“Go to hell,” Rafe snarled.
“No, sir, I will not be going to hell,” Giles said with firm disappointment. “I have far more important matters to attend to, than dealing with unruly and disgraceful conduct. But your time will come.”
He turned and motioned for Thomasin to go ahead of him. Leaving Anne and her followers behind, she suppressed her anger and thought instead of saving her father. Rafe did not deserve to know what was happening. Nor did he deserve her.
Wolsey’s chamber door was guarded by two men in his livery. Giles spoke a few quick words and they were admitted at once into his outer chamber.
“He is dining at the moment, but will receive us,” Giles explained. “It might be the best way to approach him, as a captive audience.”
They were shown into the next room, where a long table was spread with delicacies. Wolsey sat at the head of it, in dark robes, having cast off his papal red, and was flanked on both sides by his household. Thomasin spotted the new arrival Stephen Gardiner tucking into a pie with the delicate manners of a cleric.
“Move along,” said the guard. “Make way at the top.”
The diners shuffled along the benches to make space for Thomasin and Giles. They sat on Wolsey’s left hand, and empty plates were brought for them.
“Forgive me,” said the cardinal, “you are welcome to partake of this meal, and tell me your business as you do, although I can guess it.”
“You can?” Thomasin had little appetite.
“No doubt it must be your father’s arrest. I will tell you now that I had no prior knowledge of it, and did not agree to it. It is all Cromwell’s doing.”
“Yes, we are aware,” said Giles. “But we are here regarding a request that may have been made to you since.”
“From More?” Wolsey chewed on a piece of meat. “I am one step ahead of you. You have good friends, Mistress Marwood, I can see that. Yes, More asked me to summon Sir Richard in the name of the Pope, but I have refused.”
“You have?”
“I do not think it wise for his cause. There are others who will provide the necessary evidence. Fisher speaks tomorrow, and then the queen herself. I do not wish to put your father in harm’s way.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Thomasin. “That is precisely what we thought, and hoped that we might convince you of.”
“No convincing needed, as I told More. We do not need to raise direct conflict between the king and Pope, not before it is needed, and not over this matter. It is best to let it blow over, and then I will urge for your father’s release. He is only a small fish in this pond. Cromwell has greater opponents to consider. Now pray, eat something with me, and all will be well.”
Giles turned to Thomasin. “There, let that be a comfort to you. I knew Wolsey was the man for us.”
“I could not have done it without you. We are in your debt.”
“Nonsense. I act in my own interest in this matter too.”
Thomasin reached for a glass, uncertain how to interpret his words, and a servant hurried to supply them with wine.
“I feel guilty, eating here, while Father is in…”
“Never fear. He is well provided for. I sent flesh and wine to the Tower kitchens, and paid for a fire to be maintained in his room.”
Tears welled in Thomasin’s eyes. “You are too good, Giles, too good.”
“It is only what I would wish anyone would do for me, were I in the same situation.”
“Then I will pray that you never find yourself so.”
“Nor you, Thomasin, or any of our friends. Now look, a dish of spiced larks. I recall how much you like them.”
SEVENTEEN
The next day was to be an important one in court. Thomasin had almost forgotten that it was Catherine’s turn to speak before the cardinals and answer their concerns. She, Ellen, Maria and Mary were to accompany her, as the formalities allowed, and no one, not even Cromwell, could prevent them this time. Thomasin burned with rage as she helped the queen to dress, choosing a formal, sombre gown in black and white to reflect the severity of the moment.
Catherine was quiet while they tied her laces, combed and pinned up her hair and placed her headdress on top. Thomasin knew she had been anticipating this moment for two years. Her future and that of her daughter, even that of England, rested upon the judgement of the court, and her appearance today could make all the difference. As Thomasin pulled on Catherine’s sleeves and laced them to her bodice, she could feel the queen trembling under her fingertips, her muscles tense, her shoulders stiff. She felt sorry for Catherine, being put through this ordeal with all the world knowing of the shameful accusations made against her. Thomasin had never doubted Catherine’s word that her first marriage had never been consummated, and that she had gone to Henry’s bed as a true maid. Reaching for the queen’s soft leather shoes, Thomasin shuddered to think of the cruelty that men could inflict upon women regarding the most intimate parts of their lives.
