Henry chewed his lip. There was no arguing with that.
“Bishop Foxe, Bishop Gardiner, I welcome you,” Catherine addressed the travellers. “I trust your mission was fruitful.”
“It was indeed,” said Henry, taking control of the situation before they had the chance to answer. “Although the Pope has not yet ruled directly either way in the question of our marriage, he has agreed that the case needs investigation as a matter of urgency. He has appointed two cardinals to try the case at a Legatine court in England, as soon as possible. I am confident they will find in my favour, no doubt within the year.”
Catherine remained silent.
“You will be afforded every respect, Madam, due to your rank as Dowager Princess of Wales, widow of my late brother.”
“Only if the court finds it to be so,” Catherine said quickly. “Until it is pronounced thus, I am still God’s anointed queen in this realm, and will be afforded that status. It is for the Pope to demote me, not my husband.”
Henry looked at her starkly, as if about to speak, but Wolsey put a warning hand upon his shoulder.
“And what of our daughter,” continued Catherine, “begotten in true matrimony, as we both believed at the time, joined and blessed as we were in the sight of God? Will her status remain? And all respect due unto her?”
“Mary will be afforded what her position deserves.” It was a cold reply.
“Our daughter, My Lord? Upon whom you doted?”
“Our only child, with no living sons to show for nearly twenty years.”
“I have given you sons, you know that. Remember our little Henry, who lived but six weeks.”
The king winced and turned away.
“Let me send for Mary to join me, in my household,” Catherine said. “She has been months at Ludlow, and now the threat is over, and the colder months are passed, let her come to Greenwich with us.”
There was a long pause while they waited, before realising the king did not intend to answer.
“My Lady,” said Wolsey, more gently, “of the two cardinals appointed to try your case, I am the first and the second will be Lorenzo Campeggio of Milan, Cardinal Protector of England. He departs from Rome at once and will be with us in weeks. The court will be held at Blackfriars. You should seek advocates to present your case, should you wish to do so. The alternative is that you retire into the religious establishment of your choice, which shall be fully endowed by the king.”
Catherine could not bring herself to reply, so odious was his suggestion. She made a shallow curtsey and rose to depart.
“There is no doubt,” said Henry softly, turning to Wolsey as Catherine left. “This is God’s path and we must fight to defend it, for the good of the realm. Consult all the lawyers in the land. Get Marwood back to collate the results. I shall be married to Anne by this time next year. And, God willing, we may even have a son on the way.”
As she was passing through the doors, Thomasin heard them speak her father’s name, and a chill passed through her.
All the way back to her chambers, Catherine held her emotions in. Once the doors were closed behind her, she allowed the dignified façade to droop.
“Present my case? Present my case? As if I have to fight for my right to be queen, I, who am God’s anointed? How long can this torture be endured? And I must fight, fight against that little Boleyn whore who has nothing but her age as an advantage. I have seen how cheaply she behaves, conducting herself with airs and graces, demanding attention, displaying herself in public. The king’s late mother, our beloved Queen Elizabeth, God rest her soul, would never have countenanced behaviour like it. Her court was a place of dignity and breeding. This little whore does not even have good looks! She is like a ragged crow, dressed up in French robes. I must fight against her, to keep my husband! It is outrageous.”
Thomasin had never heard Catherine speak so savagely before, but the situation was unprecedented. Nor had she heard her refer to the late queen, Henry’s mother, Elizabeth of York.
“And that Wolsey!” continued Catherine. “I can barely speak from fury. The way he dared address me with his information. He is a butcher’s son, no less, raised in a hovel, promoted above his rank and qualities by my husband’s generosity, nay, his foolishness. He, who has corresponded with me as queen for fifteen years, wished me well during my confinements, celebrated my successes, reassured me about my husband’s health; now he is to judge my marriage? Judge it? The religious establishment of my choice?”
“I will need another pet dog,” said Maria, eyes glinting wickedly, “so I can name it Wolsey. It can be a companion to my little terrier Gardiner, who has been treated for worms. I was sorry to see his sad face return from Rome. A pox on both of them!”
“I remember this Campeggio,” nodded Catherine, searching her memory. “I thought his name was familiar. He was here, in England, some ten years ago, under the former Pope, Leo. Yes, yes, he is no friend to Wolsey, if I recall. There was some trickery back then, when Wolsey undermined him as legate and took credit for his arrangements, claiming the peace treaty of London was all his own work. Campeggio was most put out, but he had good grace about it. He was always respectful to me. I shall write to him, and put my case. After that, I will require Archbishop Warham and Bishop Tunstall to speak for me. If my husband wants to make this into a battle, he will be matched against a strong army. He has clearly forgotten that it was whilst I was regent, and him absent in France, that the Scots were defeated at Flodden.”
“That’s the spirit, My Lady,” encouraged Maria.
“There is a long way to go,” replied Catherine, “but I believe I am following God’s true path, and I shall fight to defend it every step of the way. My husband is being misled, and it is my duty to save him.”
That evening, they ventured back to the hall for dinner. The mood was different, though. Thomasin sensed it at once as they approached. Henry was buoyant, defiant, determined to interpret Foxe’s message as a victory. He had apparently not been expecting Catherine to make an appearance, and had invited the Boleyn faction to occupy the top table with him. Thomas was placed to his right, and George to his left. Anne had deserted the safety of the stables, pulling a chair right up to him, so their arms were touching. Their heads were bent close together as he whispered in her ear.
Catherine froze. It felt like walking into the lion’s den.
The chatter in the hall ceased abruptly, as all faces turned to see what would happen next.
