Katharine knew that it was on occasions like this when his dogs and all wise men and women kept their distance from him, but she was his wife and must know what disturbed him, so she asked: “Does aught ail you, Henry?”

He turned and she noticed how his lower lip jutted out.

“Oh, ’tis naught but the folly of young Percy.”

“Northumberland’s son?”

“Yes, Henry Percy. The young fool has been presumptuous enough to promise marriage to one of the girls of the Court.”

“And you cannot grant permission for this marriage?”

“Northumberland’s is one of the most noble families in the land,” growled Henry.

“Is the girl whom he has chosen so lowly?”

“She is not of his rank.”

“So far below him then?”

“It is Thomas Boleyn’s girl.”

“Oh?” The Queen thought of the girl as she had seen her about the Court—a flamboyant personality, one made to attract attention to herself, decidedly French in manners and style of dressing. Indeed since the beginning of the French wars, when the girl had come to England, fashions had been changing and becoming more French, which was strange when it was considered that the English were at war with that country. “I have noticed her often,” went on the Queen. “She seems to be one who attracts attention to herself. I have seen Percy with her and Wyatt also.”

“Wyatt is married so he could not make a fool of himself,” muttered the King.

“Thomas Boleyn has risen in your favor in the last years, Henry. Is the girl so very much below Percy?”

“Come, come, he is the eldest son of Northumberland. His father will never consent to the match.”

“But the girl’s mother is a Howard and…”

Henry made an irritable gesture, wriggling his shoulders like a petulant boy. “Northumberland is coming to Court to forbid his son to have anything to do with the girl. Indeed she is pledged already to marry the son of Piers Butler. As to Percy, he is to marry Shrewsbury’s girl—Mary Talbot…a suitable match.”

Katharine stared sadly before her. She was sorry for the lovers.

“I thought the Boleyn girl to be well educated, and she has a certain dignity.”

The King turned on her angrily. “’Tis a most unsuitable match. The Cardinal has already reprimanded that young fool Percy and made him see his folly. ’Tis a pity he ever took service with the Cardinal, since it has brought him into close contact with the girl.”

“Percy will be docile,” said the Queen. She remembered him as she had last seen him at the side of that vital, glowing girl, and she had seen what a contrast they made—she so full of life, he so gentle, weak almost. She was certain there would be no rebellion from Percy.

“He had better be,” said the King. “In any case he’s banished from Court and has been ordered not to see the girl again. His duty now is to marry Mary Talbot as soon as possible, and we shall see that that is done.”

“Ah well, Henry, then the matter will be settled. But I am surprised that you should feel so strongly about it.”

“You are surprised!” The King’s eyes were fierce. “Let me tell you that the welfare of the young people at my Court is my greatest concern.”

“I know it well.”

The King strode from her apartment; and she continued to wonder why he should have been so incensed by such a trivial matter.

She saw Anne Boleyn a few days later, and all the sparkle seemed to have gone out of her. She was dejected and sullen.

Poor girl! pondered the Queen. She is heartbroken at the loss of her lover.

She wondered whether to send for her and offer her comfort; but decided that would be unwise, and tantamount to acting against the wishes of the King.

A week passed and she remembered that she had not seen the girl; so she asked one of her women if Anne Boleyn was still at Court.

“No, Your Grace,” was the answer, “she has returned to Hever Castle on the King’s command.”

Banished from Court! And simply because she accepted Percy’s offer of marriage.

The King’s anger was unaccountable.


* * *

AS THE CARDINAL bent over the documents on his table his usher entered and told him that a merchant of Genoa was craving an audience with His Eminence.

“What is his business?” asked the Cardinal.

“He would tell me nothing, Eminence, except that he had merchandise to show you which he would show no other, and that he felt sure you would be willing to grant him an interview if you would but look at the nature of the articles he has to lay before you.”

Wolsey was thoughtful. Was he right when he fancied there was a hint of subtlety in the merchant’s words? What was the nature of the merchandise he wished to show? Could it be information—secret information?

