Behind Boleyn

XII - Indulgences! Indulgences for Sale!

Whisperings of high tithes and fees for prayers reverberated through the poorer crowd as Millie entered the church. These mutterings were music to Millie's ears. They weren't complaints so much as moans of despair.

Frequent trips to town, and specifically to local churches kept Millie in touch with the people who would, perhaps, matter the most in her plotting. Those in power, of course, were important. However, having the will of the masses could play a vital role in things to come. She listened closely to the conversations between parishioners and priests.

"But Father, my husband was a devout Catholic man. We were here in church every Sunday. He made regular confessions. How can he be in purgatory?" This from a woman dressed in little more than rags.

"A week had passed since his last confession, Gertrude. I'm sorry to say that his soul is stuck indeed."

"I have little left, Father, and young children to account for."

"Alas, I cannot give indulgences for nothing," the priest whispered with a sympathetic expression.

Millie barely stifled a snort. What utter nonsense, she thought with disdain. But, I suppose fear of eternal burning is a powerful motivator. She wondered what it was like to live with such a terrifying belief about one's after-life every second of every day. Look what could happen if you died at the wrong moment. She watched on as the woman slumped, handing the priest her precious coins. They jingled as they exchanged hands. Like stealing from a wee lamb.

"Will this be enough?" the woman swallowed a sob as she asked, desperation in her eyes.

"I will see what I can do," the priest said as he put the coins in the folds of his cassock.

Sure, until next week, thought Millie, when the poor soul has a penny more.

This was not the only such conversation happening within the community chapel. There were a few priests about the space talking with grieving families. It was despicable. Millie spat on the church stairs as she left the building and headed to the market place.

Up ahead, Millie noticed a crowd and wandered over to it. A man was standing in the middle handing out pamphlets. She took one as it was handed to her and tucked it into her skirts. To be seen accepting one of these papers would not do. Indeed, she was certain it was an article of heresy. She would dispose of it as soon as her eyes took in the information upon it.

With hot hands, she unfolded the paper once she reached a secluded part of the town and it took a moment for her mind to understand what her eyes read. A certain Martin Luther was preaching against the very thing she had just witnessed. And more besides. Here was a priest who wanted more power for the people when it came to their god. Well, it's a start, I suppose, Millie thought with a shrug.

Letting the paper blow away in the wind, Millie carried on back towards the castle. She had heard enough misery out here with the commoners. It was some satisfaction that there was a growing unease that could be felt within the masses. Hopefully, it will grow in time, she thought with some resignation.

As she passed through the castle gates hurried whispers lead her to one of the many gardens within the palace walls. It was Wolsey, of all people, speaking with James Butler. They were focused on one another, sharing a rather heated exchange. With absolute discretion, she sat on a bench behind a shrub easily out of sight as she listened in on the conversation taking place.

"I cannot go through with it," James was saying.

"Do you know what I went through to make that arrangement happen?" the Cardinal demanded. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think of it as a good deed. Perhaps one Boleyn woman will be saved the disgrace of becoming an absolute whore of England."