Westminster Hall that day was a grim contrast to the scene three years before. The prisoners found themselves only feet away from where Queen Anne had sat, but instead of the blue carpet, the golden tapestries and the laden tables, there were the timber scaffoldings of the law courts. Where the king’s musicians had filled the air, there was the silence of his guard and the brooding presence of the great axe, the edge for the present turned away from the prisoners, but ready to swing towards them if judgement was given against them.
3
As the jurymen were called into the court, Norris and the others knew their fate was sealed. Cromwell had preselected as hostile a panel as could be imagined. The foreman was Edward Willoughby, who owed Brereton money. Next came William Askew, a welcome guest in Mary’s household; then Walter Hungerford, a scapegrace dependant of Cromwell’s and a homosexual; Giles Alington was married to More’s stepdaughter; Sir John Hampden’s daughter was sister-in-law to William Paulet, controller of the royal household; William Musgrave, the government witness who had failed to make treason charges stick against Lord Dacre, was desperate to cling to Cromwell’s favour; Thomas Palmer was one of Henry’s gambling cronies and a client of William Fitzwilliam. Robert Dormer was a known opponent of the breach with Rome; Richard Tempest was related to and an ally of another conservative, Lord Darcy (and also on good terms with Cromwell); William Drury was an esquire of the body and an associate of John Russell; Thomas Wharton was a leech clinging to the earl of Northumberland, who was desperately afraid that his earlier courtship of Anne would drag him down too.
Whether the defendants challenged any of the jury is not clear. Under normal rules the four could have refused twenty (or possibly thirty-five) each, so preventing the trial that day and for several days to come. But there was doubt whether such challenges applied in treason trials, and nobody before had tried the tactic. Possibly Norris or one of the others did refuse both the ex-lord mayor, John Champnes, who was probably going blind, and Antony Hungerford, who was related to Jane Seymour, but instead they only got William Sidney, an old colleague of Lord Darcy and close to the duke of Suffolk as well. And behind Sidney were many more of that same ilk.
4
In any case there was, to such lifelong courtiers, only one hope - that the king would relent. It was a faint hope, but it would be entirely extinguished by too much obstinacy and obstruction. And it was, of course, entirely in the king’s hands to mitigate the full rigour of any sentence for treason - or to refuse to do so.
The trial ground through its established procedures. Smeton confessed to adultery, but pleaded not guilty to the rest of the charge; Norris, Weston and Brereton pleaded not guilty to all. Even where a jury was not loaded in advance, defendants in a Tudor criminal trial - even more, a state trial - were at an enormous disadvantage. They had no advance warning of the evidence to be put, and since defence counsel was not allowed, they were reduced to attempting to rebut a public interrogation by hostile and well-prepared Crown prosecutors determined not so much to present the government case as to secure a conviction by fair questions or foul. The expected verdict came - guilty. And the judgement - drawing, hanging and quartering in all its horror. The edge of the axe was turned to the prisoners, and they were returned to the Tower to await death.
Anne and her brother had the weekend to endure. They were tried on Monday, 15 May, in the King’s Hall in the Tower, a matter of security, not privacy; the special stands erected to hold the 2000 who attended could still be seen in 1778.
5
They watched a scene of the utmost solemnity: the duke of Norfolk under a cloth of estate, sitting as lord steward, with his son at his feet deputizing as earl marshal, plus a jury of twenty-six peers assisted by the chancellor and the royal justices.
6
Anne was brought in by the constable and the lieutenant of the Tower to be tried first, accompanied by Lady Kingston and her aunt, Lady Boleyn. After formal courtesies on both sides, Anne sat in the chair provided, raised her right hand when called, and pleaded ‘not guilty’ to the indictment.
The queen was once more in command of herself and clearly of the situation. Her sparing and effective answers quietly dominated the court.
7
From the moment of her arrest, Anne had realized the difficulty of establishing her innocence. She had said to Kingston: ‘I can say no more but “nay”, without I should open my body’; and, ‘If any man accuse me, I can say but “nay”, and they can bring no witnesses.’
