“As queen at the banquet. She has most of the same faces around her, but some were missing. It was strange to see her taking the position that should have been Queen Catherine’s.”
“She is quite exultant in her success. Her energy is palpable, but she is incautious. She has already fallen out with Norfolk and she quarrels with Henry, speaking to him as an equal. She will not let matters lie.”
“The late stages of pregnancy are a difficult time,” said Margaret kindly, “especially when the whole world is watching you.”
“It is precisely because the whole world is watching her that she must be more careful than ever. You heard I have resigned my position as Chancellor? For a long time I did not challenge the king over his marriage to Anne, but I could not sign the oath asking us to acknowledge him as the head of the Church of England.”
“You favour the Pope as the head?” asked Giles.
“There is no other. The Pope is God’s representative on earth, the head of the Church. No king can step in and take that role from him.”
“Was Henry angry?” asked Thomasin.
“I still have a degree of favour because I went quietly. I saw it was better to resign than argue my case. You know what happened to Thomas Wolsey?”
“We heard of his disgrace. You wrote a few details at the time.”
“I dared not commit all to paper. After the Legatine Court in the summer of 1529, Wolsey was a broken man. Henry blamed him for failing to secure the divorce and that autumn, a few months after you had gone to Suffolk, he was stripped of his offices and properties. That magnificent new palace at Whitehall was once his own.”
“Yes,” said Thomasin, “I was aware of that when I visited.”
“He had a brief respite, thinking that Henry would save him, but Anne would not allow it. He was charged with praemunire, for serving the Pope above the king. Thanks be to God that he passed on before he could face trial. I have no doubt he would have been sentenced to a traitor’s death.”
“All I can recall of him,” said Giles, “is a man who worked tirelessly to serve his master.”
“Unfortunately, it is not enough,” More said, sighing. “Especially if the real master is in fact a Mistress Boleyn! And of course, now Cromwell has taken his place, more powerful than ever.”
Thomasin shivered at the thought of that man and the harm he had done her family.
“Father has never been the same since his spell in the Tower. His sight is much worse.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said More, “but he did the right thing by leaving when he could. Did you see Bishop Fisher at court?”
“No,” Thomasin replied, recalling another old friend, “actually, I did not.”
“No.” More shook his head and reached for his wine. “Like me, he is considering it wise to remain away. He is much in Rochester these days, for the same reasons that I am always here.”
“Do you think a time will come when you can ever return to court?”
“Who knows? The wheel of fortune turns and things change. It may or may not happen.”
A servant appeared from the house and nodded to Alice More, who had been sitting silently but now rose to her feet.
“Come, dinner is ready.”
They ate well and passed a pleasant evening with card games, chess, singing and dancing. Margaret’s husband, Will Roper,joined them and finished off the evening with tales of life as an MP, a post to which he had been elected in Sussex. Afterwards, Thomasin and Giles were shown to a chamber with snowy white sheets across a large bed with an embroidered tester and downy pillows. Bowls of lavender gave the air a sweet scent. Lettice seemed pleased enough to sleep on a truckle bed in the chamber shared by Margaret’s daughters.
Before they could retire, though, a knock came upon the chamber door. Thomasin opened it to find Margaret with a conspiratorial look on her face.
“I’m worried about Father,” she said as Thomasin ushered her inside. “Does he seem much changed to you?”
“Perhaps a little. He is not his usual jovial self, but far more serious, although this is the first time I have seen him these past years.”
“That is why you are the exact person to ask. I see him most days, so I am not well placed to make the observation. He has lost his purpose.”
“He is still writing, though?”
“Oh, yes. He writes letters all day, to Erasmus and Tyndale and other scholars, and he is still translating Lucian, but I think it is a deflection. He suffers from losing his connection to court.”
