Chapter 12 #2
Wolsey’s face assumed a tired expression and he sat down heavily in his seat. He motioned to Campeggio to continue.
“Setting aside the details of such a marriage,” continued the second cardinal, “the matter in hand is urgent precisely due to the king’s desire to father a son in legitimate wedlock.
That cannot be denied. So, to turn back to the marriage and its dissolution: there are precedents in such cases.
As we are already discussing France, I would cite the example of Renee’s own father, Louis the Twelfth, late of fame, who set aside his first wife Joan in the case of childlessness and went on to produce issue.
There was also Henry the Fourth of Castile, whose first wife had failed to arouse him to, shall we say, the necessary act, so the marriage was annulled by the Bishop of Segovia. ”
Beside Thomasin, More spoke out. “The Castilian marriage was annulled on the basis of the king’s impotence, supposedly as the result of witchcraft. Surely you do not suggest a parallel case here, with all the implications for a lusty king who has already fathered children?”
“I do not,” replied Campeggio steadily. “I merely say there are precedents for annulment where there is good cause. And the common cause in both those examples is the need for an heir. Or would you have the country descend again into the civil war and chaos that many of you present still recall?”
“Nobody wishes for that,” said Archbishop Warham, who had lived through the duration of the struggles between York and Lancaster, “but the country is stable, the nobles are not in conflict and the king has dealt severely with any rebels. Nothing suggests that we are on the brink of such a return. This dramatic rhetoric is unhelpful.”
“It is scaremongering,” called out More.
“And what of the Emperor’s reaction?” Campeggio fought back. “Do you think he will sit calmly by while his revered aunt is thus cast aside?”
“The Emperor who has done little yet to alleviate her situation?” said Fisher. “Who recently advised her lawyers from Flanders not to attend this court due to the potential dangers? We cannot govern this country by living in the Emperor’s pocket.”
“Perhaps,” added Wolsey, “we should all do well to remember that it is the king who governs this country, not us. We are merely his humble servants, employed to carry out his will.”
At that, the court fell silent. There was no arguing with the hierarchy that placed them all under the rule of King Henry.
“Gardiner,” said Wolsey, turning to his new assistant, “what say you, as a doctor of civil and canon law?”
“Your Holiness has spoken truth,” replied the man in a high, reedy voice. “But while there is one king governing this country, we would do well to remember that there is another above us, in heaven, whose word is final.”
Something about his pronouncement sent a chill down Thomasin’s spine. Gardiner was not wrong. God would judge them all, no matter how right or wrong they believed themselves to be.
Presently, Wolsey returned to the virtues of the French match, and More rolled his eyes at Thomasin.
“Over the years, I have come to suspect that the cardinal is actually a subject of the King of France, rather than a true-born Englishman,” he whispered. “Perhaps he should go and live there and spare us his misguided views.”
When the court was over, Thomasin and More waited for Richard Marwood outside in the courtyard. As her father approached, Thomasin could see at once that he was troubled.
“This bodes ill,” he said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Wolsey is living in a fool’s paradise. How can he be so blind as to the king’s true intentions?”
“He has seen the king’s mistresses come and go,” explained More.
“Mistress Blount was cast aside even after she had borne him a son. He believes that Henry will tire of Anne before the match can be made, or that some new face will draw his fancy. He believes that the matter is the marriage, not the woman.”
“He has built a career on carrying out the king’s wishes; I do not see how he can be so blind as to this one. Surely Henry has spoken with him directly?”
“I would imagine so, but in this he has proved to have cloth ears. They will be his downfall.”
“I think he cannot accept Anne due to her status. He cannot see that the king would choose another wife who does not equal his first, from a royal house. The blood of the Boleyns is hardly a match for that of the Hapsburgs.”
“He is well past that now,” More said, shaking his head. “I think he would marry his laundress if she would promise him a son.”
“Shh,” Thomasin warned them, as Wolsey and Campeggio emerged into the courtyard with their entourage. Campeggio was leaning heavily upon his stick, heading straight for his room and cures for his legs, while Wolsey looked tired and unsettled.
“The Italian is, well, an Italian,” said Sir Richard quietly as the group passed along the path, “but I wonder whether someone should warn Wolsey, speak with him about the dangers. Open his eyes, if we can.”
“You think he would listen?”
“I have no idea, but it is worth a try, surely? All this nonsense about a French marriage is making him look like a fool.”
“Do you think that it might just be a formality?” asked Thomasin. “He might be offering the king a noble way out of his present marriage, while knowing his true intentions.”
“It’s possible,” More replied, “but he seems overly committed to the idea. He has lashed himself to the French mast, but that ship is sinking.”
“It cannot help to try, surely? What can we lose?” asked Sir Richard. “I have known Thomas since his early days at court, when he was in the household of Richard Nanfan, serving the old king. I might appeal to him to hear me, on account of such a long history between us.”
More was thinking. “And how does this fit with Cromwell’s plan?”
“Master Cromwell need not know. He watches me like a hawk in court, but he must permit me my freedom once in a while.”
“What says the queen about Wolsey?” More asked Thomasin.
“Like father, she has known him since her first arrival in England. She had hopes of him, truly, but he has always been the servant of the king above her. This was not a problem when her wishes were the same as her husband’s, but now he cannot be trusted to serve her cause.”
At the far end of the court, the cardinals parted ways. Thomasin watched as Campeggio hobbled towards the bridge that led to his Bridewell lodgings, while Wolsey retreated into the house of the Blackfriars.
“Now would be as good a time as any,” said her father. “Will you accompany me, More? He would listen to you, too.”
“I suppose it can do no harm.”
“Thomasin?”
“I must return to the queen, while the proceedings are still fresh in my mind. And I do not think that the cardinal would take kindly to being advised by one such as me.”
“Your sensitivity does you proud, although you are wrong about the advice, as you speak much wisdom, Thomasin.”
“I shall see you again presently, in the court, but the queen’s appearance there comes ever closer. Surely then we shall have some kind of conclusion?”
“We will direct our prayers to that hope. God speed you.”