Then the King sent for Reginald to return home.

He visited his mother immediately, which meant that he came to me.

We embraced. He looked less serene than he had when he went away. He was very perturbed by the situation.

“The King remains determined,” he said. “The more obstacles that are put in his way, the stronger is his desire to overcome them. It is now a battle between the power of the Church and that of the King. And the King has decided he will not be beaten by the Church. He will have his way no matter what the consequences. Instead of a battle for a woman, it is becoming one between Church and State.”

“And if this is so, it means that everyone will have to take sides. I know which side yours must be.”

He nodded. “I must defend the Church.”

“And now the King has sent for you.”

He nodded. “Do not fret,” he said. “I know how to take care of myself.”

I was delighted to have him home but I was worried about what would happen. I tried to console myself with the fact that the King had always been fond of him. Reginald was summoned to his presence.

The Countess was in a state of great anxiety; so were we all. We kept thinking of Wolsey's fate.

It seemed that, apart from the fact that the matter of the divorce remained in the same deadlock, everything else was changing…my father most of all. He was irascible and feared by all. He could suddenly turn on those who had been his best friends. The conflict obsessed him day and night. It was said that his hatred against the Pope was greater than his love for Anne Boleyn.

He guessed where Reginald's sympathies lay and, apart from his affection for him, he had a great respect for his learning. If he could get men like Reginald on his side, he would be happier. Moreover, Reginald was a Plantagenet. People remembered that.

He was still a layman, though he did intend to take Holy Orders later in life. People said afterward that he delayed doing this because he had it in his mind that a marriage might be possible between him and me. This might have been so but, layman as he was, the King offered him an alternative choice of the Archbishopric of York and that of Winchester.

This was a great honor, but Reginald knew it was an attempt to get his support. It was difficult for him to refuse it for fear of offending the King but, of course, he must.

He talked of this to his mother, and I was present.

He said, “This cannot go on. Sooner or later I shall have to tell the King that I cannot support him in this matter of the divorce.”

“Perhaps you should return to Paris,” suggested his mother. “Much as I hate to lose you, I have no peace while you are here.”

“I feel I should talk to him,” said Reginald.

“Talk to the King!”

“I believe I might make him see that he can find no happiness through this divorce.”

“You would never do that. He is determined to marry Anne Boleyn and how can he do that if there is no divorce?”

“I will go to him. I will appeal to his conscience.”

“His conscience!” said the Countess contemptuously.

“He refers to it constantly. Yes, I have made up my mind. I will go to him. I will ask for an audience. I know he will see me.”

What agonies we lived through when he left Newhall for the Court. The Countess and I sat together in silence imagining what would happen. We were terrified for him. I was glad my mother was not with us. I was sure she would have been deeply distressed.

When Reginald returned to us from York Place we hurried to meet him. He looked pale and strained. It had been a very uneasy meeting, he told us.

“I begged the King not to ruin his fame or destroy his soul by proceeding with the matter.”

“And what said he?” whispered the Countess.

Reginald was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly, “I thought he would kill me.”

I covered my face with my hand. Reginald smiled and laid a hand on my arm. “But he did not,” he said. “See. I am here to tell the tale.”

“He listened to you?” asked the Countess incredulously.

“No. Not after my first few sentences. He was very angry. He thought I had come to him with one of the suggestions such as he is getting from Cranmer and Cromwell. While I was talking, his hand went to his dagger. I thought he was going to plunge it into my heart without more ado. The King is a strange man. There are such contradictions in his nature. He can be so ruthless … and yet sentimental. He changes from one moment to another. That is why one sometimes believes what he says, however outrageous. One could accept that he wants this divorce solely because of his conscience. One believes that he really is worried about the fact that he married his brother's widow because when he says it he seems to believe it…sincerely. Then, the next minute one knows it is the desire for this woman. I do not understand him. I do not believe he understands himself. Just as he was about to lift his dagger and strike me, he seemed to remember that he was fond of me. He looked at me with rage… and sorrow.”

“And he let you go.”

Reginald nodded.

“He shouted at me, ‘You say you understand my scruples and you know how they should be dealt with.' It was like a reprieve. I said, ‘Yes, Your Majesty.' ‘Then set it down. Set it down,' he cried. ‘And let me see it when it is done. And go now …go… before I am tempted to do you an injury.' So I went, feeling deeply wounded and at the same time rejoicing that he was no longer in doubt as to my true feeling.”

This was an addition to our worries, but at least Reginald seemed at peace, and he set about writing his treatise.

I think my father was genuinely fond of him, because he read it with interest and showed no displeasure, although Cromwell said it must not be made public because it was contrary to the King's purpose; and he added that the arguments were set down with wisdom and elegance but would have the opposite effect of what the King wanted.

We trembled afresh when we heard this.

“This man Cromwell is an evil influence on the King,” declared Reginald.

“I do believe he is trying to undermine the supremacy of the Church. Pray God he does not succeed. The King does not like the man but he is very taken with his arguments. I am greatly in fear of what will happen next.”

We had many serious talks after that. His mother was in constant fear for she was convinced he was in acute danger. She was persuading him to go abroad. She said to me, “I know we do not want to lose him, nor does he wish to leave us, but I am terrified every day he remains.”

“What do you think will happen?” I asked.

“Cromwell's idea is that the King should break with Rome and set himself up as Supreme Head of the Church of England. That is what Reginald thinks will happen. The King will then demand to be accepted as such, and those who refuse to accept him—as all good churchmen must—will be accused of treason.”

“Surely my father would never go so far!”

“He is caught up in this matter. It is more than a desire to marry Anne Boleyn. It is a battle between Church and State, and it is one he must win to satisfy himself.”

“And you think that Reginald…”

“Is in danger if he stays. He must get out now … and stay away until it is safe for him to come back.”

At length his mother prevailed on Reginald to go; but first he must get the King's permission.

I remember that day when Reginald presented himself to the King. The Countess had been all for his going away and writing to the King from Paris, Padua or some safe distance; but Reginald would not agree to that. He thought it cowardly.

He presented himself to my father and told him he wished to continue his studies abroad. He told us afterward what happened. The King was pleasant to him, and Reginald was able to tell him frankly that he could not go against his conscience. Perhaps the King was particularly sympathetic about consciences, for he listened with sympathy. Reginald told my father that he believed it was wrong to divorce the Queen and, no matter what happened to him, he could not go against his convictions.

The King was sorrowful rather than angry and at length he agreed to allow Reginald to go.

How relieved we were to see him arrive back to us but that relief was tempered with sadness that he should be leaving us.

I was very melancholy. I had lost one of my few friends; and one of the best I should ever have.

Enter Elizabeth

TIME WAS PASSING. IT WAS NEARLY SIX YEARS SINCE THE King had first thought of divorce, and still he was without satisfaction. There had never been such a case in royal history.

We were at Greenwich with the Court, my mother and I, when we heard there was to be a move to Windsor.

Relations between my parents had become even more strained. Although my mother was still treated in some ways as the Queen, the King was hardly in her presence, and Anne Boleyn had her own apartments within the household.

We awoke one morning the find the Court ready to depart but to go to Woodstock instead of Windsor. We began to prepare to leave in the usual way when we were told that the King would not require our presence at Woodstock and we were to go to Windsor.

We were astonished. The Countess was very anxious. I had not seen her so disturbed since those days when she was urging Reginald to leave the country.

“I cannot think what it means,” she said to me. “But mean something it does.”

We remained at Windsor for three weeks before a messenger came from the King.