Jane the Confidant Page 8

  “For all intents and purposes, France and Spain are the entire world,” Cromwell corrected him. “In matters of religion and state. Naturally we cannot look to Rome and the Pope for assistance. King Francis has all but declared against us. And Emperor Charles controls everything from Spain and its colonies in the New World to Poland; his reach as Holy Roman Emperor is far. There are no other leaders on the Continent who have the power to assist us.”

  “Surely the German duchies would come to our aid,” Bishop Thomas cut in. “They could be a powerful financial support.”

  I let my fist come down to the table before Cromwell could speak for me.

  “We will not have the Lutherans invading this country!” I thundered, as mugs of ale overturned, candles wobbled precariously, and Cromwell leapt into action, scooping his papers out of the way of Cranmer’s cup of ale that had spilt. Bishop Thomas sat back into his chair and looked away from me. It took only a moment for order to be restored and Cromwell spoke.

  “The duchies could not truly assist us. Any monetary investment sent our way would be considered too steep to return,” he explained quickly. “And their expectations of how our kingdom would be ruled could prove to be intolerable.”

  I glared at Cromwell and he sighed before continuing.

  “Besides which, they are Lutherans and could not be trusted by His Majesty, the Head of the Church of England.”

  Thomas barely acknowledged Cromwell’s answer and the members of my Privy Council all glanced away from him as he began to fiddle with his sleeves. I let out a deep breath, releasing my anger at the same time. It would not do to harm the Bishop of York. But we must find a way to beat these rebels.

  “My dear Duke,” I said, turning to Norfolk. “The campaigning season will soon draw to a close. Do you believe you can hold off the rebels until the winter?”

  “As long as they do not receive any further military support,” he responded thoughtfully. “Even with a large sum of money, there is little they could purchase; the north does not have the capabilities to produce a large amount of weapons or siege items quickly. More than likely the money they have received will be reserved until this winter, when they can work to stockpile weapons and perhaps purchase soldiers from Prussia.”

  I grimaced at that thought but nodded.

  “Then you must call an additional 20,000 men to fight for us,” I ordered. “You will stay in contact with Cromwell, whose first priority will be to determine the location of Robert Aske. Capturing this man will be more important than destroying the rebels, I am sure that any amount of money will travel with him.”

  Charles Brandon nodded with the sense I was making.

  “If your Majesty so desires,” he added. “I can take to the countryside to continue recruiting throughout the winter.”

  “Yes,” I answered confidently. “However, you will wait until the Duke of Norfolk returns to court. I believe it would be too dangerous to have both of our Dukes away from court at the same time.”

  Brandon nodded and I waited until Cromwell had finished scribbling my orders down.

  “Will that be all, Your Majesty?” Cromwell asked, glancing up at me.

  “Just one last thing,” I said and leaned forward. “When you find the gold that Francis has sent, make sure to kill Robert Aske and his men on sight.”

  ******

  It was some days later that Jane came to my bed. The Duke of Norfolk had said his final farewells that evening and was prepared to ride out the next morning, his troops having been provided by the minor knights and nobles who reported to him. I had to wonder how many more men we would be able to raise.

  Jane had rarely visited my bed in the past month; I had been exhausted from my full days of government work. The summer progress had been cut short and there had been no merriment at my court in weeks: meals were taken by courtiers in their rooms, there was no dancing and I had not heard a musician since we had visited Kent last July.

  But after the Duke had submitted his formal goodbyes to me at my supper that evening, I had looked at the piles of dispatches, the books of theology that covered my desk and had been consumed with an overwhelming feeling of despair. Turning away, I had sent a page boy to fetch Jane and she reached my quarters quickly, a silken robe thrown over her nightgown.

  I smiled wearily at her as my nightshirt was lowered over me by a page boy.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, sinking down and staying down until I was prepared for bed. This slightly concerned me; Jane rarely groveled when she came to my bed now. I took a deep breath. If she remained in her curtsey, she wanted to discuss something that was troubling her.

  “Jane, rise,” I said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

  “I have been wishing to speak with Your Majesty for several days,” Jane said, standing before me with her golden hair tumbling down her shoulders. I had not called her to my chambers for anything more than sleeping but she still looked innocently seductive, her hair slightly mused about her and the light robe slipping down her right shoulder.

  “You could have sent me a request,” I said gently, moving to climb into bed. A page boy stepped forward to hold the sheets back while another helped me lower into the bed. Jane looked at them before climbing in the bed as well, and I motioned for them to leave.

  “You will both sleep in my outer chambers tonight,” I continued, not wanting one page boy to feel the need to take his usual position at the foot of my bed. I had the feeling that Jane and I would be most busy tonight, and not engaging in any pleasurable activities.

  Jane waited until they were safely out of earshot to continue.

  “I have heard that Your Majesty has called for an even larger force for the Duke,” she said. “To confront the pilgrims.”

  “The rebels,” I corrected.

  “Yes, the rebels,” Jane said, her voice flat. “That over 20,000 men have been raised. And that Sir Charles plans to raise more in the winter months.”

