Flies and Fleas….

June 16, 2011 in Historical Fiction, Tudor Y Writer's Group by Royal Squire

The birds chirp, and I awaken, wrapped tight in our blankets, still holding tight to her pillows. My God, I am sweating profusely. Although temporary comfort it did provide, this is no way to sleep in June. Groggy, I rise and decide I must cleanse before I arrive at court as dirty as I am, so I throw on some clothes quickly and walk out to the Lily Pond. As I approach, my heart sinks. How can I be here alone without her? I gaze over to the soft grass, where we first made love – where Iris was conceived, and the memories flood my mind. She was exquisite… so anxious, so beautiful, so soft, so emotional, so yielding and so in tune with me – sweet memories, with a bitter after taste. I undress and jump into the pond for a swim, and the fresh clear water and scent of lilies in bloom feels of her, smells of her. I swim briskly to the center of the pond, turn around and swim on back. Rushed to insure I arrive at court as expected, I walk out of the pond, dry off, dress quickly, and return back to Theo and Thea’s. What a love she is. Thea must have heard me rise, as upon my return, she has breakfast waiting. Thea brings me a plate, kisses my head, and places it on the table. I look at her and nod in appreciation. After the stress and hurt of last night’s conversation, we remain silent… the emotions hanging plainly in the stillness. After eating swiftly, I return back to our bedroom to wash more thoroughly and dress in court attire. I look over to our dresser. My status chain lies next to a set of her crystals… how appropriate. Before leaving for court, I look around our room and drop to my knees in prayer, “Holy God, you know my heart, my soul, my mind. Give us the strength to endure this separation, and I beg you keep my Nicosa and our baby safe and comforted. Also, give me the wisdom to counsel His Majesty with loyalty and knowledge, and give me the perseverance to do what must be done, despite the risks and opposition. Amen.” Before leaving, I walk up to Thea, give her a gentle hug and whisper, and “Thank you, dear woman. I will send word when I hear anything. Please do the same. I don’t know when I can return, but I shall. I have to, Thea Nia. Being here with you makes me feel close to her.” As I pull away, she remains silent and nods, with a single tear running down her cheek. I simply wipe it dry, and quietly leave.

As I arrive at court, it is already bustling. Servants clean and attend their duties, and Lords and Ladies are scampering all over. As I pass each, I respectfully remove my hat and tip a nod. Though close to the King, I am a commoner still. I know my place within the etiquette of court, and respond accordingly. The power is within my quill, at Privy Council, at Parliament and within His Majesty’s inner chambers. The outward appearances matter not. I know it. The Lords know it. There is no need to belabor it. Upon entering my offices, Sir Thomas Wyatty is already attending to his duties. He looks up, and joyously says, “Welcome back, Mr. Secretary. We missed you. His Majesty has commanded that you seek him out this morning. He wishes to discuss the issues related to Sir Thomas Morey. I do hear he is none too happy.” I swallow hard. Morey, what am I going to do about him? The man is brilliant, pious, well loved by the people, and a huge thorn in my side. I swear that his actions speak to the desire of self-serving martyrdom. I desire to counsel His Majesty to ignore the man and his challenges to the supremacy we seek, but I am not hopeful. Morey needs to be careful not to push His Majesty too far, as if he does, it matters not his contributions of the past, His Majesty will cut him down… crop his head… and England will look poorly to the rest of Europe, most assuredly.

After being announced, I enter His Majesty’s inner chamber and bend a knee. There he sits, a God among men, with a glass of wine in one hand, and papers in the other. I bow deeply, and I am invited to sit with him and wine is served. As usual, only the finest of wines touch the King’s lips. Just as I approach, he unexpectedly rises and places his hand on my shoulder.

Henry Tudory: “Thomas, I do hope your two days away from court provided you with much needed respite. You worked hard on the coronation, and both Her Majesty and I are most pleased. I have your financial recommendations here, and although my Lords will be angered, I command you implement them immediately. Good work, Tom.” I sit at the table and motion he do likewise. “Boy, pour Thomas some wine.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I nod in appreciation and take a sip to buy a few seconds to collect my thoughts. “Thank you most humbly for the time of rest Majesty. I am quite pleased that both you and Her Majesty were satisfied with the coronation celebrations. They certainly were a noble testament to her rightfulness to be our reigning Queen. And yes… of course I will begin implementation. I will meet with Sir Richard Rich to set the strategies needed to implement the governmental reforms this afternoon.” I sip a little more wine, and decide to get to the topic of the day. “In you letter, Majesty, you mentioned your concern with the behavior of Sir Thomas Morey. How do you desire to have this issue addressed?”

