by Karen Davies | Oct 31, 2021 | Blog, History, Writing
Anne quickly approached the great hall, where the babble of voices grew louder. One voice stood out, energetic and mischievous. She tiptoed closer.
The voice belonged to a middle-aged chaplain clad in long wool robes trimmed with fur, who was talking to some men she did not know.
‘Do you know who the most diligent bishop in England is? I see you listening and hearkening that I should name him. I will tell you.’ The man kneaded his hands together. ‘It’s the Devil. He’s never out of his diocese; you shall never find him idle. Call for him when you will, he is ever at home, he is ever at the plough. Where the Devil is resident, they’re away with books and up with candles. Away with Bibles and up with beads. Away with the light of the Gospel and up with wax tapers. At noonday down with Christ’s cross and up with the purgatory pick-purse.’
The eyes of the listening men were wide. One of them went to speak, but the chaplain raised his hand. ‘Away with clothing the naked, the poor, and the impotent. Up with the decking of images and garnishing of stones and stocks. Down with God and the most holy word. Up with traditions, human councils, and a blinded pope. Oh, that our prelates would be as diligent to sow the corn of good doctrine as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel.’
One of his companions laughed and patted the speaker on the back. ‘Never a truer word spoken, Hugh. This is why ordinary men need educating.’
Anne smiled at the man’s passion, his words having impassioned her too, and stepped into the hall. ‘Behold the sower went forth to sow and as he sowed some fell by the wayside,’ she said with great feeling.
The chaplain stood up. ‘Aye, my lady, indeed. Man is but a grain of mustard seed.’
Anne’s response was instant. ‘Which is less than all seeds but when it is grown, it is greater than the herbs and becometh a tree, so that birds of heaven come and lodge in its branches thereof.’
‘Christ’s third parable,’ the man said with a smile on his lips, and he beckoned her forward. ‘I am Hugh Latimer.’
‘Anne Boleyn.’
Latimer turned to the man on his left. ‘This is Thomas Cranmer.’
‘My Lady,’ Cranmer said and nodded.
Anne dipped him a curtsey and studied him for a moment. He was tall and stocky with dark almond-shaped eyes that flashed her a look of approval.
‘And this gentleman is Nicholas Ridley.’
The younger man smiled warmly. ‘Sir Thomas’s younger daughter?’
‘I am,’ said Anne, pulling her shawl closer around her.
‘You’re welcome to join us. We are just about to discuss some Bible passages over a jug of wine,’ smiled Hugh Latimer.
‘That’s kind of you, but I’m on my way to find the Duke of Northumberland’s son, although I’d be honoured to take wine with you another time.’
‘I’ll look forward to it. You’ll find Percy of Northumberland below.’ Hugh waved her on her way and Anne hurried across the hall to the door that led down to the wine cellar.
by Karen Davies | Oct 31, 2021 | Blog, History, Writing
The subject of the Devil is a fascinating one – of an eternal rival to God. The Bible refers to the Devil as the ‘Master of Reversal’ and Satan, Lucifer, and Eve’s tempting serpent.
Pagans called the Devil ‘Pan’, from which the word ‘panic’ comes, because Pan enjoyed frightening lone travellers with his goatish appearance. Worshipped in caves, an image of fear and fascination grew up around Pan.
The early Christian church adopted this image of Pan as their Devil, and Christian paintings show him with horns and goat hooves.
Despite this early depiction of the Devil, the Greek word for Devil, ‘Diablos’, means a slanderer or an accuser. Jesus famously called Judas a ‘devil’ when he became his false accuser. The Devil is also referred to as an adversary to God. Jesus called Peter ‘Satan’, meaning adversary.
Throughout The Bible, the devil is portrayed with a lying tongue.
In Revelation, Jesus said, “the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried…”
God’s ninth commandment says: “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.”
Ephesians says we should put away lying, speak every man the truth to his neighbour and give no place for the diabolos or Devil, which is our sin.
Paul told the wives of deacons not to be devils. And it is said that men shall be… without natural affection, trucebreakers and devils.
And, because Eve succumbed to the serpent in the Garden of Eden, women have been seen as weak in resisting the Devil’s temptations. This is one of the reasons religious fanatics called them witches – instruments of the Devil with the characteristics of gossipers and temptresses.
Yet, in recent years, the image of the Devil has undergone some rehabilitation. Modern-day media has even sympathised with him and normalised his deceptive nature. For example, in the TV series Lucifer.
