(woman vocalizing) HENRY: You have few friends, Cromwell.

They don't know how to deal with you.

CROMWELL: When negotiation and compromise fail and your only course is to destroy your enemy... (sword lands, crowd gasps) HENRY: My own daughter defies me.

CROMWELL: ...before they wake in the morning...

Always you with the bad news.

...have the axe in your hand.

(woman vocalizing) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (bell tolling) (bell tolling) (water lapping) (woman vocalizing) (wind whipping) (coins clinking) (quietly): Why does she keep looking up at the tower?

(coins clinking) Because she thinks there's still hope.

(woman vocalizing) (breath trembling) (wind whipping) ♪ ♪ (whispering, breath trembling): Christ have mercy.

Jesu, receive my soul.

(whimpering) (woman vocalizing) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (breath trembling) (crowd gasps) (woman vocalizing) ♪ ♪ (wind whipping) A porter l'épée.

(gasps) (sword lands, head falls) (crowd gasps) (woman vocalizing) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (horse nickers) Done?

Done.

Did it have to be this way?

So bloody?

When negotiation and compromise fail and your only course is to destroy your enemy, before they wake in the morning, Rafe, have the axe in your hand.

Any message for the King?

No message.

Back to your new master.

(horse nickers) ♪ ♪ The King's married again.

WOLSEY: Good.

Marriages work better than wars.

Hmm?

If you want a kingdom, write a poem, pick some flowers, put your bonnet on and go wooing.

(chuckles) You're not wearing this, are you?

I'm not going to go before the bridegroom in mourning.

When I was alive, my people wore orange tawny.

The King might not want to be reminded.

Well, if he doesn't like it, he can tell me to take it off.

You keep that man Wriothesley close?

I know where I am with Call-Me.

He got started with your friend Stephen Gardiner, my old enemy.

Now he can't decide where to put his money.

You can calculate the actions of a man like that.

(chuckles) (outer door closes) A letter for you, sir.

It's just arrived.

It's from her, isn't it?

The King's daughter.

The Princess Mary.

The, the Lady Mary-- the princess as was.

I recognize the hand.

What does she want?

This letter?

It never came.

You never saw it.

You understand?

(upbeat music playing, people talking in background) (quietly): Sir Geoffrey Pole wants to meet you, sir.

Shall I say yes?

I think you ought.

I don't come when I'm whistled for, Call-Me.

GREGORY (softly): I'm trying to tell from his expression how the wedding night went.

I only mean they...

They say the King needs a lot of encouragement.

And Jane Seymour always looks so serious.

The Queen.

The Queen.

The Queen.

I wouldn't be surprised if she spent the night lying under the bed praying.

Right.

I'll go and see if he managed the deed, shall I?

(music and conversations continue) (talking indistinctly) (quietly): Such freshness.

Such delicacy.

Such maidenly pudeur.

I'm happy for Your Majesty.

I have come out of hell into heaven, and all in one night.

This whole matter has been difficult and delicate, and you have shown, Thomas, both expedition and firmness.

I've hesitated to promote you because your grip is wanted in the House of Commons.

But the House of Lords is equally unruly and requires a master.

So, to the Lords you shall go.

Majesty.

Thomas Boleyn, father of the Queen that was, his office as Lord Privy Seal-- you can do that now.

Majesty.

My daughter has sent me a letter.

I don't recall giving her permission to write to me.

Did you?

I would not presume, Majesty.

She has not written to you?

No, sire.

She seems to entertain expectations about her future as my heir, as if she believes Jane will fail in giving me a son.

The Queen will not fail you, sir.

HENRY: Your son Gregory, does he defy you?

CROMWELL: No, sire.

HENRY: Nor should any dutiful child.

Yet my daughter Mary refuses to take the oath and acknowledge me as head of the church.

I shall not tolerate this defiance, not from a child to whom I gave life.

She loves you, Majesty, she loves you.

I will convince her to take the oath.

(music and conversations continue) Do you sleep at nights, Crumb?

Eh?

