There were times when Henry agreed with Anne; but when he was alone with his Chancellor he was sure she was wrong. He did wish that there was not this hatred between two for whom he had such regard.
“Do that,” he commanded.
“We must watch Fisher,” said Wolsey. “There is a man whom I do not trust to serve Your Grace.”
“He’s one of these saints!” cried the King. “I know full well his kind, that which declares: ‘I would give my head for what I believe to be right.’ Master Fisher should take care. He may one day be called on to prove his words. And now…send Warham and Tunstall to me. By God, we’ll have that document in our hands before many weeks have passed. As for Master Campeggio, you may tell him this: If he delays much longer he will have to answer to me.”
Wolsey bowed his head; he could not hide the smile which touched his lips. Campeggio cared not for the King of England, because he answered to one master only—a man who, in his own kingdom, was more powerful than any king.
It was pleasant to brood on Papal power.
Wolsey’s lips were mocking; he was praying for the death of Clement and that the result of the next Conclave might bring him freedom from an exacting master and the utmost power in his own right.
KATHARINE RECEIVED her advisers and as they stood in a semicircle about her she looked at each man in turn: Warham, Fisher, Tunstall, Clerk and Standish. They were eagerly explaining to her what she must do and Warham was their spokesman.
“It is clear, Your Grace, that the copy of this document cannot be accepted as of any importance. We must have the original. And we know full well that its contents are of the utmost importance to Your Grace’s case.”
“Do you suggest that I should write to the Emperor, asking for it?”
“It is the only recourse open to Your Grace.”
“And you are all in agreement that this is what I should do?”
There was a chorus of assent, only Fisher remaining silent.
She did not comment on this, but she understood. The Bishop of Rochester was warning her that on no account must the document be brought to England.
“The King grows impatient,” went on Warham, “for until this document is produced the case cannot be opened. He declares that Cardinal Campeggio is delighted by the delay, but His Grace grows weary of it. Your Grace should with all speed write to the Emperor imploring him to send this document to you here in England.”
“Since we have a good copy here,” she asked, “why should that not suffice?”
“A copy is but a copy which could well be a forgery. We must have the original. For your sake and that of the Princess Mary, Your Grace, I beg of you to write to the Emperor for the original of this document.”
She looked at Fisher and read the warning in his eyes. He was a brave man. He would have spoken out but he knew—and she knew—that if he did so he would shortly be removed from her Council of advisers and no good would come of that. But his looks implied that on no account must she write to Spain for the document and that it was false to say that the copy would have no value in the court. This was a ruse to bring the original document to England and there destroy it, since it would prove an impediment to the King’s case.
She answered them boldly: “Gentlemen, we have here a very fair copy. That will suffice to show the court. It is well, I believe that the original should remain in the Emperor’s keeping. I shall not send to Spain for it.”
The men who were pledged to defend her left her, and she saw from Fisher’s looks that she had acted correctly.
But when they had gone she was afraid. Hers was a pitiable position, when she could not trust her own Council.
KATHARINE STOOD before the Royal Council which was presided over by the Chancellor. Wolsey studied her shrewdly. Poor, brave woman, he thought, what hope does she think she has when she attempts to stand against the King’s wishes?
“Your Grace,” said the Chancellor, “I have to tell you that I speak for the King and his Council. Are we to understand that you refuse to write to the Emperor asking him to return that brief which is of the utmost importance in this case?”
“You may understand that. There is a good copy of the brief which can be used in the court; and I see no reason why the original should not remain for safe keeping in the hands of the Emperor.”
“Your Grace, you will forgive my temerity but, in refusing to obey the King’s command, you lay yourself open to a charge of high treason.”
Katharine was silent and Wolsey saw that he had shocked her. Now she would perhaps begin to realize the folly of pitting her strength against that of the King and his ministers who, more realistic than she was, understood that not to obey meant risking their lives.
“Your Grace,” went on Wolsey soothingly, “I have prepared here a draft of a letter which the King desires you to copy and send to the Emperor.”
She held out her hand for it and read a plea to her nephew that he dispatch the brief with all speed to England as it was most necessary for her defense in the pending action.
She looked at the Chancellor, the man whom she had begun to hate because she considered him to be the instigator of all her troubles. He was ruthless; he had to procure the divorce for the King or suffer his displeasure and he did not care how he achieved that end. She did not doubt that when the brief came to England it would be mislaid and destroyed, for it was the finest evidence she could possibly have.
“So I am certain,” went on the Chancellor, “that Your Grace will wish to comply with the King’s desire in this matter.”
She bowed her head. She could see that she would have to write the letter, but she would write another explaining that she had written under duress. She felt desolate, for it seemed that she depended so much on that pale aloof young man who might so easily consider her troubles unworthy of his attention.
Wolsey read her thoughts and said: “Your Grace must swear not to write to the Emperor any other letter but this. If you did so, that could only be construed as high treason.”
She saw her predicament. She had to give way, so she bowed before the power of her enemies.
AS SHE KNELT in her chapel, a priest came and knelt beside her.
“Your Grace,” whispered Mendoza, “the brief must not come to England.”
“You know I must write to my nephew,” she replied. “I am being forced to it, and I gave my word that I would write no other letter to him.”
“Then we must find a means of communicating without letters.”
“A messenger whom we could trust?”
“That is so. Francisco Felipez did good service once.”
“Perhaps he would be suspect if he did so again.”
“Is there anyone else in your suite whom you could trust?”
“There is Montoya. He is a Spaniard, and loyal. But I do not think he would be so resourceful as Felipez.”
“Then let us chance Felipez. This time he should not ask for permission, as the matter is very dangerous. Let him leave at once for Spain, with nothing in writing. When he reaches the Emperor he must explain to him how dangerous it would be to send the brief to England as it would almost surely be destroyed.”
“Felipez shall leave at once,” said the Queen. “He will then have a good start of the messenger with the letter.”
“Let us pray for the success of his journey,” murmured Mendoza. “But later. Now there is not a moment to be lost.”