The Autobiography of Henry VIII: With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers (20 page)
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Authors: Margaret George
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“It is our duty to use our resources wisely against Satan,” he agreed. “But this alliance ... how can you conquer, without unfeigned assistance? A false ally is worse than an enemy.”
But I still believed in my allies. Nor did I realize that Wolsey inclined so toward the French. The French were civilised, masters of style, as was Wolsey, the butcher’s son. We are surprises to our parents.
I changed the subject. “There is danger from the Scots. They obey no laws of honour or chivalry. They are like to attack whilst we are occupied in France.”
“They
are
French allies. The ‘auld alliance,’ they call it. Although two more unlikely partners I am hard put to imagine!” The brawling Scots with the mincing French. Laughable. “Leave an able soldier behind to contain them.”
are
French allies. The ‘auld alliance,’ they call it. Although two more unlikely partners I am hard put to imagine!” The brawling Scots with the mincing French. Laughable. “Leave an able soldier behind to contain them.”
“Howard,” I said. “Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey. He is from the North, he knows it well.”
Just then, two dancing shadows came into the building.
“Father! Father!” they called.
How sweet. The little lads had an affectionate relationship with the visiting priest.
“Mother does not feel well,” they whined.
“I am busy.” Wolsey’s voice was hard.
“She was sick lastre false?Hight="2em" align="left">
HENRY VIII:
I had even overcome the timidity and lack of firm plans from my “committed allies.” Ferdinand had yet to meet me, and Maximilian had only just shown up, without troops, offering to serve as a soldier under my command whilst we besieged Tournai.
The Holy Roman Emperor was an odd little man, with reddish gold hair and a chin sticking out like a shelf. He appeared so affable that one never questioned his thoughts or his motives. Yet this man controlled the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, and bits and pieces scattered about Italy and France! Now he trotted about in my wake as I inspected cannon and their positions, helped load and fire the bombards (our sulphur from Italy was certainly superior, thanks to the Pope, and gave a nice explosion), and at night he dined with me in my collapsible timber house (which boasted all the amenities of my Privy Chamber at home, including my great bed.) He also relieved himself in my private stool-closet, discreetly attached to the house. After dinner, candles flickering on our massive formal dining table, we spread out maps and discussed strategy.
“Tournai will look pretty, razed to the ground like Thérouanne,” chuckled Maximilian. I had besieged Thérouanne for twenty-three days, and when at last it had surrendered, I ordered everyone out and destroyed it.
“I will never raze it,” I said. “I plan to incorporate it into the Pale of Calais, make it English. Why”—I thought of this on the spot—“we’ll send representatives to Parliament!”
“Your Grace!” laughed Wolsey. “That would mean you would have to garrison them. They’d never go to Parliament otherwise—they’re French!”
“Well,
parliament
is a French word,” said Brandon, attempting to be jolly. “It means ‘let’s talk.’ And that’s all Parliament does—talk, talk, talk!”
parliament
is a French word,” said Brandon, attempting to be jolly. “It means ‘let’s talk.’ And that’s all Parliament does—talk, talk, talk!”
“Aye, aye!” The rest of the company laughed, just to be a part of the merriment.
“Thomas More speaks of a silent Parliament,” Wolsey said. “He plans to lead one.”
“More speaks of many things, most of them preposterous,” chimed in Edward Neville.
Sir
Edward Neville: I had knighted him just four hours past for his bravery on the field.
Sir
Edward Neville: I had knighted him just four hours past for his bravery on the field.
There had been much bravery on this campaign. I was astonished at how very brave an ordinary man can be when confronted with the enemy. The first night we marched, it was pouring rain, and we were bogged down in a sea of mud. I rode round the camp at three in the morning, in my armour, to hearten and encourage my men. “Well, comrades, now that we have suffered in the beginning, fortune promises us better things, God willing.”
