Meme - Answer: Cromwell (with a healthy dossage of Cranmer)
Here is one answer to the lovely '10 things about a character' thing. It's just ten different scenarios with Tom Cromwell. Bits of Cranmer, Brandon, Henry, and Chapuys (another guy who is always where he shouldn't be).
i.
Master secretary once asked Cranmer to give a Queen comfort. The archbishop had looked confused, had looked sad, had looked haunted.
'Comfort, Thomas? But I have none to give.'
'You once did.'
There are silent, unspoken words. Just like the silent, unspoken nights. The silent, unspoken fears, wishes, dreams.
'Anne was different. Jane was different.' Cranmer stops. Tired. 'She is the fourth. We will have a fifth. What comfort can I give?'
ii.
'What is your greatest fear?' Brandon asks it. There are four of them sitting around with pints of ale, glasses of wine. Unfinished plates of food. Cromwell watches their faces, Brandon's open and unassuming, the Archbishop closed and careful, Chapuys softly amused.
'Open water,' the ambassador says after the silence threatened to grow too long. 'Long boat rides when all you can see is dark, open water. The ocean is not kind.'
'Death of my son,' Brandon offers next. 'I've only one. And even if I had two, death of my son.'
'Fear itself,' Cromwell says after a moment. 'There are things I fear, yes, but they stem from that one emotion.'
Brandon laughs, slaps the table. Trust a lawyer to answer like that. Fear itself - everyone has something else. They are about to argue when Chapuys holds up his hand, silences them like children. Smiling, he asks cooly, Archbishop you have not answered the question?
Three sets of eyes watch him. Cranmer shifts, plays with his glass.
'Burning,' he finally says. Chapuys looks vindicated and the rest are understanding.
iii.
Cromwell has dreams of Italy but will not admit it. He has dreams that he's on the field. A battle. Any battle. They all run together in a nameless blur. Around him are men dead and dying, horses dead and dying, there are snakes eating their tales, the sign of the True Cross hangs in the air and suddenly he's in Granada and there are infidel surrounding him but he's one of them. He can see Ferdinand of Aragon tall and proud on his horse. Speaking lies through a glittering smile. His warrior wife, mother of the queen, sits beside him. Her eyes are cold. They are keen. They have seen death. Caused slaughters and felt righteousness. This is the creature that bore the Queen.
Henry asks his advise one day. 'My wife, Katherine, what should I do with her?'
'Handle her with care, sire. She is made of the stuff of devils.'
Henry laughs at the comparison but Cromwell knows the truth behind it just as he knows the fear behind his king's laugh.
iv.
There was a small girl at court named Jane. Plain Jane. He saw her trailing after the queen, skittering about, a frightened bird. He had felt sorry for her, for a moment. Before Norfolk slapped him heartily on the back and reminded him that he was Master Secretary and Master Secretary cannot care for anyone but his own.
v.
The archbishop is a quiet man. Thomas has noted this in the back of his mind. In the cabinet in his memory titled 'Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury'. Underneath the official name, the official title are words scratched out. If Thomas tries hard enough he can remember what they once read. The words 'totus mei amor' in black ink. But they meant nothing, could never mean anything. This is the archbishop after all, hardly a man.
vi.
He once told Brandon that he feared only fear itself. He had lied.
vii.
How do you tell someone you love them? How the fuck do you tell someone you love them?
viii.
When he sits alone at night. In his study surrounded by books and names of men long dead he imagines he can see Caesar on horseback. Sword arm raised urging him men on, crossing the Rubicon. He imagines Mehmet standing at the gates of Constantinople. The glorious city, gem of the east, fallen at his feet. He dreams of Soderini watching with horror as the Spanish troops march on his beloved Florence. Watching with horror as the Medici drop his beloved Niccolo from church steeples, rope tied to hands, breaking shoulder blades - tell us of the Republican plot, the anti-Medici plot, do you remember the Pazzi? Tell us, tell us. Old words echo in his mind - But I have nothing to tell. Nothing to give.
When he sits alone at night he dreams and imagines things that are long past, that never were, mysteries, old stories, legends, and fables. Dreams the impossible so he does not have to bear the weight of the ghostly fingers of his wife, his daughters, his Queens, his dead.
ix.
He had once told Brandon that he feared only fear itself.
He had lied.
He had lied.
Just as he lies when Cranmer takes his hand, they're alone in the tower (except for the walls [and we all know they have ears]).
Cranmer says - you once told me to give comfort to a forsaken queen. I couldn't. I'm here to try and give you comfort. But I can't.
'You already have.'
He can see the ax as he says it. He is not a Boleyn so he does not have their cursed luck. It will be an ax. And it will be a botched job. He tells Cranmer he has comforted him.
He lied.
x.
