Henry was beginning to frown, but Cromwell went on quickly: “As a loyal subject of the King this pleases me not at all.”

“The power of Kings is temporal,” murmured Henry.

“I would wish to see my King holding supreme power, temporal and spiritual.”

Henry was startled, but Cromwell continued blithely: “I cannot see why our King should not dispense with the Church of Rome. Why should not the Church of England stand alone with the King as its Supreme Head? Would it be necessary then for the King to plead in Rome for what he needs?”

Henry was aghast. He had often said that he would declare the Pope a heretic, that if the Pope would not grant him a divorce he would find some other means of getting it; but this man was proposing a more daring step than he had ever taken. He was suggesting that the Church should sever its connections with Rome; that the King, not the Pope, should be Supreme Head of the Church.

The King listened and his eyes burned as fiercely as those of Cromwell.

“In a few years,” Cromwell told him, “I could make Your Grace the richest and most powerful King in Christendom…but not while you remain a vassal of the Pope.”

It was astounding. It meant more than the Divorce. The King was shaken. There was so much to consider. If only Wolsey were here…but Wolsey would never work for the severance of England from Rome. Wolsey had been a Cardinal, his eyes constantly on the Papal Crown; he had even pleaded guilty to attempting to set up Papal jurisdiction in England. New times needed new ideas. Wolsey’s day was gone and a new era was beginning.

When Henry at length dismissed Cromwell he was telling himself that Cromwell, like Cranmer, had the right sow by the ear.


* * *

KATHARINE AT RICHMOND was unaware of the great schemes which were absorbing the King and his new ministers. Mary was with her, and she was determined to enjoy the hours she spent with her daughter. Mary was now fifteen years old, an age when many girls were married; but the question of Mary’s marriage had been shelved; how could it be otherwise when there was so much controversy about her birth?

During these days Katharine seemed possessed of a feverish desire to make the most of each hour they spent together; each day when she arose she would wonder whether some command would be given and her daughter taken from her. She knew that Henry was as devoted to Anne as ever; that they had taken over York Place and, like a newly married pair, were exulting in all the treasures they found there.

The palace had ceased to be known as York Place, which had been its name as the town residence of the Archbishops of York; it was now the King’s palace and, because of the reconstructions which had been made in white stone, it was called White Hall.

Now Wolsey had gone, Katharine felt that she was rid of her greatest enemy. She could tell herself that in good time the Pope would give the only possible verdict, and when Henry realized that their marriage was accepted as valid, he must, for the sake of reason and his good name, accept her as his wife. So she allowed herself to be lulled into a certain peace which Mary’s presence made it possible for her to enjoy.

Reginald Pole was in England and it was delightful when he came to visit them, which he did very frequently. He was their friend and staunch supporter. One day, mused Katharine, why should he not be consort of the Queen? What a brilliant adviser Mary would have! What a tender, gentle husband!

“That is what I want for her,” the Queen told her friend, Maria de Salinas, who, now that she was a widow, had come back into the Queen’s service. “A tender, gentle husband, that she may never be submitted to the trials which I have had to bear.”

Katharine and Mary were sitting together over the Latin exercise when a page entered the apartment to tell them that Reginald was without and begging an audience.

Mary clasped her hands together in delight, and Katharine could not reprove her. Poor child, let her not attempt to curb her pleasure by hiding it. Katharine said with a smile: “You may bring him to us.”

Reginald came in and the three of them were alone together. Mary took both his hands when he had bowed first to the Queen and then to herself.

“Reginald, it seems so long since we saw you.”

He smiled at her youthful exuberance. “It is five days, Your Highness.”

“That,” said Mary, “is a very long time for friends to be apart.”

“We have so few friends now,” Katharine quickly added.

“You have more than you know,” Reginald replied seriously. “Many of the people are your friends.”

“They greet us warmly when we go among them,” Mary agreed. “But we have few friends at Court whom we can trust. I believe they are afraid of…” Mary’s lips tightened and she looked suddenly old, “…of…that woman,” she finished.

