With an exclamation of disgust, Surrey flung out of the room.
Wolsey smiled in triumph. “The atmosphere, gentlemen, is now more conducive to thoughtful reasoning,” he said.
Fox returned his smile in a manner implying that they were well rid of Surrey.
“And your opinion?”
Wolsey was ready. He was not going to say that he was against sending an army to France, because it might well be that the King wished to send one; it was almost certain that the Queen did, because that was the desire of her father, and the Queen was naturally working for her father’s interests. If a decision was made which was contrary to the King’s wishes, let Fox and Warham make it.
“As my lord of Surrey pointed out,” he said almost demurely, “matters of state are scarcely the concern of the King’s Almoner. Should His Grace decide to go into battle I will see that all available armaments are made ready for him; but it is only reasonable to suppose that the mustering of arms to equip a small force, say under some nobleman, would be a simpler matter and one which would give us practice in this field before embarking on the great campaign.”
“I see,” said Fox, “that you are of our opinion.”
They discussed the matter in detail, and, although he seemed outwardly calm, inwardly Thomas Wolsey felt his pride to be deeply bruised. He could not forget the scorn in Surrey’s eyes when he had referred to the butcher’s shop. Would he ever escape such slights?
They could not be forgotten; therefore they could not be forgiven. Surrey’s name was on that list he kept in his mind of those who must one day pay for the indignity they had made Thomas Wolsey suffer.
Spanish Intrigue
KATHARINE REJOICED TO SEE THE CHANGE IN HER HUSBAND. She was sure that the irresponsible boy had been left behind and the King was growing to maturity.
He had forgotten their differences and talked with her of his ambitions; this made her very happy; he had even ceased to ask questions as to whether or not she had conceived again.
She had said to him: “It may be that the fact that we concern ourselves so constantly with my pregnancies is the reason that I am not with child. I have heard that constant anxiety can make one sterile.”
He may have taken this to heart, but on the other hand the prospect of war may have been entirely responsible for turning his interest into other channels.
One day he swept into her apartments, and she was aware that instead of glancing appreciatively at the prettiest of her women with that glazed look in his eyes which she had noticed with some alarm on previous occasions, he waved his hands for their dismissal.
“Ah, Kate,” he cried when they were alone, “I chafe at this delay. I would I could set out this day for France. These ministers of mine think the time is not meet for me to leave the country.”
“I have heard from my father,” she told him. “He writes that he knows that you would be welcomed in Guienne. The people there have never taken kindly to French rule, he says, and have always considered the English their true rulers. He says that once they see Your Grace they would rally to your banner.”
Henry smiled complacently. He could well believe that. He was certain that the wars with France should never have been allowed to die out while the position was so unsatisfactory for England. England had been torn by her own Wars of the Roses—which was a matter he could not regret as out of that had come the victorious conclusion which had set the Tudors on the throne; but now that there was peace within England and there was a King on the throne who was as strong and eager for conquest as Henry V had been, why should not the struggle be continued?
But Guienne! His ministers were a little anxious. It would have been so much simpler to have attacked nearer home. Calais was the natural starting point.
He would of course be near his ally if he attacked in the south; delay galled him. He could not imagine defeat, so he longed to set forth, to show the people his conquests.
“It would please me, Kate,” said Henry, “to lead my army and join up with that of your father. Together we should be invincible.”
“I am sure that you would. My father is considered one of the greatest soldiers in Europe.”
Henry frowned. “You would imply, Kate, that I should find it necessary to learn from him?”
“He is a man of great experience, Henry.”
Henry turned from her. “There are some who are born to be conquerors. They are endowed with the gift. They do not need lessons in bravery.”
She went on as though she had not heard him. “He and my mother had to fight for their kingdoms. She often said that without him she would have been lost.”
“I like to hear of a wife who appreciates her husband.”
“She appreciated him…although he was often unfaithful to her.”
“Ha!” cried Henry. “You have no such complaint.”
She turned to him smiling. “Henry, never give me cause for such complaint. I swear to love and serve you with all my might. I picture us growing old together with our children about us.”
His eyes were misted with sentiment. The thought of children could always produce this result. Then his face puckered suddenly.
“Kate, I do not understand. We have been unfortunate, have we not?”
“Many are unfortunate, Henry. So many children die in infancy.”
“But three times.…”
“There will be many times, Henry.”
“But I cannot understand. Look at me. See my strength. My good health is something all marvel at. And yet…” He was looking at her almost critically.
She said quickly: “I too enjoy good health.”
“Then why…I could almost believe that some spell has been cast upon us…that we have offended God in some way.”
“We cannot have done that. We are devout worshippers, both of us. No, Henry, it is natural to lose children. They are dying every day.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “One, two, three or four in every family. But some live.”
“Some of ours will live.”
He stroked her hair, which was her claim to beauty, and as he watched the sun bring out the red in it he felt a sudden rush of desire for her.
He laughed and taking her hand he began to dance, twirling her round, releasing her to caper high in the air. She watched him, clapping her hands, happy to see him so gay.
He grew excited by the dancing and he seized her and hugged her so tightly that she could not breathe.
“A thought comes to me, Kate,” he said. “If I go to France with my armies, you must stay behind. We shall be apart.”
“Oh Henry, that will make me very sad. I shall miss you so sorely.”
“Time will pass,” he assured her, “and while we are separated how can I get you with child?” Then he began to laugh afresh. “And we squander our time in dancing!”
Then with a swift gesture—eager even in this moment of excitement that she should marvel at his strength—he swung her into his arms and carried her across the apartment to the bedchamber.
FERDINAND, KING OF ARAGON and Regent of Castile until his grandson Charles should come of age, was eagerly awaiting dispatches from England.
His great desire at the moment was for the conquest of Navarre. He had made Naples safe and this left him free to make new conquests. It had always been one of his ambitions that Navarre should be under Spanish dominion; his great concern now was to persuade the Archbishop of Toledo and Primate of Spain, Francesco Ximenes de Cisneros, of the justice of this.