Henry Tudory: At hearing Morey’s name, I become angry. That man, one of my closest friends of this world, betrayed me. I raise my voice, and bang my goblet down hard on the table. “Meet with him Thomas! Find out his excuse for not attending the coronation, and make it clear that I am displeased. Mince no words. I expect his full cooperation and support, and I will settle for nothing less.”

Thomas Cromwelly: “Yes, Majesty, of course.” I take a deep breath. “If I could be so bold, I would suggest we approach this situation as delicately as possible. Sir Thomas is beloved by the people and is respected by the Bishop of Rome. If you are viewed too punitive, that could impact your standing among the other European monarchs.”

Henry Tudory: I see the sense of what I am told, but I hold firm. I hit the table with my fist for emphasis. “He will yield to me Thomas. I am King, and Head of the Church. He must submit. He must. Go now. Leave for Chelsea, and meet with Sir Richard in the morning.” I wave my hand dismissively.

Thomas Cromwelly: “Yes, Majesty.” I rise from my chair, bow deeply and back out of the inner chamber.

Damn, I hate this barge ride. How Sir Thomas lives in Chelsea right on this river, I have not a clue. Flies and fleas abound. As we arrive at the dock at Morey’s home, I look around. I am told he has a wide collection of exotic animals. Why? What a waste of crowns, I think. The man is daft. Upon arriving to the front entrance, a servant answers and I introduce myself and request to be seen by Sir Thomas. If looks could have killed, I would be a dead man. “Wait right here,” she says curtly. “I will see if my Lord is available.” Well that was very telling. After a very rude wait of over 15 minutes, the woman comes for me. Abruptly she states, “He will see you. Follow me.” Heavens, Austin Friars this is not. Even the Imperial Ambassador is welcomed cheerfully at my home. I follow the maid, and look around. What is see is “worn opulent”, riches of more prosperous times. I follow her to the dining room, where More sits with one of his daughters. This must be Margaret, the favorite.

Thomas Morey: I look at Cromwelly and try to hold the disdain from my face. Here in my very home is a heretic. I motion him over to sit. “Welcome Mr. Secretary. Do join my daughter, Margaret and I.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I look over at Morey and am almost completely distracted by an enormous Holbein, taking nearly the whole wall. My God, the entire Morey family and God knows who else is depicted. What an ugly crew. I pull myself quickly together, remove my hat, and bow deeply. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Your Grace.” Before sitting, I suggest, “Perhaps it would be best if we met privately.” As he is responding, I seat myself across from him.

Margaret Morey: So this is Thomas Cromwelly. The devil himself dressed black as ink is better looking than rumors told… just another tool from Satan to spin his evil web.

Thomas Morey: “That will not be necessary. Whatever you have to say, can be said in front of my daughter. I trust her all.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I look over at Morey, and state evenly, “Well I trust her not. We are discussing the King’s business.” I then peer over at his daughter. “Please leave now, Lady Margaret. His Majesty commands that I speak with your father, not you.”

Margaret Morey: Oh my, this man really is the devil. I look to my father, and he nods that I comply. I rise, stating nothing to the heretic. “Father, I will be in the den.” Just to annoy our company, I add, “When you are done, let’s do pray the rosaries together. I will have mine from Queen Catherine ready.” I leave the dining room, closing the door hard as I go.

Thomas Morey: I offer the man some ale, and he “politely declines”. Is not my ale good enough for this low-born? “Well, Mr. Secretary. I see you noticed my beautiful family portrait. Holbein outdid himself, would not you say?” I point out all my family members, awaiting his response.

Thomas Cromwelly: The man is observant, just as Audley warned. “Oh yes, Your Grace. One can’t help but scan the detail. Your family looks quite adoring towards you, your lovely wife in particular.” My God, that woman is homely. How does he ever bed her?

Thomas Morey: “You are a widower several years now, correct?” As he nods in agreement, I add pointedly, “Won’t any woman have you?”