It can be so tempting to tell a lie. After all, we learn to do so at an early age. Think of the two-year-old who says they have only taken one cookie when they’ve finished the packet. Is it not our nature to deceive ourselves that our lies are for the greater good that makes us devils?
On Halloween, it is natural that thoughts turn to devils and witches.
All Hallows itself (1st November) is a Celtic feast of the dead, known as Samhain. Because the festival was celebrated on the eve rather than the day, it became known as Halloween.
The early Church described the eve as a night of magic, divinations, fortune telling, fairies and apple ducking – in bowls of water that represented the cauldron of regeneration.
So when you are out trick and treating in the dark tonight, remember that Halloween really marks the end of the harvest festival and the beginning of Winter – the dark half of the year.
by Karen Davies | Oct 3, 2021 | Blog, History, Writing
Henry VIII’s Reformation Parliament, which sat from 1529 to 1536, fundamentally changed the nature of Parliament and of English government. The King summoned it in order to settle what was called his ‘great matter’, his divorce from Catherine of Aragon, which the Papacy in Rome was blocking. One can only imagine what conversations took place between the king, his nobles and bishops.
Anne watched the opening of Parliament from a high chamber in the Palace of Westminster. Crowds jostled for a glimpse of the King and his nobles as they crammed the route from the palace to the abbey. They were undeterred by the bitter cold. Word was that the King intended to pass a bill reducing the burden of the Church’s taxes on the people. The mood was jubilant, the crowd cheering and chanting as the King mounted the steps to the abbey’s Chapter House. Anne’s attention was caught by a group of men in long dark cloaks weaving in and out of the crowd, distributing pamphlets. Henry’s guards formed a protective circle around him and ushered him inside, and the huge oak doors banged shut on the masses.
‘Who do you suppose those men were?’ Anne asked Margaret.
Margaret shrugged. ‘Supporters of the Queen?’
‘What do you think the pamphlets say?’
‘There’s one way to find out,’ Margaret said, jumping to her feet. ‘Send an errand boy to fetch one.’
‘Quickly, before the soldiers start confiscating them,’ Anne said, still watching.
Moments later, Margaret returned holding a pamphlet. ‘You’ll want to read this,’ she said, her voice chiming with excitement, and Anne read the words A Supplication for the Beggars. ‘It’s written on behalf of the poor,’ said Margaret, handing it to Anne. ‘It claims they are being starved by a worse group of beggars – the Church. And it’s addressed to the King.’
Anne began reading it aloud. ‘In times gone past, there craftily crept into your realm, idle and holy beggars; the abbots, priors, deacons and friars. Setting aside all labour, they have begged so importunately they have gotten into their hands more than a third of your realm.’
Margaret gasped. ‘Who do you suppose wrote it?’
‘I have no idea, but Moore will find them, and when he does, he’ll have their guts for garters.’
‘My father told me Moore said he wants to find Tyndale and bake him on a fire that all the water in the world couldn’t quench.’
Anne shivered. She knew the lengths Moore was capable of going to in condemning those he deemed heretics, especially now he had the added power of the chancellor’s position.
‘It is whispered that Moore’s paid agents to hunt down Tyndale.’ Margaret said softly. ‘The German artist, Holbein, who lived with Moore, fled England as soon as he became Chancellor.’
‘Moore would bring the Spanish Inquisition here,’ Anne said.
‘They’re a strange combination, the King and Moore,’ Margaret mused. ‘The King driving reform through the house while Moore seeks to destroy those involved in spreading reformist ideas.’
‘Moore’s working with Katherine and Fisher, I’m sure of it,’ said Anne. She looked down at the pamphlet she was holding, her eyes scanning the words. ‘It says here that the Church does nothing but translate all rule and power from the King to themselves.’
‘It’s true,’ Margaret said. Walking to the fire, she set the flagon of mead on the hearth. ‘It tastes better warmer.’
After a few minutes, Margaret fetched them each a cup and they drank in silence for a time, contemplating the King’s likely support inside the house as the crowd continued to chant their demands outside Parliament.
The wind whistled in the chimney, sucking the flames higher. There was a knock and the door ward admitted Thomas Cranmer.
‘My lady Anne, Margaret,’ he said, giving them a small bow. Placing his satchel on the table, he gestured to the flagon. ‘May I?’
‘Of course, allow me,’ Margaret said.
‘Has the King been in Parliament for long?’ Cranmer asked.
