Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Thomasin smoothed down her dress and approached the main court doors.
Catherine and the rest of her ladies were removing to Baynard’s that morning, but she was to remain and listen to the evidence given by the king.
It was not a task she relished, given that Cromwell would be present, and the matter distasteful, but she had faithfully promised the queen that she would report back all the details.
If she was to join her father in the Tower for supporting Catherine, then so be it.
Bishop Fisher was waiting for Thomasin inside. “Come and sit with me, today.”
He led her to the seats at the side, where Clerk was also seated.
She noticed a number of new faces in the chamber that morning, no doubt the legal experts the king had consulted on the final details of his divorce.
Henry himself was sitting at the front, in the same place he had occupied the day before, looking out at the arrivals with an air of expectation.
At his side, Cromwell was gathering his papers, preoccupied for a moment.
Thomasin allowed herself to shoot him a look of pure venom while his head was bowed.
“I saw Father yesterday,” she told Fisher. “He is in fairly good spirits still, and Sir William is taking good care of him, but his eyes are strained.”
“I am sorry to hear that. He has a good keeper in Sir William, although it should never have come to this.”
“He hopes to be released once the court has reached its decision, but there is the question of his letters.”
“Letters?”
“To the Abbot of Guisnes, an old friend.”
“John? I know him well. We have also corresponded. What is the problem with these letters?”
“Cromwell has them; they were taken from my uncle’s house. Father may have written in favour of the queen’s cause — he has copies — and the abbot has replied in a similar tone. I’ve not seen them myself.”
Fisher looked at Cromwell, who was taking a paper forward to show the king. “He will use anything he can to punish your father for not following his instruction.”
The clerk to the court had risen and people began to take their seats in readiness. He announced the opening of the session and proceeded to welcome the first expert witnesses, men from the universities and Inns of Court, whose judgement was in favour of the king.
A sound behind them drew Thomasin’s attention. She turned to see Thomas More, white-faced, appear at her shoulder.
“What is it?” she whispered, shocked at his appearance.
“I am being sent to Cambrai. I depart at once for the summit between France and the Emperor, taking Wolsey’s place.”
“A summit?”
“Peace talks, supposedly, but filled with so much animosity. I am to support the French in their military action against Milan.”
“You’re leaving at once?”
“I should be on the road already, but I had to come and tell you. I couldn’t just disappear. It is another ploy on Cromwell’s part to suggest me. Wolsey asked for the talks to be delayed so he could attend. Now I am to be sent away!”
“I can’t believe it,” said Fisher. “Are we all to be dismissed, one by one, until the king gets his wish?”
“I must away. I can stay no more, but all my prayers and wishes remain behind with you.”
Thomasin sat stunned as her dear friend hurried out of the chamber. When would she see him again, and hear the comfort of his words? How many more turns would this unpleasant matter take before the king achieved his aim?
Henry had risen to his feet, ready to address the cardinals, but Thomasin could hardly bear to look at him.
She listened while he spoke about his reasons for requesting an investigation into his marriage, quoting a passage from Leviticus as justification for why it had been wrong to marry his brother’s wife.
He announced twenty-one articles that justified his position and called upon those present to witness his true intentions and desire to serve England before God.
It was nothing that Thomasin had not heard before.
In turn, the experts were called to support his view, with other references, precedents and arguments.
Listening to them turned Thomasin’s stomach.
She thought of Queen Catherine, her head bent in prayer, her tears at night, her fears for her daughter and the future.
The whole matter seemed cruel. There was nothing new here. Nothing to keep her.
“I can’t stay here,” she whispered to Fisher. “I must go.”
Rising to her feet, she ignored the heads turning in her direction, walking swiftly through the doors and into the sunny courtyard.
Catherine would already have left. An army of servants were probably in her apartments, sweeping out the hearth, washing down the walls and floor, and removing the waste for burning. All that remained for Thomasin was to follow them to Baynard’s.
She sat down on one of the stone benches in a bower planted with roses.
The sunshine played across her skirts, picking out the silver threads in the fabric, making them seem gaudy in the daylight.
She looked up at the beautiful palace, with its long windows, stone carvings, and twisted chimneys, and the gardens with their colours and scents, the early summer clouds overhead.
All seemed idyllic. How many people would never experience a paradise like this?
Never wear cloth of gold or silver, or dine on venison, or dance to a lute?
And yet, all the court brought was unkindness and suffering.
Rafe’s eyes flashed before her again, full of anger.
Thomasin’s head dropped and tears welled in her eyes.
Embarrassed, she attempted to stem the flow, but was powerless to stop them falling.
“My Lady Thomasin? What distresses you?”
Harry Letchmere had approached her along the path, but she had been too absorbed to notice. She did not know him well enough to confess all, but she believed him to be a good man, from the little she had observed.
“Forgive me, it is nothing. You have just caught me in an unguarded moment.”
“They come to us all. I try not to have mine in the palace gardens, though, when strange eyes might interrupt.”
“Very true,” said Thomasin, wiping her eyes and wondering what Sir Henry’s unguarded moments might look like.
“Might I be of assistance in any way?”
“Thank you, but no. I should really be on my way to join the queen.”
“She has departed for Baynard’s Castle, I believe?”
“Yes, not so far, but far enough from here. How did you know?”
“Your fair cousin confided in me before the departure. I hope to call on the queen before long and see you all well settled there.”
“It is a mere moment’s walk from here, so do not delay in paying your visit. We shall live quietly enough there, now that our business at court is concluded.”
“I heard the queen spoke most bravely, like a true warrior queen of England.”