Thomas Cromwelly: I can’t help it; I laugh a little and respond honestly. “Well, let’s just say none that you would approve of, Your Grace.” I become suddenly serious. “You know why I am here, and it’s not to discuss my private life. His Majesty is very concerned that you have not supported him or Her Majesty in their marriage, or her reign as Queen of England. He was highly offended that you chose not to attend the coronation.” I look over at him as say gently, “Look, he is only seeking that you acquiesce, Your Grace. No grand announcement need be made.”

Thomas Morey: I state with conviction, “Mr. Secretary, you were present when I resigned my position as Lord Chancellor. You know my opinions on the matter. I promised His Majesty that I would not speak of my views. I say no evil. I think no evil. I just desire to be left in peace so I may live my remaining days in prayerful reflection.”

Thomas Cromwelly: “Your silence speaks louder than a priest at the pulpit, Your Grace. I need tell you that soon I am presenting a Parliamentary Act to change the succession to the child in Her Majesty’ belly, and the other children they may have together. His Majesty will want your support. I ask plainly, will he have your support in the matter?”

Thomas Morey: My heart bleeds at the thought that Harry has turned away from the teachings we shared. I state matter-of-factly, “Despite my private opinions, I have no dispute of that. I accept that Anne Boleyn is now Queen of England, and much as it pains me. I will speak no more of it.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I nod my head in approval. “His Majesty will be very pleased to here that, Your Grace. I will be sure he is duly informed, albeit it may go a long way if your wrote to him or visited him at Whitehall. Her Majesty, I am sure, will also desire to be present.”

Thomas Morey: In resignation, I state simply, “I will consider your recommendation, Mr. Secretary.”

Thomas Cromwelly: “Your Grace, may I ask your opinions regarding the King’s supremacy?”

Thomas Morey: I look the bastard who turned Harry to sin in the eye and state, “I choose to remain silent on the matter. I will not speak one way or the other on it.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I hit a raw nerve, and I remain composed, and flatly speak. “Your Grace, His Majesty is master and supreme of all in this land, including the clergy. It will be law soon enough. I strongly suggest that you reconsider your position while His Majesty is in the like mind to accept it. Many speak one thing, but believe another. I suggest that this may be the best course for you. I wish you no harm. I say that most sincerely.”

Thomas Morey: This man must think I have the compromised morals he holds so dear. “As I said, I choose to remain silent on the matter. I will not speak one way or the other on it.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I swear this man has a death wish, and I pray on His Majesty’s behalf that he heeds my veiled warning. “So be it. I will inform His Majesty. He will decide what to make of it. He also desires to know your reasons for not attending the coronation. What shall I tell him?”

Thomas Morey: This heretic scares me not. I know he and that Edwardsy character he cavorts with were smuggling contraband Bibles. I almost had them, and if luck went my way, he’d been burned by now. “You may tell Harry, I mean His Majesty, that I was ill. And, Mr. Secretary, when you tell him the details of our meeting, please also relay that I remain his most faithful and humble servant.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I respond politely, “Of course, Your Grace,” and then add in a direct tone, “Since your daughter is waiting patiently to pray the rosary to the Virgin Mary and Bishop of Rome with you, I will take my leave now.” I rise, and bow respectfully, “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Should you desire to expand your prayerful reflections, I have a few books I would be willing to gift you.”

Thomas Morey: He is the devil incarnate, emissary of Satan, as Father Reginald Pole proclaims. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Secretary. Thank you for your gracious offer.”

I could not get out of Morey’s home quickly enough. His servants, rude; the home, adorned with relics. As I am “escorted” out by his rude servants, I feel dirty, like I have sinned against God just being there. As I walk towards His Majesty’s barge, an animal scampers by. What the hell was that? No matter, I am leaving, that is all that matters. Upon stepping on to the barge, I look at the tender and say honestly, “Get me the hell out of here. The flies and the fleas are offensive.” The tender paddles along, and I think through this situation and quickly realize that if this man digs his heels in and sticks to his convictions, I will have to take him down. His Majesty will expect no less. I need the fall out from that not, and more importantly, nor does England.

