“Thomas, had I known…,” she began; and she came down the stairs slowly, almost reverently, as though she marvelled yet again that this great man should have time to spare for her.

He took her hand and kissed it.

“Well met, Mistress Wynter,” he said.

“Well met, Master Wynter.”

It was the name behind which they sheltered from the world. She longed to boast that she was the wife of the great Thomas Wolsey, but she knew well the folly of that. He had given so much; he could not be expected to give more. She was happy enough to be plain Mistress Wynter, with a husband whose business frequently called him away from home but who was now and then able to visit his family.

The future of her children was secure. Thomas was rising rapidly in the service of the King; he was proud of the children; he would not forget them, and their way would be easier than his had been. Honors, riches would come to them—that would be when they were of an age to receive them—and by that time Thomas would be the most important man in the realm. Mistress Wynter believed that, for Thomas had determined it should be so; and Thomas always achieved his ends.

The children stood aside while their parents embraced.

“How long will you stay, Thomas?” she asked.

“Naught but a few hours, my lark.” Even as he uttered the endearment he wondered what certain members of the King’s entourage would say if they could see and hear him now. Fox? Warham? Surrey? Lovell? Poynings? They would snigger doubtless; and the wise among them would not be displeased. They would tell themselves that he had his weaknesses like all other men, and such weaknesses were not to be deplored but encouraged, for they were as a great burden hung upon the back to impede the climb to the heights of success.

There are some who are afraid of Thomas Wolsey, thought Thomas, and the thought pleased him; for when men began to fear another, it meant that that one was high upon the ladder since others could see him mounting.

But I must take care, he thought as he stroked his wife’s hair; no one however dear must prevent my taking every opportunity; the road to disaster and failure is one of lost opportunities.

But for a few hours he was safely hidden from the Court, so for that time he would be happy.

“Why, Mistress Wynter,” he said, “you were not warned of my coming, but I smell goodly smells from your kitchen.”

The children began to tell their father what was for dinner. There was a goose, capon and chicken; there was a pastie which their good cook had made in the shape of a fortress; there was pheasant and partridge.

Thomas was pleased. His family lived as he would have them live. It made him happy to think that he could pay for their comforts; and the sight of the rosy cheeks and plump limbs of his children was an immense satisfaction to him.

Mistress Wynter in a flurry of excitement went off to the kitchen to warn the servants that the master was in the house; and there the cook harried the lower servants to do their best and prove that, although the master of the house was often absent on his important business, the house was so well managed that he need have no fears.

So Thomas sat at the table and watched the food brought in, while his wife sat facing him and on either side of the table was a child.

It was very humble compared with the King’s table, but here was contentment; and in such moments he deeply wished that he was not a priest and that he might take this charming family with him to Court and boast of the health of the boy and the good looks of the girl.

He now wished to know how young Tom was getting on with his studies, and he put on a sternly paternal expression when he discovered that the boy was not quite so fond of his studies as his tutor would wish.

“That must be remedied,” said Thomas, shaking his head. “Doubtless you think that you are young yet and that there is always time. Time is short. It is hard for you to realize it at your age, but soon you must understand that it is so, for when you do you will have learned one of the first lessons of life. It is those who dally by the wayside, my son, who never reach the end of the road.”

There was quiet at the table, as there always was when he spoke; he had a melodious voice and a way of driving home his points which demanded attention.

And as they sat eating their way through meat and pies to the marchpane and sugar-bread he told his family how he himself had once defeated time in such a way that he had convinced the King that he had a little more than ordinary men to offer in his service.

“It was when I was in the service of the old King…” He did not tell them that he had been the King’s chaplain; children often talked freely in the hearing of servants, and he must keep secret his connection with the Church. “This was not the King you have seen riding through the streets. This was the old King, his father, a King with a very serious mind and one who had learned the value of time.

