1540--Part 2: The Third Pilgrimage of the Faithful
--Biguy's associates each make their way to a different location--Tempast to Chester, Hamilton to Yorkshire, and Lumley to Leeds--gathering followers along the way, while Biguy marches on London. The Privy Council is in panic. They send out Norfolk, Shrewsbury, and Suffolk with troops, and start debating what to do next. They're hoping the answer is 'not die'.
--Anne has delivered twins--a boy and a girl--who, if somewhat small, seem all right. It has been her most difficult delivery, and she is left to rest and recuperate. Which she does, until someone lets the news of Biguy's Pilgrimage slip. Anne gets out of bed, gets into something presentable, and drags herself to the Council meeting, where she immediately gives them a piece of her mind. What is going on? Why was she not told as soon as possible? Did they think they were helping her? The Council is nervous--as terrifying as Henry can be at times, Anne is arguably worse, since when she gets mad, she always means it--and of course, very conciliatory. Once Anne has calmed down, she quietly begins to provide some leadership, getting everyone to work on reminding people that they're in control, even if a mob of Northern Catholics are marching towards London.
--Biguy's march hits something of a snag when it arrives in Cambridge. You see, Biguy and his followers have failed to consider something. It's only natural. Most of them don't travel that much, and those that do--such as Biguy--are of a slightly fanatical mindset, and tend to hang out with people with the same opinions. The present situation is not very popular up north. It is less unpopular in the South, which, anyway, views these damned Pilgrimages as a lot of obnoxious carrying-on by the Northerners, and a threat against their King and his good Queen. True, they may not have thought much of Anne at first, but it's been awhile, and she's grown on them. They definitely aren't going to let her get pushed around by a bunch of rowdy Northerners! And so, in Cambridge, a large mob has gathered to duke it out with Biguy's large mob, and may the best mob win. While they have limited success--one of the reason the Pilgrimages are so feared is that the North is encouraged to arm itself to discourage Scottish raids--they do delay Biguy long enough for Norfolk's troops to arrive. Biguy's followers are forced to scurry back to Lincolnshire. Biguy is not among them, having died in the fighting.
--Rumor of the brawl in Cambridge passes quickly throughout the North, often outrunning the rather unwieldy "armies" of Pilgrims. For many this is all the encouragement they need. While the North is far more conservative than the South, it is filled with people who are simply sick of the Pilgrimages. They're disorderly, and they result in the Duke of Norfolk hanging people. Leeds, which shut the gate on Darcy's Pilgrimage, takes up arms against Biguy's when it arrives--the Pilgrims are repulsed, with their leader Lumley captured. In Yorkshire, which has earlier surrendered, citizens begin to fight back--Hamilton eventually crushes it, and winds up hanging some of the ringleaders, but it badly saps his strength. Chester, likewise captured early, remains secure, though troubled by loyalist partisans bushwacking scouts. And that is not all. The North is awash in blood, as old feuds are settled in the name of loyalty to the old faith, or the King. And in London, angry mobs gather, shouting out 'God save the king! The devil take the pope!', and their eyes peeled for monks, friars, and Catholics. Needless to say, a few dozen people wind up getting killed, but the Privy Council is looking on the good side--the country's coming around to their way of thinking. Or parts of it, at least.
--As peace returns to London, the twins are christened Margaret and Thomas. They will be Anne's last children--her age aside, Henry is now more or less incapable of fathering offspring.
--One by one, the Pilgrimage's strongholds fall. Norfolk takes Lincolnshire, Suffolk takes Yorkshire, and Shrewsbury captures Chester. The third Pilgrimage, after such a promisng start, has turned into the bloodiest failure yet. And Henry, his health crisis past, wants to make it extra bloody. He wants family of Pilgrims executed. He wants friends of Pilgrims executed. He wants friends of family of Pilgrims executed, and he wants the family of friends executed as well, if that's possible. Needless to say, the more moderate portions of the council attempt to rein in his... more violent impulses, and while they do succeed somewhat, a lot of people are killed for the crime of being tangentially connected to the Pilgrimage. Or, more exactly, they are killed for the crime of 'aiding rebels', or 'wishing ill to the king' or... well, the list goes on. And of course, there are witnesses for every charge.
