The Boleyn Prince

Chapter 14

Cromwell's rooms were unnaturally silent. He liked the quiet, away from the hive and noise of the royal apartments. Quiet was more conducive to his effective working as his years advanced.
As a young man, he could work through any manner of distractions, such was his stalwart work ethic. Noise had not bothered him. He had slept through many a rowdy night onboard ships as he had travelled through France, Italy, and the Low Countries.
His pudgy finger skimmed down the page of the latest inventory from a dissolved Abbey. The last entry caught his eye: A suit of vestments of cloth of silver. From his side, he picked up a second parchment piece headed simply by the word: "Buyers" and scanned the names. All wealthy, rapacious courtiers who had paid handsomely to be shortlisted for the awarding of the monastic properties and their treasures.
His finger paused on the name he had been looking for. Sir Francis Bryan. Annes cousin and one of the King's closest confidants. Bryan had been pestering him relentlessly about securing one of the dissolved Abbeys for months.
"Well, Sir Francis, you can have Cannons Ashby Priory," Cromwell thought to himself as he scribbled the property name on the parchment.

"What is it? He mumbled in a half-mocking, half-harangued tone that drew a mischievous smile from his young secretary, Rafe Sadler.

"Thomas Culpepper is here with a message from the Queen," Rafe explained.

"Is he indeed," his tone betrayed no surprise. "Well, you had better show him in Rafe," he said, blowing the ink dry on the parchment.
Cromwell had been keeping an eye on the rakish young youth since he had first appeared at court some months ago. He seemed to have a talent for ingratiating himself into the favour of the married women of the court. Lady Lisle certainly seemed sweet on him. The longing looks she had been giving him during a hawking display a few weeks previously suggested that there was more to their relationship than simply Mistress and servant. Yet the more time Cromwell spent in his company, the more he disliked him. He was arrogant certainly, in the way that young men blessed by God with a handsome face were. But it was more than that. Cromwell sensed a malignancy in him that he known in others all to well during his youth. How this boy had won the affection of the King was beyond him.

"Young Master Culpepper, what can I do for you?"

"The Queen has sent me, my lord to say that she would speak with you in the Privy Gardens,"

It was pointless asking the young groom why he was summoned. Anne was unlikely to confide in him. He had planned to spend the afternoon reviewing the inventories of the recently suppressed monasteries and was loathed to waste time being drawn into another of the Queens petty schemes.

"Did she now." Cromwell raised his head to meet Culpepper's dark eyes. He was certainly handsome. Those eyes, in particular, were especially alluring. such a deep dark colour in contrast to his crop of fair hair. It was a complete contrast to the undeniable air of aggression about him that put Cromwell on his guard.

Cromwell laid his paper aside, folded his hands and gave the boy his full attention. "I thought you served the King, Master Culpepper, not the Queen."

The boy did not flinch at the insinuation. "I do, my lord."

"Then why are you delivering messages for the Queen? She has her own messengers for such a task."

"The Queen approached me in the gardens, sir."

"And do you have a habit of meeting Her Majesty in the gardens, Master Culpepper?"

Any other man would have betrayed a flicker of panic in their face at such a suggestion but not this youth. A wry smile broke out on his handsome face and he failed to stifle an impertinent giggle of amusement.

"No, my lord. Her Majesty spoke to me as I was coming back from speaking to your nephew, Richard."

Realising the boy was not to be easily intimidated, Cromwell finally rose to his feet "Well then, I had better not keep her waiting. Lead on, Master Culpepper."

He found Anne walking with Margaret Lee and three other attendants in her Privy Gardens. The moment she saw him approach, she broke away from her party and led him in the opposite direction.

She did not waste time with preambles. "I understand that the King is entertaining the idea of marrying off Lady Mary."

He knew right away how she come by the information. There had after all been only four persons present when the subject had been brought up.
How could Norris have so far forgot his duty of confidence to the king in revealing such privileged information to Anne? That man was far too close to the Queen for his own good. He and Francis Weston were always dallying in her rooms. Anyone would think they were her pages rather gentlemen of her husband's chamber.

"Harry Norris would do well to mind his own business," he mused lightly, joining her in her meander through the garden.

"Who are the candidates?"

"No-one as yet, Your Majesty. The King is still contemplating the idea of a union."

"You know there was a suggestion a year or two ago that she be married to my uncle Norfolk's son, the Earl of Surrey."

"I know of it."

"He is bound to press for it again if he should learn of the king's plan. I want you to see to it that it comes to nothing."

"I see, and why might that be?"

At this, she stopped her stroll and faced him. Her black eyes flickered with the indignation of being questioned by him.

"I did not think it would be necessary for me to have to explain my instructions," she sneered. Her snobbery gilded by the coquettishness of a woman who was used to having her own way.

"How can I best serve you madam if I know not what your mind is thinking?"

She let out a subtle sigh of exasperation at his probing. "I have a candidate of my own that I am keen should enter the running."

"Oh, and who might that be?"

"My brother, Lord Rochford."

He was shocked by her train of thought. George Boleyn was nearly as outrageous a candidate for Mary's hand as himself. They were both detested throughout the country by the nobility and commoners alike. But aloud he merely murmured in a pondering tone: "Lord Rochford?"

"Who else can we trust with such a bride as the Lady Mary, who would gain no advantage in pressing her claim to the throne?"

"There would certainly be some advantage in it for your brother..."

"George is utterly loyal," she interrupted sharply. "With my brother as her husband, the attraction of the Lady Mary on the throne would quickly lose its appeal. They will not be quite so quick to disinherit my son if he is to be replaced by another Boleyn as heir."

He had to hand it to her. It was an astute plan. Audacious even. He could well see the merits of her argument and was disappointed he had not thought of it himself.
Unmarried, Lady Mary was an attractive and welcome alternative for the conservatives and papists who abhorred the Boleyn influence on the crown. She was a natural rallying point for those who objected to the religious changes in the kingdom. If she were wed to a Boleyn and the mother of a Boleyn heir, her appeal would vanish overnight. Rochford was well known to be a supporter of the reformed faith.
At least if he were to speak in support of Rochford, the King might forget the idea of marrying Mary to him. It may have been a jest initially, but with Henry one never really knew. He was a man of contradictions. He held fast to the old traditions of courtly life, yet he had promoted and favoured men of low birth. First Wolsey, then himself. They had both occupied prestigious roles of state that under any of Henry's predecessors would have gone to the nobility of the realm. Would he raise him even further? To be a member of his own family? One just never knew with Henry.
If he were to wed the King's most popular daughter there would be riots in the streets. None at court would stand for it, he knew that. He would not even make it down the aisle. Some Spanish poison slipped into his drink or even a blatant assassin's blade would make sure that Lady Mary never became his wife.
He would certainly be the better choice morally. He would treat the poor girl kindly, kinder than he could envisage Rochford treating her. The man was a notorious libertine. Cromwell knew of at least three women at court who were bedding the Queen's brother at the present, both for coin and for wanton pleasure.

It was interesting that she was bringing the suggestion directly to him and not to the King. Perhaps she thought the King might dismiss it completely out of hand. Fearing that George might attempt to usurp the throne for himself. Henry was certainly wary of any rival claimants for his throne.
Perhaps her skill in influencing the King was on the decline. The marriage had been trouble since well before Prince Henry's birth. Had the child been a girl, Cromwell was sure the marriage would have been over. Had she now become his client, whereas he had always been hers?

"The idea has merit, Your Majesty," he said finally. "I will put it to the King."

He expected some mumble of thanks, a mention of a reward, but all he received was a nod from her dark head as she took her leave of him, and he knew just where he stood with the Queen.