“A thousand apologies for the poor quality of the wine,” said Catherine, in a conciliatory tone that Thomasin had only previously heard her use with the king when his temper was roused. “It must have turned, or been stored badly. But my dear lord, how good it is to finally be able to welcome you back into our kingdom. We have long anticipated your arrival and assistance in this difficult question of our marriage, and we thank God wholeheartedly for your safe delivery.”
“My dear lady,” Campeggio replied, “it is many years since I set foot on English soil. A full ten, I believe, when Tom Wolsey and I worked together for international peace on the Treaty of London. I sadly find things much changed in my absence.”
Tom Wolsey! Thomasin noted the familiarity.
Catherine seated herself beside him, gesturing to another figure in the room to approach. “You will recall my trusted bishop, Inigo Mendoza, who has been a true friend to me all this time.”
The bishop rose from his chair in the corner on shaking feet. “You are most welcome, Cardinal, and please accept my deepest sympathies for your ailments, from a fellow sufferer. I have some remedies for the gout which I am willing to share with your grace.”
“Bishop, my thanks for your kind welcome,” replied Campeggio.
“May I ask you, Cardinal, about Rome?” Mendoza resumed his seat tentatively. “About the terrible events of last year?”
Campeggio’s face sank. The unruly troops of Emperor Charles had rampaged and sacked the city the previous summer, leavingthe Holy City devastated and the whole of Christendom in shock. When he spoke, the cardinal’s voice was full of emotion.
“Such atrocities as I witnessed there are beyond those I imagined taking place in hell. I lost everything, Mendoza, everything. I was lucky to walk away with my life. I have prayed for the city, prayed for hours, hoping that it can be restored to its former glory. How can we trust that such an outrage will never happen again?”
“The emperor has given his assurances. He deeply regrets the actions of the imperial troops and is rebuilding the city.”
“Assurances,” Campeggio shivered. “Words, only words.”
“More wine,” called the queen, attempting to prevent his mind wandering further back into disaster. She frowned at Mendoza, who hurriedly continued, back on the right path.
“Good, good, well, now you are here, we can proceed to business. Other matters trouble us sorely. We have, all of us, here in England and in Spain, been truly grieved at the suffering of our good lady, the queen of England, so devoted to her country and duties. She has been a loyal and peerless wife and mother, such an advocate for this country since her arrival as a girl.”
Catherine inclined her head.
“As has His Imperial Highness, the emperor,” added Campeggio, “and my serene master, His Holiness the Pope. It has grieved my good lord to hear of these doubts and troubles that affect the conscience of the English king, who has hitherto been such a good friend and servant of Rome. I have had occasion to speak with Henry and hear his concerns, which accord with the many letters he has sent to us. Rest assured, I shall do my best to work in the interests of God’s holy will to see fairness and justice for all. Now, my good lady, it is your chance to speak, your opportunity to have my ear, before the papal court is convened.”
It was an opportunity not to be missed.
Catherine looked around the room. Princess Mary was out hawking with the king, as he had promised, and all her ladies but those closest to Catherine had been sent away. Thomasin had been pleased to be allowed to remain, as a sign of the queen’s continuing trust in her, but Ellen languished with her darning in the antechamber.
Seeing herself among friends only, the queen composed herself.
“It is a sorry tale,” she sighed. “I hesitate to relate it, Your Grace. You have heard the worst of it, I am sure, for the court gossip extends well beyond these walls, even unto Rome itself and beyond. I am certain that my husband, the king, has explained his doubts fully to you.”
Campeggio’s head dipped slightly in recognition.
“As you are aware, my lord, from my many letters to my nephew, the emperor, and to His Highness, in my own hand, I came to the king’s bed as a true maid. By him I have had divers children, within holy wedlock, although it has pleased God to take all of them from me save for my dear daughter Mary, a true princess of the Tudor line. At the time of our marriage, my husband raised no doubts about the legitimacy of the match and was most eager to see it concluded, following the wishes of his late father, King Henry VII, God rest his soul.”
“I do recall this,” concurred Campeggio.
“You will recall that I was wife to my husband’s late brother, Prince Arthur, a goodly young man. I truly believe that if had he been summoned by God to serve his country, he would have proved himself most royal. During the five months of our marriage, although he came to my chamber on four or five occasions, we were but young, and he lacked strength and experience. We did not know there was any rush; we thoughtwe had years ahead of us, and would reign together and raise a family.”
“As you would have done, serving England most devoutly. As you have done with the present king.”
“And I swore this as an oath to my mother and father, who procured a dispensation to this effect, that I remained a maid because that marriage to Arthur was unconsummated, and therefore invalid.”
“And as you wrote to me, you have a copy of this dispensation?”
“Not the original,” she sighed, “which has somehow vanished among the royal papers, but I wrote to Spain myself to request a copy of it. Archbishop Warham, our Archbishop of Canterbury, had his own doubts back in 1501, but overcame them when he had sight of this dispensation, and assisted in the marriage ceremony himself. He is living still and will speak in my favour.”
“So where is this copy that you speak of?”
Catherine gestured to Maria, who entered her inner room and returned with a scrolled paper.
Campeggio took it in trembling hands and opened it up to read what was within.
