“He has seen the king’s mistresses come and go,” explained More. “Mistress Blount was cast aside even after she had borne him a son. He believes that Henry will tire of Anne before the match can be made, or that some new face will draw his fancy. He believes that the matter is the marriage, not the woman.”
“He has built a career on carrying out the king’s wishes; I do not see how he can be so blind as to this one. Surely Henry has spoken with him directly?”
“I would imagine so, but in this he has proved to have cloth ears. They will be his downfall.”
“I think he cannot accept Anne due to her status. He cannot see that the king would choose another wife who does not equalhis first, from a royal house. The blood of the Boleyns is hardly a match for that of the Hapsburgs.”
“He is well past that now,” More said, shaking his head. “I think he would marry his laundress if she would promise him a son.”
“Shh,” Thomasin warned them, as Wolsey and Campeggio emerged into the courtyard with their entourage. Campeggio was leaning heavily upon his stick, heading straight for his room and cures for his legs, while Wolsey looked tired and unsettled.
“The Italian is, well, an Italian,” said Sir Richard quietly as the group passed along the path, “but I wonder whether someone should warn Wolsey, speak with him about the dangers. Open his eyes, if we can.”
“You think he would listen?”
“I have no idea, but it is worth a try, surely? All this nonsense about a French marriage is making him look like a fool.”
“Do you think that it might just be a formality?” asked Thomasin. “He might be offering the king a noble way out of his present marriage, while knowing his true intentions.”
“It’s possible,” More replied, “but he seems overly committed to the idea. He has lashed himself to the French mast, but that ship is sinking.”
“It cannot help to try, surely? What can we lose?” asked Sir Richard. “I have known Thomas since his early days at court, when he was in the household of Richard Nanfan, serving the old king. I might appeal to him to hear me, on account of such a long history between us.”
More was thinking. “And how does this fit with Cromwell’s plan?”
“Master Cromwell need not know. He watches me like a hawk in court, but he must permit me my freedom once in a while.”
“What says the queen about Wolsey?” More asked Thomasin.
“Like father, she has known him since her first arrival in England. She had hopes of him, truly, but he has always been the servant of the king above her. This was not a problem when her wishes were the same as her husband’s, but now he cannot be trusted to serve her cause.”
At the far end of the court, the cardinals parted ways. Thomasin watched as Campeggio hobbled towards the bridge that led to his Bridewell lodgings, while Wolsey retreated into the house of the Blackfriars.
“Now would be as good a time as any,” said her father. “Will you accompany me, More? He would listen to you, too.”
“I suppose it can do no harm.”
“Thomasin?”
“I must return to the queen, while the proceedings are still fresh in my mind. And I do not think that the cardinal would take kindly to being advised by one such as me.”
“Your sensitivity does you proud, although you are wrong about the advice, as you speak much wisdom, Thomasin.”
“I shall see you again presently, in the court, but the queen’s appearance there comes ever closer. Surely then we shall have some kind of conclusion?”
“We will direct our prayers to that hope. God speed you.”
THIRTEEN
Ellen was waiting just inside the queen’s antechamber, looking out for Thomasin’s return.
“You will not believe this,” she said, with incredulous eyes. “We are expecting the arrival of the Duke of Norfolk’s lady.”
“I thought the duchess had left court,” said Thomasin, remembering the woman’s waspish and tiresome ways.
“Oh, she has. It is not her whom we seek. In the duchess’s absence, Norfolk has brought his mistress to court!”
“What?”