  “Where did you hear such talk?” I asked. It was common knowledge that Norfolk had raised another army but exact numbers and Charles’s plans for the winter should not have left the Privy Council chambers.

  Jane shrugged but did not answer my question.

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Jane had seduced me by being different from my other courtiers. Now it seemed she had learned how to outmaneuver them.

  “Jane, I must know where you have heard such talk,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly. “It is dangerous. Though I know you mean me no harm, others could learn our plans as easily as you.”

  Jane sighed. “It is the page from York,” she finally said. “He is a young boy and quite taken with one of my maids. I believe he gives her the information only to impress her.”

  “There is a page in my service from the town of York?” I asked, aghast. How could Cromwell have been so blind as to allow this to happen? I made a mental note to have the boy moved to another location in the castle, perhaps to the stables. Surely he could do less harm there.

  “He is loyal to Your Majesty,” Jane said, laying her hand on my arm, her earnest face turned towards mine. “Truly, he is taken with my maid Isabella, but he means no harm to you.”

  “I will not harm the boy,” I assured her. “He will be whipped and sent to another part of the palace.”

  “You will not turn him out?” Jane asked, her head turned to the side.

  “And give the rebels another dissatisfied fighter?” I asked, pulling the crisp, beige sheets up towards my shoulders.

  Jane nodded and ducked her head as she reached down to pull the heavy furs over us. I waited for her to turn around and blow out the candle that sat on the table close to her side of the bed but she made no move to do so, instead sinking into her pillows on her side, her eyes turned more towards me.

  “Henry,” she said softly, taking my hand. “The rebels, everything they have done is out of love for their church and their beliefs. Surely you cannot declare war on
a people for their beliefs?”

  “Jane,” I answered, pulling my hand out of her soft grasp. “What they believe is wrong. They worship a pope that sits on high and sells indulgences to his people, a man who allows his priests to fill false holy relics with blood of sheep and for these men to fornicate with nuns and mistresses.”

  “Well then pluck the weeds from the soil, but do not discard the good that has been done,” Jane said, reaching back to take my hand. “Do not punish these rebels for longing to follow the true — “

  I sat up, throwing back the covers that suddenly felt too hot, my anger boiling up inside of me.

  “And you shall not meddle with things you do not understand!” I roared, jumping out of the bed. “You will not speak of these rebels as pilgrims or as lost souls; they are men who refuse to accept the truth and wish the spread their papist beliefs to others and endanger the souls of the true believers of my church!”

  I stood, shaking, facing Jane, who remained seated in the bed, her golden hair looking more like a wild nest than the halo it had earlier.

  “You cannot blame these men for doing what they believe is right,” she responded, her voice hard. I took a step away from the bed, landing on a small stool with a heavy thud. Jane had never contradicted me like this before; she had always bowed her head and taken what I had said at value.

  Where could this new confidence have arisen from? Certainly not her family; her brothers Edward and Thomas still forget to bow to her. Our son Edward had been born for over a year; it was not the pride in giving birth to a son that made her speak to me in this way. I closed my eyes, unwilling to look at the anger that came from my wife.

  “Then you must not blame me for doing what I believe is right,” I responded, attempting to cool my temper. Anger at Cromwell for his mistakes was one thing, anger at my wife, who sat in my bed was quite another. And I wished no more fights like the ones I had endured under Anne’s queenship.

  “These are the sheep of my flock,” I continued. “The people they are attacking are merely trying to right the wrongs of a long corrupt system. They endanger innocent people who are merely trying to worship in the correct way. These rebels seek to throw this nation into turmoil and do not respect the voice of my government.”

  Jane bit her lip; she had obviously not expected me to respond with a coherent argument. Pulling the sheets closer around her, she pulled her legs to her body and wrapped her arms around them. I gave her a moment to form her apology.

  “Henry, I am with child.”

  I sat on the stool, blinking and not prepared for the words she had uttered.

  “Pardon?” I asked, finding it hard to respond rationally. Jane frowned but repeated herself.

  “It has been two months,” she continued. “But I did not want to tell you until I was sure. That is what I wished to meet with you about this evening.”

  I took in a deep breath. I waited for the joy to fill me, the same pride that had always consumed me when I had heard this news before. Vaguely I could feel a smile coming to my face but it felt foreign. Did I only feel a lack of emotion because I already had a son?

  The smile on my face wavered as feelings of dread sat in my stomach. I took a moment to swallow and stood up, forcing the smile back into place.

  “That is wonderful news, sweetheart,” I said, coming to fall back into the bed next to Jane. She held out a hand to steady herself, but remained wrapped up in the sheets, not coming to fall against me.

  “Yes,” she said with a small smile, peaking up at me. “I knew it would please Your Majesty.”

  I nodded but did not answer. The feeling of dread had grown stronger and I still could not name where this new anxiety came from.

  “But I do wish to still speak with Your Majesty about the fate of the rebels,” she continued, her voice slightly muffled by the sheets. “I wish to ask that they not be severely punished when captured by the Duke of Norfolk.”