He works for a king named Henry. A boy named Harry. A man named Your Majesty. A human named Tudor. A creature named I Am The Supreme Head Of The Church. A simpleton named Love. A curse named Lust. A religion named England.
i.
Master secretary once asked Cranmer to give a Queen comfort. The archbishop had looked confused, had looked sad, had looked haunted.
'Comfort, Thomas? But I have none to give.'
'You once did.'
There are silent, unspoken words. Just like the silent, unspoken nights. The silent, unspoken fears, wishes, dreams.
'Anne was different. Jane was different.' Cranmer stops. Tired. 'She is the fourth. We will have a fifth. What comfort can I give?'
ii.
'What is your greatest fear?' Brandon asks it. There are four of them sitting around with pints of ale, glasses of wine. Unfinished plates of food. Cromwell watches their faces, Brandon's open and unassuming, the Archbishop closed and careful, Chapuys softly amused.
'Open water,' the ambassador says after the silence threatened to grow too long. 'Long boat rides when all you can see is dark, open water. The ocean is not kind.'
'Death of my son,' Brandon offers next. 'I've only one. And even if I had two, death of my son.'
'Fear itself,' Cromwell says after a moment. 'There are things I fear, yes, but they stem from that one emotion.'
Brandon laughs, slaps the table. Trust a lawyer to answer like that. Fear itself - everyone has something else. They are about to argue when Chapuys holds up his hand, silences them like children. Smiling, he asks cooly, Archbishop you have not answered the question?
Three sets of eyes watch him. Cranmer shifts, plays with his glass.
'Burning,' he finally says. Chapuys looks vindicated and the rest are understanding.
iii.
Cromwell has dreams of Italy but will not admit it. He has dreams that he's on the field. A battle. Any battle. They all run together in a nameless blur. Around him are men dead and dying, horses dead and dying, there are snakes eating their tales, the sign of the True Cross hangs in the air and suddenly he's in Granada and there are infidel surrounding him but he's one of them. He can see Ferdinand of Aragon tall and proud on his horse. Speaking lies through a glittering smile. His warrior wife, mother of the queen, sits beside him. Her eyes are cold. They are keen. They have seen death. Caused slaughters and felt righteousness. This is the creature that bore the Queen.
Henry asks his advise one day. 'My wife, Katherine, what should I do with her?'
'Handle her with care, sire. She is made of the stuff of devils.'
Henry laughs at the comparison but Cromwell knows the truth behind it just as he knows the fear behind his king's laugh.
iv.
There was a small girl at court named Jane. Plain Jane. He saw her trailing after the queen, skittering about, a frightened bird. He had felt sorry for her, for a moment. Before Norfolk slapped him heartily on the back and reminded him that he was Master Secretary and Master Secretary cannot care for anyone but his own.
v.
The archbishop is a quiet man. Thomas has noted this in the back of his mind. In the cabinet in his memory titled 'Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury'. Underneath the official name, the official title are words scratched out. If Thomas tries hard enough he can remember what they once read. The words 'totus mei amor' in black ink. But they meant nothing, could never mean anything. This is the archbishop after all, hardly a man.
vi.
He once told Brandon that he feared only fear itself. He had lied.
vii.
How do you tell someone you love them? How the fuck do you tell someone you love them?
viii.
When he sits alone at night. In his study surrounded by books and names of men long dead he imagines he can see Caesar on horseback. Sword arm raised urging him men on, crossing the Rubicon. He imagines Mehmet standing at the gates of Constantinople. The glorious city, gem of the east, fallen at his feet. He dreams of Soderini watching with horror as the Spanish troops march on his beloved Florence. Watching with horror as the Medici drop his beloved Niccolo from church steeples, rope tied to hands, breaking shoulder blades - tell us of the Republican plot, the anti-Medici plot, do you remember the Pazzi? Tell us, tell us. Old words echo in his mind - But I have nothing to tell. Nothing to give.
When he sits alone at night he dreams and imagines things that are long past, that never were, mysteries, old stories, legends, and fables. Dreams the impossible so he does not have to bear the weight of the ghostly fingers of his wife, his daughters, his Queens, his dead.
ix.
He had once told Brandon that he feared only fear itself.
He had lied.
He had lied.
Just as he lies when Cranmer takes his hand, they're alone in the tower (except for the walls [and we all know they have ears]).
Cranmer says - you once told me to give comfort to a forsaken queen. I couldn't. I'm here to try and give you comfort. But I can't.
'You already have.'
He can see the ax as he says it. He is not a Boleyn so he does not have their cursed luck. It will be an ax. And it will be a botched job. He tells Cranmer he has comforted him.
He lied.
x.
He works for a king named Henry. A boy named Harry. A man named Your Majesty. A human named Tudor. A creature named I Am The Supreme Head Of The Church. A simpleton named Love. A curse named Lust. A religion named England.