IN a splendidly-furnished chamber in the Palace of Placentia sat the Cardinal Chancellor, who held the destinies of England in his hand, but looking sadly perturbed and anxious. Earlier in the day his private messenger from the continent had arrived; bringing full particulars of how his master had been cheated of the popedom once more by the Queen's nephew, Charles the Fifth.
"It was not for myself that I wanted it, but for England," he muttered. "England should be the friend and adviser of both the French king and German sovereign, and by holding the balance even between the two, be superior to both; but the King grows more wilful every day, and this war with France, which he is bent upon pursuing, spoils all my dreams of power for him and England, and yet I cannot make him see it. Now, if I could have been made Pope I could have held this sway for England, and, by a due reform of the Church, could make it greater even than the power of the King, though the people well-nigh adore him, as they well may, for he is their hope against civil war, and a most goodly and amiable prince," and again the Cardinal heaved a deep sigh, that told of the pain that had begun to mingle with the sweetness of the love he undoubtedly felt for his young master.
We, who only know of Henry the Eighth as the cruel, despotic tyrant which he proved himself in his later middle life, can have no idea of the almost adoring love he inspired in his subjects and courtiers during the early years of his reign. Wolsey, who knew him before he came to the throne, was one of his most devoted admirers, and, there is no doubt, truly loved the King, even while he pursued his own ambitions.
Henry was a tall, handsome young man, with most winning manners, and a suave, gracious demeanour to all who came in his way. Then he was one of the most learned among his contemporaries, for his astute father, seeing he was the second son, had educated him for the Church, so that he was able to hold his own in a discussion with the great thinkers and theologians who came to his Court. Added to this, he was the one hope of the nation against the renewal of a civil war that had devastated the country, and in which scarcely a family lived but had some tradition of cruel suffering endured through the war.
All these causes combined made the people willing to yield to the King's wishes in a fashion that is almost inconceivable to us. And he had been almost as wax in the hands of his Chancellor, who ruled the kingdom in his name, but now saw, for the first time, that the power over this accomplished, winsome king was slipping from his hand, and that a young girl of sixteen, who had lately come to Court in attendance on the Queen, was likely to prove a formidable rival to his power.
It was in the midst of these thoughts that one of his pages came to tell him that Master Miles Paton had returned.
"Send him to me at once," said the Cardinal, shortly; and the next minute Miles bowed before him, and apologised for being absent when he was wanted.
Something in the appearance of the young secretary arrested the attention of the Cardinal, and, instead of telling him the business he wanted him for, he said, abruptly, "Have you too received bad news?"
"I have had my life blighted beyond remedy, unless your Eminence can help me," said Miles, in a tone of trembling earnestness.
The Cardinal slowly shook his head. "Unless it is some Church affair, I fear I may be powerless," he said, sadly, for just now he was in a very despondent mood as to his power with the King.