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March 11, 2011 in Historical Fiction, Tudor Y Writer's Group by Royal Squire

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3/7/11 All In A Day’s Work…

March 7, 2011 in Historical Fiction, Tudor Y Writer's Group by Royal Squire

Thomas Cromwelly: Today has been a day filled with meetings, first at Parliament and then Privy Council. I have no clue why I bother with the council meetings, as none of the Lords have any interest in what I have to say, or even His Majesty. They basically spend their time pushing their own pet projects to pad their pockets. Worse yet, I am stuck in the same room with Morey for hours. The man makes me cringe each time he opens his pius mouth. You would think you were in the presence of Pope Clement himself. Finally, I can read through my correspondences. Deep in concentration, my page clears his throat and announces the Lady Mary Boleyny. I look up from my work, and there she is, sister of the queen. Prettier I am surprised to see. I raise up and bow politely, “Well good afternoon, Lady Mary. Do come in and sit down.” I hold out a chair for her. Once seated, I inquire, “May I get you some wine then?”

Mary Boleyny: I nervously approach Mister Cromwelly, I have heard so much about him but never laid eyes on him. He does not seem at all like what I was thinking. I sit down and shake my head no to his offer of wine. “Thank you, I am quite well. His majesty and I were discussing some issues for my son, he told me to see you to settle the matters before I leave to visit my family’s home for a week. ” I reach up to pull a piece of hair and twist it as I wait for him to speak. I do hope that the King has told him why I am here.

Thomas Cromwelly: I place the pitcher of wine down, and return to my desk and seat myself. “Why yes, Lady Mary. His Majesty in his benevolence wishes that you enjoy respite from court to enable you spend time with your children. He has taken quite an interest in them, and desires they have their mother’s care.” She appears nervous. I do that to people and have no clue why. I try and say reassuring, “Lady Mary, I have arranged for your safe transport to Hever Castle, and also transport for your son Henry to meet you there.” I motion the page and scriveners to leave my office, and state quietly, “William Stafford will escort you safely there and back. Lady Mary, I have ‘resources’. Do know I will say nothing, but shall the truth be known, there is nothing I can do to assist you.”

Mary Boleyny: He does know why I am there, I breath a sigh of relief. I cannot wait to see my children and to hear that both will be there makes me almost burst into tears. I nod to him and blink the tears back smiling at him, then he confirms that Will shall be my escort. Now I cannot wait to leave. “Your assistance is much appreciated in this matter. Thank you so much,” I smile again and then look up at him, “you will say nothing yet you will assist me? I believe that I know why and I will thank you in advance, I have many enemies as a Boleyn so I will take all the friends that I can. Thank you again.”

Thomas Cromwelly: I look at her, and state plainly. “Lady Mary, the gesture is for him, not you. Do know that. As a Boleyn, the world is your is at your feet, laid before you. There is no easy way for the common man. I state this so you know his is road is paved with toil. No comforts await at his hearth. Do not toy with the man unless you are willing to make the necessary concessions. It’s a life I know well, and you know not — at it’s not an easy one.”

Mary Boleyny: I bite my lip and feel uneasy again at once. He knows about us, how is that possible. No one knows or do they, I start to stammer and wise for my sister’s quick words. My words always come out a dreadful mess, so I stop and just breathe in for a moment before I speak to him softly and calmly. “I do not know how you know of him and of us but I will assure that I am not toying with him.” I gaze around us and then whisper to him, “I love that man and do not care if his roads leads us to the pits of hell. I plan to be by his side. I know my path as a Boleyn but that is not the one for me, I am making my own path with him. Do not worry, I plan not to hurt him.”

James' View From His Post. All In A Day's Work.

Thomas Cromwelly: “Lady Mary, as secretary of this realm, it is my reponsibility to work solely for His Majesty’s best interests. When a personal matter comes to my attention that holds no conflict with his, there is no need to take it further. I work for the King, not your sister, and certainly not your father. I will be taking this matter no where, as it is no concern to His Majesty or to the realm. Now, you best be going before people wonder why you are here is my office privately. Please do let Will know I am pleased with the mare. Many blessings.” I get up, and hold her chair out so she may rise.

Mary Boleyny: His words still burn in my ears as I quickly rise. I nod my head to him and leave the room. I do not know how he knows what he does but I will not ask. I leave the room quickly to my own more than ready to leave court for the peaceful quiet of Hever.

