Three days after he had a long interview with Henry. His commission, he said, was to smooth all differences between the King and his master. The King responded with equal graciousness, but turned the conversation upon those differences themselves. The Emperor, he said, had not used him well. The advocation to Rome was absurd. He had written himself to the Pope with his own hand, telling him it was not only expedient but absolutely necessary that the cause should be tried in England. The Roman territories were still in the occupation of the Imperial troops. The Pope had committed it to two of his Cardinals, had solemnly promised that it should not be revoked, and that he would confirm any sentence which the Legates should pronounce. These engagements the Emperor had obliged the Pope to break. He himself had not proceeded upon light grounds. He was a conscientious prince, he said, who preferred his own salvation to all worldly advantages, as appeared sufficiently from his conduct in the affair. Had he been differently situated and not attentive to his conscience, he might have adopted other measures, which he had not taken and never would take.[1] Chapuys attempted to defend Clement. "Enough of that pope," Henry sharply interrupted. "This is not the first time that he has changed his mind. I have long known his versatile and fickle nature."[2] The Pope, he went on, "would never dare pronounce sentence, unless it favoured the Emperor."
Catherine was eagerly communicative. Chapuys learned from her that the King had offered that the case should be heard at Cambray—which she had, of
