“Did I not tell you of the physician? He knows that Wolsey wrote to the Pope, asking him to excommunicate you, an you did not dismiss me and take back Katharine.”
“By God! And I will not believe it.”
She put her arms about his neck, and with one hand stroked his hair.
“Darling, see the physician, discover for yourself . . .”
“That will I do!” he assured her.
Then she slept more peacefully, but in the morning her fears were as strong as ever. When the physician confirmed Wolsey’s perfidy, when her cousin, Francis Bryan, brought her papers which proved that Wolsey had been in communication with the Pope, had asked for the divorce to be delayed; when she took these in triumph to the King and saw the veins stand out on his forehead with anger against the Cardinal, still she found peace of mind elusive. She remembered the softness of the King towards this man; she remembered how, when he had lain ill at Esher, he had sent Butts, his physician—the man he had sent to her at Hever—to attend his old friend. She remembered how he had summoned Butts, recently returned from Esher, and had asked after Wolsey’s health; and when Butts had said he feared the old man would die unless he received some token of the King’s regard, then had the King sent him a ruby ring, and—greater humiliation—he had turned to her and bidden her send a token too. Such was the King’s regard for this man; such was his reluctance to destroy him.
But she would not let her enemy live; and in this she had behind her many noblemen, at whose head were the powerful Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, men such as would let the grass grow under their feet in the matter. George had talked with her of Wolsey. “There will be no peace for us, Anne, while that man lives. For, if ever you had an enemy, that man is he!” She trusted George completely. He had said: “You can do this, Anne. You have but to command the King. Hesitate not, for well you know that had Wolsey the power to destroy you, he would not hesitate.”
“That I do know,” she answered, and was suddenly sad. “George,” she went on, “would it not be wonderful if we could go home and live quietly, hated by none!”
“I would not wish to live quietly, sister,” said George. “Nor would you. Come! Could you turn back now, would you?” She searched her mind and knew that he was right. “You were meant to be Queen of England, Anne. You have all the attributes.”
“I feel that, but I could wish there were not so much hating to be done!”
But she went on hating furiously; this was a battle between herself and Wolsey, and it was one she was determined to win. Norfolk watched; Suffolk watched; they were waiting for their opportunity.
There was a new charge against the Cardinal. He had been guilty of asserting and maintaining papal jurisdiction in England. Henry must accept the evidence; he must appease Anne; he must satisfy his ministers. Wolsey was to be arrested at Cawood Castle in York, whither he had retired these last months.
“The Earl of Northumberland should be sent to arrest him,” said Anne, her eyes gleaming, This was to be. She went to her apartment, dismissed her ladies, and flung herself upon her bed overcome by paroxysms of laughter and tears. She felt herself to be, not the woman who aspired to the throne of England, but a girl in love who through this man had lost her lover.
Now he would see! Now he should know! “That foolish girl!” he had said. “Her father but a knight, and yours one of the noblest houses in the land . . .”
Her father was an earl now; and she all but Queen of England.
Oh, you wise Cardinal! How I should love to see your face when Percy comes for you! You will know then that you were not so wise in seeking to destroy Anne Boleyn.
As the Cardinal sat at dinner in the dining-hall at Cawood Castle, his gentleman usher came to him and said: “My lord, His Grace, the Earl of Northumberland is in the castle!”
Wolsey was astounded.
“This cannot be. Were I to have the honor of a visit from such a nobleman, he would surely have warned me. Show him in to me that I may greet him.”
The Earl was brought into the dining-hall. He had changed a good deal since Wolsey had last seen him, and Wolsey scarcely recognized him as the delicate, handsome boy whom he had had occasion to reprimand at the King’s command because he had dared to fall in love with the King’s favorite.
Wolsey reproached Northumberland: “My lord Earl, you should have let me know, that I might have done you the honor due to you!”
Northumberland was quiet; he had come to receive no honor, he said. His eyes burned oddly in his pallid face. Wolsey remembered stories he had heard of his unhappy marriage with Shrewsbury’s daughter. A man should not allow a marriage to affect him so strongly; there were other things in life. A man in Northumberland’s position had much; was he not reigning lord of one of the noblest houses in the land! Bah! thought Wolsey enviously, an I were earl . . .
He had an affection for this young man, remembering him well when he had served under him. A docile boy, a charming boy. He had been grieved when he had to send him away.
“It is well to meet again,” said Wolsey. “For old times’ sake.”
“For old times’ sake!” said Northumberland, and he spoke as a man speaks in his sleep.
“I mind thee well,” said Wolsey. “Thou wert a bright, impetuous boy.”
“I mind thee well,” said Northumberland.
With malice in his heart, he surveyed the broken old man. So were the mighty fallen from their high places! This man had done that for which he would never forgive him, for he had taken from him Anne Boleyn whom in six long years of wretched marriage he had never forgotten; nor had he any intention of forgiving Wolsey. Anne should have been his, and he Anne’s. They had loved; they had made vows; and this man, who dared now to remind him of the old times, had been the cause of all his misery. And now that he was old and broken, now that his ambition had destroyed him, Wolsey would be kind and full of tender reminiscence. But Percy also remembered!
“I have often thought of you,” he said, and that was true. When he had quarreled with Mary, his wife, whom he
