The Taming of the Queen

The archbishop reads his list of proposed changes and his explanation. All the ritual of the church, which is nowhere described in the Bible, never required by Jesus, is to go. Curtseying to the cross, kneeling on command, all this must change. Old superstitions like ringing a peal of bells on All-Hallows Eve to scare away bad spirits and welcome the good saints, is to stop. Statues in churches will be rigorously inspected to see that they have no popish tricks like moving eyes or bleeding wounds. No-one is to pray to them as if they might intervene in day-to-day life, and they must remain uncovered during the season of Lent.

‘The Bible tells us that Christ fasted in the wilderness,’ Cranmer says reasonably. ‘That is all the model that we need to take for Lent.’

We agree. Even Princess Mary cannot defend the paganism of binding the statues’ eyes, or putting cloths over their heads.

Cranmer takes his changes to the king and then returns to my rooms elated.

‘Stephen Gardiner is still in Bruges working on the Spanish treaty, and so the king had no contrary voice urging him to the old ways,’ he says, delighted. ‘There was no-one there to accuse me of wrong-thinking. The Howards didn’t like it but the king is tired of them. He listened without argument. He was interested; indeed, he even suggested some more reforms to me himself.’

‘He did?’ Anne of Cleves asks, following the rapid talk.

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘I thought that he might,’ says Catherine Brandon. ‘He spoke to me about the danger of setting up a graven image. He thinks the people do not understand that the cross and the statues in church are there to represent God. They are signs, not objects of faith. They are not things to be worshipped for themselves.’

Without turning her head so much as an inch, Anne of Cleves slides her eyes towards mine to see if I have observed that Catherine Brandon is in the king’s confidence, and that he talks to her about religious reform. Anne of Cleves saw her maid-in-waiting pretty Kitty Howard dancing attendance on the king, absent without permission from the queen’s rooms. Now her sidelong glance asks me: is it the same for you?

I raise my eyebrows slightly. No, it is not the same for me. I have no concerns.

‘That’s what he said to me!’ Archbishop Cranmer says delightedly. ‘He suggests that there should be no kneeling to the cross, no bowing to the cross on entry to church, and no creeping to the cross from the church door on Good Friday.’

‘The cross is the symbol for the sacred crucifixion,’ Princess Mary objects. ‘It is revered for what it represents. Nobody thinks it is a graven image.’

There is a silence. ‘Actually, the king does,’ Catherine corrects her.

Instantly, Mary bows her head in obedience to the woman that people think is her father’s mistress. ‘Then I am sure he is right,’ she says quietly. ‘Who would know better than the king what his people think? And he has told us all that God has appointed him judge of these matters.’

We cannot discuss Thomas Cranmer’s reforms without mentioning the Mass, and we cannot discuss the Mass because it is illegal to speak of it. The king has outlawed debate on this most holy event. Only he shall think and speak.

‘And yet they can interrogate me,’ Anne Askew points out after she has delivered her sermon on the miracle of the wine at the wedding in Cana. ‘I may speak about the wedding wine, and about the wine at the Last Supper, but not the wine that is poured by a priest into a cup in the church in our own days, before our own eyes.’

‘You really may not,’ I say quietly. ‘I understand the point you are making, Mistress Askew, but you may not say it in words.’

She bows her head. ‘I would never speak of things that you wish to keep silent,’ she says carefully. ‘I would never bring trouble to your door.’

It is like a pledge between one honest woman and another. I smile at her. ‘I know you would not,’ I say. ‘I hope that there is no trouble for you, either.’

‘And what is your married name?’ Anne of Cleves asks abruptly.

Anne Askew’s beautiful face lights up with laughter. ‘His name was Thomas Kyme, Your Majesty,’ she says. ‘But I do not have a married name, for we were never married.’

‘You believe that you can be the one to declare that your marriage is over?’ asks the divorced queen who is now named princess, and is to be regarded as the king’s sister.

‘Nowhere in the Bible does it say that marriage is a sacrament,’ Anne replies. ‘It was not God who joined us together. The priest says it was; but this is not true. This is the word of the church, not the Bible. Our wedding, like every wedding, was an act of man, not of God. It was not a holy sacrament. My father forced me into an agreement with Thomas, and when I was old enough and had understanding enough I revoked that agreement. I claim the right to be a free woman, with a soul equal to any man under God.’

Anne of Cleves – another woman who was married with no choice, and divorced against her will – gives Anne Askew a little smile.