“Yes, she spoke well. She spoke her truth.”
“And I hope it shall bring her the peace she deserves.”
“Thank you. She needs all the friends she can muster at this time.”
Thomasin looked at him again. He was not a young man, with his greying temples, but his face was kindly and his eyes were warm. She recalled that she had first met him when he accompanied Giles to the queen’s apartments, and wondered how close the pair of them were.
“You are an acquaintance of my cousin Giles, I believe.”
“Oh, more than acquaintance. I am proud to call him my friend, such a noble and blessed gentleman as him.”
Thomasin was surprised; was this merely the exalted praise of a friend?
“You have known him long, then?”
“Since we were boys. He is, in truth, the kindest, most sincere man I have ever met. When we lost my father, and my mother was ailing in her grief, he rode over to visit us every day for a month, devising means to cheer her spirits. He had a hand in my sister’s marriage too, adding to her dowry from his own purse.
I have never heard another fellow speak a bad word about him, save from jealousy. ”
Thomasin thought of Rafe at once. “He must indeed be a saint, if all you say is true.”
“He is your cousin; you should know the mettle of the man.”
It was true, Thomasin realised. Despite not having known him for as long as Sir Henry had, she instinctively felt that Giles was the best of men, everything that was good and true in a gentleman. She felt her cheeks blushing.
“Do come and visit us soon,” she insisted. “My other cousin, Ellen, will be pleased to see you.”
“It will be my pleasure. I will take my leave of you, Mistress Thomasin.” He gave a short bow and strode off towards the river. Watching him depart, with his long stride and fine calves, Thomasin had to admit he was not an unattractive man.
She decided she would take this opportunity to go to Monk’s Place and tell her mother about her visit to the Tower.
It would be a short ride by carriage, and she need stay only an hour.
She turned towards the northern court, which gave out onto the church and London streets, where the palace’s horses were stabled.
She knew some of the young men who worked here; they often carried the queen’s messages, and one of them would surely find her a carriage to travel into Thames Street.
As she headed through the gateway, a distant figure came into her line of her sight.
It was a woman with a hood pulled down over her face, moving slowly, laboriously, in a long tan and cream dress, open-laced about her swollen belly.
Even across the courtyard, Thomasin recognised Cecilia as she disappeared into one of the corridors.
A jolt of surprise moved her forward in pursuit.
What on earth was Cecilia doing at court?
Had something happened at home? Did she bring news?
“Cecilia?”
Thomasin caught up with her as she reached the dark point of the corridor, by the turning towards the cellars. Cecilia turned, wide-eyed with surprise.
“What are you doing here? Has something happened?”
“Hush! No! All is well.”
“Were you seeking me?”
Cecilia shook her head. “Leave me be, Thomasin. Pretend you have not seen me; go about your business.”
“But why? What is your business here?”
“Mother believes I have gone to the tailor in search of new linen for my lying-in. Do not reveal this to her.”
“I was about to visit her myself. Might I take you home with me, in a carriage? You should not be walking about here, not in your condition.”
“I still have three months before the child arrives. I do not need your concern.”
“I disagree. Come, tell me, why are you here? Otherwise you will have to explain to the guards at the gate. You can’t just wander into the palace.” She paused and frowned. “Is Mother faring well?”
“She is still upset, as you can imagine.”
“And you left her?”
“Well, Thomasin, it’s not as if you are there with her either.”
The rebuke stung but was true. Thomasin’s role at court had kept her from Lady Elizabeth’s side in a time of need. But she had been able to stay away in the belief that Cecilia and Sir Matthew were with her mother.
“That is hardly fair. And I have visited Father in the Tower today. That was the news I was to take her.”
“You went to the Tower?”
“Yes, Cecilia. I saw Father and took him some supplies. He is in fairly good spirits, considering, and he is fortunate in his guardian. With any luck, he will be released when this matter of the royal marriage is concluded.”
Thomasin did not mention her father’s weak eyes. There was no need to trouble her mother and sister just yet on that front.
“Well, that is good news. I shall tell Mother upon my return.”
“But you still have not told me why you are here. Come now, I am your sister. What has brought you here? It must be important.”
Cecilia’s hands wound around her stomach. “I am due to bear his child soon, Thomasin, and he does not know. He should know that his child is coming, do you not think?”
“William Hatton? You are here to see him?”
Thomasin thought of the awful moment last Christmas at Greenwich, when she and her parents had discovered Cecilia and Hatton in bed together.
“Not to see him. It is not an assignation. A man has a right to know he is about to become a father, Thomasin. Surely even you must see that?”
Even you? thought Thomasin. Their childhood animosity clearly still lingered. “I must dissuade you in the strongest possible terms, and insist that you return to Monk’s Place at once.”
“I will not do that, Thomasin. I am here now. I will not leave.” Cecilia’s stubbornness was legendary in the family: if she refused to do something, she would never do it.
“Hatton does not know you are here?”
“I do not even know that he is.”
“And yet you have come all this way?”
“I had to, Thomasin, I had to take the chance.” She cradled her belly again. “You cannot understand what it is like.”
“No,” Thomasin replied quietly. “I cannot. He is here, or he was a few days ago, in the company of the king.”
“Thank you. Where should I find him?”
“I came from the court not long ago, and he was not there. He is likely to be in the king’s chambers, I imagine, awaiting Henry’s return.”
“Would you take me there?” Her pale blue eyes pleaded with a sincerity that was rare for Cecilia.
Thomasin sighed. “I suppose I must, although I fear we are heading for the lion’s den.”