Suddenly there was a knock at my door. A Scots herald stood outside, come to declare war on England! He concluded, “My King summons Your Grace to be at home in your realm, on the defence.” He was wearing his clan badge and hat, and seemed oblivious to the fact that his King, James IV, was acting in a base manner in choosing this time to attack.
“You have come a far way to deliver your cowardly summons,” I said at length. “It ill becomes a Scot to summon a King of England. Tell him that never shall a Scot cause us to return! We see your master for what he is. For we Z `d.
“Scotland, and its King, have perished,” I said, to inform the waiting men-at-arms around me, companions, my fealty-sworn soldiers: Brandon, Neville, Carew, Bryan, Seymour, Boleyn, Courtenay.
They let out a great cheer. “A glorious day!” yelled Brandon.
“Our King is mighty, he destroys his enemies!” cried young Courtenay.
I stepped to the door of my “house” and looked out across the flat plains of France, feeling the wind in my face. Whenever I want to recall that moment, that high moment of military triumph, I have only to close my eyes and open a window and let the wind blow steady and a little cold across my cheeks and lips. I do it sometimes, in moments of uncertainty. Then I become young again, and mighty.
WILL:
Katherine thought she was pleasing him by sending him the bloody Scots King’s coat in exchange for the captured Duc de Longueville. As if they were an equal exchange!
Katherine was very devoted to Henry; Katherine was very competent and loyal; Katherine was very stupid in crucial ways.
HENRY VIII:
We landed at Dover, almost four months to the day since we had set sail for France. Then, there had been all the excitement of seeing France—I, who had never seen any of England, save the parts around London—and fighting there, against great odds. France had proved fair; and I had proved a warrior. Now part of fair France was my booty.
All along the Dover-London road, my subjects were waiting. They wished to see us, touch us, call their greetings. We had done well; we had touched a nerve in Englishmen, and aroused a longing in them. And next year we would further satisfy that longing, for we would invade France yet again, this time well coordinated with Ferdinand and Maximilian. This season’s campaign had been but the beginning.
WILL:
It was here that I once again saw Henry VIII. I was one of the throng along the selfsame Dover-London road, and I was eager to glimpse him, the Boy-King. I stood for hours, so it seemed, waiting for a hint of movement on the road stretching away on either side.
The
King is coming. No, the King
will
be an hour yet
. It was interminable, yet I dared not leave. At length—it was almost noon, and we had been waiting, standing, since dawn—he came into view, sitting proudly on a great white horse. He was dressed all in gold, and he himself was gold: his hair, his eyes, his glowing skin. He looked fresh, and as full of grace as any knight new-blessed at Jerusalem. My—whatever it is within the breast that expands into life at such moments—pride, for want of a better word, was touched, and I felt ecstatic beholding him, both as if I were King myself, and at the same time awed that we had such a King.
The
King is coming. No, the King
will
be an hour yet
. It was interminable, yet I dared not leave. At length—it was almost noon, and we had been waiting, standing, since dawn—he came into view, sitting proudly on a great white horse. He was dressed all in gold, and he himself was gold: his hair, his eyes, his glowing skin. He looked fresh, and as full of grace as any knight new-blessed at Jerusalem. My—whatever it is within the breast that expands into life at such moments—pride, for want of a better word, was touched, and I felt ecstatic beholding him, both as if I were King myself, and at the same time awed that we had such a King.
HENRY VIII:
Katherine wange my travel-stained clothes, in which I had lived since boarding my warship at Calais. Instead, I changed horses, so that I might gallop to her on the fastest steed in the royal stables. I had been faithful to her all the time I had been away, even during that time in Lille, between the besieging of Thérouanne and Tournai, when we celebrated our first victory and there were many Belgian ladies eager to “comfort” a warrior-king....
I had never been unfaithful to Katherine. I did not believe it was right. I had pledged myself to her, and I would keep that pledge. My father had never been unfaithful to my mother. I could not have borne it if he had insulted her so.
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