Katharine changed the subject. “Reginald, something has happened, has it not?”

“Your Grace has a penetrating eye.”

“I can see it in your expression. You look…perplexed.”

Reginald took a document from the pocket of his doublet and handed it to the Queen. While she studied it he turned to Mary who laid her hand on his arm. “Reginald,” she said, almost imploringly, “you are not going away?”

“I do not know,” he said. “So much depends on the King.”

“Please do not go away.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “If I followed my own will I would never go away.”

“Nor if you followed mine,” said Mary.

Katharine lowered the document and looked from one to the other. The sight of them together frightened her while yet it pleased her. If only it could be, she thought; yet how can it?

“So the King has offered you the archbishopric of York or Winchester,” she said.

Mary caught her breath in dismay. If he became an Archbishop he would take Holy Orders and marriage would be outside his power. Mary loved him with all the force of her serious young nature. She had dreamed that they would go away from Court, quietly with her mother to where they might forget such hateful matters as divorce, such hateful words as bastard, where they would never even think of the Lady who hated them so much and was determined to keep them apart. In her youthful innocence she dreamed of the three of them leaving Court in secret, going out of the country to Padua or some such place which Reginald knew well.

“These offices became vacant on the death of the Cardinal,” Reginald explained, “and someone is needed to fill them.”

“It is a great honor,” the Queen said almost listlessly.

“It is one, I have told him, that I cannot accept.”

The relief in the apartment was great. Mary laughed aloud and took Reginald’s hand. “I am glad,” she cried. “I could not bear to think of your stepping into the Cardinal’s shoes.”

“Nor I,” he said. “But that is not all. In my refusal of this offer I implored the King not to be deluded by his ministers and his passion for a wanton woman. I am summoned to his presence in White Hall.”

Mary was horrified; although her father had shown her affection at times, she had never conquered her fear of him. Katharine was equally afraid. She knew the climate of the King’s temper. He was fond of Reginald, but when the people of whom he was fond ceased to agree with him he could easily hate them. She thought of the tenderness he had once shown to her; and she believed that his hatred of her was the greater because of it.

“Oh, Reginald,” she murmured, “have a care.”

“You should not have mentioned us,” said Mary imperiously.

“I believed I must say what I felt to be right.”

Katharine turned to her daughter and said gently: “We must all speak and act according to our consciences.”

“I came to see you before I presented myself to the King,” said Reginald. And both understood that he had come because this might, in view of the seriousness of the occasion, be the last time he could visit them. Neither of them spoke, and he went on: “I should go now. I dare not keep the King waiting.”

He kissed their hands, and Mary suddenly forgot the dignity due to her rank as, like a child, she flung her arms about him; and Katharine was too moved to prevent her.

When he had gone, Mary began to weep, silently.

“My darling, control yourself,” murmured the Queen, putting an arm about her.

But Mary merely shook her head. “What cruel times we live in,” she whispered. “What cruel and perilous times!”


* * *

WHEN REGINALD LEFT the Queen and the Princess he took a barge to White Hall. He knew full well that the archbishopric had been offered him as a bribe. He was of royal blood and the friend of the Queen and the Princess; the King was hinting: “Come, work with me, and here is an example of the prizes which shall be yours.”

That was why in refusing the offer he had told the King that he firmly believed in the royal marriage and implored his kinsman not to imperil his soul by attempting to deny it.

The result: A summons to White Hall.

As he entered the palace he thought of the great Cardinal who had once occupied it; and all this splendor had been passed to the King—a mute appeal…“all my possessions in exchange for my life…” What an example of the worth of treasures upon Earth!

Reginald uttered a prayer for the Cardinal’s soul as he made his way to the gallery whither the King had summoned him.

I enter the Palace of White Hall a free man, he thought; how shall I leave it? It was very possible that he would do so with a halberdier on either side of him and thence take barge to the Tower.