A year ago he would have had the merchant told that he might call again; since his defeat at the Papal election he had added that to his caution which he had subtracted from his dignity.

“Bring the man to me,” he said.

Cavendish retired and returned in a few moments with a dark-skinned man who carried a bag in a manner to suggest that what it contained was very precious indeed.

“You may leave,” Wolsey told Cavendish; and as soon as he was alone with the Genoese, the man set down his bag and said: “My lord Cardinal, I am not merely a merchant. I come on behalf of one who is eager to negotiate with you.”

“And who is that?”

“The Duchesse of Savoy.”

The Cardinal was silent. He knew that in truth this man was a messenger from François Premier, because, in everything François did, his mother, Louise of Savoy, was firmly behind him. Therefore if this man did indeed come from the Duchesse, it was tantamount to coming from the King of France.

At last Wolsey spoke. “For what purpose are you here?”

“My lady Duchesse knows full well the perfidy of the Emperor, which Your Eminence has so recently had reason to deplore. She believes that England would be happier in friendship with the King of France than with this perfidious Emperor. She knows that the King of England is deeply involved with the Emperor, that the Princess Mary is the Emperor’s betrothed; but she feels that a greater understanding could be possible between France and England if Your Eminence and she were friends. She sends you letters which I bring to you; and if it should please Your Eminence to answer these letters, your reply can be safely trusted to my care.”

“Your credentials?” asked the Cardinal.

The merchant opened his bag and produced papers which Wolsey studied.

These told him that he was in the presence of Giovanni Joachino Passano, a man whom he could trust; Passano was in England as a merchant and would carry on that trade. If the Cardinal could find lodgings for him it would make their meetings easier to arrange and he would be always at his disposal as the go-between for correspondence between France and England.

The Cardinal was thoughtful.

He was determined to end the war, the cessation of which was necessary for England’s solvency; he was equally determined to show the Emperor that he could not neglect his promise to Thomas Wolsey with impunity. Secret communications with France would be useful at this moment.

“I shall lodge you in London with a servant of mine in whom I have the utmost trust,” he said. “As a merchant of Genoa it will be understood that you are constantly travelling between London and the Continent. I shall study these papers you have brought to me and it may be that I shall wish you to carry my answers to the Duchesse.”

“If that is so, Your Eminence, I shall be at your service.”

“Let me see the articles you have brought with you to sell.”

For the next ten minutes the Cardinal examined the exquisite cloth which the merchant showed him; then he summoned one of his pages and told him to send in a certain servant, one who did not live in the Cardinal’s intimate entourage but had his lodgings in London.

When this man arrived he said to him: “Here is Giovanni Joachino Passano, a merchant from Genoa, who has brought me rich cloth. I wish him to return to Genoa in due course to bring me more, but for the time being he needs lodgings in London. Take him into your house, that he may be near at hand when I wish to give him my orders.”

The servant was delighted to be so selected and assured the Cardinal that the Genoese merchant should have the best room in his house, and all the respect deserved by one whose merchandise pleased the Cardinal.

Wolsey nodded his approval in a manner which implied good services would not be forgotten.

And so the agent of Louise of Savoy—who was naturally the servant of François Premier—had his lodgings in London; and the Cardinal often called him to Hampton Court, where they would remain together and alone, sometimes for hours at a time.


* * *

THE KING CAME riding to Greenwich from Hever Castle where he had been spending a night as the guest of Sir Thomas Boleyn. As soon as he reached the Palace he summoned the Cardinal to his presence.

He greeted Wolsey with the pleasure he habitually bestowed upon his favorite minister, but there was a change in his manner which baffled the Cardinal.

He seemed almost subdued, which was rare in Henry; he looked more like a boy than ever and there was a certain gentleness about him which the Cardinal had never seen before.

“’Twas pleasant in the country,” he said. “I declare Boleyn’s castle of Hever is a restful place in which to spend a night.”

That was strange also. When had Henry ever asked for restfulness?