Margaret nodded. ‘Most of the morning.’
‘Do you have some news for the King?’ Anne asked him.
Cranmer’s honey-coloured eyes sparkled like an alert owl. He nodded but said nothing.
Anne handed him the pamphlet. ‘Thrown into the crowd this morning as the King entered parliament.’
Cranmer took it and read it. Looking up, he exclaimed, ‘The wonder of God is extraordinary.’ Placing it on the table, he said, ‘If all goes well in this Parliament, it will send a message to the Pope that the King rules here.’
The sound of laughter floated up the stairs. A moment later, Anne’s father stepped into the chamber accompanied by Sir Henry Wyatt and his son Thomas.
‘I’m assuming from your mood that the Parliament went well?’ Cranmer observed.
Thomas Boleyn looked from Cranmer to Sir Henry and Wyatt. ‘The King passed the Bill we expected; the clerk of the house has sent it to the Lords.’
‘Parliament is with the King,’ Sir Henry added.
Margaret handed the pamphlet to her father. ‘I had an errand boy fetch us one when the men threw them into the crowd.’ At her father’s puzzled look, Margaret explained, ‘Men in cloaks ran through the crowds throwing them into the air.’
‘Well, I never,’ Sir Henry said, thrusting the pamphlet into Thomas Boleyn’s hands.
Thomas Boleyn studied the pamphlet a few moments, gave a bitter laugh and began reading aloud. ‘This greedy sort of sturdy idle holy thieves. What money pull they in by probates, privy tithes, pilgrimages, masses, cursing and absolving.’ Raising his head, he said, ‘On the very day the King chastises the clergy.’
‘Anti-clerical feeling is high,’ Cranmer remarked.
‘It’ll be even higher when Moore’s agents hunt down the culprits,’ Sir Henry replied.
Thomas Boleyn nodded. ‘Aye, but this parliament will let the Pope know the King’s wishes rule here.’
Wyatt arched a brow. ‘That will depend on the bishops in the Lords approving the Bill.’
‘A foreign bishop should not share the King’s right to rule, as ordained by God, any more than the bishops here should,’ said Cranmer. ‘They must learn their place.’
‘If Wolsey is guilty of praemunire then so are the bishops who gave obedience to him,’ Thomas Boleyn said shrewdly. ‘Heretic is their word to inspire fear in us. Let praemunire be ours to do the same to them.’
‘I hear Archbishop Warham doesn’t approve of the King’s reforms,’ Sir Henry said.
Surprised, Anne looked up sharply. She wondered how much truth there was in that statement.
Before her father could respond, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the usher announced the King, followed by Sir Thomas Moore.
Anne didn’t miss the suspicion in Henry’s eyes as he darted a swift glance from Wyatt to herself.
Taking one look at the pamphlet, Moore said, ‘I see you waited long enough to pick up one of those filthy pamphlets.’
‘A guard handed it to me,’ Thomas Boleyn said. ‘I took it for the King.’
‘My agents are already looking for those responsible,’ Moore sneered.
‘What’s written on the pamphlet is what the King has proposed today,’ Cranmer pointed out.
Moore gave a disgusted shudder. ‘The Commons and the Lords advise our King on law, not laymen. The culprits will be gagged and whipped for insubordination.’
Thomas Boleyn, undeterred by Moore’s threats, asked, ‘What are you afraid of?’
Tension coiled through the room like smoke.
‘Sit, and have some wine while we wait for the Lord’s response,’ Henry commanded.
Anne came forward and filled two cups with wine, passing one to the King and one to Moore.
Henry took a swig and relaxed into his chair. ‘My Bill will prohibit the clergy from engaging in trade and reduce their fees for wills and funerals.’
Cranmer made a faint noise of disparagement.
‘You don’t think the bill goes far enough?’’ Moore demanded.
‘The Pope has gone further, calling himself the Vicar of God. He affords himself powers that are not his,’ Cranmer replied.
‘Archbishop Warham disagrees,’ said Moore with a mocking smile. ‘He advises power is divided into temporal and spiritual and governed between the King and Church.’
‘Archbishop Warham is wrong,’ Cranmer replied. ‘The Pope doesn’t have the authority to claim sovereignty over Europe’s Christians.’
‘I would remind you that the authority of the Church stretches back a thousand years in England,’ Moore said.
Cranmer shook his head. ‘At the universities, we have discovered ancient manuscripts that state the contrary.’
