Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
The carriage wheels bumped over the cobbles. All through the brief journey, Thomasin had been trying to think of the best way in which to break the news to her mother.
“There is no best way,” Ellen reasoned, “except to be direct and truthful. This is bad news you are delivering, but you are not the cause of it. She will not be angry with you.”
“No, but she will be afraid, and heartbroken. Coming on top of her recent illness and Cecilia’s disgrace, I don’t know if I can bear it.”
“Have you considered not telling her? If More is able to secure the king’s word, Cromwell might well be overruled, and your father returned home before she need be aware of it.”
Thomasin sighed. “I wish it were so, but she will be expecting him back soon, ready to depart for Suffolk. I cannot allow her to wait in suspense.”
The carriage rumbled along Thames Street and turned in through the vast stone gates to Monk’s Place, the home of her uncle.
Thomasin thought of the very first time she had arrived here, not so long ago, full of hopes and excitement for her coming adventures.
Usually it was a place of refuge, hospitality and peace.
However, the courtyard before the grey house was not as peaceful as usual. A number of horses stood waiting on the cobbles, held by royal guards, alongside a small carriage bearing Cromwell’s arms.
“God in heaven,” said Thomasin, scrambling down, “what further trouble is this?”
The front door was standing open, so they hurried inside. The sound was coming from Sir Matthew’s private chamber. Thomasin could hear a woman weeping upstairs; it sounded like her sister, Cecilia.
“I do not accept this intrusion,” Sir Matthew was saying loudly. “On what authority? For what reason?”
Thomasin hurried into the room, with Ellen following. A number of men were already conducting a search, led by Cromwell’s man Ralph Sadler.
“They have arrested Father!” she burst out.
“Yes, we have been informed, although I do not understand on what grounds.”
“The refusal to follow orders,” stated Sadler baldly. “You will be next if you impede our search. Look, I do not like this any more than you do, but if you cooperate, it will be concluded all the sooner.”
“But this is my study and my papers,” argued Sir Matthew. “My brother-in-law rarely comes in here, and none of these items are his. They are all my own private affairs.”
“I am sorry for it, my lord, but these are our orders,” said Sadler.
“From whom?”
“Master Thomas Cromwell, acting on the authority of the king. I recommend that you cease to delay our progress further.”
Sir Matthew sunk into a chair, defeated.
“Where is Mother?” Thomasin asked, turning her back on the intruders.
“Upstairs, in her chamber.”
Thomasin hurried up the wide, carved wooden staircase that sat at the heart of Monk’s Place.
The door of her mother’s chamber was flung open and the room was in disarray, with clothes and bedlinen strewn across the floor.
A heavily pregnant Cecilia had flung herself across the bare mattress and was weeping, while Lady Elizabeth struggled to pack items into a trunk, fighting back her tears.
She looked up at Thomasin’s approach, but did not pause her task.
“Thomasin, thank goodness, you must help me!”
“What are you doing, Mother?”
“Packing things your father will need. He will catch cold in the Tower, and they will not feed him properly. Then you know what happens…” She broke off with a sob.
“Stop, please,” said Thomasin gently. “There will be time enough for this, if it proves necessary. I cannot believe he will remain there. Thomas More is at this moment speaking with the king.”
“More is?”
“Yes, he went to him at once. If anyone can make the king see sense, it is him. And good John Dudley will help us too. We are fortunate in our friends, thanks be to God.”
“This is Cromwell’s evil doing.”
“It is indeed, and we must hope that the king’s eyes are opened to his wickedness.”
“You were there when it happened?”
“Yes, I was in the court. As More said, it was all for show, on the pretext of him failing to follow orders. Everyone could see it was nonsense.”
“And how did your father respond?”
Thomasin recalled the shocked look in Sir Richard’s eyes. “He was not expecting it. None of us were. But we must take heart. I am sure it will not be for long.”
“And the men below? What are they searching for?”
“Nothing, Mother. There is nothing to find — not anything incriminating of ours, nor of our uncle’s.”
“Not your father’s letters to France?”
“What?” Thomasin paused, her blood running cold. “What do you mean, letters to France?”
“Your father sometimes corresponds with an abbot in the Pale of Calais, from a past connection. He shares the letters with your uncle, too. Lately they have been speaking about the king’s possible marriage to Renee of France. It is entirely innocent.”