“He called me to him and he said: ‘I wish you to go on a journey to Flanders as a special envoy to the Emperor Maximilian. Prepare to leave as soon as possible.’ So I took the message which I was to deliver and I set out for my lodgings. My servant said: ‘You will leave tomorrow, my lord?’ And I answered: ‘Tomorrow! Nay, I shall leave today…at this very hour.’ He was astonished. He had thought I should need time to prepare for such a journey; but I was conscious of time and I knew that the message I carried was of great importance. It might be that if it arrived a day later than I intended to deliver it, the answer to that letter would not be the same favorable one that I was determined to get. Circumstances change…and it is time which changes them.

“The message I carried was the King’s request for the hand of Maximilian’s daughter in marriage. If I could bring a favorable reply from Maximilian, the King would be happy, and that would make him pleased with me; and if that reply came quickly, the better pleased he would be.

“I crossed the water. I rode hot foot to Flanders; I saw the Emperor, delivered the King’s message and received his reply; then back to the coast and home. It had been three days since I left England. I presented myself to the King, who frowned in anger when he saw me. He said: ‘I had thought you received orders to take a message to Flanders. I expected you would have left by now. I like not dilatory service.’ Then my heart leaped in exultation and I waited a few seconds for the King’s anger to grow, for the greater it grew the more surprised he must be when he heard the truth. ‘Your Grace,’ I told him, ‘I left for Flanders within an hour of receiving your instructions to do so. I have now returned and bring you the Emperor’s reply.’ The King was astonished. Never had he been served with such speed. He grasped my hand and said: ‘You are a good servant.’”

“And that was all, Father?” demanded young Thomas. “It seems a small reward to shake your hand and tell you you were a good servant.”

“He did not forget me,” said Thomas.

No, indeed he had not. Thomas Wolsey had become Dean of Lincoln and, had Henry VII lived longer, doubtless more honors would have come his way. But the old King had died; yet that was not a matter for mourning, because the new King was as interested in his servant Wolsey as the old one had been.

From this young King Thomas Wolsey hoped for much. He understood the eighth Henry. Here was a young man, lusty, sensual, far less interested in matters of state than in pleasure. He was the sort of King who is always beloved of ambitious ministers. Henry VII had conducted all state business himself; he had indeed been head of the state. But the joust, tennis, dancing, possible fornication and adultery gave no pleasure to his rheumaticky body. How different was his young and lusty son! This King would wish to place at the helm of the ship of state a man with capable hands; there was every opportunity for ambitious ministers to rule England under such a King.

The King’s almoner saw great possibilities ahead.

He smiled at the eager faces about the table—flushed with good food and drink. This was his oasis of pleasure, of humanity; here it was possible to stray from the road of heated ambition to dally in a cool green meadow.

He saw Mistress Wynter through a veil of gratitude and desire, and she seemed fairer to him than any Court lady.

He said to the children: “You will leave your mother with me for a while. We have matters to speak of. I shall see you again before I leave.”

The children left their parents together, and Thomas took Mistress Wynter in his arms and caressed her body.

They went through to her sleeping chamber and there made love.

As she lay in his arms she thought: It is like a pattern, always the same. Will it remain so? What when he is the first minister at the King’s Court? This he would be, for in a moment of confidence he had told her so.

If it were not so, she thought, if he lost his place at Court, he might come home to us.

It was a wicked thought. He must not lose his place. It meant more to him than anything…more than this, his home, more than her and their children.

When he had dressed in that precise manner of his, he said: “I will see the children before I go.”

He noticed that she looked a little sad but he did not mention this. He knew that she was wishing they lived a normal married life, that they did not have to go to bed in the middle of the day because it was the only time they had. She was picturing him, being there every day—a merchant, a lawyer, a goldsmith…a man of some profession such as those of her neighbors. She thought of cosy conversations over the table, of discussions as to what should be planted in the garden, about the education of the children; she pictured them retiring to bed each night by the light of candles, the embrace that had become almost a habit, the slipping into sleep afterwards. It was normality she craved.