“Ah, I see.” Concern flickered in his eyes. “And you are happy to do this?”
“Happy to serve my lady in any way I can.”
“The queen is wise in her choices. In you, she has the best eyes and ears she might have, perhaps better than her own.” He looked back at the crowd waiting to enter the chamber. “Do not be put off by all this. It will be mostly procedure today; there will not be much to interest you, I fear, and little to report before the important matter begins.”
“It is of no matter. I think just having someone there to represent her will reassure the queen. I know she has you, and the Bishop, but I am to be an independent pair of eyes.”
“Women’s eyes,” added More, “which see things differently to those of all the men here. We will find you a quiet spot, where you can follow the proceedings.”
“May I not sit with you, or my father when he arrives?”
“There will be strict arrangements about who is to sit where. It will all be very formal.” He turned to look at the doors to the chamber. “They should commence soon.”
“And Margaret, is she well?” Thomasin had grown particularly close to More’s daughter, Margaret Roper, with her combination of sharp wit and gentleness.
“Margaret is, yes, thanks be to God, but her little daughter has been unwell, so she is much occupied with her. It will turn out well, I think, but the child is delicate.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.” Thomasin made a mental note to ask Catherine’s permission to send the Ropers a gift of wine and fruit.
Then, the heavy doors behind them started to scrape open, and the attention of the crowd was turned in their direction. A figure stood in the doorway in bishop’s robes, surveying those outside.
“That is John Longland, Bishop of Lincoln,” explained More. “It is he who will open proceedings, as it was to him that the king first expressed his concerns.”
Thomasin looked at the face of Henry’s confessor, hoping to find some suggestion of empathy and mercy, but she could discern nothing behind his stony eyes.
“Make way!” called a voice from behind. They stepped aside to allow the two cardinals to enter, Campeggio drawing out every agonising step and clutching a cross in his hands, and Wolsey following behind, his chin lifted as if he might somehow rise above it all.
A train of bishops and archdeacons followed, with Fisher among them, after which came the other court officials. Thomasin saw Cromwell at the end, with her father walkingreluctantly at his side. Sir Richard raised his brows in surprise as he saw his daughter waiting to enter, but there was no time for explanations. Another figure, tall, austere and hollow-cheeked came after him, not looking around, but keeping his eyes forward.
“That’s Gardiner,” whispered someone in the crowd. “He’s come back to court to help Wolsey.”
Once all the men had entered the chamber, Thomasin followed More and slipped into a seat at the back. The setting was dark and old, filled with heavy wood and a sense of history. She could imagine Parliament meeting here in times past, to discuss dangers and pass laws. Looking about, she saw that there were no other women present. Several of the officials looked at her askance, but she was known as one of the queen’s women, so they must have guessed at her purpose. Thomasin sat up straight and looked ahead: she had every right to be there and would defend her presence if need be.
As silence fell, Bishop Longland stood at the front, surveying the assembly with the most solemn of airs. He began by presenting the papal commission issued to Campeggio and Wolsey, who sat on either side behind him, the two flashes of colour amid a sea of black and grey. The newcomer, Gardiner, had pride of place at his side, opening and arranging his folder of documents. Wolsey’s clerk, a young Italian-looking man, read the instructions aloud to the court, with their complicated legal language, although even Thomasin could grasp their import. The validity of the marriage between the king and queen was to be tested, and as soon as possible, it was to be declared either as legitimate, or null and void. Both Henry and Catherine were summoned to attend, in person, on the eighteenth of June, in order to speak their minds.
Thomasin drew in her breath. Was the end of this terrible drama almost in sight?
The legal matters proceeded. First Wolsey, then Campeggio, shaky on his feet, rose to swear their oaths in Latin. Thomasin recalled the occasion when she had called for strong hands to help him to bed, as he had been suffering terribly from the gout. Where had that been, Greenwich, or Hampton Court? The remaining proceedings were more of the Pope’s legal tangles, the validity of the court and role of the two cardinals. There was nothing else of use to Catherine yet.
Looking around, Thomasin noted that there were no Boleyns present in the chamber, not even Sir Thomas, or Anne’s uncle Norfolk had attended on the first day. Probably, Thomasin thought, it was because they knew that the real proceedings would not get underway for a while yet. It also meant there was no Rafe.
She stifled a yawn and sat back in her seat as Bishop Longland resumed his speech.
The daylight was bright outside when the session concluded. In the end, they had been inside for little more than an hour, but the court had been convened and its wheels set in motion. Thomasin came out, blinking, feeling herself no wiser than when she had gone in, except now there was a formal date on which Catherine would be summoned to speak. She stood to the side of the door and watched as the others poured out, the cardinals and bishops having already led the way.
“Well,” said More, dusting off his sleeves, “there was very little edifying in that. And more of it to come, I think.”
“What happens next?” asked Thomasin.
“Again, very little.” More pulled a face. “The court will examine the evidence and wait to hear from the king and queen.”
“And both their views are well known.”
“Indeed. I would not be a cardinal in England for anything at the moment.”
Sir Richard had finally escaped the hall, and the clutches of Cromwell. “Ah, there you are. Sent by Catherine?”
“Yes, to watch and listen in her place.”