“I am sure it is,” Thomasin replied, pausing for a moment to think how this might be taken by Cromwell.
At that moment, Cecilia sat up and let out a howl. “We are all going to die! We will all be sent to the Tower and executed, even me, and my child will grow up without a mother. We are done for!”
Thomasin felt the annoyance mount in her chest. “Stop that talk! There is no need to go to extremes. It is hardly the help we need right now.”
She had not seen her sister since Christmas. Now, as Cecilia sat up with a struggle, the curve of her stomach was visible beneath her clothes.
“It is her state of mind, due to her condition,” said Lady Elizabeth, regaining some of her composure. “It creates certain flights of fancy like this. Do not speak harshly to her.”
Thomasin took a deep breath. “For now, we must remain calm and await news from our friends. Then we might decide upon our course of action.”
“I am sure the king will not forsake his old friend. Perhaps I should go to him myself and ask for mercy, for the sake of our old connection.”
Thomasin had almost forgotten the brief affair her mother had conducted with the king, back when he was a young man. At one point, she had even questioned whether Henry was her own father, but her likeness to Sir Richard had made her disregard that possibility.
“Perhaps it will come to that, but perhaps not. Hopefully not. We must wait and see.”
The footsteps of the men downstairs echoed through the hall.
“There is nothing up there, nothing but bedchambers,” they heard Sir Matthew saying. “There is no need to disturb the ladies, please!”
But heavy feet were already on the stairs and Rafe Sadler appeared in the doorway. The women turned stiffly to meet him.
Sadler made a small bow. “Forgive me, ladies. I do not wish to trespass upon your peace any further; I only request the surrender of any items or papers relevant to this matter.”
“As we are unclear about exactly what the matter might be,” replied Thomasin, “it will be difficult to comply. Why don’t you tell us what you are looking for? Or better still, what the charges against my father are?”
“Mistress Marwood, I understand your distress. But alas, I cannot give you any more information, only that I seek letters, papers, books…”
“Here,” said Lady Elizabeth, holding up a heavy tome. “Here is my Bible. Old-style, in Latin, with all the saints’ days. Will this help your cause? It is the only book in this room.”
“Thank you, but you may keep your Bible.”
“I have books,” said Thomasin, seeing a way to distract him. “Come to my chamber.”
She led Sadler across the hall, to the little bedroom at the back of the house that overlooked the gardens.
“I share this with Ellen, my cousin, when we visit. And here, I keep a few books: poetry, a few romances and legends, the tales of King Arthur, the movements of the stars. That is all: nothing that might cause offence.”
“Are there any letters hereabout, Thomasin?”
“None that I know of. Why has Father been arrested?” She looked Sadler straight in the eye. “You are a good man, I believe. You worked with my Venetian friend Nico once; you helped him. You cannot believe this is right.”
“I believe that my master believes it to be right.”
“And that is enough for you? You are happy to blindly follow orders, even when they are clearly mistaken?”
“I am happy to follow the king’s orders without question. As we all must. My master derives his authority from the king.”
“And the king knows that your master has imprisoned one of his oldest friends?”
“The king does not take kindly to being questioned by the servants of his servants. You should be careful, Thomasin. Keep your peace and do not be seen to be questioning his authority, then it will all be resolved sooner. I will leave you in peace.”
“And what about my father, and his peace?”
“I cannot untie that knot for you, even though I wish I could.”
A man’s voice called Sadler from below. He hurried down the stairs and Thomasin followed him, her heart in her mouth.
A guard was holding up a sheaf of letters. “To the Abbot of Guisnes, Pale of Calais,” he read aloud.
“What are these?” Sadler snatched the papers.
“Sir Richard’s innocent correspondence with an old friend,” said Sir Matthew, “nothing more. Read them for yourself. Calais is English — there is no crime in writing to a friend in England, is there?”
“It depends upon the letters’ contents. Calais is well placed to entertain rebels and plotters.”
“But the king is on friendly terms with Francis. Read them and see. It is merely news, nothing more.”
“We shall see.” Sadler tucked the letters into a leather packet.
“When shall we hear about Sir Richard?” asked Sir Matthew.
“In due course. I can say nothing more. I recommend you stay at home and remain quiet. That is the best way to help this situation pass.”
