The Cardinal's Angels Read Online Free

servant, the King of England and his valued loving friend, Cardinal Wolsey. Clement had pleaded that without it, the papal armies would wither away before the Imperials. That was not a happy recollection. The subsidy had come close to ruining him. The Commons in Parliament had almost revolted over openly shipping that much gold out the Kingdom. And of course later Clement had ‘forgotten’ his English friends—typical!
    Then the deceitful Italian had pulled his culminating cony catcher’s trick. While Clement knew full well the Annulment Commission was in session, His Holiness sent several letters via Imperial messengers, withdrawing its validity and recalling the case back to Rome! Wolsey wasn’t a fool. He’d tried to misdirect the missives and his agents had stalked every route in Europe to forestall their posting. God’s blood, all to no avail! Why was it that his dealings with this Pope were so cursed by an ill star?
    That thought didn’t solve his problems and concentrating on it only brought on a pounding headache. If only His Holiness had succumbed to that illness earlier this year. That would have left his apostolic legate free to declare judgement on the whole case sede vacante before they’d elected a new pope. As he’d found before, the vacant period between pontiffs always brought up a host of possibilities and removed a legion of obstacles. If only Clement had died! Wolsey instinctively crossed himself at that remembered wish.
    In normal circumstances such an evil thought would be roundly banished to the nether most parts of the soul, chastised and discarded. Suddenly an edge of frantic desperation gripped him and held the thought up to the light of speculation. Perhaps?
    Hmmm Perhaps?
    Perhaps, it wasn’t so…evil?
    Wolsey’s eyes narrowed and his fingers rubbed at the seal ring on his right hand. Was it a temptation from the arch fiend? Or an angelically inspired revelation?
    In the past, priests who had brought the throne of St Peter into disrespect had been opportunely removed by the provident hand of God. So, what if the Almighty chose to work through the agency of rebellious lords, conniving cardinals or convenient illnesses?
    Sin or saviour? As of this instant, it was well lodged in his thoughts. Not even a barrel of Gonne powder could dislodge it, as its suppleness, justice and symmetry beguiled him. He mused on the interminable failings of Pope Clement. It was a very long list that started with the Sack of Rome and Babylonian captivity of the Pontiff by the Imperial army, then descended through the pervasive spiritual spinelessness and calumny of political debacles. While no man could be perfect, that status belonging only to the Son of God, this Pope had taken the Patrimony of St Peter to a state lower in esteem than a harlot’s chastity. Clement had failed in his duty! He’d done little to reassure a distraught and desperate flock, made vulnerable and confused by the religious conflict between that heretic Luther and the Church. More importantly, he had shown niggardly regard for the true friends of the Holy See. Wolsey tapped his fingers on the heavy beam of the over mantle, almost a Te Duem in rhythm. It was a grievous sin to encompass the death of another. Dare he act on the impulse?
    He had done so before in the case of the Duke of Buckingham, playing upon the King’s fears of a rival to the throne, and the suspicious links to Richard de la Pole’s Yorkist plots. It had taken little effort to tease and distort letters, confessions and coincidence until Buckingham fell to an executioner’s axe. But, temptation twitched another smouldering thought his way. A new Pope would solve an accumulation of problems, both here and for his potential backers. Francis of France would not be too distressed and the debts of several French prelates beholden to him now pushed the consideration onto firmer ground.
    Of course in the current balance of power Charles V had to be considered. Wolsey had