And we’re back with season 3 of The Tudors. As you’ll no doubt recall, season 2 ended with Anne Boleyn and most of her family and friends either beheaded or banished. Also gone from the show is the original Jane—for some reason, Anita Briem was replaced by Annabelle Wallis for this season. I hope you weren’t too attached to her. Since they’re both sort of blandly pretty blondes, I didn’t really notice the difference, to be honest. Briem must have been pissed to be let go right before the season that features her character so prominently, though.

Not much change to the credits, other than the banishment of all characters Boleyn (except for one quick glance of Anne at the very end). There are a few shots of body-strewn battlefields, so it looks like we’ll be seeing the Pilgrimage of Grace. Goody!

Things start off at the Chapel Royal at Whitehall. Henry arrives, trailed by about half a dozen bishops, and joins a veiled and white-garbed Jane Seymour at the altar. It’s their wedding day, and oddly, Cranmer’s not presiding. I guess he’s gone too, even though in reality he stuck around until the end of Henry’s reign and beyond.

As the officiant starts the vows, we see Brandon and Duchess Kate in the audience, smiling and giggly and generally being cute, so I guess she got over him cheating on her with that French chick. Also in attendance (and the camera shoots over to him as the priest gets to the “if anyone knows of any lawful impediments” to the marriage part, so make of that what you will) is Cromwell, looking glum. Behind his left shoulder is a guy with an eyepatch who popped up in the credits, so he’ll be important at some point. As the priest finishes with “speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Henry glances over at Cromwell, then turns back to the priest and smirks. Dick.

Wedding party! And at only 2 and a half minutes on the Start-to-Party Meter, well done, show! Jane and Henry are sitting on thrones on a dais that’s covered in a canopy while the other courtiers dance around them. Jane thanks Henry for the giant necklace he gave her, and he says he hopes to thank her for his gift soon—a son. As if she could forget that that’s her one function here. Because she’s Jane, she has no problem with just being a walking womb. She smiles, and Henry asks her to dance. They take the floor and start dancing. Cromwell watches, actually smiling now. Brandon and Duchess Kate are in the dance as well, and he tells her he feels guilty for forgetting to tell her how beautiful she is. Aww, I like these two together. They’re actually quite cute. Duchess Kate says she thinks Jane will make Henry happy, and Brandon adds that if this works out, they’ll all be happy.

As the dance continues, a woman wearing a mustard-yellow dress comes swanning in and watches the show, hand on her hip, so you know she’s the sassy type. Or the bitchy type. Time will tell. Eyepatch catches sight of her and comes right over. He observes that she’s new at court, and she admits to it, explaining, with quite a bit of unnecessary attitude, that she’s to be a maid-of-honor to Jane. I get the feeling we’re using the term “maid” pretty loosely here. Eyepatch asks her what her name is, and she introduces herself as Lady Ursula Missledon. She knows who he is: Sir Francis Bryan, so at last we get a name for this guy. I’m still going to call him Eyepatch until it becomes more expedient to call him Bryan. She also knows his reputation. As she says, he “likes to board other men’s boats.” And with that, she sweeps off.

Ok, this is a curious choice for the writers of this show, waiting until now to introduce Bryan, because he was actually a major mover and shaker at the court long before this point. He was related to Anne Boleyn, and brought back to court by her after being banished somehow by Wolsey. After that, he became pretty close buddies with Henry and was even sent to Rome in 1528 to obtain the papal sanction for Henry’s divorce from Katherine of Aragon. After that, for some reason I don’t know about, he joined forces with Cromwell to bring down Anne Boleyn, and even conveyed the news of her condemnation to Jane Seymour. I really would have liked to see that—why did he get sent away by Wolsey? And why did he turn against Anne and join with Cromwell? He sounds interesting, but sadly, we got none of that, he’s just been thrown into season 3 out of nowhere, with no real explanation of who he is, what he’s doing there, or where he’s been all this time. Oh well.

Back at the party, Cromwell pulls Rich, the solicitor general, aside and expresses some doubts about the new queen’s commitment to Protestantism. They both agree that they must press forward with the Reformation as quickly as possible, before she pops out an heir and can command more of Henry’s attention.

