A Man for All Seasons Page #11

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NORFOLK:

Did Sir Thomas accept this cup?

WOMAN He did sir.

CROMWELL:

He did, we can corroborate that. You can go.

She wants to linger and explain her case.

Go!

RICH takes her to the door and retirns, while NORFOLK, scornfully: NORFOLK Is that your witness?

CROMWELL:

No; by an odd coincidence this cup later came into the hands of Master Rich here. NORFOLK How?

RICH:

He gave it to me, Your Grace.

NORFOLK:
Gave it to you? Why?

RICH looks fleetingly awkward; then, an off-hand shrug.

RICH A gift.

NORFOLK:

Oh ... Oh yes ... Yes, you were a “friend” weren’t you?

Looks RICH up and down as though he were a faulty animal. RICH looks down. When did Thomas give you this thing?

RICH:

I don’t exactly remember, Your Grace.

NORFOLK:
begins to be suspicious.

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NORFOLK:

D’you “remember” what you did with it?

RICH I sold it.

NORFOLK:
Where?

RICH A shop.

NORFOLK:
Has the shop still got it?

RICH:

No. They’ve lost track of it.

NORFOLK:
How convenient.

CROMWELL has watched RICH’s discomfiture, NORFOLK’s bullying with some enjoyment. CROMWELL

You doubt Master Rich’s word, Your Grace?

NORFOLK:
It had occurred to me.

CROMWELL This is the Bill of Sale.

NORFOLK:
Oh.

CROMWELL, satisfied, lays down the paper. With extraordinary agility for so hefty a man, NORFOLK grabs it. Then, frowning, he labours over reading it, breathing hard; we realize that he is barely literate. Then: NORFOLK

That cow put her case into court in April 26, you said. That is dated May. He replaces the bill on the table.

In other words, the moment Thomas knew this cup was a bribe, he dropped it into the nearest 74

He looks at RICH.

NORFOLK:
(Cont) ... gutter.

RICH looks venomous, CROMWELL laughs.

CROMWELL:

The facts will bear that interpretation, I suppose.

NORFOLK:
guffaws, expands, gets up, triumphant.

NORFOLK:

Oh this is a horse that won’t run, Master Secretary.

CROMWELL:

Just a trial gallop Your Grace: we’ll find something better. He stands, too. NORFOLK’s grin fades. He looks unhappy and grunts again. NORFOLK Well—I want no part of it.

CROMWELL You have no choice.

NORFOLK:
(incredulous)

What’s that you say?

CROMWELL The King—

NORFOLK:
’s aggressive fury freezes on his face.

The King particularly wishes you to be active in this matter of Sir Thomas. NORFOLK He has not told me that.

CROMWELL Indeed? He told me.

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NORFOLK:

(appealing)

Look here, Cromwell, what’s the purpose of all this?

CROMWELL:

(pleasantly)

Now there you have me. It’s a “matter of conscience” I think. The Kings wants Sir Thomas to bless his marriage. If Sir Thomas attended the wedding now it might save us all a lot of trouble. He is escorting NORFOLK out. NORFOLK shakes his head, gloomy. NORFOLK He won’t.

CROMWELL:

If I were you I should try to persuade him.

NORFOLK:
blinks, can hardly believe his ears which have registered menace from this upstart. CROMWELL I really would try, if I were you.

NORFOLK:
Cromwell, are you threatening me?

CROMWELL My dear Norfolk, this isn’t Spain—

He spreads his hands, jocose:

This is England:

CUT 77 EXT. BELL-TOWER

ANGLING UPWARDS. BELL-ROPES, garlanded with green and white, leap up and down like dancers. ON SOUND the bells crash out. ANGLING DOWNWARDS. THE BELL-RINGERS pull frenziedly; barrels of beer and tankards about them, a fresh relay of ringers ready. Everyone wearing green and white favours. CUT

76

78 INT. BOLLEYN’S MANOR HOUSE HALL

CHURCH BELLS continuous but now more distant, and overlain by cheering. HENRY, dressed in green and ANNE dressed in white, backs to CAMERA at an open window, HENRY raising a golden tankard to the unseen crowd outside. He turns to us, leading ANNE to a seat at a table, festooned in green and white. SERVANTS wearing green and white favours shut the window, so that bells and cheering are overlain by music; applause. HENRY raises tankard to guests. MEDIUM SHOT A representative sample of GUESTS, looking up at him, clapping, all wearing green and white favours. HENRY, smiling. Suddenly sees something over their heads. Looks eager. MEDIUM LONG SHOT what he has seen: A group of OFFICIALS, along them, back towards us, MORE. HENRY descends from dais. TRACKING shot, with mounting interest he advances swiftly, not heeding the bowing and curtseying GUESTS. HIS POV The group of OFFICIALS. They become aware of his approach; MORE, the last. His attention is drawn by one of the others, he is turning. The KING, delighted, only about fifteen feet away now.

KING Thomas—

MORE turns. It is not MORE at all but some quite different man of similar physique. The KING checks, looks deeply chagrined.

The OFFICIALS, puzzled, bow.

The KING returns the bow mechanically, turns on his heel.

ANNE is watching, nervously. He joins her. Sits in his chair looking gloomy and dangerous. She doesn’t know what to do. The bells peel out ON SOUND. DISSOLVE

01.

77

79 EXT. RIVERSIDE NEAR MORE’S HOUSE WITH REEDS

The screen is full of windblown Autumn reeds, scarlet, gold and brown. ON SOUND, Autumnal wind, and heavy breathing, with splashing feet, the swish and crunch of sickles. MARGARET and ROPER, intent, bent low, work onto frame MARGARET slightly ahead; it is a race. MARGARET more absorbed than ROPER. Both reach simultaneously for a bunch of reeds with their left hands, sickles poised in right. CLOSE SHOT, their flushed faces, ROPER amused, but MARGARET: MARGARET Mine.

ROPER straightens, looks down fondly as she vigorously sickles it and straightens. They retrace their steps through the shallows to the bank, add each his own harvest to two separate piles. MARGARET’s twice the size of ROP ER’s. Now she smiles: MARGARET Well?

ROPER Monstrous, I married a woodcutter.

He throws his heap onto hers and slips a rope round. Straightens. She looks at him. ROPER

Oh winner take all. And carry it.

She accepts the challenge, stoops and struggles. Instantly: ROPER No:

He lifts the bundle with one arm. She looks at him pleased. Pleased in turn he lifts her with the other arm, her face now level with his CLOSE SHOT, the young married pair, flushed and healthy, face to face. MARGARET

Strong Will ... Good Will ... Good, good Will .

And gently takes his face in her hands and kisses him. He puts her 78

down, and in the instant both become aware of something, off, their faces alert. On sound, hoofbeats. Their POV, a horseman, not galloping madly but at the canter, speeds past them at a distance, the river flashing behind him. They look at one another, not quite alarmed, yet alert, ROPER drops the reeds; they run, barefoot. 80 INT. MORE’S HOUSE GREAT HALL

MESSENGER enters hesitantly, holding letter. With him we mark the signs of downfall, the very small fire in the baronial fireplace, the table stripped of silver its bare oak clean, the carpets gone, the tapestries gone, all quiet, stripped, empty. His footsteps echo as he traverses the house, meeting at the rear: MARGARET and ROPER, breathless from running. They don’t look like the scions of a distinguished house. MESSENGER uncertain. MESSENGER Lady Margaret?

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