Wolf Hall Recap: Crows

Much has happened in the first four episodes of Wolf Hall. It’s okay to be a little tired. Henry sure is.
After Cromwell sneakily arranged a visit to Jane Seymour’s familial home, Henry makes a rousing impression by falling asleep at dinner. An intense game of Not It commences as to whose duty it is to wake the sleeping king. Into this power vacuum steps Jane. It seems The One Who Cries is bolder than previously thought. Without fuss, she taps the king’s hand, and he pulls the old “I was just resting my eyes” argument.
It may seem an inauspicious start to a romance, but stranger things have happened, and Cromwell spies a little rendezvous between the pair later—and is that a look of regret in his eyes? Could he actually have been interested in Jane for himself? The world may never know.
Nevertheless, a Preserving Jane’s Chastity small council is convened once Henry starts making overtures. If Henry tries to get handsy, Cromwell tells Jane not to scream, but to pray. Piety appeals to Henry, or at least one part of him. Regardless, it’s an exotic trait, given Anne’s temperament.
Which brings us to an interesting point. It’s easy to think of Henry’s buffet of marriages in linear form, probably because women tend to leave his company only by death. But at this early stage in his bevy of wives, we get a glimpse of his past, present, and future all in one episode.
At the moment, even as he woos Jane, Anne is still in Henry’s favor, mostly. In fact, she’s pregnant once more. And this time, no doubt, she’ll give birth to a healthy boy, right? Probably not with all the fretting she’s doing, still worried about Mary’s (imaginary) machinations and now concerned about Henry’s not-so-subtle interest in Jane. That’s a lot on one person’s plate.
“Drop your plans and schemes,” Cromwell tells Anne, saying Jane is just a distraction. “Put down the burden of them.”
“He’ll never abandon me,” Anne says, probably only half-believing this herself.
Cromwell’s defiance of Anne’s wishes to turn the world upside down for her marks a turning point. Where first he served both Henry and the Boleyns, his bets now ride solely on Henry’s good will.
For the moment, it seems that’s a good bet, because tragedy keeps befalling Anne. Her beloved dog is found dead, having fallen (or been thrown) out of her window. Additionally, somehow her bed curtains catch fire. Either we’ve got a sneaky papal arsonist or a candle went unattended during one of the queen’s late-night visits…
You’d think, given Henry’s issues with jealousy, anger, and complete power, that Anne would be wise enough to forego trysts, but that’s not what her ladies in waiting hint at.
There is also, of course, unfinished business. Catherine didn’t just blast off to another universe when Henry cast her off. She’s still holed up in Kimbolton Castle, where Henry exiled her, though maybe not for much longer. She’s been barred from seeing Mary, and when her doctors give her just days to live, Henry’s not about to allow Eustache Chapuys, the ambassador from her nephew, the Holy Roman Emperor, to see her either.
I am stunned that the charisma of Chapuys’s bejeweled hat did not sway Henry. The man’s fashion is nonpareil, especially compared to Johnny Cash Cromwell. Alas, flamboyance is not enough to carry the day. Catherine breathes her last without much fanfare.
Well, without much fanfare at her bedside. Back at court, it’s a full-on fiesta, and Henry has donned his finest bumblebee doublet for the occasion. One cumbersome ex is now out of the picture, his current wife has a bun in the oven, and his mistress-to-be has the “tiniest hands,” which is apparently a fine quality. Things are finally looking up for Henry.
What better way to celebrate all this good fortune than a good old-fashioned joust. Before the tourney, Cromwell ever-so-delicately asks that should the king meet his son, Gregory, in the joust that he kindly not beat him to a pulp. But as it turns out, Cromwell was worried about the wrong horseman.
News comes to Cromwell—as he and Rafe work on their side project of cleaning up and cleaning out England’s corrupt monasteries and abbeys—that Henry has been killed in the tournament. What follows is the most perfectly understated Cromwell line of them all: “Ah.”
Cromwell has the good sense to check that Henry is indeed not breathing, while everyone else is in the throes of chaos. When he detects the smallest sign of life, he does some ferocious CPR. For the second time this episode, Henry is awakened and discombobulated. The incident has left Cromwell shaken, too. After all, he has put down his bets on Henry. Without the king, Cromwell’s fortunes are lost, as will be his head if the Boleyns or the papists—or basically anybody else—come to power. “How many men can say, ‘My only friend is the king of England’?” he muses.
Cromwell may regret having saved Henry, however. The king’s in a right sour mood, especially when Anne once again miscarries. (Though the stress of your husband almost dying probably doesn’t make for an easy pregnancy.) And when Chapuys begs favor of Henry for Princess Mary? Not only does he get a tongue-lashing, but Cromwell gets torn a new one for consorting and scheming and acting above his station—even though Henry placed him above his station.
How tenuous your hold on life is when it relies on the benevolence of a temperamental monarch. Despite a pseudo-apology from Henry later (he’s a man who can’t ever say “sorry”), Cromwell still feels the need to assuage his keeper. And the path to that good favor seems to be an old refrain: get Henry out of his marriage and into a new one.
Yes, her failure to produce a male heir has caught up with Anne, just as it did her predecessor. Now Henry is making excuses once again: “I was probably bewitched by her, and even if not, she probably did marry that Harry Percy fellow after all. PLUS, I had a fling with her sister. Sooo…Cromwell, this is pretty well done.” Whatever the reasoning, Henry’s affections for Anne are over, and it is now Cromwell’s job to unburden him.
The plot thickens, next time on Wolf Hall.