Preparations for the hearing were going forward and Campeggio looked on with some misgivings. His great plan was to postpone the hearing on any pretext whatsoever, as he dreaded being forced to give a judgment while the affairs of Europe were so unsettled. His gout provided him with a good excuse, and there were whole days when he shut himself in a darkened room while the servants assured all callers that he was too ill to see them.
One day when Katharine was with her chaplain, Thomas Abell, the priest said to her: “Your Grace, the Imperial ambassador desires urgent speech with you, and he wishes to come before you disguised as a priest as he is fearful that, if he comes undisguised, that which he has to say to you will be overheard.”
Katharine was torn between her anger that she could not receive her nephew’s ambassador without fear of being overheard, and apprehension as to what new schemes were afoot.
She looked at Thomas Abell, and wondered how far she could trust him. He had not been long in her service but she could say that during that time he had served her well. She decided that she had such need of friends that she must accept friendship when it was offered, without looking too suspiciously at it.
“He has asked my assistance in this matter,” went on Thomas Abell, “and being eager to serve Your Grace I told him I would do what I could.”
“Then bring him to me in my chapel,” she said. “I will speak to him there.”
So it was that Iñigo de Mendoza came to her robed as a priest, a hood concealing his features, and as, there in the chapel, he knelt beside her, she realized at once that he was deeply excited.
“Your Grace,” he said, “the best of news! Do you remember a de Puebla who once served your father here in England?”
“I remember him well,” Katharine answered. “He is long since dead.”
“But his son who is now a chaplain lives, and he has found an important document among his father’s papers.”
“What document is this?”
“It is a brief of the same date as the Bull of Dispensation granted by Julius II, but this goes more deeply into the matter, and if we could lay our hands on the original—which is among the archives in Madrid—we could show without doubt that your marriage with the King is legal.”
“You have this?”
“I have the copy of it which de Puebla has given me. I propose to put it into the hands of your defending counsel.”
“Then pray do this,” said the Queen.
“I trust none of them save Fisher and I am afraid that, as this case is being heard in England, there will be scarcely a man here who would stand against the wishes of the King. What we must work for is to have the case tried in Rome. Then we could hope for justice. At least we have this document, which I have brought to you. Your best plan would be to give it to Fisher. Tell him that it is but a copy and that the original is in Spain. I think we shall see some consternation among our enemies.”
Katharine took the document and studied it. She was immediately aware of its importance and her spirits rose as Mendoza took his leave and left her in the chapel.
THE KING, pacing up and down his apartment, stopped to glare at his Chancellor.
“It seems that everyone conspires against me! When is this hearing to take place? When am I to be granted my divorce? With others, these matters are settled in a matter of weeks. With me they must last for years. And why? Because those who should serve me, bestir themselves not at all.”
The Cardinal’s thoughts were miles away…in Rome. Heartening news had been brought to him a few days before. Clement had suffered a great shock, his health was declining, and it was believed that he could not recover.
Let this be granted to me, prayed the Cardinal. Here is the way out of danger, the path which will lead me to new power. My day is over in England. I am going down…down…The King grows tired of his Thomas Wolsey who once so pleased him, since Anne Boleyn pours poison into his ear. My great mistake was when I made an enemy of that woman. She will not believe that it was at the King’s command that I berated her, that I told her she was not worthy to marry into the House of Northumberland. But she blames me; and she has determined to destroy me.
Once it might have been said: Thomas Wolsey’s will is the King’s will. That was no longer so, but it was true to say that that which Anne Boleyn desired, the King desired also, for at this time his one wish was to please her.
The woman was a witch. None other could so completely have bemused the King.
So he must become the new Pope. He prayed at every possible moment of the day, and often during sleepless nights, for this mercy. But he was not the man to trust to prayer. He had climbed high, he had often said to himself, through the actions of Thomas Wolsey rather than of God. Now Thomas Wolsey must continue to fight. He had asked François for his help, and François had promised to give it. But would the French King prove as unreliable as the Emperor? Wolsey had sent Gardiner to Rome with a list of Cardinals and bags of gold. No expense was to be spared, no bribe was to be considered too much. He would spend all he had to win at the next Conclave, because this time he knew he was not only fighting for power; he was fighting for his life.
So his thoughts wandered during the King’s tirade, and fervently he hoped that soon he would be free of the unpredictable moods of the King of England.
But the King’s next words were so startling that Wolsey’s thoughts were diverted from his hopes of the next Conclave.
“This brief that is in the Queen’s hands. We must get it. Warham tells me that it is worked out in such detail that it gives no shadow of a doubt that the marriage is a true one.”
“This…brief?” murmured Wolsey.
The King was too excited to show his impatience. “Warham has brought this news. He says that through de Puebla’s son this document has reached the Queen. It is enough to win the case for her.”
Wolsey was alert. He had to remember that the Papal Crown was not yet his; Clement was not even dead; he must not lose his grip on the power he possessed in England. He must show himself as eager as he ever was to work for the King.
He asked a few searching questions and then he said: “But, Your Grace, this is not the original document. It is only a copy.”
“But the original document is in Spain.”
“First,” went on the Chancellor, “we shall declare our belief that the paper which the Queen holds will be considered a forgery unless she produces the original. Therefore she must write immediately to the Emperor imploring him to forward the original to her here.”
“And when it comes…if indeed it be as the copy?”
“It will come to her counsel,” said Wolsey with a smile. “We shall not have any difficulty in laying our hands on it when it is in England.”
Henry smiled slyly.
“And,” went on Wolsey, “when it is in our possession…” He lifted his hands in a significant gesture. “But, Your Grace will see that we must get that brief, and our first step is to persuade the Queen to write to her nephew, urging him to send the document to her.”
“I shall order her to do this without delay,” said the King.
“Your Grace,” Wolsey began tentatively and hesitated.
“Yes, yes?” said the King impatiently.
“It would be well if the Queen wrote on the advice of her counsel. Allow me to send for Warham and Tunstall. They will not hesitate to obey Your Grace.”
Henry nodded and his eyes were affectionate once more. By God, he thought, this man Wolsey has much skill. Then he frowned. He greatly wished that Anne did not dislike the Chancellor so. He had told her that Wolsey was working for them, but she would not believe it. He was her enemy, she said, whose great desire was to marry the King to a French Princess, and now that he knew the King would have none other than Anne Boleyn he sought to delay the divorce with all the means in his power.