You bear a burden of work no other man has carried.

(chuckles) I sometimes wonder where you come from.

Putney, Majesty.

(chuckles) ♪ ♪ (door opens) Your Grace.

Master Secretary.

♪ ♪ Uh, would you, uh... Would you like to kiss my hand?

Or anything?

(upbeat music playing in distance) (music continues, getting louder) (people talking in background, music continues) (music and conversations continue) (music continues) (new piece begins) (audio distorts) (applause and cheers distorted) (normal audio resumes) (cheers and applause continue) (music continues faintly) (softly): I've asked Call-Me to go to Hunsdon to talk the Lady Mary into sense.

Can you go with him, if the King will spare you?

Should you not go yourself, sir?

Not yet.

You must go first.

Don't let Call-Me try to frighten her.

It won't work-- she's brave.

Like her mother.

And remember everything she says, Rafe, everything.

In fact, as soon as you leave the room, write it down.

Yes?

(whispering): Pole, Geoffrey Pole, is coming.

We should meet.

Well, that would honor me, Sir Geoffrey.

Come out to my house at Lording... Come to me-- I'm busy.

(chuckles): My friends expect... Oh, you can bring your friends.

We made a bargain with you, Cromwell.

We expect Mary to be restored to the succession.

Mmm.

(gasps) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Still?

Even now?

Especially now.

Well, at court, I can't imagine a circumstance in which you'd use it.

It's because I can't imagine a circumstance that I need it.

Go and find Chapuys.

My compliments to him.

May I give him supper?

Tell him I have a ravenous appetite for diplomacy.

(Cromwell and Chapuys talking softly) CHAPUYS: I thought, uh, your new queen looked well enough... CROMWELL: Mm-hmm.

...for a plain woman.

Mm-hmm.

While, uh, the King is in this merry mood, press him to name the Princess Mary as his heir.

Pending, of course, a son by his new wife.

And it is Lady Mary.

She is no longer to be termed "Princess," as you know, Ambassador.

Huh.

"In this merry mood."

(chuckles) There's a papal bull of excommunication hanging over my master.

No king can live like that, threatened in his own realm.

Ask the Emperor to speak to the Pope.

All Europe is keen to heal the breach.

Let the King approach Rome in a spirit of penitence and undo the legislation that has separated your country from the universal church.

As soon as that is done, His Holiness will be pleased to welcome back his lost sheep.

(chuckles) Along with the revenues due, I imagine?

(exhales) With interest paid for the missing years?

Mmm.

I suppose the normal banking rules will apply.

I see.

So, prepare the Lady Mary for rule, forswear the gospels, embrace the Pope... Mm-hmm.

...bow the knee to idols, and undo all that we've done over these last four years.

(chuckles) (laughing): And what shall I do in these brave new days-- I mean me, personally?

Mmm.

Perhaps back to the smithy.

I think I've lost the blacksmith's art.

But I can still swing a hammer.

Now listen to what I have to say.

Mary believes Boleyn's execution means her father will welcome her back to the court.

Disillusion her, or I will.

She must take the oath of obedience.

Let me be exact about what you ask of her: she must recognize that her mother's marriage was of no effect, and she must swear to uphold the child of a woman he has... Old Bishop Fisher refused to take the oath, and Henry executed him.

(footsteps approach) Thomas More refused it, and he, too, is shorter by a head.

(wine pouring) Henry will not kill his own daughter.

(chuckling): Oh, really?

Who knows what Henry will do?

(bottle set on table) I do not understand you, Cremuel.

Why are you not afraid?

You should be afraid.

You are quite alone in this world.

You have Henry's favor, it's true.

But if he withdraws it?

You know the Cardinal's fate.

And you have no affinity, no great family at your back.

For, when all is said, you are a blacksmith's son.

Your whole life depends on the next beat of Henry's heart.

On his smile or frown.

He wanted to be free of La Anna, but to grant him his wish, what a picture you put in the minds of all Christian men.

The Queen of England on her back with her skirts hauled up, "Come one, come all"?

