Wolsey had his network of spies, and most correspondence which came back and forth was scrutinized by him.
He knew that the Pope was telling Campeggio to prolong the matter in the hope that the King might change his mind, for what he asked could not be granted without peril and scandal.
Wolsey knew also that Clement had no intention of granting the divorce and that Campeggio was using his gouty condition to enable him to prevaricate with some semblance of plausibility.
I was so frustrated. Sometimes I was quite hysterical. I did not know what the outcome would be. The King seemed as deeply enamored of me as ever; but he was in a nervous state too. It had not occurred to him that when he asked for a divorce he would not get it. He could cite so many examples of monarchs in his position. “Why, oh why,” he demanded, “should I be the one to be denied?”
The answer was easy: Because his wife was the aunt of the Emperor Charles.
We saw each other now and then. I would chafe against the delay and he assured me that Wolsey was doing his best. I doubted this.
“Your Grace is bemused by that man,” I said incautiously.
Henry replied: “Nay, sweetheart, I know him well. No one knows him better. He has always worked well for me and he will continue to do so.”
“Cannot you see that he is working for his master, the Pope?”
“Wolsey is my man.”
“Cardinal Wolsey?”
I withdrew myself from his embrace. He was amazed. No one contradicted the King. No one but myself denied him what he wanted.
He left soon after that, his expression bleak.
When he had gone, I asked myself what I had done. I was letting my nervous tension get the better of my common sense. He had never looked like that before. He was frustrated beyond endurance, and instead of soothing him I had irritated him.
I thought of writing to him. No, that would not do. I must not show weakness. There might be a reconciliation, which could very well have the ending which I was so desperately trying to hold off. On the other hand criticism was something that he would not take from anyone… not even from me.
What should I do? I spent a sleepless night. If only this dreadful waiting was over! In the end I wrote a note to him in which I told him I was sorry for my outburst. I was so weary with the waiting.
His reply was instant.
What a joy it was to understand my reasonableness and he was delighted that I was suppressing my fantasies.
“Good sweetheart,” he went on, “continue the same not only in this but in all your doing hereafter, for thereby shall come to both you and me the greatest quietness that may be in the world …” He ended: “Written with the hand which fain would be yours, and so is the heart. H.R.”
Perhaps the most disturbing element of all came from the people. They knew of Campeggio's presence in London and they had heard of the King's Secret Matter. They knew that he wanted to put away Queen Katharine and set me up in her place.
Katharine had always been popular, though not as the King had, of course. They loved their large glittering monarch who gave such splendid entertainments at his Court, which they were sometimes able to see. He was always cheerful, smiling and approachable…to them, for the ordinary people found him much more affable than his courtiers did. His father—though he had made the country prosperous—had never enjoyed the popularity which had come to his son. The people wanted someone who looked like a king—and Henry certainly did that.
They did not like what they heard, so they had to have a scapegoat. The King was too popular to take that role, so who should it fall to but myself?
Little did they know that in the first place I had been brought reluctantly into this. If only I had married Henry Percy, they would have known nothing of me; I should have lived my life in obscure and peaceful happiness as the Countess of Northumberland.
Now I was called Sorceress. I had a sixth finger which had been given to me by the Devil. By spells I had seduced the King from the path of virtue. The Devil and I had concocted a scheme to break up the King's marriage, that I might take the Queen's place.
They gathered about the palace. They cheered Katharine whenever she appeared, which I think she did more frequently than in the past, reveling in their sympathy. Who could blame her? She was fighting for her position, for her child's right to the throne. I saw that clearly… much as I wanted her out of my way.
They greeted the King with silence. It was the first time in his life that he had lacked the vociferous appreciation of the crowd and he did not like it. It worried him considerably. He must be remembering that his father had come by a devious way to the throne.
“We'll have no Nan Bullen,” they shouted at the King.
Angrily he gave orders that crowds were not to be allowed to gather near the palaces.
They talked about my low birth. This was amusing coming from the apprentices, the seamstresses and the watermen. They passed over the fact that I was of Howard blood—one of the highest families in the land. I was of tradesmen's stock, they said. It had always been amazing to me that the lower orders hate to see someone rise in life. Though humbly born themselves, they cannot bear to see one whom they consider to be of their kind rise to greatness. It was the same with Wolsey. One would have thought they would have been delighted, and see in such a rise a chance for themselves.
So the demonstrations grew and I could not go to London. It was depressing to be so hated.
Henry wrote that I must stay away for if I were there he would fear for my safety.
I had heard that he had appeared before the Mayor of London and the Aldermen because he wished the City of London to understand what was actually happening.
He spoke eloquently of that which always aroused a passionate fluency in him—his conscience. He was thinking of his people. As men of intelligence, they would know that one of the most important safeguards to a country's security was the succession. If only he could be shown that his marriage was legal, nothing would please him more. The Queen had so many good qualities which he had good reason to know, and in births she was incomparable. If he had to make a choice now, he would choose her above all women.
When such words were reported to me, I was filled with fury; but I grew calmer. Hypocrisy was second nature to Henry and he used it so well because he believed it when he said it. But could he even for a moment have believed that he would have chosen Katharine now if he had a choice? It was not a matter of choice. He only had to stop proceedings and Katharine could remain his wife; and I did not suppose for a moment that anyone would question the matter.
How could one trust a man who could talk so convincingly and so untruthfully?
Was that another signpost which I ignored? Should I have asked myself at that time more searchingly what dangers lay ahead in union with him?
It was decided that I should spend Christmas at Court. I should go to Greenwich.
How many weary months ago had I thought that by this time I should be crowned Queen of England.
No sooner had I arrived in Greenwich than I realized it had been a mistake to come.
The Queen was naturally there and, as the King's Secret Matter was secret no longer, all knew that his desire for a divorce was because he wished to marry me. That put me in a very difficult position. There were those who flattered me because of the favors I should be able to bestow on them when I became Queen; on the other hand there were those who thought I never would be, that Katharine's obstinacy and piety would prevail, and to her they wished to show their fidelity. There were some, I knew, who had a genuine affection for Katharine and would rally around her no matter what happened.