Henry hesitated. “If there remains a chance that the Pope will judge in my favor, I will not look for a solution elsewhere.”
Anne gave way to despair. He had been a good son of the Church for too long, and its champion against heresy. He might bluster and threaten, yet his heart was orthodox. But what was Henry’s loyalty to the Church worth against Clement’s fear of provoking the Emperor? One day he would finally accept that the man beneath the triple crown was as weak and fallible as the rest of mortality.
—
Anne hastened to Henry’s privy chamber, wondering why he wanted to see her so urgently.
“His Grace is upset,” Norris warned, admitting her. Their eyes met for a moment, and there was that old, familiar recognition. She looked away and joined Henry, who was with Dr. Butts. The doctor bowed at her approach.
“The Cardinal is very ill,” Henry said, lifting a stricken face. “I sent Dr. Butts to see him, and in truth, I am very sorry to hear what he has to say. God forbid that Wolsey should die, for I would not lose him for twenty thousand pounds!”
Anne stiffened. He would never stop loving Wolsey. She had feared it all along. But it mattered little now, if Wolsey was dying.
Dr. Butts spoke. “I fear, Lady Anne, that he could be dead within four days if he receives no comfort from His Grace and you.”
There were tears in Henry’s eyes. “I am sending him this ring.” He took it off his finger and gave it to the doctor. “He knows it well, for he gave it to me. Tell him that I am not offended with him in my heart. Bid him be of good cheer. God send him life!” He seized Anne’s hand. “Good sweetheart, I pray you, as you love me, send the Cardinal a token with some comfortable words.”
It could not hurt, not now. And one must show charity to the dying, even to one’s enemies. She detached a small gold tablet book from her girdle and handed it to Dr. Butts. “I wish him well too,” she said.
Whether it was down to the comfortable words and tokens, or the skill of Dr. Butts, Wolsey mended daily, and Anne’s brief flowering of sympathy withered. Again she began reminding Henry that the Cardinal was responsible for their present intolerable situation, insinuating his offenses into their conversations whenever possible, stoking the King’s anger. He was not receptive at first, but soon she realized she was making headway. Recalling how Wolsey had duped him, his resentment festered. And Anne seized her moment.
“Your Grace’s sympathy for the Cardinal is laudable,” she said, “but he is not worthy of your forbearance. I beg of you not to see him. I know you could not help but pity him, but it would not be fitting for a traitor like him to come into your presence.”
“But darling—” Henry began.
“Don’t darling me!” she interrupted, furious. “Sometimes I think you love him more than you love me! Well, you will have to choose between us. I have endured this waiting long enough.”
“Sweetheart,” he begged, leaping up to embrace her, “be reasonable! Is not my displeasure enough punishment for him?”
Anne fended him off. “Others, committing lesser offenses, would have gone to the block! But you need not go so far, Henry. I will go and pack.”
“No!” he shouted, as she moved toward the door. “No, Anne. Do not leave me! What would my life be without you? I love you! And I promise you, I will not receive the Cardinal. I will do whatever you wish, if only you will stay with me.”
And then, of course, she relented, and all was harmonious between them again. If Henry resented having been forced to capitulate, he did not betray it. His ardor was inflamed all the more by the thought of losing her.
Norris escorted her out.
“You heard what the King said?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “I could not help overhearing, my lady Anne.”
“I will put paid to this Cardinal once and for all,” she murmured, “even if it costs me twenty thousand crowns in bribes!”
“It will not,” he assured her. “There are many who will do much to prevent his return to power.”
She did not tell him that she had sent a spy, in the guise of a servant, to infiltrate Wolsey’s household, with instructions to seek out anything remotely incriminating. George had been most helpful in setting that trap, and the spy had been dispatched with a pouch full of gold.
Soon the Cardinal’s physician was overheard telling a colleague that his master had been corresponding with the Pope. Naturally the servant who heard him, being loyal to the King, came hurrying to report this to the Privy Council. The physician was arrested.
Henry, relating this to Anne over supper that evening, was incensed.
“The Cardinal has asked the Pope to excommunicate me and lay an interdict on England if I do not dismiss you and treat the Queen with proper respect.”
Anne’s rage was genuine. “Now you see him for what he is! The vilest traitor. When I think of all the years he has caused us to waste—all lost—and how my honor has been defamed.” She was weeping now. “In truth, I cannot go on like this. I am weary of it all. Often I think it would be best to end it now, then we can both get on with our lives.”
Henry was crying too. “Darling, please do not speak of leaving me!”
“You have no idea how it is for me,” she sobbed. “The world thinks I sleep with you, and some even say I have borne you bastards. My reputation is in ruins, thanks to Wolsey and that weakling Clement. How do you think that feels? Wolsey should pay for what he has done! You should have him arrested.”
“But I can’t do that,” Henry shouted, dabbing at his eyes and recovering himself. “That letter the physician spoke of cannot be found, and without it there is a poor case against the Cardinal. I would do anything for you, Anne, but this would be against my honor, and against all justice.”
“Is the man’s testimony not enough?” she cried, frantic. “Men have been beheaded on the strength of witness depositions.”
“More depositions than we have in this case,” Henry argued.
She would not push him further. She had failed, but tomorrow was another day. “Forgive me if I seemed vehement,” she said, drying her tears. “It was the thought of your having been deceived and betrayed.”
“You don’t know how you twist the knife, Anne,” Henry told her.
—
Anne strode through Whitehall to the King’s apartments, pushing past Norris without waiting to be admitted. Henry had pardoned Wolsey! What was he thinking of?
“You should have had him arrested instead!” she cried, upbraiding him for his folly, but he was immovable as a rock.
“You would not have me pervert the justice that is carried out in my name?” he challenged.