The Other Wolsey (The Tudors Fanfic) DISCONTINUED

17. The Death of Wolsey I

The house in York was beyond freezing. Outside it was raining heavily and the water was leaking in through the broken roof. Mother was hurrying around to strategically place buckets around the house. There was not a hint of luxury in sight. The only luxury we had was the rain stopping, which it hadn't done for the past few days.

I was bored out of my wits. Norfolk and Suffolk had taken all but one of our horses, but since it was raining I couldn't ride them. They took my harpsichord and almost all my books. All I had was some ink and paper. I'm the beginning I'd spent the day doing silly sketches, even though I was no artist. But then the paper got into short supply and Father was forced to tell me not to use it unless it was extremely urgent or important.

We'd heard news that Thomas More was now chancellor of England, and I'd sent him a letter beseeching him to put our families favours to the king and promote fathers return to power. Just like with Thomas Cromwell, I'd heard no reply. I'd written some drafts to Cromwell but had screwed them up, sometimes out of dislike for what I'd written other times out of frustration.

"This is intolerable...you must have the roof mended." Mother wheezed putting another bucket down nearby.

"With what and by whom?" Father grumbled. "We have no money...and no bloody servants!"

"Surely the king never meant for you to live so wretchedly. After all You are still archbishop of York." Mother insisted.

"Well perhaps it's not the kings fault. I've had cause to remember the old prophecy, when the cow rideth the bull, priest beware thy skull." Father grumbled and Mother scoffed.

"You mean that Cow Anne Boleyn?"

"Wretched Bitch." I mumbled.

"Indeed so. Which is why I am writing her this letter." Mother glanced over, her hair flicked behind her shoulder and I looked up at father my mouth agape slightly.

"Father have you gone mad?"

"Even if she's the cause of all our misery?" Mother exclaimed.

"Well Yes since she's the cause she can also be the cure. I just have to persuade her that I am not her enemy, but her friend. I still have the letter in which she promises to reward me-"

"Yes you've gone mad." I interrupted but Father ignored me.

"For all my pains and efforts. Such time as she becomes crowned."
Mother stopped herself from chuckling.

"I seem to remember at the time you thought her promises rather amusing." She insisted and Father laughed lightly.

"Well yes perhaps I did. Since then I've...rather lost my sense of humour." He sighed going back to writing his letter to Anne Boleyn. I got up to go and find something to do calling back as I left "You're mad father!"

He laughed. It wasn't a light or weak. He meant it. And that was a rarity these days.

*

The days passed. Father had his letter sent to Anne Boleyn. The Rain hardly stopped these days. Did it always rain in York?

I was sat in my chambers brushing my hair early late the evening and a knock came.

"Who is it?" I asked stupidly even though there were only two possible people it could've been.