(chuckles) Perhaps he will not forgive you, mon cher, for exposing him to this ridicule.

WOLSEY: Never enter a contest of wills with the King.

Don't try to flatter him.

Instead, give him something for which he can take credit.

The King hates ingratitude.

He hates disloyalty.

He will give half his kingdom rather than be balked.

He refuses to be cheated out of any part of his will.

Hmm.

He doesn't want people who say, "No, but..." He wants people who say, "Yes, an..." What are you writing?

It's a, a record of what I've learned-- how to read the King, how to anticipate him.

Ah, oh.

"A Book Called Henry."

A dangerous thing to leave lying around.

I won't leave it lying around.

(chuckles) Oh, never let Henry know he needs you.

He doesn't like to think he's incurred a debt to a subject.

And don't turn your back on him.

That's not just a matter of protocol.

Mm?

(bell tolling, horses walking) So, how did our Lady Mary look?

(exhales): Ill. Never send me there again.

Sir, the house, it was full of the Poles.

They boasted that you were nought, that Mary was returning to court, that the Pope would be restored and the world put to rights again.

When we went in, we, we greeted her as the Lady Mary, but... Mm.

She was enraged.

She demanded the title of princess and that we should kneel to her.

She says she will never take the oath.

She cannot accept her father as the head of the church.

I do not think she's as strong in her resolve as her people think.

No?

She did ask, "Why does the Lord Privy Seal not come himself?"

It is as if she is waiting for you, sir, so she can tell all of Europe you enforced her.

She can take the oath, and it be no blame to her.

Something else?

(softly): The King has received a letter from Rome, from Reginald Pole.

He just stared at it, as if it came hot from the pit and signed by the devil.

I do not know its contents.

I do.

HENRY: Pole.

His book has come, out of Italy.

My cousin, my trusted kin.

I paid for his studies, I funded him to travel.

How can he sleep at night?

The one thing I cannot endure is ingratitude.

Disloyalty.

He claims that for the whole of my reign, I have plundered my subjects and dishonored the nobility, and that if I will not turn England back to Rome and bow before the Pope, he exhorts the Emperor to invade and my own subjects to rise up and murder me.

It must strike Your Majesty that such a rising cannot only be against somebody, but must also be for somebody.

Of course.

But do you not see how this all works together?

He exhorts Europe to take arms against me, and, at the very same hour, my own daughter defies me.

The Pole family schemes to wed him to Mary and put him on the throne.

Lady Mary regards Your Majesty's favor more than any bridegroom.

She will comply.

So you say.

But then you always defend her.

She's young, Your Majesty.

She's a young woman.

These people who call themselves her supporters, they take advantage of her.

I don't believe she can fully comprehend their schemes.

Well, I lived with her mother for 20 years, and I can tell you, she could comprehend any scheme.

What should I do for you, sir?

There is an exchange of letters between Mary and Pole.

I know it.

Find them.

And find out if Margaret Pole knew about her wretched son's book.

I want him back here from Italy.

Promise what you like.

Assure him what you like.

I want to look him in the eye.

♪ ♪ CROMWELL: So, shall I tell the King you have repudiated him-- Reginald-- and his wretched book?

"Repudiate."

That is strong.

"Deprecate."

You may say we deprecate his writings and are dismayed.

I would suggest "astonished, "struck by sorrow, "frozen with horror to find he belies his Prince, slanders him, threatens him with invasion, tells him he's damned."

We helped you pull down the Boleyns when they were threatening your life.

You owe us a debt.

I owe you nothing, madam.

The obligation is entirely on the other side.

And now I look to your aid to keep Mary in the land of the living, where I think she'll do most good.

Even before this... (grunts): ...this book arrived, she was in jeopardy due to her own foolish pride.

But now, because the King suspects she is complicit with this, her position is graver still.

And it is your family, your family, madam, that has put her in this danger.

I do not see, sir, what your interest is in this.

If you save Mary, you cannot imagine she will favor you thereafter.

Should she become queen, then she will at once... My lady mother.

