The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [97]
“Yes, yes,” I cut him off. “But this has been done always. The heavenly kingdom and the earthly are separate.”
“Are they, Your Grace? If, upon pain of death, a subject chooses to obey a foreign ruler over his King—what is heavenly about that? Is it not treason?” A pause. “Does not Your Grace have responsibility for all his subjects? Did not God deliver them into your hands for safekeeping? In days of old there were no Popes, but only Christian princes, who were charged with keeping the True Faith—”
He went on with his extraordinary theory: that the head of each realm was empowered by God to protect his subjects both bodily and spiritually; that he was the highest authority in the land in both spheres; and that the clergy owed allegiance to him, not to the Bishop of Rome, who was a mere usurper. To restore his power to myself was merely to reinstate the ancient, correct, and divinely ordained order of things.
“It is as God wills,” finished Cromwell. “He is displeased with the present state. It is a perversion of the truth. That is why prophets like Wycliffe and Hus and Luther have arisen. That is why Rome has been laid low and the Pope reduced to a shivering prisoner by the Emperor. These are all signs. Signs that you must act to restore the rightful order of things. Else the punishments will increase. Remember in Israel, when Ahab—”
“Yes, yes.” I could bear the hunger no longer; I reached for the cup of ale. “An interesting theory,” I finally said. “Words. Wolsey was also full of words. What of deeds?”
I was curious to know if he had worked this out as well. I was not disappointed. Cromwell leaned forward eagerly, his lizardlike eyes reflecting the morning light.
“The people groan beneath the weight of the monstrous burden,” he said.
I must cure him of this extravagant speech he affected. Could no one save Anne speak plain English to me?
“But they are powerless to extricate themselves. Only one person can break their bonds. The King.”
I grunted. “How?”
“They will follow you, like the children of Israel following Moses.”
This last simile was too much. Why should I not permit myself to indulge in the eel? This would-be orator deserved no deference on my part. I leaned over and selected a tasty-looking piece. “Pray speak plainly,” I finally said.
He grinned—something no one had done in my presence for years. Throwing aside the grovelling and hyperbole like a heavy cloak, his voice leapt. “The clergy are helpless to release themselves. The people cannot, save through a general rebellion such as has occurred in Germany, and which above all we do not want. No. The rebellion, the break, must be led from above. And this most of all: it must seem no rebellion at all. People—even discarded people—like to feel that the order is eternal. Even while destroying it, we must maintain its outer structure.”
His eyes were dancing. He looked demented, delirious. I reached for more eel, as if something in my mouth would subdue the uneasy feeling in my head.
“The Church must be left intact,” he continued. “It must retain all the outward semblances of the past. No whitewashed walls,came visions of the Pope, who was sometimes Wolsey and sometimes Father. When Father wore the Papal tiara, he looked at me accusingly. “How has it all been spent? And what have you done with my realm? Given it an heir? Made new and just laws? Nay, that I doubt—” Even as he spoke, mercifully he faded away from my inner vision.
I awoke—had I ever really been asleep?—in the pale sky before dawn. I reflected on the dreams. Father ... Wolsey... the Pope. All my life I had been a dutiful son to one or the other, entrusting my most cherished longings and ambitions to them. Trying to please them and never succeeding.