York Place, January 1523
Wolsey looked up at the knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called silkily. To his surprise, the Duke of Suffolk entered.
“Your Grace. To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, spreading his hands in an avuncular gesture. Brandon grimaced and neatly side-stepped him.
“Spare me your act, Your Eminence. Henry might have liked that, once upon a time, but I never did and you know it.”
“As you wish,” Wolsey bowed his head and let the sharp tone slide, knowing Brandon was too impatient for many niceties to be exchanged between them, “What brings you to my door, My Lord Suffolk?”
“I saw Linacre riding in. I’m no fool, Your Eminence. I know full well he’s coming from the Tower and he’ll be coming straight here.”
“Whatever gives you that idea? Surely Sir Thomas could easily be reporting to His Majesty?”
Brandon scoffed.
“About Bessie Blount’s state of mind? I think not. We both know the King only recalled you from York last year because you’re good at dealing with the unpleasant matters or those that he cares nothing for. Bessie Blount falls into both those categories. No, Linacre will be making his report to you, I am sure of it. And as such, I thought it only wise to bring a couple of our colleagues from the Privy Council to join us in hearing his report.”
Brandon turned towards the door as he spoke, and right on cue, Thomas Lovell and Henry Norris entered, each of them dipping their heads in greeting.
“My Lord Cardinal.”
Wolsey had to hand it to Brandon. He’d handled that very smoothly. Eager to regain the initiative, he said nothing further, simply waved Lovell and Norris to take up a position by the window, and nodded to George Cavendish, who was fairly bristling with ire at how the older gentlemen had manipulated his master.
“Very well, George. You may as well show Sir Thomas up.”
George bowed deeply and swept from the room, his head high.
A few minutes later, Thomas Linacre was standing before them, twisting his hands.
“My Lords, gentlemen. I have been to the Tower and have examined Lady Tailboys in the presence of good Sir Thomas there,” he nodded towards Thomas Lovell, “Unfortunately, I fear my news may not be the most welcome. At least not to those of us who are loyal Englishmen and wish nothing more than to avenge His Highness the Duke of York.”
“She’s mad, then?” It was Norris who spoke, his voice blunt and harsh. He’d always been the type to speak his mind.
“Oh, yes. Utterly and completely.”
The directness of the statement took Brandon somewhat by surprise. He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that bubbled out of him.
“Well, there’s an end to it then,” he said bitterly, “The jezebel will be given a mercy she doesn’t deserve, one she certainly didn’t extend to our dear Prince, purely because she is mad and the law of merry England is too just to let her stand trial.”
“But that’s preposterous!” Norris spluttered, “The harlot murdered an innocent child! Her accomplice’s head is already rotting on a spike! Yet she is to live? How can this be?!”
“Sir Henry,” Wolsey cut in, “Need I remind you that the Privy Council has already overstepped its boundaries in sentencing Master Blount to death without the King’s say-so? At least in his case, we had the law on our side. To judicially execute Lady Tailboys, now that she has been declared mad by a doctor of the realm, would require a change in the law, and that, sir, would be a step too far for us to take without informing His Majesty. And given His Grace’s current behaviour, I think it is quite clear that he will tolerate no word of Bessie Blount.”
Norris grimaced, then turned to Brandon.
“My Lord Suffolk. Can’t you speak to the King? Surely, coming from his own brother…”
“I may be the King’s brother by marriage, Sir Henry, but I am his subject first. I am governed by his whims as much as the rest of you. And tell me true, is there a man in this room who would dare to bring up Bessie Blount before our King, given his current state of mind and that the fact that, as it stands, English law will not allow him to order the death of the woman who very nearly succeeded in destroying the Succession in one fell swoop?”
Brandon let his eyes linger on Norris’s pale, furious face, for a moment, then swept his eyes over the others.
The silence that stretched between them was his answer.
Oh golly. Well may I suggest looking at my latest AO3 story, 'Albion in Flames', if you really want to see how dark I can go? It's only in the early stages, but I can't see a civil war being light in any sense of the word!