The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [95]
Yes, I did. God had pointed out the truth.
“The Pope will decide,” she said smugly. “He will know God’s will.”
God’s will. What did Clement know of God’s will? Theologians knew better than he. “The learned theologians in every university will study the case and decide it. And if the Pope does not, thereafter, rule in my favour, I shall declare the Pope a heretic and cease to obey him.”
The fire snapped. Had I really meant to say that? Katherine stared. Nonetheless, I had said it. I took my leave and went back to Anne.
I told her of what had just happened, of the frightening words I had just said, and what they meant. But she focused only on Katherine, not on my challenge to the Papacy.
Standing in her velvet nightgown at the door to her inner chambers, she laughed. “You should know better than to argue with Katherine,” she said, once she got her breath. “Never once have you won an argument with her.”
I bridled at that, but she silenced me. She started to say more, but then her face fell and she looked close to tears. “Someday you will be so convinced by Katherine’s arguments you will return to her,” she said mournfully.
I started to protest, but again she cut me off. Her eyes brimmed with tears; her long, foxlike face was all aquiver.
“I have given up everything for you,” she said. “And now I know eventually you will go back to Katherine. You must. And in the meantime” —she kept the door adroitly half-closed, so I could not force my way inside and take her in my arms—“I have given up any chance I may have had for an honourable marriage, now that I am known as the King’s Great Whore! My youth has been wasted! There is nothing left for me, except ... I cannot say what will become of me!” Sobbing, she slammed the door.
I stood, bewildered. And envied the monks, who were free of the snares of women. Had I become Archbishop of Canterbury—
But I had not. We must embrace what we are.
If I ceased to obey the Pope, who would fill his place in my life? It was the very office itself I was questioning, rather than Clement himself. When had the emphasis shifted?
I had said it to Katherine, and suddenly I meant it: I would not obey the Pope, no matter what he pronounced. I did not believe in his spiritual authority any longer.
When had that happened? I did not know ... only that I was sure, in my deepest self, that the Pope was not the Vicar of Christ; that the entire office of the Papacy was a man-made thing and carried no more weight than one of those papier-mâché pageant-cars we use at Christmas. Pleasing the Pope had been one of my ways of trying so hard to be the “perfect” King.
What a fool I had been! To tremble before the Papacy and seek its approval! A triple-turned fool—but no more, no more!
More pointed out several varieties of roses which he had taken pains in growing, then said simply, “You came about other matters.”
“Yes,” I said. “I wish you to be Lord Chancellor. In Wolsey’s place.” If he was simple and straightforward, why should I not be?
I expected either fluster or incredulity. Instead he laughed, a great, ringing laugh. When he stopped, he said, “I? In Wolsey’s place? But I am no churchman.”
“I do not want a churchman! You are a Christian—more so than most churchmen!”
“Are you entirely positive that you want a Christian, Your Grace?”
Did he mock me? “Yes!”
Instead of replying, he continued walking down the rows of neatly trimmed rosebushes, his hands clasped behind his back. At the end of the row of red roses, he suddenly turned. “I cannot,” he said quietly. “Forgive me.”
The roses round him made a bloody, flowery frame.
“Wherefore not?” I demanded.
“Your Grace’s Great Matter—”
I waved that aside. “The Lord Chancellor is not—”
He cut me off. “The previous Lord Chancellor was deeply involved in this question.”
“Because he was a Cardinal and empowered to preside at the legatine trial. Now it has gone beyond that, to—”
“To become a political matter, which would involve your Chancellor more than ever, be he churchman or layman. I cannot—”
“Thomas,” I suddenly said, “what