As he said this, he made a gesture giving Cromwell to understand that his master, besides losing place and power, was also in danger of losing his head.
“High treason, my dear sir, high treason!” cried Suffolk. “Do you hear me?”
“High treason?” repeated Cromwell slowly. “Ah! my lord duke, how could he be guilty?”
He hastened to rejoin Wolsey, whom he found bathed in tears and endeavoring to decipher the act of presentment.
“Ah! Cromwell,” exclaimed the unhappy cardinal on seeing him, “my dear friend, you have not then forsaken me! But, alas! I am lost. Read here for yourself—read it aloud to me; for my sight is failing.”
Cromwell seized the paper and commenced reading the accusation. On hearing that it was based principally on the violation of the statutes of præmunire,[139] Wolsey was unable to control his indignation.
“How,” he cried, “can the king be induced to sanction such unparalleled injustice? It is true that in receiving from the pope the title of legate, and exercising throughout the kingdom the authority conferred by that title, I have been brought in opposition to the precautionary statutes of King Richard; but still I have not violated them, since the king himself has sanctioned that power and recognized it by appearing in his own person before the court. Is he not more to blame, then, who desired and ordered it, than I, who have simply been made a party to it? I can prove this,” he cried—“yes, I can prove it; for I have still the letters-patent, signed by his own hand, and which he furnished me to that effect. Cromwell, look in my secretary; you will find them there.”
Cromwell opened the secretary, but found nothing.
“There is not a single paper here,” he said. “Where could you have placed them?”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the cardinal. “Then they have all been carried away! All!” he repeated. “I have no longer any means of defence; I am lost! They are all arrayed against me; they have resolved upon my death. O Henry! O my king! is it thus you forget in one moment the services I have rendered you? Cromwell,” he continued in a low voice and gloomy, abstracted manner—“Cromwell, I am lost!”