Anne risked a glance at Henry as the debate spiralled. She had been avoiding his gaze, conscious of the weight of his attention on both her and Wyatt, but his silence in the face of his scrapping advisors was unnerving.
Moore bristled. ‘Oxford and Cambridge are infected with Lutherism.’
‘Let it be said, Master Moore, that the scholars at Oxford and Cambridge study directly from the Bible instead of Church commentaries upon it. In doing so, they have found many contradictions, the fault of which lies with the Church if you put God’s word first.’
That, finally, captured Henry’s attention, and he gave a faint smile. Moore bristled, sensing the direction of Henry’s sympathies. ‘The universities will be advocating the Bible in English too. Anything to set down the Church.’
‘Don’t you want the errors in the Church scriptures corrected?’ Cranmer asked.
‘I know of none,’ Moore said doggedly.
Cranmer raised his brows. ‘The Pope claims he is the mediator between God and man. The Bible says it’s Jesus Christ. The Pope claims to forgive sins, the Bible says God alone forgives sin, to name but a few.’
Moore shook his head. ‘I pray the Virgin Mother…’
‘Mary is dead in her grave,’ Cranmer interrupted.
The two men were so intent on each other it was as if they had forgotten where they were, and who they were with. But the reason for their debate was now listening just as intently, his countenance energised by Cranmer’s bold statement.
‘This talk is heresy against the Papal see,’ Moore snapped.
Cranmer reached into his robes and took out his small Bible. Setting it before Moore, he said, ‘If you do not believe in the word of God, what do you believe?’
‘I believe in the liturgy,’ Moore insisted, oblivious to growing animation in the King’s face as Cranmer’s cool arguments remorselessly demolished his impassioned ones.
Cranmer shook his head. ‘Then you put the dim light of tradition before the word of God. Jesus said: “If a man loves me, he will keep my words”. The Church hasn’t kept God’s word. They’ve changed his most holy day, the Sabbath, from Saturday to Sunday, and they lie about the path to salvation in masses the people can’t understand.’
‘The mystery of the mass is in its language. Translate it, and it becomes mere words,’ Moore persisted.
‘It is mere words. Without Church authority, it has no more weight than Aesop’s fables,’ Crammer argued back.
Moore recoiled. ‘You would have the King conceive a purpose against his people, as King Nebuchadnezzar did?’
Thomas Boleyn’s face hardened. ‘The Pope is like Nebuchadnezzar, taking captive the youth as he took captive Daniel, teaching them a foreign tongue as he taught the tongue of the Chaldean, and the Church is Babylon. “Flee out of the midst of Babylon, and deliver every man his soul: be not cut off in her iniquity. Babylon is a prison for every foul spirit and a cage for every unclean and hated bird.” That is what the Bible tells us in the book of Jeremiah. You claim that the Pope is the Prince of the nations of the Church? Revelation 18, verse 3, tells that the nations have drunk the wine of the wrath of her fornication. And that the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her. The earth’s merchants are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies. Verse 4 says, “come out of her my people”. Are we God’s people or the Pope’s?’
Four pairs of eyes blinked in unison while Moore pushed Cranmer’s Bible away.
Anne stared at her father. He had impressed upon her never to question the mass, yet he had just compared the communion wine to the wine of fornication. The Church to the Babylonian captivity, and the Pope to King Nebuchadnezzar, who had taken God’s people captive, and he had said it with vigour.
After a few moments, the King’s temper finally gave way. ‘Am I being deceived, or am I receiving bad counsel?’ he demanded, snapping his fingers at a page. ‘Send to the Lords for word of my proposal.’
‘These differences have existed since the time of Cain and Abel,’ Thomas Boleyn observed. ‘It was reflected in their offerings to God, who refused Cain’s and made him a servant of servants.’
The King rubbed his stubble. ‘I have much to consider.’
‘So far, this is but a skirmish, but if you now gird yourself for battle, it might become a war,’ Moore advised.
A heavy silence settled as they waited. The page Henry had sent to the Lord’s returned and passed the King a note. He read it, then said, ‘Send for the Bishop of Rochester and Warham.’
The page hesitated. ‘They are just sat down to dinner, your grace.’
‘Fetch them.’
Minutes later Archbishop Warham and Bishop Fisher entered the chamber, their expressions as stiff as wood.
Without preamble or welcome, the King demanded, ‘What is your meaning in rejecting my proposal?’