8
Yet when the time came, her manner did carry conviction. No, she had not been unfaithful; no, she had not promised to marry Norris; no, she had not hoped for the king’s death; no, she had not given secret tokens to Norris; no, she had neither poisoned Katherine nor planned to poison Mary; yes, she had given money to Francis Weston, but she had done the same to many of the always penurious young courtiers; and so it went on. Charles Wriothesley, who was temperamentally inclined to Katherine and Mary, expressed the common view: ‘She made so wise and discreet answers to all things laid against her, excusing herself with her words so clearly as though she had never been faulty to the same.’
9
If de Caries is correct and Anne was in some way formally deprived of her honours before sentence, even then she kept the sympathy of the onlookers, but not of the jury, as it deliberated under the watchful eye of the duke of Suffolk. The peers returned to their seats and in traditional form gave their verdicts one by one, starting with the most junior: ‘Guilty, guilty, guilty... ’ Norfolk pronounced sentence, weeping as he did so - and is it cynical to wonder whether they were tears more of relief than sympathy?
Because thou has offended our sovereign the king’s grace in committing treason against his person and here attainted of the same, the law of the realm is this, that thou hast deserved death, and thy judgement is this: that thou shalt be burned here within the Tower of London, on the Green, else to have thy head smitten off, as the king’s pleasure shall be further known of the same.
10
Burning or beheading? An angry rustle went round the judges; such an either/or judgement was most improper!
11
Anne, however, did not hesitate as she addressed the court. Speeches at such a moment are notoriously subject to later embellishment, and de Carles puts into the queen’s mouth an eloquent defence plea which is the less credible because delivered after and not, as procedure dictated, before the verdict.
12
Parts do, however, agree with Chapuys’ report that Anne said in mitigation that she was ready to die but regretful for those innocent and loyal men who were to die because of her. There may also be a ring of truth in the words:
I do not say that I have always borne towards the king the humility which I owed him, considering his kindness and the great honour he showed me and the great respect he always paid me; I admit, too, that often I have taken it into my head to be jealous of him ... But may God be my witness if I have done him any other wrong.
13
She knew that she had not been the waxen wife of conventional expectation, to be moulded or impressed at her husband’s will. What she did not say was that the king had pursued her precisely because of this; he had needed her steel and was only where he was because of it. Instead she asked for time, time to make her peace with God. And then she was gone.
A minor flurry caught the attention. The earl of Northumberland, who had given his verdict along with the rest against the woman he had once courted, collapsed and had to be helped out. Then the second trial began, as Rochford was brought to the bar of the court. Again the plea was not guilty, and again a Boleyn used intellect and wit to crumble the royal case to dust. The performance of Anne and George that day is a clear indication of their calibre and why they had to die; they were certainly not upstarts or pasteboard figures, enjoying favour only because and for as long as Henry lusted after Anne’s body. The question about the king’s sexual performance was asked, and Rochford showed his contempt by reading out what Cromwell wanted kept secret. Again the audience was with him - not even More had been so effective - and the odds, Chapuys said, ran ten to one for an acquittal. Again, not so among the peers. ‘Guilty’... and the duke of Norfolk found himself again condemning one of his sister’s children to death, the full butchery of the male sentence for treason. For the second time there was no collapse. Rochford made a conventional acceptance of death - was not every man a sinner and deserving of death every day? - but his main thought was for those he owed money, and who faced ruin if the king, who would now take all his property, chose not to pay them. According to Chapuys., he actually read out a list of his debts before leaving the court, and he certainly continued to be troubled about them in the little time that was left.
In Tudor thinking, judgement marked the point when the accused must cease to be concerned with mortal life and turn instead to consider eternity. Each of the men was warned by the constable of the Tower early on the day after Anne’s trial that he was to die on the Wednesday morning, and they used that last twenty-four hours in trying to clear their consciences and their obligations.
