What uneasy days they were when we never knew what momentous event was going to erupt.
So my consolation was Reginald.
He it was who told me that the Pope had now been released and was at this time in Orvieto trying to build up a Court there.
“He is in a dilemma,” said Reginald. “The King is demanding judgement in his favor, and he is too powerful to be flouted. But how can he defy the Emperor?”
“He should do what he considers right.”
“You ask too much of him,” said Reginald with a wry smile.
“But surely as a Christian…”
Reginald shook his head. “He is still in the hands of the Emperor. But, who knows, next week everything could be different. He is in too weak a position to defy anyone.”
“Then what will he do?”
“My guess is that he will prevaricate. It is always the wise action.”
“Can he?”
“We shall see.”
And we did. It was Reginald who told me, “The Pope is sending Cardinal Campeggio to England.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
Reginald lifted his shoulders. “We shall have to wait and see. He will try the case with Cardinal Wolsey.”
“Wolsey! But he will be for the King.”
“It should not be a case of either being for one or the other. It should be a matter of justice.”
“I fear this will make more anxiety for my mother. I worry so much about her, and I think she worries too much about me. I think she is fighting for me rather than herself.”
“She is a saint, and it is true that she fights for you. But you are her greatest hope. The people love you. You strengthen her case. The people cheer you. They call you their Princess, which means they regard you as heir to the throne. They will not accept another.”
“I never thought anything like this could happen.”
“None of us can see ahead. None of us knows what the future holds for us.”
“Reginald,” I said, “you won't go away yet?”
He looked at me tenderly. “As long as I am allowed to remain here, I will.”
He took my hand and kissed it.
“I hope you will never go away,” I told him. He pressed my hand firmly then released it and turned away.
I knew there was some special feeling between us, and I was glad that there had been no marriage with the Emperor Charles. My betrothal to the little Prince of France I did not consider. I was certain that it would come to nothing.
It must… because of Reginald.
IT IS AN OLD story now. Everyone knows that Cardinal Campeggio did not arrive in England until October, although he had left Rome three months before. He was so old, so full of gout, that he had to take the journey in very slow stages, resting for weeks when the attacks brought on by discomfort were prolonged.
Reginald, who was very far-sighted in all matters, confided in me that he believed Campeggio had no intention of making a decision. How could he when the Emperor would be watching the outcome with such interest? He dared not give the verdict the King wanted, because it would displease the Emperor, and to go against the King would arouse his wrath.
“What a position for a poor sick old man to be in!” he said. “It is my belief tht the Pope sent Campeggio because of his infirmity. Why should he have not sent a healthy man? Oh, I am certain Campeggio has his instructions to delay.”
Reginald understood these matters; he had traveled widely on the Continent and he had an insight into politics and the working of men's minds.
How right he proved to be!
I heard from Reginald that the King was in a fury. He had told him that this man Campeggio was determined to make things more difficult. “ ‘He has come here not so much to try the case as to talk to me. As if I needed talking to!' he cried. He cited his sister of Scotland, who divorced her second husband, the Earl of Angus. Louis XII of France had been divorced from Jeanne de Valois with little fuss. Why all this preamble because the King of England was so concerned for his country, to which he must give a son, and was merely asking for a chance to do so? So he went on. He gripped my arm so fiercely. I was glad he did not expect me to speak.”
“Oh, you must be careful.”
“My dear Princess, you can rest assured I shall be. What alarmed me— forgive me for disturbing you, but I think you should see the case clearly— is that the King flew into a rage when the Cardinal suggested that the Pope would be only too ready to amend the dispensation and make it clear that the King's marriage to the Queen was valid.”
“I know he does not want that. He is blinded by his passion for this woman.”
“That… and his desire for a son.”
“How can he be sure that she can give him one?”
“He has to risk that, and he is determined to have the opportunity to try.”
I was glad we were prepared, for shortly after that Campeggio and Wolsey called on my mother.
I was with her when they arrived and made to leave but she said, “No, stay, daughter. This concerns you as it does me.”
I was glad to stay.
They were formidable, those two, in their scarlet robes, bringing with them an aura of sanctity and power. They wanted to impress upon us the fact that they came from the highest authority, His Holiness the Pope.
They hesitated about allowing me to stay, but my mother was adamant and they apparently thought my presence would do no harm.
Wolsey began by citing cases when royal marriages had for state reasons been annulled. The one my father had referred to with Reginald was mentioned—that of Louis XII and Jeanne de Valois.
“The lady retired to a convent,” said Wolsey, “and there enjoyed a life of sanctity to the end of her days.”
“I shall not do that,” replied my mother. “I am the Queen. My daughter is the heir to the throne. If I agree to this, it will be said that I am expiating the sin of having lived with the King when not his wife. This is a blatant lie, and I will not give credence to it. Moreover the Princess Mary is the King's legitimate daughter, and unless we have a son she will remain heir to the throne.”
Wolsey begged her to take his advice.
She turned on him at once. “You are the King's advocate, Cardinal,” she said. “I could not take advice from you.”
Campeggio leaned forward in his chair and stroked his thigh, his face momentarily contorted with pain. “Your Grace,” he said, “the King is determined to bring the truth to light.”
“There is nothing I want more,” retorted my mother.
“If this matter were brought before a court, it could be most distressing for you.”
“I know the truth,” she answered. “It would be well for all to know it.”
“Your Grace was married to Prince Arthur. You lived with him for some time. If the marriage were consummated…”
“The marriage was not consummated.”
“This must be put to the test.”
“How?”
“Those who served you when you and your first husband were together might have evidence.”
My mother gave him a look of contempt. She had for some time regarded him as one of her greatest enemies.
“Would your Grace confess to me?” asked Campeggio.
She looked at him steadily. She must have seen, as I did, a poor sick old man who had no liking for his task. He might not be her friend but he was not her enemy. Moreover, he was the Pope's messenger and she trusted him.
“Yes,” she said, “I would.”
I was dismissed then, and she and Campeggio went into her private closet. She told me afterward that he had questioned her about her first marriage. “I told the truth,” she said. “I swore in the name of the Holy Trinity. They cannot condemn me. The truth must stand. I am the King's true wife and I will not be put aside.”