Bishop Fisher rubbed his hands nervously. ‘The Commons act for lack of faith with this proposal.’
The King reached for the pamphlet and thrust it into Fisher’s hands. ‘Everywhere I am reminded of the abuses of the clergy, yet you defend them.’
Sparing the pamphlet a glance, Fisher snapped, ‘The Commons will destroy the Church!’
Archbishop Warham cleared his throat. ‘While I support reforms, the practices the Bill prohibits are based on ancient custom, and should be debated by convocation.’ His voice was stilted and awkward as he avoided eye contact with Anne and her father.
‘The populace is being roused to dissatisfaction,’ Fisher declared.
‘Church and state must work together,’ Moore said.
The King straightened in his chair. Anne knew Henry well enough to know there was no room for compromise once his pride was injured and his temper ignited.
‘For the good of the realm,’ Moore added as if to appease the King’s growing frustration.
‘The clerical thieves’ practices are no different to the ancient customs the robbers on Shooter’s Hill deploy,’ Henry barked. Looking between Warham and Fisher, he said, ‘And your adroit tongues are like the fangs of asps. You will withdraw your remarks and let my Bill pass.’ His voice and eyes carried a warning that made both men bristle.
‘The clergy forget who they serve,’ Sir Henry said softly.
Cranmer inclined his head. ‘They choose the Pope.’
‘The Church serves Pope and King,’ Archbishop Warham declared, clearly uncomfortable and nervous.
Anne frowned, irritated by Warham’s duplicity. ‘A man cannot have two masters.’
‘In Parliaments past, I’ve expressed my disappointment with the clergy’s abuses, but they are small. The good works the clergy…’
Before Fisher could finish, Henry rebuked him. ‘Good works? You’re throwing any goodness away with your riotous expenses. I can see you’ve set your minds earnestly on that which you forbid.’
‘I live a humble life,’ Fisher retorted.
‘Humble, he dares to say,’ the King said, looking around at Sir Henry and Anne’s father. ‘There’s nothing humble about you. You display haughtiness of mind before your King.’
Fisher spread his hands in a submissive gesture. ‘I do not defend or perpetuate the clergy’s abuses, but those who sit in the Commons want to do away with the freedom of the Church. The lords must resist or be instrumental in bringing her into servile thraldom.’ He looked to Warham and Moore for support.
‘Arrange a meeting of the Lords and Commons,’ Henry barked at Thomas Boleyn.
‘Little by little we’re being driven out of our confines and dwelling places,’ Fisher protested. ‘Truth be known, the Commons hunger and thirst for the Church’s wealth, not the amendments of the clergy’s abuses.’
Anne could only stare in astonishment as Fisher ranted at the King.
Ignoring his remarks, the King stroked Anne’s hand, his eyes still on Fisher. ‘I’ve arranged for the Cardinal to show you around the great palace he built at Esher, now it belongs to me.’
Channelling her anger at Warham’s betrayal, Anne replied, ‘I’ve had the pleasure of dining with the Archbishop at his magnificent palace at Otford.’
‘He has a greater palace, Knole,’ Henry said, his tone clipped with a dark meaning.
‘With your grace’s leave, I will return there,’ Warham murmured.
‘You will remain here to discuss reform, and then I will take Anne hunting at Knole. See how she likes it. Now be seated,’ Henry commanded Warham and Fisher as he sprung to his feet. Picking up his wine, he walked to the fireplace. ‘Cranmer, explain the Church’s errors to them.’
Cranmer nodded his assent. ‘Your grace, gentleman. The Pope is subject to the scriptures, not the scriptures subject to the word of the Pope. Let us take indulgences. Nowhere in the Bible does God say you can purchase salvation. There is no mention of purgatory, for the Bible says God alone can forgive sins.’
Moore glared at Cranmer, his thin lips pressed tightly together, while Warham gingerly rubbed his stubble.
‘This is Lutherism,’ Fisher muttered.
‘Quiet,’ the King commanded.
‘It’s the word of God,’ Cranmer said firmly. ‘I’ll put it another way. If you go to heaven after death because the indulgence you purchased saved you, or to hell because it didn’t, or purgatory because you haven’t quite done enough, there would be no need for a day of judgment and resurrection at the end of time that the Bible speaks of.’
The air bristled with tension as Cranmer continued, ‘Or prayers for the dead, to forgive their sins. It’s too late when you’re dead. A dead man cannot repent when he’s dead.’