Thomas Cromwelly: As Lady Mary nods, I bow politely. I ponder, “A Boleyn with an eye for a common man? Well, blessings to them. T’is no affair of mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~ fade to black ~~~~~~~~~~

 

2/9/12 The First Time Ever I Lay With You…. (Thread)

February 9, 2011 in Historical Fiction, Tudor Y Writer's Group by Royal Squire

 

Thomas Cromwelly: I am a mess. I truly am. I am completely distracted at court, unable to concentrate as my mind is always on her. I haven’t slept well since I met Nicoleen, and when I do, she is in my dreams. And the fortune she told? Three children? Who is the mother? I have to know. I just have to. I clear off my desk, grab my cape, leave court, and ride out to her home. As I dismount Spades, I become anxious. Am I doing the right thing? By coming here, have I placed this beautiful woman in danger? God, please help us. I swallow hard and knock at the at the front door.

Nicoleen Sedena: My heart stops beating as I hear a knock at the door. No one ever visits me here. I venture to them. A thought enters my mind, could it be him? I look out and see Spades. Oh Gods, it’s him. I can hardly breathe. I walk to the door and shyly open it. ”Mister Cromwell did the King send you here?”

Thomas Cromwelly: Oh my heavens, Nicoleen is exquisite. I have never seen her without the cape, and she is even more beautiful than I imagined. I can’t help myself. I can’t take my eyes off of her. ”No Nicoleen…. I am so sorry. I came on my own. I hope I did not frighten you.” I am now so nervous, she can likely hear a slight tremble in my voice. ”I am hoping you could answer a question for me.”

Nicoleen Sedena: I open the door for him and motion for him to enter. I nod to him and motion for him to sit down. He is beautiful. I do not allow him to see me looking at him. I wish to search his face but no. I cant. I pour us both some wine, may-hap this will lighten me. I am most uncomfortable for I most always can read a persons intentions. I can only read him as I do myself. Which puzzles me. I see he is true of heart and one that I desire to know. No I can’t. I hand him his wine and sit across from him. ”What can I answer for you Mister Cromwell?”

Thomas Cromwelly: ”Thank you for the wine. Please… please call me Thomas.” My heart is beating fast, and my palms are sweaty. I swallow hard. ”Nicoleen, I must know. If you could tell me, I would be forever appreciative.” Please God, you know my heart’s desire. Let me hear it now. ”Who is the mother of the children you foretold?” There, I said it.

Nicoleen Sedena: I just nod when he thanks me for the wine. Taken a back by his question, and yet again at a loss for words. I not merely sip my wine but take a log drink. ”Thomas, I have a set of what is known as runes. They were freshly cast. May I read them for you?” As I wait to hear him answer I walk to the shelf where the new runes are. I bring them to him. ”You need to pull 3 stones.” Oh my Gods, I can feel his heat. I am so close to him. I think of his sweet kiss. If only……..

Thomas Cromwelly: Oh my… she is going to read my runes. ”Okay, Nicoleen… if this is how the answer shall be discovered, I will do all you tell me.” God, I know this is not of the reformed ways, but I must know. I must. Please forgive me. I close my eyes… I have no clue why, but I do. I then select three stones. ”There you are Nicoleen. What do they tell you?” Oh my… she is so beautiful. I resist an urge to kiss her, and await her reply.

Nicoleen Sedena: Takes the stones, I look at the stones and am speechless for many moments. I final pull myself together ”The first one is a new life with an old soul. The second one shows new lives come into yours. And the third” I pause and feel short of breath at the last one. After a moment I continue ”Power.” I have cast these same 3 when thinking of whom I would love, if ever. I look at him in his eyes. What is he thinking of. I wish to kiss him now. Oh my Gods. I cant look at him. I look away.

Thomas Cromwelly:  I try and digest what Nicoleen is telling me, and I notice she is avoiding eye contact. Oh my, I am frightening her. I try and lighten things. ”My… my… that is all quite intriguing. I am looking forward to these ’new lives’ coming into mine.” Do I go there? Yes, I must. ”I am a little disappointed, though, as I really wanted to know who is the mother of my children.” I lean over and gently place my hand on her face, and look directly at her, and nervously ask…. ”Nicoleen, please tell me. Who is the mother?”

Nicoleen Sedena: As he touches my face I feel something I have never felt before. Never. ”Thomas” I begin and lower my eyes ”I am unsure but,” I place my hand on his but still can not look at him. ”It may be me.” Fear of him rejecting what I have said sets in. Gods help me. I need him to either walk away now or comfort me for anything else I can not bare.