Strangely enough, many names repeat among the witnesses, including the ubiquitous Edward and Thomas Seymour.
--SCENE FROM 'ATTABOY, 'ENRY' (1970)
CARDINAL WOLSLEY walks into a small office. A scroll hangs from the wall 'Seymour and Seymour--Professional Witnesses'. He rings a bell on the desk, and then glances around the room. Various instruments of torture are hung on the walls. CUT BACK to Wolsley. EDMUND SEYMOUR, and his brother THOMAS have appeared. They are a pair of vaguely threatening men. Edmund seems a bit more dapper than the more hulking Thomas.
EDMUND. (Cockney accent) Can I help you sir?
Wolsley leaps in alarm. Throughout the scene his mannerisms are rather effeminate.
WOLSELY. Oh, yes. I--I need help for a trial.
EDMUND. Well, then you've come to the right place, sir. Nobody comes to trial without going to the firm of Seymour, and Seymour.
THOMAS. (reciting) 'Our prices can't be beat, but those that have it coming most certainly can be."
WOLSLEY. (nervous) Well... you seem very... enthusiastic...
EDMUND. We hanker to be of service to the cause of justice, sir. Now, then, what charge do you want? Treason...?
THOMAS. (reciting) Whilst we were drinking together in a tavern, we did overhear that party state ill intentions to the king...
WOLSLEY. What? No... no... I think you...
EDMUND. Ahh. Too heavy. Right. Conspiracy then? Very light charge. Gets them in jail, and--well, we just let nature take it's course.
THOMAS. (reciting) Whilst we were drinking together in a tavern, this party did attempt to invengle us in a wicked design...
WOLSLEY. I... I don't think you gentlemen understand.
EDMUND. You're right, sir. Conspiracy is a crap charge. We only use it on them who can't afford better. How about espionage? That's a good charge. Has just the right sort of weight to it.
THOMAS. (reciting) Whilst we were drinking together in a tavern with a Spaniard, he happened to say that this party is in the employ of his master, the King of Spain...
WOLSLEY. No. No... This is for a woman...
EDMUND. Ahhh. One of those! Understood, sir. One charge of adultery, coming right up.
THOMAS. (reciting) Whilst we were drinking together in a tavern, a soldier did say that this lady did make lewd advances to him, and allowed him carnal knowledge...
WOLSLEY. An old woman!
EDMUND. Oh! Understood, sir. Witchcraft. Takes out an old dame, every time.
THOMAS. (reciting) Whilst we were drinking together in a tavern, Satan did say to us that this woman was his loyal thrawl, to whom he had gifted supernatural might...
WOLSLEY. I want her protected! Not sentenced!
The Seymours stare at Wolsley in shock. Then they frown.
EDMUND. Oh, one of those, eh?
THOMAS. (shaking head) Should have known...
EDMUND. Listen here, sir, I don't know what country you think you're in, but this is England and if King Henry's put you on the block, you must be guilty of something.
THOMAS. Stands to reason.
EDMUND. (puffing out chest) Our job is to make sure that this is the case. And allow me to state, we are the best there is.
THOMAS. Second to none.
EDMUND. And you would have us ruin our reputation--nay, our very integrity--by appearing for the defense?
THOMAS. How dare you!
EDMUND. (waving his hand angrily) Out with you, sir, out with you! You sicken me!
THOMAS. And don't come back!
Wolsley backs out of the shop. As soon as he's gone, Thomas looks at Edmund.
THOMAS. Want me to rough him up some?
EDMUND. Nahh, that was Wolsley. We're witnessing him commit treason next week, remember?
THOMAS. Oh, right. (scratches head) They kind of blend into one another, after awhile.