  I closed my eyes and turned away from her. The feeling in my stomach intensified but now at least I knew the reasoning for it. Jane had turned the conversation once again to these rebels that she seemed to sympathize with. I knew she considered it her duty to look for clemency. The Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys had given her the nickname of “peacemaker,” declaring that she had brought peace to the world by restoring Mary to my good graces.

  I looked back at Jane, who had risen up in bed, facing me, a hand on her belly. She now looked every inch a queen, a look I had not much associated with her before now. And like the other women who had been my queen, she knew how important a pregnancy was to me.

  She sat perfectly still as I reached out to touch her flat belly. I could feel the heat of her through her gown and in spite of myself smiled at the idea of the life that grew within her. It wasn’t until I looked back into her stern face that I realized she was waiting for my answer. I sighed.

  I always gave too much to a woman bearing my child.

  Chapter Eight

  February 1539

  I pulled my steed up sharply as the red-bricked palace came into view. Throughout the past seven years – through Anne’s betrayal and trial, my courtship of Jane and the birth of our son, the uprising of the Pilgrimage of Grace – I had continued work on a new palace within the city of London. At my son Henry Fitzroy’s suggestion, I had named it St. James Palace, as it stood on the grounds of a leper hospital named for the saint. Henry had in fact spent his last weeks at this palace and eventually died in one of its many rooms. I closed my eyes before urging my horse, Phillip, to continue down the winding, dusty path through the streets that lined my castle.

  This was my first official visit to the palace. I had seen it often enough during construction, but once my Henry had passed away here I could not bring myself to visit. Now we were here out of necessity. Since King Francis had called his troops and taken on his “holy duty” to punish my excommunicated kingdom, I had been under attack. The rebels eluded capture as their numbers grew; Francis had attacked my stronghold of Guines in France and won it for himself. Now the final piece of England left on French soil, Calais, was under attack. Lord Lisle was prepared for a long siege, but, with the rebels’ growing attacks, there was little support we could send him.

  It had been a swift ride here from Hampton Court. Most of my household had packed and taken barges down the Thames to reach St. James, but with my recent schedule I had little time for riding or hunting. A worried Charles Brandon had agreed to accompany me, along with my increased guard. The few times before when I had ridden through the streets of London, it had always been with pride, my standard being held by a page boy in front of me. Now we rode at a gallop, my men hunched over in the saddle, wary of attack. However, there was little that could be done to disguise me. Though a heavy cap covered my thinning red hair; my sheer size immediately alerted people to my identity.

  Fortunately London was still for us; the prosperity that the dissolution of the monasteries had brought to the kingdom had supported the merchants who filled my capital city. The few men we had encountered in the street had stood to the side, their caps doffed in respect. There had been no shouts of “God save the King!”

  “Your Majesty, we will be forced to move slower through these streets,” my captain of the guard said with a slight dip of his head. “I would feel safer if we traveled to the west entrance, through the merchant’s streets.”

  I nodded my consent and pulled Phillip up, the large beast shuddering under me as he halted. Charles rode to my side and we continued through the alley, turning right onto a larger road fare.

  “It is hard to believe it has come to this,” I say softly to my oldest friend. He grimaces and nods.

  “It is a shame when Your Majesty is not able to enter through his own front gates.”

  “Do you think there is such a danger?” I asked, attempting to keep the fear out of my voice. I had not considered riding through the streets of London foolhardy when I had commanded it yesterday, but spending an en
tire morning with my captain of the guard fearfully scouting ahead and constantly altering our travel plans had alarmed me.

  “I think there is nothing to fear from the citizens of London,” Brandon said firmly, easing some of my fears. “I do, however, think that an assassin could come from anywhere, that it would be easy for the rebels to infiltrate the city.”

  “You think it was foolish of me to travel this way?” I ask.

  “No,” he answers immediately, surprising me. “I think it is clever. Though it makes you more open for attack, you always travel by barge when in London. Horseback is unexpected.”

  I smiled grimly. In the past few months, with the attacks increasing and the fear of the court palpable, Charles had once again began talking to me as an equal, something he had not done since we were boys. Even a year ago this easy familiarity would have insulted me, been considered demeaning. Now it simply felt comforting.

  “I still wish the queen was traveling with us,” Charles continued, glancing to his left through a darkened window.

  “You cannot protect everyone, Charles,” I chided as the captain gestured for us to stop as he rode ahead to check a narrow alley ahead on the right. “Besides, it is best for Jane to not be moved, and there is no safer place for her to give birth than the Tower.”

  Though she had shied away from the idea at first, Cromwell and I had quickly convinced Jane it would be best for her lying in to occur in the Tower of London. A thick snow had settled on the ground the day she had agreed, and it had been over a week before she could be moved from Hampton Court to her new rooms. Since she had entered the safety of the Tower a month before, I had gotten daily reports on her progress and her boredom. Due to the lack of accommodations only a few of her ladies had been able to travel with her, and I know the constant guard that surrounded her chambers annoyed her.

  Jane was the only member of my court who did not seem fearful of the uprisings. I did not know if she did not understand the true nature of what was happening or if she was just brave enough to not fear their steady march towards London. Either way, her calm nature had brought some amount of tranquility onto the court, but it had vanished once she had moved.