Thomas Cromwelly: My heart is full and I am near tears. I gently raise her chin up and speak softly. ”Look at me, Nicoleen… Yes, your palm reading and runes have spoken. You will be the mother of my children.” I kiss her softly, and then again a little more passionately. ”I need say, I am falling in love with you. There is no denying it.”

Nicoleen Sedena: As he kisses me I close my eyes and drift. Passion rising inside me. I can not deny this. Be it the fate of the cruel Gods are the love of the Goddess’ As he pulls away and speaks these words I feel loved and not rejected as I feared. I look into his beautiful eyes. ”I can not deny it either. It is late Thomas, will you stay the night with me?”

Thomas Cromwelly: I am overwhelmed with feelings of love mixed with anxiety… love for this beautiful woman, and anxiety for the shared dangers that lay before us. I look at her, eyes welling, and say simply, ”Yes, dear.”

Nicoleen Sedena: Looks up at him ”Can you hold me for a while?” You make me feel safe Thomas, can I rest in your arms?” Takes him by the hand and sit on the bed. I pat the bed beside me. ”Please just hold me. I have never been held.”

Thomas Cromwelly: ”Shhhhhh…. don’t be frightened, Nicosa. Just lay on you side, dear.” Oh my, she has never been held? That so touches my heart. I take off my boots and my dublet, and I lay up against her like two spoons in a draw. I wrap my arms around her and draw her in close, and run my fingers through her hair. ”Shhhhhh…… relax, dear. Tonight let us just lay together. Know I do love you, and will never hurt you.”

Nicoleen Sedena: Does as he says and rolls to my side. I feel a rush I have never felt before. He runs his fingers through my hair. A few tears drop. I am so overwhelmed with emotions. I can’t speak. I just nod as he comforts me with his words and drift to a sleep that is, unearthly. It is a haven.

Thomas Cromwell: As I lay beside her, I feel my arousal build. I do nothing with it, and just hold her close. As she drifts off, my mind is racing… organizing… planning, how to keep us safe… how to keep us secret… how to build security for us and these babes the stars foretell. God help me.

~~~~~~~~~~ fade to black ~~~~~~~~~~

Reformation Martyrs Killed by “Saint” Thomas Morey

January 16, 2011 in News by Royal Squire

Martyrs Killed By “Saint” Thomas Morey
by Thomas Cromwelly on Tuesday, January 3, 2012 at 10:09pm

Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash


The following individuals were murdered by burning at the stake by Sir
Thomas Morey while Lord Chancellor of England:
1. Father Thomas Hitton was arrested January 30, 1530 in Gravesend as
he was making his way to the coast to take a ship to Anthwerp. He at
one point was living with William Tyndale, and returned to England for
a short visit to contact supporters of Tyndale and to arrange for
distribution of smuggled books.
2. Thomas Bilney was arrested in March 1531 and brought in front of
Bishop Nix of Norwich. He was burned August 19, 1531.
3. Richard Bayfield was a leading trader in the Testamnets and other
Tyndale books, a Cambridge graduate and former Benadictine Monk. He
was arrested Easter 1531, imprisoned at the Tower, tortured for
confession and executed by burning,
4. John Tewkesbury was arrested three weeks after Bayfield. He was
held at a Porter’s Lodge at More’s Chelsea home, with pinioned hands,
feet and head in stocks for six days without release. More then had
Tewkesbury whipped, twisted his brows with small ropes so tightly his
eyes bled. Tewkesbury was then sent to the Tower and racked.
5 James Bainham was arrested, tortured and burned alive during the
summer of 1531.
During his short reign as Lord Chancellor, More had at least 10
Reformed Christians burned alive. Countless more were permanently
maimed by his tortures in the Tower.

Source: http://www.reformation.org/sir-thomas-more.html

Pope makes bigoted papal persecutor the patron saint of politicians!!
www.reformation.org
“Pope John Paul II has announced that he is to declare Sir Thomas
More, Lord Chancellor of England during the reign of Henry VIII, the
patron saint of statesmen and politicians”(BBC Special Report).

Pope makes bigoted papal persecutor the patron saint of politicians!!
www.reformation.org
?”Pope John Paul II has announced that he is to declare Sir Thomas
More, Lord Chancellor of England during the reign of Henry VIII, the
patron saint of statesmen and politicians”(BBC Special Report).

12/1/11 Letter and Holiday Gifts To Sir Thomas Morey

January 16, 2011 in Historical Fiction, Tudor Y Writer's Group by Royal Squire

Letter and Holiday Gifts for Sir Thomas Morey
by Thomas Cromwelly on Thursday, December 1, 2011 at 10:01pm


Dear Thomas,

I neglected to extend my best wishes on your retirement from your
position of Lord Chancellor when my men hastily moved your belongings
out of my office. Please accept my humble apologies.

I know that you are an eminent legal and religious scholar and thus
read extensively. My souces tell me that you spend much time in pius
reflection and flagellation, and read avidly. Given this, I decided to
send you along an early Christmas gift so that you can continue your
religious studies and be aided with your ailments.

Enclosed in the package is the following:

Lectures on Deuteronomy, by Martin Luthery
Selected Works of Martin Luthery
The Obedience of the Christian Man by William Tyndaley
The Practices of the Prelates by William Tyndaley
The New Testament translated from Greek to English by William Tyndaley

You will note that the books are all aututographed with personalized
notes to you by the authors. Please don’t be offended by the notes.
They know you not like I.

Also enclosed you will find a pagan elixir prepared by one of His
Majesty’s closest friends, Lady Nicoleen Sedena. His Majesty reports
that this elixir works miracles in pain relief, which I am sure you
will appreciate after wearing your hair shirt or after flagellation
sessions.

Happy Christmas!

Thomas Cromwelly,
Chief Minister and Secretary to the Realm of England and Wales

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Anne Boleyny and 2 others like this.

Thomas Morey I read the letter and before opening the package get a
pair of gloves, so my hands do not directly touch the reading
materials and elixir. I then open the package, and book by book, throw
the items into the fire. I then take the elixir, and…See More
December 3, 2011 at 12:55am · Like

11/27/11 Letter To Henry Tudory Re: Monasteries in Dover

January 16, 2011 in News by Royal Squire

Letter To His Majesty Henry Tudory
by Thomas Cromwelly on Sunday, November 27, 2011 at 5:21pm
~~~ To His Benevolent Majesty Henry Tudory ~~~

