It was the case of Buckingham repeating itself; only on this occasion the victim was the Cardinal himself.

And so they came to Grafton. There was revelry in the Manor, for Anne Boleyn and her brother George were in charge of the entertainments; and none knew how to amuse the King as they did. There would be hunting parties by day—the woods about Grafton had been the hunting ground of kings for many years—and the Lady would accompany the King and show him in a hundred ways how happy he would be if only he could discard the ageing Katharine and take to wife her brilliant, dazzling self.

The arrival of the Cardinals was expected and several of the King’s household were assembled to welcome them. Campeggio was helped from his mule and led into the Manor to be shown the apartments which had been made ready for him; but no one approached Wolsey, and he stood uncertain what to do, a feeling of terrible desolation sweeping over him. For one of the rare occasions in his life he felt at a loss; it was no use assuming his usual arrogance because it would be ignored; he stood aloof, looking what he felt: a lonely old man.

He became aware that no preparation had been made for him at the Manor and that he would be forced to find lodgings in the nearby village. Such an insult was so intolerable and unexpected that he could not collect his wits; he could only stand lonely and silent, aware of little but his abject misery.

A voice at his side startled him. “You are concerned for a lodging, my lord?”

It was a handsome youth whom he recognized as Henry Norris, and because he knew this fellow to be one of those who were deeply involved with the Boleyns and formed part of that admiring court which was always to be found where Anne was, Wolsey believed that he was being mocked.

“What is that to you?” he asked. “I doubt not that lodgings have been prepared for me.”

“My lord, I have reason to believe that they have not.”

Only when Wolsey looked into that handsome face and saw compassion there, did he realize how low he had fallen. Here he stood, the great Cardinal and Chancellor, close friend of the King, seeking favors from a young gentleman of the Court who, such a short time before, had been wont to ask favors of him.

“I pray you,” went on Henry Norris, “allow me to put a lodging at your disposal.”

The great Cardinal hesitated and then said: “I thank you for your kindness to me in my need.”

So it was Henry Norris who took him to a lodging in Grafton, and but for the compassion of that young man there would have been no place for him at the King’s Court.


* * *

THERE WAS excitement at Grafton. The Cardinal was in the Manor but all knew that no lodging had been prepared for him. That was on the orders of the Lady Anne, who commanded all, since she commanded the King. Now she would command Henry to dismiss his Chancellor, and all those who had hated the Cardinal for so long and had yearned to see his downfall were waiting expectantly.

Henry knew this, and he was disturbed. He had begun to realize that his relationship with the Cardinal had been one based on stronger feelings than he had ever experienced before in regard to one of his ministers; and much as he wished to please Anne, he could not bring himself lightly to cast aside this man with whom he had lived so closely and shared so much.

Anne insisted that Wolsey was no friend to the King because he worked for the Pope rather than Henry. And, she ventured to suggest, had the Cardinal so desired, the divorce would have been granted by now.

“Nay, sweetheart,” replied Henry, “I know him better than you or any other man. He worked for me. ’Twas no fault of his. He made mistakes but not willingly.”

Anne retorted that if Norfolk or Suffolk, or her own father had done much less than Wolsey they would have lost their heads.

“I perceive you are not a friend of my lord Cardinal, darling,” Henry answered.

“I am no friend of any man who is not the friend of Your Grace!” was the reply, which delighted Henry as far as Anne was concerned but left him perplexed regarding Wolsey.

And now he must go to the presence chamber where Wolsey would be waiting with the other courtiers. He could picture the scene. The proud Cardinal in one corner alone, and the groups of excited people who would be watching for the King’s entry and waiting to see the Cardinal approach his master—to be greeted coldly or perhaps not greeted at all.

Henry tried to work up a feeling of resentment. Why should he be denied his divorce? Why had not Wolsey procured it for him? Was it true that when the matter had been first suggested the Cardinal had intended a French marriage? Was it possible that, when he had known that the King’s heart was set on Anne, he had worked with the Papal Legate and the Pope against the King?

