He had sent her good news. England and France had together declared war on the Emperor. Better still, the Pope had escaped from Rome to Orvieto, and had issued a confidential dispensation enabling Henry to marry whichever woman he liked, even his mother, daughter, or sister, provided his first marriage was declared unlawful. Clement had also granted Wolsey a general commission to try the King’s case, but not to pass judgment.
“His Holiness is terrified of the Emperor,” Henry wrote. “He has secretly urged me to take matters into my own hands, have Wolsey pronounce a divorce, and then marry again; and he assures me he will confirm the second marriage, and so judgment will be passed to the satisfaction of the whole world—as long as no one guesses that the idea came from him. But I have the future stability of the succession to consider. Our marriage must be indisputably valid.”
Anne agreed that this was a perilous course to take. She was beginning to distrust this Pope. Why should God’s Vicar on Earth fear a mortal prince? And how fit to pronounce on the King’s case was a pontiff who advised such subterfuges and permitted such unpardonable excesses in the Church?
—
As soon as the snow cleared, Henry rode down to Hever.
“Things are moving!” he told Anne excitedly, before he had even swung himself down from his horse. “Wolsey has asked the Pope to send another legate, Cardinal Campeggio, to try my case with him.”
She could not contain her frustration. “He is stalling.”
“Darling,” Henry protested, pulling her into a cold embrace, “Wolsey is the most able of my ministers. He’s the only man capable of securing an annulment.”
“Is that what he tells you? Henry, he is stalling.”
“I’ll not believe it.” Henry looked injured. “Anne, I have come all this way to see you, and I do not want to waste time arguing. I know you have little love for Wolsey, but you are being unreasonable.”
“He knows that the Pope is reluctant to give judgment in your favor for fear of offending the Emperor. He must also know that any cardinal coming from Rome will do the Pope’s bidding and delay a decision. And that will suit my Lord Cardinal very well, because the last thing he wants to see is me with a crown on my head!”
“I don’t think so,” Henry said, looking perplexed. “Wolsey bombards my envoys in Rome daily with instructions, promises, threats, and inducements. No one has worked more tirelessly in this matter.”
“Yes, but to what end? And you cannot see it! When I think of all you have done for him, the wealth you have showered on him, the offices, the palaces finer than yours…” She left the sentence unfinished.
Henry was looking disgruntled. Having sown the seeds of discontent over the past weeks, in her letters and face-to-face, Anne knew that he was at last growing resentful of Wolsey’s power and wealth.
“He has promised me an annulment, and I will hold him to it. We shall see if he keeps his promise. Then will you be satisfied?”
“I shall be forever grateful to him,” Anne declared, realizing that she had gone far enough, and that it was now time to lighten the mood. She smiled. “Our bitch has whelped. Would your Grace like to see the pups? You are very welcome to your pick of them.”
She led Henry into the hall, where Venus, Father’s mastiff bitch, was lying in a basket by the fire with her offspring gamboling around her. Mary’s children were playing with them, and Anne bade them bow to the King. She saw Henry’s eyes light on Catherine and recognition dawn. He bent down.
“Don’t be afraid of me, little maid.” Catherine smiled shyly. It was like looking at Henry in miniature.
“I’m not afraid!” piped up Hal. Henry ruffled his hair.
“You’re a fine pair,” he said, looking wistful. “When I come again, I will bring you gifts.”
“We’re going to give His Grace a gift, aren’t we?” Anne told her niece and nephew. “Which puppy shall he have?”
“Vulcan!” cried Hal.
“Saturn,” said Catherine.
“I’ll have Saturn,” Henry said. Catherine gathered up the wriggling little dog and laid it in his arms. “Thank you, sweeting,” he told her.
His eyes met Anne’s above his daughter’s head. They were full of tears. Give me children like these, they were pleading.
—
At the end of January, the King’s chaplain, Edward Foxe, and Stephen Gardiner, a doctor of civil and canon law, called on Anne at Hever.
“Mistress Anne, we bring you news and a letter from the King,” Foxe explained, when refreshments had been served. “We are on our way to Rome to persuade the Pope to send Cardinal Campeggio as legate. His Holiness refused, you know, but Cardinal Wolsey has asked us to add our arguments to his, and repeat without ceasing that His Majesty cannot do otherwise than separate from the Queen. If all else fails, we are to do our best to excite fear in the Pope.”
It was apparent, after Anne had conversed with Foxe and the stern-faced Gardiner for only a short while, that both were formidable advocates. If anyone could succeed with this vacillating Pope, it was these two determined clerics.
They did not stay long. They had to get to Dover to catch tomorrow’s tide.
“I wish you well,” she told them. “You have a long journey ahead of you. Godspeed—and bring me back good news.”
When they had gone, she opened Henry’s letter. He too was optimistic. He trusted, by the diligence of Dr. Foxe and Dr. Gardiner, that shortly he and she would have their desired end, which would be more to his heart’s ease than any other thing in the world. It was signed: “With the hand of him which desires as much to be yours as you do to have him. H.R.”
As usual, in the face of his devotion, she felt guilty. She had tried not to think of Norris during these months at Hever, but he had kept invading her thoughts. If only she could feel the same powerful attraction for Henry.
—
Soon afterward, Henry wrote to say that, by careful maneuvering, the Cardinal was trying to resolve the feud between her father and Piers Butler over the earldom of Ormond, hoping to persuade Piers to resign it in favor of Father. Even if Wolsey was seeking to placate the enmity of the Boleyns, it was good news, and Father would be elated at the prospect of being a belted earl.
Henry had suggested that a note of thanks to Wolsey would be appropriate, so Anne clenched her teeth and wrote one, thanking him for his wisdom and diligence in endeavoring to bring about the King’s divorce.
To me, it will be the greatest wealth that can come to any creature. When I am queen, you shall see what I can imagine to do you pleasure, and you shall find me the gladdest woman in the world to do it. And next to the King’s Grace, you shall have my love unfeignedly through my life.
It was all lies, and it went against her principles to send it, but she must not let Henry think she was vindictive. The time would come when he would see the truth.