“If,” Henry had said, “I could have been assured that the brief was genuine, I should, at this time be living with the Queen, for that is what I wish beyond all things, and it is solely because my conscience tells me that to resume marital relations with the Emperor’s aunt would be to live in sin, that I refrain from doing so. Yet, since the Emperor will not release the brief I must conclude that he knows it to be a forgery and is afraid to submit it to the light of day.”
“Your Grace,” Chapuys had answered, “I myself can assure you that the brief is no forgery and that the copy you received in England is exact in every detail. Your conscience need disturb you no more.”
Henry had been angry with the ambassador, and this was not a good beginning to their relationship; but at least he would understand that in the new ambassador he had a worthy adversary, and Katharine a good friend.
So Katharine’s hope increased, because she believed that her case would be tried in Rome, and there she would have justice. She was convinced that all that was necessary to make Henry send Anne Boleyn back to Hever and turn to his true wife was an order from Rome.
But how sad she was in the Palace, where Anne ruled as though she were Queen, and Katharine was only at the King’s side on the most formal occasions! The humiliation she could have endured; but it was Anne’s decree that the Princess Mary should not be present at Court, and because Anne commanded this, Mary was kept away.
She fears the King’s affection for my daughter, Katharine decided; and there was a little comfort in that belief. But how she longed for the child’s company. On those rare occasions when she was with the King she sought to lead the conversation to their daughter’s absence in an endeavor to arouse a desire in him to have her with them.
But he was sullenly pursuing Anne, and Katharine often wondered whether his dogged determination to have his way was as strong as his desire.
One day when he had supped in her apartments she seized an opportunity to whisper to him: “Henry, would you not like to see our daughter here?”
“She is well enough where she is.”
“I miss her very much.”
“Then there is no reason why you should not go to her.”
“To go to her would be to leave you. Why cannot we all be together?”
He was silent and turned away from her. But she could not control her tongue. “As for myself,” she went on, “I see so little of you. I am often alone, neglected and forsaken. Who would believe that I was the Queen? I must brood on my wrongs continually.”
“Who forces you to do so?” demanded Henry. “Why do you not count your blessings?”
“My blessings! My daughter not allowed to come to me! My husband declaring he has never been my husband and seeking to marry another woman!”
“If you are neglected,” said Henry, his voice rising, “that, Madam, is your affair. There is no need for you to remain here if you wish to go. Do I keep you a prisoner? I do not. You may go whither you like. As for the way I live…it is no concern of yours, for learned men have assured me that I am not your husband.”
“You know that you are my husband. You know that I was a virgin when I married you. You choose to forget that now. But, Henry, do not rely on your lawyers and doctors who tell you what they know you want to hear. They are not my judges. It is the Pope who will decide; and I thank God for that.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. He was thinking of recent conversations with Cranmer, Gardiner, Fox and Anne, and he said slowly and deliberately: “If the Pope does not decide in my favor, I shall know what to do.”
She flashed at him: “What could you do without the Pope’s approval?” Henry snapped his fingers and his lips scarcely moved as he replied, though the words smote clearly on Katharine’s ear: “This I should do, Madam. I should declare the Pope a heretic and marry when and whom I please.”
THE CARDINAL was taking a solitary tour through York Place, knowing that it was doubtless the last time he would do so. Here were stored many of his treasures which almost rivalled those which had been in Hampton Court when he had lost that mansion to the King.
He stood at the windows but he did not see the scenes below; he leaned his heated head against the rich velvet hangings, as he glanced round the room, at the tapestries and pictures, at the exquisite furniture which he had so treasured.
In the pocket of his gown was the communication he had received from the King. The Lady Anne, it seemed, had set her heart on York Place. She would have no other house in London. Therefore the King asked the Cardinal to offer this up to her.
Hampton Court…and now York Place! One by one his treasures were being stripped from him. Thus it would be until he had nothing left to give but his life. Would they be content to leave him that?
He knew that a Bill of Indictment had been registered against him; he knew the hour could not be long delayed when Norfolk and Suffolk would arrive to demand that he give up the Great Seal.
The days of greatness were over. The fight for survival had begun.
He did not have long to wait. Smug, smiling, like dogs who had at last been thrown the titbits for which they had been begging, Norfolk and Suffolk arrived to demand the delivering up of the Great Seal.
He received them with dignity in the beautiful hall, surrounded by rich treasures which he must soon surrender. His dignity was still with him.
“I would see the King’s handwriting on this demand,” said Wolsey, “for how may I know you come at his command if I do not?”
Norfolk and Suffolk flushed and looked at each other. Neither was noted for his quick wits. Then Suffolk spluttered: “You know full well that we come on the King’s command.”
“How should I know, when there is no written order from him?”
“Then is it a surprise to you that you should be asked to hand back the Seal?”
“This is not a question of my emotions, my lords, but of your authority to take the Seal from me. I shall not give it to you unless you bring me a written order from the King.”
The Dukes were angry but they had never been able to argue successfully with Wolsey.
“Come,” said Suffolk, “we will return in a very short time with what he demands.”
And they left him. It would be a short time, Wolsey knew. But there was a small hope within him. The King had not wished to put his name to a demand for the Great Seal. He had turned his back on Wolsey, but at least he had not joined the pack who were waiting to tear the old minister to pieces.
THE CARDINAL was in great terror. It was not the fact that Norfolk and Suffolk had returned to take the Seal from him, with a written command from the King. That, he had known, was inevitable. It was not that he was ordered to leave York Place for Esher, an empty house which belonged to his bishopric of Winchester. It was the knowledge that his physician had been taken to the Tower where he might be put to the question, and betray secrets which could mean disaster to Wolsey if they were ever told to the King.
He had been desperate. He had seen disaster coming and had sought to win back all he had lost in one desperate throw. His enemy was Anne Boleyn and he had determined to be rid of her, knowing that if he could do this, he could quickly win back the King’s regard.
As a Cardinal he was in a position to have direct communication with the Pope, and he had made use of his advantages by advising the Pope to insist that the King send Anne from the Court or face excommunication. This had seemed to him to offer a solution of his troubles, because if the King dismissed Anne he, Wolsey, would very quickly return to his old position. If the King did not dismiss Anne but defied the Pope, Wolsey calculated that opinion in the country would be split; the situation would be dangerous for England; and the King would quickly realize that there was only one man strong enough to save the country from disaster; that man was Wolsey.