the streets they are talking of it. The Emperor would never allow the King to harm me, and the Emperor is more powerful than ever since he defeated the French. Your father has tried to get the Pope's sanction to a divorce but, as you know, the Pope is now virtually a prisoner in Castel Sant' Angelo. One could say he is the Emperor's prisoner. Your father is very angry about that.”
“His conscience worries him, he says.”
My mother smiled wanly, then she said, “This is too much to burden you with, dear child. You are too young fully to grasp the significance of this.”
“I do grasp it,” I said.
“Perhaps you should, for it could be vital to your future.”
“I know that, my lady.”
“Then listen. I will tell you a secret. I have sent one of my servants to Spain. He has taken a letter from me to the Emperor in which I have told him exactly what is happening.”
I clasped my hands together in relief.
“Everything will be well now,” I said with conviction. I still remembered the hero of my youth.
MY MOTHER WAS JUBILANT, for she had received an answer from the Emperor, brought to her through the ambassador Mendoza.
She called me to her, for she knew what my feeling for the Emperor had been.
“Here is his reply,” she said.
“He is deeply shocked. He says that, because I have been married to him for so long, the King has forgotten that I am a Princess of Spain, and the Emperor will not allow a member of his family to be treated thus. He is sending Cardinal Quiñones, General of the Franciscans, to Rome without delay. He will be in charge of the affair there. He writes, ‘My dear Aunt…' Yes, he calls me his dear Aunt. ‘You can be assured that Clement, still in Castel Sant' Angelo, will not be in a position to flout my wishes.'”
“What a wonderful message!” I cried.
I threw myself into her arms, forgetting all formality owed to the Queen, and we laughed together although we were near to tears.
THERE WAS SO MUCH about this affair that I learned later, and I was able to fit the information together like pieces in a puzzle. Consequently I now understand more than I did at the time it happened.
I think few of us believed then that the King really meant to marry Anne Boleyn. It seemed then preposterous; but my father was a most powerful man; he was the despotic ruler of our country, and it was only the heads of other countries who could prevent his having his own way. The divorce would have been settled in a few months but for the fact that the Queen was the aunt of the most powerful man in Europe; and, this being a matter for the Church, the Pope was involved—and that Pope was now virtually the Emperor's prisoner.
I can well imagine how my father raged against fate which had arranged the Sack of Rome at this time. An amenable pope could have given the divorce as popes had done in the past to powerful men who sought such— and the matter would have been at an end.
But what was accursed bad fortune for my father was good for my mother and me. I knew she believed right until she was proved wrong that the delay would bring the King to his senses and that he would tire of the waiting game. So prevarication and any obstacles which would stand in the way of my father's attaining his goal were welcome.
Now that so much is clear, and looking back on the facts that are known to many, it is easy to understand. He really did intend to marry Anne Boleyn. He was so enamoured of her, and she was adamant. His mistress she would not be, so that if he would possess her he must marry her. Someone had to give way. I often wondered about his conscience. He talked of it often, and it was always there to help him get what he wanted. It was serving him well over this matter of the divorce. It must have been so comforting to blame his conscience and not his lust. Oddly enough, sometimes I am sure that he really did believe in that conscience. It forced him to work against Wolsey and was probably the beginning of the rift between them.
Wolsey was not averse to the divorce. No doubt he agreed that a male heir would be an advantage,