But he came close to losing that calm when confronted with my refusal to leave England to learn the third and final part of the prophecy. “You come from an English family that was destroyed by the king, you served Katherine of Aragon, you prayed at the executions of the Lady Mary’s friends,” he said, incredulous. “This very night you were willing to die to protect the sanctity of England’s most beloved saint—and yet you will not take the next step in learning the prophecy that concerns you? The Holy Father has condemned Henry the Eighth. There can be no sin in any act you commit.” I shook my head. Chapuys rose to approach me, his sharp features quivering. “In a few weeks’ time, King Francis will reach Spain to renew his peace treaty with the Emperor. I have information, good information, that the pope will implore the Catholic kings of France and Spain to form a holy pact to declare war on the heretical king of England. Every year Henry grows more inhumane and cruel. He must be deposed.”
