But where was Campeggio? And what was the sluggish Wolsey doing to bring him his heart’s desire?

The Marriage Brief

CARDINAL LORENZO CAMPEGGIO ARRIVED IN LONDON IN October. It was three months since he had set out from Rome, and he had been expected long before. Wolsey received him at York Place where he arrived inconspicuously, much to Wolsey’s disgust, for even now, anxious as he was, he hated to miss an opportunity of giving the people a display of his magnificence. Wolsey would have preferred to go out with his household about him—his silver crosses, his pillars of silver, his seal and his Cardinal’s hat—and to have a ceremonial meeting with his fellow Cardinal in public.

Campeggio had other ideas and had kept his arrival a secret until he came quietly to York Place.

Wolsey embraced him and gave orders for apartments to be made ready for the distinguished visitor. “The best we have to offer. Your Eminence, we have long awaited this pleasure.”

Campeggio winced as Wolsey took his hands. “I suffer agonies from the gout,” he told his host; and indeed it was obvious that he spoke the truth. When Wolsey looked into that pale face with the lines of pain strongly marked on it, he assured himself that here was a man who would not be difficult to lead. Surely one who suffered as Campeggio did would be more concerned with resting his weary limbs than fighting Katharine’s battle.

“We shall do our utmost to make you comfortable here,” Wolsey told him; “and we shall put the best physicians at your service.”

“There is little physicians can do for me,” mourned Campeggio. “My friend, there are days when I am in such pain that I cannot bear the light of day. Then I ask nothing but to lie in a dark room and that no one should come near me.”

“Yours must have been a grievously painful journey.”

Campeggio lifted his shoulders despairingly. “There were times when it was impossible for me to ride; even travelling in a litter was too much for me. Hence the delay.”

Wolsey was not so foolish as to believe that Campeggio’s gout was the only reason for the delay. He guessed that the Pope, in his very delicate position, would not be eager to proclaim the marriage of the Emperor’s aunt invalid. Clearly Clement was playing for time. Campeggio’s gout had been very useful; and doubtless would be in the future.

“The King,” Wolsey told Campeggio, “is most eager to have this matter settled.”

“So I believe.” Campeggio shook his head sadly. “It is not good for the Church,” he went on. “Whatever the outcome, His Holiness will not feel easy in his mind.”

“But if the King’s marriage is no marriage…”

“His Holiness is horrified at the thought that the King of England and the Infanta of Spain may have been living in sin for eighteen years.”

“It should not be a difficult matter,” insisted Wolsey, “to prove that owing to the Queen’s previous marriage, that with the King cannot be legal.”

“I cannot agree,” Campeggio retorted. “It may well prove a most difficult matter.”

Wolsey understood then that the Pope was not going to grant a divorce, because he was too much in awe of the Emperor; and Wolsey believed that Clement had sent Campeggio, who was as much an expert in vacillation as he was himself, to conduct the case with very definite orders that nothing must be settled in a hurry, and before any decision was reached the Vatican must be informed.

The King would be infuriated by the delay, and if he were disappointed in the manner in which the case was conducted, he would blame Wolsey.


* * *

WHEN CAMPEGGIO had recovered from the strain of his journey, he went, accompanied by Wolsey, to Greenwich to see the King.

Henry received him with outward cordiality but inward suspicions. He did not like the appearance of Campeggio—the Legate was unhealthy; he looked pale and tired; his limbs were swollen with the gout which had so lengthened his journey across France. Could not Clement have sent a healthy man! the King grumbled to himself. Moreover there was a shrewd look in the fellow’s eyes, a certain dignity which Henry believed was meant to remind him that he was a servant of the Pope and served no other.

By God, thought the King, there has been delay enough.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said; and bade Campeggio be seated with Wolsey beside him.

When Henry had offered condolences for the Legate’s sufferings he plunged into the real reasons for his being in England.

“There has been much delay,” he said, “and I wish the proceedings to begin at once.”

“As soon as possible,” murmured Campeggio. “But I would like to say that if we could settle this matter without much noise it would please His Holiness.”

“I care not how it is settled, provided it is settled,” said the King.