Ahh, the wedding night. Jane kneels before a priest, who’s praying with her, while another priest blesses the bed. Jane finishes her prayers, crosses herself, and stands. The priest who was praying with her takes the opportunity to present her with a wedding gift: a rosary that once belonged to Queen Katherine (in whose household the real Jane served, and to whom Jane was very devoted). Jane thanks him and stashes the rosary in her cleavage, which suggests she either knows nothing about what to expect that night, or Henry is a terrible lover with no concept of foreplay. Could be either one, really. Henry himself arrives, greets her as “wife”, and sends away the priests and attendants. Once alone with Jane, he kisses both her hands, then leans in and kisses her for real, and ok, it’s actually rather sweet and even a little hot, with the only lighting being the flickering firelight.

Meanwhile, up in Yorkshire, a young shepherd with a serious port wine stain birthmark on his cheek and neck watches from a hillside as two men gallop up to Sawley Abbey, a large grey-stone complex in the valley below. The two men, the king’s commissioners, are there to oversee the sacking of the monastery, essentially. Their minions are throwing things around, breaking them, and stripping the place of anything valuable as the terrified monks scurry away. The guy in charge is one Dr. Frankish. He admires one fallen statue of the Madonna, draped in a silk cape decorated with jewels. One of the minions takes a chisel and chips off the statue’s nose. Well, that’ll sure render her useless!

Presumably some time later, the Abbey is in flames, and the rising smoke is now observed by a white-haired, distinguished looking gentleman from the nearby hills. A slightly scruffier man approaches him and addresses him as “Mr. Aske” and I get unreasonably excited, because that means this is Robert Aske, one of my ancestors on my dad’s side. Yay!

Aske and Scruffy (whose name is John) watch the flames and talk about how Cromwell’s to blame. John’s getting himself worked up over it and starts to talk rebellion, essentially, saying that the people won’t stand by and watch their faith just get stripped away. Yeah, I guess it really was only a matter of time before this pillage got people really, really pissed off. Even in the worst times, church land was typically sacred, and therefore a place of safety, so to see the representatives of the king come in and just start helping themselves to whatever they didn’t vandalize must have just been shattering to the ordinary people, who seriously couldn’t care less who the king was married to.

Aske doesn’t seem all that comfortable with John’s firebrand talk and wonders what he should do about it. Really—the guy was a lawyer, not a soldier. John ignores this fact and says that the common people of Lincolnshire and Yorkshire are ready to fight. Oh really? Did you go door-to-door and ask them, John? Where are you getting your information? And what, exactly, do you think a bunch of farmers are going to do against a trained army? Neither John nor Aske consider all this. John says they’ll call a meeting and decide what to do.

In his office at Whitehall, Cromwell’s examining a relic from Sawley when Rich comes in. Cromwell explains that the relic is a scam the Abbey was using in a money-for-miracles scheme. Nice. Cromwell asks Rich how their reforms progress and gets an update: Parliament has voted to suppress all the small monastic houses and commissioners are all over the place, trashing the nunneries and monasteries. Surprisingly, there hasn’t been much opposition. Cromwell takes that as a sign that the people want the houses put out of business. Not that, oh, I don’t know, these people are afraid of being tortured and beheaded for their opposition. Man, these people thought narrowly.

Rich agrees, though, saying that the ordinary people fall on the trashed houses as soon as the king’s men depart, taking whatever’s left, including the books, which they use in their outhouses. I find that one hard to believe. Books were valuable, wouldn’t it make more sense to try and sell them? Rich adds that the king’s income has now doubled, and he’s in possession of priory lands now worth millions of pounds. Cromwell’s floored by the amount, as he should be, considering that one pound at the time was worth a small fortune.

Edward Seymour, Jane’s brother, is ushered into Henry’s throne room, where he’s informed by Cromwell he’s to be made a Viscount (meh, that’s a pretty low title, actually. I mean, Boleyn got an earldom. Hold out for more, Seymour). Oh, he’s also going to be chancellor of Jersey and governor of North Wales. Seymour says he’s deeply honored and thanks Henry grovelingly. Cromwell hands over Seymour’s Letters Patent and congratulates him personally. He leaves and Cromwell informs Henry that the Emperor’s sent a letter congratulating Henry on his new marriage. Now that Katherine’s dead, the Emperor’s gung-ho on being friends with Henry again.