Scowling, Henry entered the presence chamber and it was as he had believed it would be. He saw the expectant looks on the faces of those assembled there—and Wolsey alone, his head held high, but something in his expression betraying the desolation in his heart.

Their eyes met and Wolsey knelt, but the sight of him, kneeling there, touched Henry deeply. A genuine affection made him forget all his resolutions; he went to his old friend and counsellor and, putting both his hands on his shoulders, lifted him up and, smiling, said: “Ha, my lord Cardinal, it pleases me to see you here.”

Wolsey seemed bemused as he stood beside the King, and Henry, slipping his arm through that of his minister, drew him to the window seat and there sat, indicating that Wolsey should sit down beside him.

“There has been too much friendship between us two for aught to change it,” said Henry, his voice slurred with sentiment.

And the glance Wolsey gave him contained such gratitude, such adoration, that the King was contented, even though he knew Anne would be displeased when she heard what had happened. But there were certain things which even Anne could not understand and, as he sat there in the window seat with Wolsey beside him, Henry recalled the security and comfort which, in the past, this clever statesman had brought to him.

“Matters have worked against us,” continued Henry, “but it will not always be so. I feel little sorrow to see your fellow Cardinal depart; he has been no friend to us, Thomas.”

“He obeyed orders from Rome, Your Grace. He served the Pope; it was not enough that one of the Legates worked wholeheartedly for his King.”

Henry patted Wolsey’s knee. “It may be,” he said darkly, “that we shall win without the Pope’s help.”

“His Holiness would give it, but for his fear of the Emperor.”

“He’s a weak fellow, this Clement. He sways with the wind.”

“His position is so uncertain since the sack of Rome.”

Henry nodded, and Wolsey went on, his spirits rising: “If Your Grace will grant me an audience in the morning, before I must depart with Campeggio, we could discuss the matter further. There are many ears cocked to listen here, many eyes to watch.”

“’Tis so,” said Henry nodding, and rising he put his arm once more through that of his Chancellor, and went with him back to the group of his gentlemen who were standing some distance from them.


* * *

WHAT COMFORT to rest his weary limbs in the bed for which he must be grateful to young Norris! How simple to explain the neglect!

It had happened without the King’s knowledge. Naturally he would have believed that preparations were made for his Chancellor, for his dear friend the Cardinal. It was his enemies who had sought to degrade him. He was fully aware of the existence of them. When had he ever been without them?

As he stretched out blissfully he told himself that he had been unduly worried. He had suffered misfortunes, but he was as strong now as he had ever been and, while the King was his friend, he was invincible.

How he had misjudged his King! Hot tempered, selfish, hypocritical, capable of extraordinary blindness where his own faults and desires were concerned, yet Henry’s heart was warm for those who had been his friends; and while that friendship could be relied on, there was nothing to fear. All that he, Wolsey, had done to serve his King was worthwhile. He would not regret the loss of Hampton Court; the gift was a symbol of the love between them which was indestructible. Nothing could change it…not even the vindictiveness of Anne Boleyn.

And tomorrow, thought Wolsey, we shall be alone together. Before I ride away with Campeggio on our way to the coast, I shall have had my intimate talk with Henry. All misunderstandings will be cleared away and it will be as it was in the old days when there was perfect accord between us. I will procure the divorce for him, but by that time, Mistress Anne Boleyn, he will have recovered from his infatuation. You have declared yourself my enemy; I declare myself yours. It shall be a French Princess for His Grace.

Tomorrow…tomorrow…thought Wolsey, and slept. It was the most peaceful night he had enjoyed for a long time.

“A good bed, Norris,” he murmured, when he awoke and saw that it was daylight. “I’ll not forget you.”

He rose and found that it was later than he had at first thought; but there was plenty of time to see the King before he left with Campeggio. In excellent spirits he dressed and, as he was about to make his way to the King’s apartments, he met Henry Norris.

“I thank you for a good night’s lodging,” he said.

“Your Eminence looks refreshed,” was the answer.

Wolsey patted the young man’s shoulder. “I shall not forget your goodness to me. Now I go to seek the King.”