Fisher stiffened. ‘You’re reciting the Mad Monk Luther.’
‘Satan is the Lord of reversal,’ Thomas Boleyn said. ‘Ever amending God’s word.’
Cranmer nodded. ‘Church doctoring teaches us the soul is immortal, that it leaves the body on death and travels to purgatory, heaven or hell. Yet the Bible tells we are dead in sleep until the day of judgement and resurrection. You cannot have immortality and resurrection. One is right and one is wrong, and the word of God has to be right.’ Raising his finger, he continued, ‘Then there is the mass. The clergy claim to transform the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. For this to happen—’
‘I’ll not tolerate any blasphemy of the sacred ritual of mass!’ Bishop Fisher interrupted angrily.
‘For this to happen, a mortal would have to become the creator of the divine being, so you see the blasphemy is with the Church,’ Cranmer said as if Fisher had not spoken. ‘Alas, there are so many errors with Rome’s doctoring. Church and state have thousands of laws. God gave ten that they have altered at will.’ He spread his hands. ‘Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy. They’ve changed the day. Thou shall not make graven images or worship idols, yet they venerate the saints. Thou shall have no other gods before me, yet they address the Pope as God on earth and put his catechism above the Bible.’
Moore let out a weary sigh. ‘Mass stretches across the barrier of death. It’s why we celebrate it with the saints in heaven.’
‘Of course. The sacred ritual melts away the barrier between life and death,’ Cranmer said.
‘It’s a wonder how many bodies Christ has!’ Sir Henry added.
At this, it seemed to Anne as though the bubble of hatred Moore had been nursing had finally burst.
‘These invokers, deceivers, heretics, emissaries of Satan, would roam free inflicting diabolical witchcraft and heresy if you had your way!’
Thomas Boleyn shook his head. ‘There will always be simple-minded folk who believe they can read the patterns of a flame or interpret a horse’s neigh, but they’re harmless enough.’
‘Whores and witches and their devilish practices are hellish,’ Moore spat.
Sir Henry raised his head. ‘The Church uses ceremonial magic to gain control of the people.’
‘Satan’s Latin gives the Church power over men that they otherwise wouldn’t have,’ Thomas Boleyn insisted.
Moore folded his arms high on his chest. ‘That’s how you skew it.’
‘We’re moving away from the point, gentlemen,’ Cranmer said, pulling a book from his satchel. Leges Anglorum. It was discovered amongst volumes of forgotten lore at the university.’ His eyes twinkled as he held it up. ‘King Lucius, our first Christian King, asked the Pope to entrust him with Roman Law.’ Responding to Moore and Fisher’s sceptical expressions, he tapped his finger against the cover. ‘It’s written here that the Pope replied that he did not need Roman intervention because he was the Vicar of God in his realm.’
Henry smiled, but Anne detected a hint of cynicism.
‘The fact he had to ask the Pope shows that the Church’s authority on spiritual matters was above his,’ protested Warham. ‘As I’ve advised, your grace, many a time, King and Pope share temporal and spiritual power.’ Looking at Anne and her father, he said, ‘We must avoid a split in the Church and give respect to the Pope.’
‘If ye have respect to persons, ye commit sins and are convinced of the laws of transgressors. That is what the Bible says,’ her father countered. ‘The Pope is a person.’
Fisher made a dismissive gesture. ‘This book is of no consequence. By its very nature, it undermines your argument as the archbishop points out, for the King had to ask the Pope.’
Fed up with their wrangling, Anne said, ‘There is no higher authority than God, who doesn’t need an intermediary to reach man whom he created. In Genesis chapter 9, God says: I will remember my covenant, which is between you and me and every living creature of all flesh. So you see, Papal authority is empty save in its own seat. And, you call yourselves Churchmen, and claim to be knowledgeable in the word of God. Shame on you.’
‘I pity you, child,’ Fisher said with a shake of his head.
The King reared up like a horse sensing a threat. ‘All will pity you if you do not withdraw your comments when the Commons meet the Lords.’
Fisher’s jaw clamped tightly, and he was silent.
‘Anne and I will dine alone,’ Henry told the others with a flick of his hand.
The men and Margaret rose and made their way to the door.
‘Thomas,’ Henry called after Anne’s father and beckoned him to close the door. ‘I want you to observe Fisher in the Lords. You can watch him from the chamber above. They’ll not know you’re there. I want to know what he advises them and who amongst the bishops are with him.’
Anne’s father left the chamber.