There’s also a letter from Mary, which Henry isn’t so excited about, but he asks Cromwell what it says. She begs him to forgive her and take her back into his favor, appealing to his chivalry by reminding him she’s “a mere woman, and his child.” Chivalry be damned, though, because Henry meanly says he’ll never take her back, unless she submits to him on the supremacy and admits her mother’s marriage to Henry was invalid. Which would render her illegitimate, so I don’t think that’s happening any time soon. Henry tells Cromwell to send a delegation to her to try and wring said concessions out of her.

Henry swirls out, and Cromwell turns his attention to Eyepatch, who’s lurking nearby. Cromwell tells him Henry’s approved of his appointment as a gentleman of the privy chamber. Eyepatch says he knows he has Cromwell to thank for that, and Cromwell smiles by way of acknowledgement, and then tells Bryan that he has a task for him.

Out in the Great Hall, Henry runs into Chapuys and tells him to come along, there’s someone Henry wants to present him to. Who could that be?

Why, Jane, of course. Henry introduces her formally to Chapuys, who kisses her hand, and then Henry withdraws so they can talk in private. Chapuys congratulates her on her marriage and sincerely wishes her happiness. Jane accepts demurely. Chapuys goes on to say that he’s sure the Emperor will be happy to have such a “virtuous and amiable” (read: pliant, quiet, and easily led) queen in England. As they chat, we see Henry move aside a curtain so he can spy on the little talk through a grate in the wall.

Chapuys moves closer to Jane and starts to steer the conversation in the direction of Mary, and how he’s heard that Jane hopes to restore her to favor. Jane says she hopes to continue to champion the cause of Mary and to restore peace to the king’s family. Henry flicks the curtain back into place, seeming pissed, and reenters the room. Chapuys excuses himself, and Henry follows close behind. Out in the hall, he tells Chapuys that he’s the first ambassador she’s received, and she’s not used to these audiences yet. He says that what the people say is true: she’s kind and amiable, and much inclined towards peace. For instance, she’s against Henry getting caught up in a foreign war, if only because she doesn’t want him to be away for long periods of time. Chapuys jumps right on that and asks whom Henry plans to go to war against. Henry just says he was speaking hypothetically, but Chapuys doesn’t look so sure. He’s been at this game long enough to know better.

Back in Yorkshire, the meeting is getting underway in a large barn. It seems to be mostly composed of farmers with pitchforks and the occasional scythe. Yeah, this should go well. John calls the meeting to order and tells them they’ve all come to meet and listen to Robert Aske. I kind of feel like the show’s done a very poor job of explaining why Aske was chosen to lead this particular rebellion. In reality, he wasn’t appointed the leader at the outset (he was also considerably younger than the man playing him here—he was only in his mid-30’s at the time). He joined the rebellion and kind of got promoted by accident, probably because he was more educated than most of those involved in the uprising.

Aske takes the podium and asks what everyone wants. The answer? Days off. I’m not kidding. The first guy to speak bitches about losing all their feast days and says they want them back. Wow. Way to be committed. You really want to die for a weekend, dude? Finally, someone else says they want the abbeys restored and the “advance of heresy” halted. He also wants Cromwell and Cranmer (so I guess he’s around somewhere) cast out and supplanted by men of noble birth. This gets a rousing round of applause from everyone. Wow, that’s some serious commitment to a class structure, to be that much in favor of the nobility retaining all power and money and the lower classes never advancing. Someone else gets worked up over some new taxes he’s heard rumors of. This is fast turning into a Tea Party rally, isn’t it?

Aske calms the crowd down and asks what they want to do about all this. A gap-toothed farmer says they’re all willing to fight to protect their land and their churches. Aske agrees that the desecration of the abbeys is awful, but rebellion is a spectacularly lousy idea. John looks gobsmacked by Aske’s position. Did he not ask the guy how he felt about becoming a traitor before he put him on a stage?  It seems like that would have been a good idea. Gap-tooth takes this as an indication that the gentry doesn’t give a crap about the ordinary people.

"Wait, you mean you don't want to lead us into almost certain death and destruction? WTF, man?"