As commanded, I have toured several monasteris, abbies, and nunneries
in and around Dorset. I arrived at each location dressed in common
gentry attire, and I do not believe anyone was the wiser who I was or
the intent of my visits. I am pained to report that I witnessed many
irregularities during my travels. For example, at Forde Abbey
parishers are charged moneys to pray to “saintly relics”, told if they
do, they will be purchasing tickets to heaven. I gave a parish priest
10 crowns, and he said if I increased my payment to 50 crowns, not
only would I guarantee my place in heaven no matter what sins I
commit, but also to all my children and children’s children for all
generations hence. At Sherborne Abbey I witnessed three nuns heavy
with child, and false idols used to trick parishoners to give money in
exchange for a variety of miracles, such as plentiful crops and
healings of a variety of ailments and such like.
Your Majesty, these abbeys and monasteris, they are filled with
riches. The building are ornate, gilded with gold and stained glass.
Idols are decorated with the finest of jewels, and are a plenty. The
lands are vast, and rich of soil. If one were to extrapolate the value
of the few properties i have seen to date, and then mutilply them
across the entire realm, we are not estimating thousands of crowns, or
even hundreds of thousands of crowns, but instead — don’t think me
mad, pray tell — millions of crowns. Your Majesty, these treasures
and funds generated from the sales of land and building is rightfully
YOURS, not the See of Rome, not the Bishop of Rome, not the Holy Roman
Emporer, and not the Roman Catholic Church. I dare say, you shall be
the richest man in Christendom. And, not only that, should you sell
these proporties at below value prices, you shall gain the undying
loyalty to all for whom you sale these places.

I admit freely, when I worked for the Cardinal Wolesy, may he rest in
eternal peace, I closed and consolidated some small monasteries on his
behalf. These minor properies funded Colleges at Oxford and Ipswich.
If such be so, just imagine the possibilities here. Not only do we
route out the sins a plenty going on in these places, but your
treasuries will be over-flowing, to be used at your pleasure on behalf
of this realm, which for now be a pigmy, but through your leadership
shall become an empire even greater than Spain.

Respectfully,
Thomas Cromwelly

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