14
Rochford continued to worry about the financial ruin his death would bring others - so much so that the hardened Kingston wrote to Cromwell, ‘you must help my lord of Rochford’s conscience’; he was also upset when his favourite priest failed to turn up to hear his confession. What, however, is clear is that conviction of innocence remained as strong as ever. Rochford asked for the exceptional privilege of access to the eucharist before he died.
15
Most impressive to modern minds ignorant of the reality of Hell must be Norris choosing death rather than admit to Anne’s dishonour. He had quickly withdrawn whatever statement he had made at the persuasion of Fitzwilliam.
16
William Brereton, too, insisted on his innocence. Before he was arrested, his old school companion, George Constantine, ‘did ask him and was bold upon him’, and the answer Brereton gave was ‘that there was no way but one with any matter [alleged against him].’ His wife certainly believed him; in her will, nine years later, she bequeathed to her son ‘one bracelet of gold, the which was the last token his father sent me’.
17
On the scaffold the men’s conduct was of a piece with this. Royal mercy had excused the ghastly preliminaries to the beheading, and they were to die on Tower Hill. The crowd which assembled knew the ritual. Men about to face imminent divine judgement should forgive and ask for forgiveness and prayers, and as those judged by due process of law it was proper to endorse the system which had condemned them. Railing against injustice was unacceptable. Thus Rochford began: ‘I was born under the law-, I am judged under the law and I must die under the law, for the law has condemned me.’ He then went on to confess that he was a sinner whose sins had deserved death twenty (or a thousand) times. Then, declaring that his fate was a warning to his fellow courtiers not to trust in the vanity of fortune, he asked anyone whom he had offended to forgive him. But abandoning convention, he omitted to say that he deserved death for the crimes alleged against him. Only Smeton said that: ‘Masters I pray you all pray for me for I have deserved the death.’ Norris said almost nothing; Weston said that his fate was a warning to others not to presume on life, for ‘I had thought to have lived in abomination yet this twenty or thirty years and then to have made amends.’ Brereton came the nearest to asserting his innocence: ‘I have deserved to die if it were a thousand deaths. But the cause whereof I die, judge not. But if ye judge, judge the best,’ a phrase he repeated several times. Their remarks and general demeanour were sufficient to convince the average onlooker that they died ‘charitably’ - they confessed ‘in a manner’, so Constantine said.
18
Yet he picked up also the significance of what was not said, particularly in the case of Brereton: ‘By my troth, if any of them were innocent it was he. For either he was innocent or else he died worst of all.’ According to de Carles, Anne’s only reaction to the executions was when told that Mark had persisted in admitting his guilt: ‘Alas! I fear that his soul will suffer punishment for his false confession.’ De Carles also noticed that Rochford avoided admitting any offence against the king.
Tudor criminal trials were more about securing condemnation by due process than evaluating evidence, but two grand juries, a petty jury, and a jury of peers sitting twice rejected the defence presented by Anne Boleyn and her alleged lovers. Surely this must indicate that whatever the government’s motives, it had at least been able to present a plausible case. When the duke of Suffolk’s ‘Guilty’ completed the Rochford verdict, ninety-five successive voices had spoken against them.
19
The Crown case had consisted in large part of allegations of repeated adultery. In Middlesex, Anne was indicted of one dated offence of soliciting and one of illicit intercourse with each man, and similarly in Kent, twenty specific offences in all. The earliest alleged misconduct was with Henry Norris at Westminster on 6 and 12 October 1533, followed by Norris and William Brereton at Greenwich in November. May and June 1534 saw offences by Weston at Whitehall and Greenwich and by Smeton at Greenwich; the latter’s Middlesex offence was at Whitehall in April 1535. Rochford appears in November 1535 at Whitehall and in December at Eltham. These locations raise an immediate question. Why the near exclusive concentration of offences at Whitehall and Greenwich? Only Brereton ‘obliged’ the queen at Hampton Court, only Rochford at Eltham and nobody at all at Richmond. Unsullied morality reigned in all other shires visited by the court. Perhaps it was the air of Kent and Middlesex.