By Leah Fisher
For the week of Thomas More’s birthday, a story about his legacy and climactic choices.
King Henry VIII pressed his palms firmly on the wide stone sill of the open window and stared out longingly. Outside, some of the women walked far below him, in the garden not yet in bloom. The light breeze blew, shifting his auburn hair and causing the white fur of his hat to dance as though it was nervous. He was sure that the warmth and colors of springtime would soon come to comfort him after what had proven to be a dreadfully long winter, but…
“You did summon me,” his friend’s voice cast hollowly behind him.
“Good Lord High Chancellor…” the king addressed him, removing his hat and casting it down from the window. He watched it fall to the earth. “I’d wager someone will fetch it for me. What do you think?”
“I suspect that there is not a man in England who would fail to return it,” his friend assured.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The king frowned and turned slowly to his friend. “What say you, Thomas? Does God ever throw hats?”
“I think my lord may find that in the case of our Lord, it is we who throw our crowns before Him,” the chancellor replied with even tone and the corner of his mouth turned upwards.
The king laughed. “You always have the answer for me, Thomas, always so quick with the response!”
He took a few short steps back towards his desk and bit his lip. Then, turning suddenly on his heel back to his companion, he said, “I’ll tell you why I throw my hat: I throw my hat, because I need to know someone will fetch it. I like the thing, but it’s a terrible burden on my head. Sometimes, I want to cast it all away; then I could forget about my duty and my honor along with it. I could be free to do as I like, but…”
He caught a glimpse of his friend’s stare, pointed and warning, and a sudden chill ran through him. “Well, as you said, someone will fetch it.” He paused. “I sometimes wish they wouldn’t.”
“And yet they will,” his friend replied. “They will precisely because of that duty and that honor from which you wish to flee, because God has made you king over England.”
“Ah, yes! And does it please Him to frustrate me?” Henry shot back, his voice brimming with discontent. “How shall a king have no heir? How shall I have no son to follow me? A decade of marriage to a worthy woman has produced for me nothing but grief! And where is God to bless the throne He has given?”
“I never thought of what a curse it is to have such a beloved wife and a daughter who adores you,” Thomas stated, smiling. “That’s a cross which I bear, also, with my Meg. But she and my wife do the heart so good that I wonder…is it really so great of a burden?”
The king sighed. “The love that I once had is waning, and with what gratitude should I rejoice in the shortcomings of my Queen, that she has failed in her duty, as I have? I have broad shoulders, Thomas, but they cannot carry the weight of the world upon them!”
“Then give it to God!” Thomas insisted. “Throw your crown before Him. He never meant for you to bear the weight of it alone, anyway.”
Henry shook his head. “You’ll tell me to go back to Catherine next and to forget this thing with Anne, but I promise it’s no good.” He turned back to the window and admired the beauty of the woman who walked with such divine grace in the midst of the barren garden. “My heart is set on something else.”
“Are you certain it is your truest heart and not your eyes that wander?” Thomas answered boldly. “For a man ought to pledge his heart but once, and by his word he is bound. How can another soul trust you when the one to whom yours cleaves is held in such derision by you? As king, you have pledged yourself to this people as surely as you have your wife. Or would you divorce them, also?”
“Why are you the voice of my conscience?” Henry lamented. “Can you not leave me here in peace? Will you not let me reason? Like Clement, you will not yield. Catherine is my brother’s wife! Must I shout it? I will repent of my love for her, and not for Anne!”
“No, this isn’t right! You know this isn’t right.” Thomas shook his head and approached his monarch, speaking with a pleading expression. “Of what then shall you repent? Of your fidelity, rather than your lust? How shall God accept such a fool hearted repentance? How shall England prosper by your rule apart from the blessing of God?”
For a moment, the king’s eyes met his friend’s, but quickly turned away, unwilling to face him. “Clement isn’t any more God than I am,” he muttered. “Why should the Church of Rome command the Church of England?”
Thomas’ hands closed into loose fists. For the first time, he had become angry. “The Church of Christ is not divided,” he stated dryly.
The king glanced back at his friend. His body was unusually rigid, and his eyes lacked the warmth to which the king was so accustomed. But this time the king met his gaze and did not shy away from it. “And yet, somehow we continue to arrest all those bloody heretics.”
“And would you join them in transgression? Your office cannot save you from the wrath of God. A king is not above His Law,” his chancellor warned.
It was then that a member of the guard stepped into the doorway. Dressed in full royal uniform with pike in hand, he bowed before his king. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” the man said, “but I believe you dropped this.” He held up the king’s hat.
“Ah, my hat!” Henry proclaimed in triumph, gesturing towards the door. “You see, Thomas? It always comes back. Why don’t you fetch it for me?”
In silent obedience to his monarch, Thomas did as the king asked, thanking the guardsman at the door with sincerity of speech before returning the hat to its wearer. Gleefully, the king took it from him and placed it back atop his head again, as though it was the closing point of some great argument.
“Well, what say you now?” the king challenged. “Do you fancy yourself a traitor?”
“A traitor?” Thomas shook his head, and his countenance changed. The kindness returned to his eyes along with a deep sadness, and a pained expression marked his pale features. “No. I am the king’s good servant; but God’s first.”
This story originally appeared in Fellowship & Fairydust’s issue Happy & Glorious: A Royal Celebration.