Rome should no longer be paid, and cunningly held over Clement’s head the threat of revoking them, while the divorce proceedings were in abeyance. At the same time laws diminishing the ecclesiastical jurisdiction were pushed through Parliament.