“I long for that day.”
“It is a sad affair, Meg, to watch the rapid descent of those who have climbed to great heights. I think of the Cardinal.”
“How fares it with him, Father?”
“Badly. Meg, it is a sorry sight; it is a sorry thought.”
“The King has no more need of him?”
“The Cardinal has set up false idols, Margaret. He has worshipped pomp instead of honor; he has mistaken riches for the glory which comes with righteous work. Poor Wolsey! He has too many enemies; the King is his only friend… a fickle friend. The Cardinal has offended the Lady Anne. He broke the marriage she desired with Percy; he insulted a relative when he attempted to deprive Eleanor Carey of the post of Abbess of Wilton; but worst of all she knows that he has urged the King to marry one of the French Princesses. They are false steps in his slippery career. He felt so sure of his power. Who is this Anne Boleyn? he asked himself. She is another such as her sister Mary! There he finds his mistake, and the King's mistress is his enemy. He could not have a greater, for she it is who commands the King. Moreover, Norfolk and Suffolk wait for the King to turn his back on the man he once loved; then they will rush in to attack him. He is a sad, sick man, Meg. Poor Wolsey!”
“He has been no real friend to you, Father.”
“He is no true friend to anyone or anything but his own ambition; and now, poor soul, he sees the falseness of that friend. Fame! What is fame? Men congratulate themselves if they attain to fame, empty though it is; and because they are light-minded they are lifted to the stars by the fickleness of opinion. What does fame do to a man? Though he be praised by all the world, if he has an aching joint, what does fame do for him? And Wolsey has many an aching joint, Meg … and an aching heart. His policy abroad, so successful at one time, has turned sour. He has aroused the hatred of the Emperor without gaining the love of the King of France. Our King cares only for one thing, for he is a single-minded man, and he thinks of little else day and night but ridding himself of Queen Katharine and marrying Anne Boleyn. Wolsey has one hope now—the successful outcome of the case which he and Campeggio are about to try here in London. If Wolsey can arrange the divorce, I doubt not that he will ere long win back the King's favor. If he does not… then the King will turn his back on him; and if His Grace continues to look the other way, the wolves will descend on my lord Cardinal, and they will have no mercy, Meg. There are too many slights to be avenged, too many resentments festering.”
“And then, Father?”
“Then, Meg, that will be farewell to his glory, farewell to his pomp and his riches. We shall no longer see our Cardinal ride in state through our streets. Pray God we do not see him riding to the Tower.”
“And you?”
“Here is the way out, Meg. Depend upon it, the King has little use for me. He knows my mind. He will accept my resignation. It will save him the unpleasant task of dismissing me as, Meg, all will be dismissed who do not pander to his wishes.”
“Father, I long for the day of your resignation.”
“ 'Twill not be long now, Meg. I assure you of that.”
THE CARDINAL'S glory was dimmed. None knew it more than he himself. His fate was clear when Campeggio, whom all were expecting to give a verdict in favor of the divorce, with characteristic vacillation rose and adjourned the Court, suggesting that it should be recalled and continued in Rome.
Then the Duke of Suffolk, who, all knew, spoke with the authority of the King, rose in hot anger and, glaring not at Campeggio, but at Wolsey, cried: “It was never merry in England since we had Cardinals among us.” That was the signal, recognized by all; the King had thrown Wolsey to his enemies.
Events followed rapidly.
The Cardinal returned to his house in Westminster surrounded by his servants, who trembled with him, for he had been a kindly, gracious master. And there they waited for the coming of Norfolk and Suffolk.
They did not have to wait long.
They came in the name of the King and demanded that he deliver the Great Seal of England into their hands.
THE KING sent for Sir Thomas More.
Margaret went down to the barge with him.
“Depend upon it Meg: this will mean one thing. When your father returns he will be stripped of his honors. I shall receive my marching orders with the stricken Cardinal.”
“And, dearest Father, how different from Wolsey's will be your feelings. You will rejoice. You will come home to your family, a happier man.”
And she stood at the top of the privy stairs, waving to him and smiling.
She had never felt so happy to see him depart.
THE KING received Thomas gravely.
“We have a matter of great importance to discuss with you,” he said. “You have worked in close company with Thomas Wolsey, have you not?”
“I have, Your Grace.”
The King grunted. He glared at his minister. He could not, even at this moment, resist a little acting. He wished to alarm Thomas More; and then speak what was in his mind.
There was, it seemed, only one man worthy to succeed to the office just vacated by Wolsey. The office of Chancellor was the highest in the land, and could only be given to a man capable of filling it. His Councillors had discussed this with the King. A knowledge of the intricacies of the law was a necessity, Norfolk had said. The new Chancellor must be an honest, upright man to whom the country could look with confidence and trust. The Councillors agreed that there was only one man in the country who could satisfactorily fill the office. This decision of his Councillors had set the King pondering. The Church had been reasonable over this matter of unlawful marriage with Katharine—all except one Bishop, that fool Fisher. He had hummed and ha-ed and maddened the King. But why should a King upset himself over the intransigence of a Bishop? That man should be adequately dealt with when the time came.
Henry did not forget that Sir Thomas More was not in favor of the divorce, that he had supported the Queen; yet he knew, as well as did his Councillors, that Thomas More was the man most fitted to step into Wolsey's shoes. It must be so. Henry was sure of this; so were Norfolk, Suffolk and every member of the Council. Wolsey himself had said, when he knew he was to fall, that there was only one man capable of following him, and that that man was Sir Thomas More.
This man More had a strange effect on all men, it seemed. Even when his opinions differed from theirs, they respected him to such an extent that they must continue to love him.
The King ceased to frown. His smile was turned on Thomas.
“We have good news for you. We have always had a fondness for you. Did we not say so when you first came to us? You remember that affair of the Pope's ship?” The King's smile was now benign. “Now, we have a task for you. We said we would make your fortune, did we not? It is made, Thomas More. We like your goodness, your honesty, that respect the whole world has for you. We look for one on whom to bestow the Great Seal, and we say to ourselves: ‘Ah, Thomas More! He is the man for us. He shall be our Lord Chancellor.’”
“Lord Chancellor, Your Grace!”
“Now, Thomas, you are overwhelmed. I know. I know. “Tis a mighty honor. Yet we have given this matter much thought, and we are assured that there is no man in the kingdom who deserves the honor more than you do. Your country needs you, Thomas. Your King commands you to serve your country. Your work with Wolsey, your knowledge of affairs, your love of learning, your erudition, your knowledge of the law … You see, do you not? You see that if I did not love you as I do, did I not respect you as a learned and an honorable man, I still must make you my Chancellor.”