Ah.

The Treason Act.

I see its tripwire.

It is a crime now to envisage a future beyond the life of our present King.

In past months, you've spoken with the Emperor's man, Chapuys, and assured him that England's ready to rise against its King.

That's quite... Don't interrupt me.

Common law has ways to protect the realm from traitors, madam.

I mean an act of attainder, by which all property and lands are seized without need of trial.

Why don't you write a letter to Lady Mary?

(chuckles): Saying what?

Saying what?!

Saying the King is to be obeyed.

You'll carry it?

Give it to your friend, Ambassador Chapuys.

That way, the lady cannot say it's forged.

You are a snake, Cromwell.

Oh, no.

(floorboards creaking) A dog, madam.

And on your scent.

HENRY: Today, there is only one matter.

The matter of my daughter.

To be defied by her, to know that my own kin and cousins urge her on, to be reviled in my own house by that monster of ingratitude, Reginald Pole...

So I warn you, if I hear so much as one voice raised in support of that errant creature, my daughter, I shall know I am hearing treason.

I am taking advice.

I have called in the judges to consider which is the best way to bring her to trial.

Jesus save us.

Your flesh and blood?

I implore you, think before you do this.

You, you will make yourself a monster in the sight of all.

Pardon your old friend's plain speaking, Majesty.

We are all overwrought.

Fitzwilliam, take yourself out of the Council Chamber before I have you taken out!

My patience is not infinite, neither with you nor my daughter!

(exhales) (door opens) Some of us are trying to save you from yourself, Harry.

You are flailing and injuring all about you, because Pole has insulted you.

You reckon with your enemies, not your friends.

That you should consider bringing your own daughter before a court... Because what then?

I'll tell you now, she is guilty.

What needs a judge?

She will not swear the oath.

She will say she is not a bastard, but a princess of England, and that you are no more head of the church than I am.

♪ ♪ And then what will you do?

Cut off her head?

(grunting) Hands off, Cromwell!

(grunts) ♪ ♪ Now get out, while you still have your head, you dolt!

(door opens) (Fitzwilliam grunts) ♪ ♪ (door closes) (latch clicks) HENRY: Oh, no.

That won't do.

Getting up a fight for my benefit, when I know that you agree with him.

Mary knows what declaration I require of her.

She has known it since the oath was first framed.

If she has entertained some notion that I will creep back to Rome, then she is a greater fool than I thought her.

So, good Privy Seal, as you love me and love my service, you will bring this matter to a conclusion.

We will not come here to debate it again.

♪ ♪ (men whispering) "Conclusion"?

What does that mean?

Christ, Cromwell.

I think he wants you to kill her.

♪ ♪ (thunder rumbling, rain falling) CROMWELL: Oh, I'm a dead man, Eustache-- I'm in this matter so deep, there's no going back.

I assured the King that Mary would comply.

The Emperor will not suffer Mary to be mistreated.

He will send ships.

No, no.

You know, and I know, as well-- come on.

The Emperor in arms has no power to save Mary.

Her case is urgent.

(thunder rumbles) You eat these raw?

We do.

We bake them in tarts.

Mm.

(thunder rumbling) Mary expected to be embraced without question once Anne Boleyn came down.

Then she doesn't know her father.

(thunder rumbles loudly) How could she?

She has been in prison for five years.

Prison-- she's been kept in great comfort.

For God's sake, don't tell her that, huh.

Tell her she has suffered grievously, in case she feels she has not done enough.

She boasts to me she is not afraid of the axe.

She doesn't want to live?

Not at any price.

It is her mother.

I believe she vowed to Katherine she would never give way.

Vows to the living may be set aside, with their permission.

But the dead do not negotiate.

(thunder claps) Only a fool stands in a tower during a lightning storm.

(chuckles) Uh, what's this?

Ah, it's Mary's hand.

(chuckles) (thunder rumbling) Dear God.

She calls you her chief friend in the world?

Why?

(thunder rumbling) Why does she call you her friend?