“He is not…” Sir Matthew shot a glance at Thomasin, but decided to speak despite her presence. “He is not in any danger, is he?”
“I should hope not.”
“Is there nothing we can do?” Thomasin asked.
“Nothing more.”
They watched the carriage and horses pull away from the courtyard. A servant closed the great gates behind them and finally, peace descended upon Monk’s Place. It was only then that Thomasin felt a sob rise up her throat.
“I cannot understand,” she said, turning to her uncle, “how God allows this. How the king does. Why must bad things happen to good people?”
“That is the nature of our suffering as human beings,” said Sir Matthew, sighing. “The lack of answers is almost worse than the suffering itself.”
Thomasin nodded. “I will go back up and check on Mother. She is set to hurry off to the Tower, to ensure Father has all he needs.”
“Let us hope it does not come to that.”
About an hour later, when they had put Cecilia to bed with a warming spiced caudle, Thomasin and Lady Elizabeth heard the courtyard gates open again. Two horsemen rode up to the front door, dismounting amid the yapping of dogs.
“Wait here,” said Thomasin, seeing the nervous look in her mother’s eyes. “I will go down and see who it is.”
Thomas More and John Dudley were waiting in the hallway, their faces heavy.
“What is the news?” asked Sir Matthew, appearing from his study as Thomasin came down the staircase.
“Nothing good to report, I fear,” said More gravely.
“I had a brief audience with the king and explained what had happened. I could see he was troubled, but he would only repeat that Cromwell is acting in his name. He would say nothing further. I do not believe he was aware of Cromwell’s plan, but now that he knows of it, he will not disturb it.
I sense that he believes Cromwell had some purpose in doing so that is in his interests. ”
“Yes, he does not want Father to speak in favour of his marriage!” said Thomasin. “It is quite clear.”
“He would only say that your father had a chance to leave, to return to the country, but did not take it.”
Sir Matthew shook his head. “So that is how he calms his conscience. It seems that there is no length he will not go to, in order to achieve his wishes.”
“The king believes,” added John, “that this court will soon conclude his divorce and he will be free to marry Anne. He sees the end so nearly in sight, I believe he will let nothing stand in his way. Sir Richard’s evidence would have attested that his marriage to Catherine was a true one.
But hopefully, once the matter is resolved, there will be no need to keep him in the Tower further. ”
“And if it is not?” asked Thomasin. “If the marriage question is not resolved?”
“What if Sir Richard promised to return at once to Suffolk?” asked Sir Matthew. “To leave at once and remain there for the duration of the court?”
“It has already been suggested,” said More, “but the king thinks him safest out of the way, where his voice cannot be heard.”
“Surely this is against the law of the court?” Sir Matthew persisted.
“The king’s authority must give way to that of the Pope.
If the cardinals summon Sir Richard, he is bound to attend.
If the king prevents him from doing so, he is acting directly against the Pope’s command.
Surely he will not go that far? He could be excommunicated for less. ”
There was an awkward silence in the hall.
“I think the king is moving in that direction,” said More solemnly. “I fear that if this court does not go his way, he will reject its authority and bring about his own solution. At some point it is inevitable that he will clash with the Pope. This may only bring it forward.”
“Then what can be done?” asked Thomasin.
“You saw how Cromwell disregarded the authority of the cardinals by arresting your father in the court. Then, he was a mere observer, seated in the gallery. I think we cannot lose by making the cardinals summon him. It will give the king a chance to step back from this action. We must appeal to the cardinals.”
“I suppose there is little that the queen can do? Ellen is speaking with her now.”
“The queen can only lend her voice to our appeals.”
“Very well.”
“We will go at once to Campeggio, and ask him to issue a summons for your father to attend on the morrow. God willing, that will be enough. If the king disregards it, he rejects the very court he has brought to England. It serves him not to question those whom he wishes to grant his request.”
“That is sound logic,” said Sir Matthew. “Will you take some refreshment before you leave?”
“No, I thank you. We will go straight about our business, to sooner to have it resolved.”
“Thank you, good sirs, for your kind efforts on our behalf.”
“It is a wrong that I cannot bear to see,” stated More.
“Nor I,” agreed Dudley. “If this is allowed to pass, which of us will be next?”