“His Holiness begs Your Grace to consider the effect of a divorce on your subjects.”

Wolsey watching closely saw the danger signals leap up in the King’s eyes. He said quickly: “His Holiness has no need to ask His Grace to do that. His Grace’s one great concern is the wellbeing of his subjects, and it is for their good that he seeks freedom from this alliance which has proved a barren one.”

Henry threw a grateful glance at his Chancellor.

“Then,” went on Campeggio, “I am sure I have an acceptable solution. His Holiness will examine the dispensation made by his predecessor, Julius II, and adjust it, making a new dispensation in which there can be no manner of doubt that the marriage between Henry Tudor and Katharine of Aragon is lawful.”

Wolsey dared not look at the King because he knew that Henry would be unable to contain his rage.

“So I have waited three months to hear that!” spluttered Henry. “It may well be that I know more of this matter than any other person. I have grappled with my conscience, and it tells me this: never…never…shall I find favor in the sight of God while I continue to live with a woman who is not my wife in His eyes.”

“Your Grace knows more of the matter than any theologian, it seems,” said Campeggio with a faint smile.

“That is so!” thundered Henry. “And all I want of you is a decision whether or not that marriage is valid.”

Campeggio, who had a wry sense of humor, murmured: “I gather that what Your Grace wishes is a decision that the marriage is not valid.”

“His Grace has suffered much from indecision,” added Wolsey.

“The indecision of others,” retorted Campeggio. “I see that there is no uncertainty in his mind. Now His Holiness is most eager that there should be an amicable settlement of this grievous matter, and my first duty will be to see the Queen and suggest to her that she retire into a convent. If she would do this and renounce her marriage, His Holiness would then without delay declare the marriage null and void. It would be her choice, and none could complain of that.”

Henry’s anger was a little appeased. If Katharine would but be sensible, how simply this matter could end. What was her life outside convent walls that she could not make this small sacrifice? She could live inside a convent in much the same manner as she did outside. It seemed to him a little thing to ask.

“She might be told,” he suggested, “that if she will retire to a convent, her daughter shall not suffer but shall be next in succession after my legitimate male heirs. There, you see how I am ready to be reasonable. All I ask is that she shall slip quietly away from Court into her convent.”

“I will put this matter to her,” replied Campeggio. “It is the only solution which would please the Holy Father. If she should refuse…”

“Why should she refuse?” demanded Henry. “What has she to lose? She shall have every comfort inside convent walls as she does outside.”

“She would have to embrace a life of celibacy.”

“Bah!” cried the King. “She has embraced that for several months. I tell you this: I have not shared her bed all that time. Nor would I ever do so again.”

“Unless of course,” murmured Campeggio rather slyly, “His Holiness declared the marriage to be a true one.”

The King’s anger caught him off his guard. “Never! Never! Never!” he cried.

Campeggio smiled faintly. “I see that an angel descending from Heaven could not persuade you to do what you have made up your mind not to do. My next duty is to see the Queen.”


* * *

KATHARINE RECEIVED the two Cardinals in her apartments where Campeggio opened the interview by telling her that he came to advise her to enter a convent. Wolsey, watching her closely, saw the stubborn line of her mouth and knew that she would not give way without a struggle.

“I have no intention of going into a convent,” she told him.

“Your Grace, this may be a sacrifice which is asked of you, but through it you would settle a matter which gives great distress to many people.”

“Distress?” she said significantly. “To whom does it bring greater distress than to me?”

“Do you remember what happened in the case of Louis XII? His wife retired to a convent and so made him free to marry again.”

“I do not intend to follow the example of others. Each case is different. For myself I say that I am the King’s wife, and none shall say that I am not.”

“Does Your Grace understand that unless you comply with this request there must be a case which will be tried in a court?” Wolsey asked.

She turned to Wolsey. “Yes, my lord Cardinal, I understand.”

“If you would take our advice…,” began Wolsey.

“Take your advice, my lord? I have always deplored your voluptuous way of life, and I know full well that when you hate you are as a scorpion. You hate my nephew because he did not make you Pope. And because I am his aunt you have turned your venom on me, and I know that it is your malice which has kindled this fire. Do you think I would take advice from you?”