Something her mother told her-- it can only be that.

(sighs) (thunder rumbling) (chuckles): Well, it seems to me that, if she trusts you, so must I.

Which is an unfortunate situation to be in.

Why?

All I ask is you advise that she be ruled by her father.

The Pope will forgive her, if she submits to save her life.

Tell her that you've asked for absolution for her.

(thunder rumbles) Of course, when Anne Boleyn was alive, there was no chance that the King would restore her to the succession.

But now, if she obeys her father in every particular... You are making her this offer?

Tell her, if she is ever to compromise her conscience, now's the time, when she can do herself the most good.

It seems to me you're saying to her, "You can live, but only as Cromwell permits.

"You can reign even, but only through Cromwell's grace."

Explain it as you like.

(thunder claps, Chapuys exhales) You brought me up here because you knew the storm was coming.

(chuckles): Didn't you?

No, I like watching the sky.

And tell her she need not sign the usual oath.

I will compose a letter, as if from her to her father, I'll have it written out, I'll bring it to her myself-- all she need do is sign it.

If this is discovered, you, you risk your life for her?

But tell her, if she does not give way now, if she will not sign the letter, then she's dead to me.

I shall never, never see her or speak to her again.

(thunder claps) ♪ ♪ (door closes) I hear you are Lord Privy Seal.

You are grown very grand, Lord Cromwell.

I suspect you were always very grand, only we did not see it.

Who knows God's plan?

I understand Monsieur Chapuys has spoken to you.

Yes.

Eustace offered me certain advice.

Which disappointed you?

Which surprised me.

I hope he brought home to you the peril in which you stand.

He said, "Cromwell has used all the grace that is in him.

Risked all."

He said you feel the axe's edge.

No other lord has spoken for me.

Not Norfolk, he would not.

Not Suffolk, he durst not.

Not even the Poles or the Courtenays.

I thought they would all say plain what I know they believe, and would aid me to be restored in my father's favor, but they...

But they have left you to bear the risk.

They have practice at scuttling into cover.

I have felt so alone.

Oh!

(pitcher shatters) MARY: It was John Shelton's.

He had it of the Venetians.

You have put all your strength into saying no.

Now you must say yes.

Do you think only weak people obey the law?

Because it terrifies them?

Do you imagine only weak people do their duty, because they dare not do other?

The truth is far different, Mary.

In obedience, there is strength and tranquility.

And you will feel them.

It will be like the sun after a long winter.

Choose to live and you will thrive.

Don't read it.

Then you can repudiate it later.

If you have to.

I often think, why did I not die in the cradle or the womb, like my brothers and sisters?

It must be that God has a design for me.

Soon, I, too, may be elevated beyond what seems possible now.

Well, the will of our Heavenly Father is often obscure, but the will of your earthly father is plain.

Your resistance has, has injured him.

It's made him ill.

I believe it.

It has made me ill, too.

(sighs): My scalp aches.

I would give anything to ride again.

They do not let me have a saddle horse.

John Shelton is afraid that if the country people see me, they will kneel to me and acclaim me as princess.

I have a sweet dapple grey in my stables.

She can be with you tomorrow.

Her name is Douceur, but you can change it if you like.

No, it is a good name.

When you come back to court, you can have everything your heart desires.

The King has spoken to me about what he will give you.

(crying quietly) Lady Mary-- Lady Mary... (gasps) (sobs) (sobbing) (door opens) Mary!

Stop that noise.

(Mary sobbing) Let go of the Lord Privy Seal.

And put your cap on.

You... (grunts) (crying softly) Look, I'll take you to Lady Bryan to put you to rights.

(sniffles) Oh, blow your nose!

(Lady Shelton exhales) (breath trembling) ♪ ♪ Another glass.

Yes, sir.

(people talking in background) (conversations stop) She is ready, sire.

This day has been long in coming.

You may conduct her to us, Lord Cromwell.

LADY SHELTON: We have done our best with her.

In my opinion, a gentler hue would have flattered her complexion, but she wished to be as regal as possible.

I'm more concerned she doesn't trip over her feet and land before her father in a heap.

MARY: My Lord Cromwell?

My lady?

I forgot to thank you for the dapple grey.

She is a gentle creature, as you promised.

Madam, the King is waiting.

Lord Cromwell sent me a pretty mount from his own stable.

Her name was Douceur.

It is a good name, but I have renamed her.

I have called her Pomegranate.

It was my mother's emblem.

(softly): I am bound to you now, Lord Cromwell.

I am bound to pray for you during my life.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (birds twittering) ♪ ♪ (exhales) (exhales) (breathes deeply) Here.

Wear this.

Oh.

It's too big.

It can be reset.

You are too generous, my sweetheart.

You are gracious, madam.

I wish you nothing but what is for your comfort.

I hope you will have a child soon.

I shall pray for it daily.

I take you now as my own lady mother, as if God had ordained the same.

(whispering): How, how could I be her mother?

I am not old enough.

The Queen says it would be difficult even for God to ordain, as she is but seven years your senior.

Tell her it is an expression of my regard.

It is an established form of well-wishing.

Her Grace should not... You understand, don't you, sweetheart?

Shall we go in?

♪ ♪ JANE: I will not go before you.

Madam, you are Queen-- you must.

Then let us go as sisters.

Neither one before the other.

Come, angels.

♪ ♪ (softly): Is she not a jewel unto herself?

(chuckles) Is she not, Cromwell?

♪ ♪ Lord Cromwell has behaved to my lady daughter with such tenderness and care that he could not have done more if he were my own kinsman.

Which, of course, he could not be.

(others chuckle) But I mean to reward him-- and his whole house.

(footsteps departing) RAFE: "Lord Cromwell could not be more to me if he were my own kin."

(chuckles): Yeah, and then he remembered who my parents were.

(all laugh) To your success, sir.

Though you ran it to the danger point.

He delays to show his power.

Well, nothing amiss there.

Since he has it.

Yes, well, let us hope you have no reason to regret your goodness towards her.

(others murmur) (clears throat): Mm, I promised her mother I'd look after her.

What?

When?

When I went up to Kimbolton.

When she was ill, just before she died, Katherine asked me to promise that no harm would come to her daughter.

Why did you agree to it?

You could not know, sir, what Katherine was asking.

(chuckling): That's the point of a promise, isn't it?

It wouldn't have any value if you could see what it might cost you when you make it.

Still, best if it goes no further.

We shall consign it to the shadows.

(laughs) Don't try and make it a dirty little secret, Riche.

It was an act of kindness.

No more.

Does Mary know?

About this promise?

No, no one knows.

I have never spoken about it till this moment.

Back in the Cardinal's day, they used to call me the butcher's dog.

And that's what I am.

I'm a good dog.

You set me to guard something, I'll do it.

(birds chirping) (glass rings) (glass ringing) (Wolsey chuckles) I'd forgotten that.

That Stephen Gardiner called you my butcher's dog.

Hm.

Meant unkindly, of course, because of my father's lowly profession.

And not understanding the most important thing about a dog: that he is loyal and true.

And you have been loyal, Thomas.

You've wreaked a terrible vengeance on my enemies in these days, my friend.

Thomas More, Anne the Queen, her brother.

Brereton.

Norris.

If I wanted to revenge myself on all your enemies, I'd have to strike down half the nation.

(chuckles) (laughs) No doubt, no doubt.

Of course, some might ask, who was the, the greatest of Wolsey's enemies?

♪ ♪ Some might ask, when chance serves, what revenge will Cromwell take on his sovereign?

♪ ♪ Such thoughts might reach the King.

And there's an end of it.

There are no endings, only beginnings.

Come on, Master Butcher, throw your dog a bone.

(laughs) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ HENRY: My cousin Pole is a traitor, and I want him dead.

Why must I still be shut up here?

Be patient, Mary.

I know what you do, Cromwell.

Every household has traitors.

Does the king know?

The rumor is everywhere.

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