Down at Whitehall, Jane, wearing some bizarre headdress that kind of looks like an eighth grader’s science project showing the planets, is receiving Lady Ursula, whom I guess has just been cooling her heels for however long it’s been since the wedding. As in Anne’s day, the ladies-in-waiting wear matching outfits, which include strange, flat, lacy Mary Stuart caps, which is a little weird, since they wouldn’t be popular for a few decades. Amongst the ladies is Lady Rochford, George Boleyn’s widow, whom we last saw horribly selling him and his sister out to Cromwell. Jane calls her forward and takes her aside for a little private girl time. Jane says she knows things have been hard on Lady R. since the executions, and Lady R. whines that she’s been “utterly abandoned” and feels she was condemned as well, because of what George did. Oh, boo hoo, you little bitch. You didn’t anticipate that when you went and flat-out lied that your husband was having sex with his sister? You’ll get no sympathy from me.

She does get sympathy from Jane, who tells Lady R. she wants her to come back to court (which is odd for a couple of reasons. 1. She’s already there. 2. She’s wearing the ladies-in-waiting uniform, so presumably she already knows she’s going to be coming back to court in this capacity. Her surprise at this news is really bizarre.) Jane also wants to appoint her principal lady-in-waiting. Lady R. thanks her and starts to get teary, and Jane’s sweet with her.

"Thanks for the job, but seriously? What's with the hats?"

Yay, Mary’s back! Sorry to get all fangirl-y, but I really did fall in love with Sarah Bolger in this role. She’s actually a pretty awesome actress, and if you don’t believe me, go watch In America. She was eleven, folks.

Anyway, Bryan’s come to see her, and this should be good. The careless libertine and Mary? She says she’s glad he’s come, since she thinks this is about the letter she sent Henry. Instead, Bryan’s been sent to deliver a formal document that Mary is to sign. It recognizes the king as head of the church and acknowledges that Henry’s marriage to Katherine was null and void. Mary swallows hard, but when Bryan goes on to threaten her by saying that, if she doesn’t sign, Cromwell can’t guarantee her safety, her face hardens ever so slightly. She says she loves her father but refuses to risk her immortal soul simply to regain his favor. Bryan snarls that she’s an “unfilial daughter” and tells her that Henry may yet write her up on charges of treason. Mary starts to panic at the idea, her voice shaking, even as she says Henry would never do that. Bryan swoops right into irredeemably awful territory by informing Mary that, if she were his daughter, he’d smash her head into the wall until she was dead. What a charmer this guy is. I hope he never actually has kids. The real Bryan was a fairly accomplished poet, so I feel like he would have approached this whole matter more subtly, and with better turns of phrase. Mary refuses to acknowledge what he says, so he bows sarcastically and leaves.

At Whitehall, Henry and Jane are sitting down to a nice lunch, and he’s describing the plans he’s cooking up with Holbein for her fairly lavish coronation. Since he’s talking about throwing parties and spending money, Jane figures he must be in a good mood, so she broaches the subject of Mary, and begs him not to proceed against her. Henry smiles in that creepy way of his, gets up, leans down next to her, and whispers threateningly for her to avoid the subject in the future. Then he returns to his seat. Jane’s subdued, but she brightens up when Henry tells her he has another wedding gift for her. In comes a servant with a totally adorable tricolor Cavalier King Charles spaniel. I’m pretty sure the breed wasn’t around then, but I love these dogs (and have two of them), so I’ll forgive the show this slip. Like a child, Jane’s mollified by the cute present. Behind her, Bryan eyes Lady Ursula, who eyes him right back.

Later, Ursula’s out of uniform and wearing a bright pink dress as she wanders around where she probably shouldn’t be. Bryan enters and she mentions that he left her a note saying he wanted to see her. He bluntly asks her if she’d like to become his mistress. Smooth, man. She pretends to be offended and says she’s engaged to be married. But Bryan whips out some pricy jewelry and, of course, that’s all it takes, because this is The Tudors, where all it takes is something shiny or cute or vaguely poetic to get a woman on her back. We’re all that easy. And shallow. Thanks, show.

Mary’s dealing with more important matters—fretting over the document Bryan brought her with Chapuys. Chapuys agrees that this sucks, but advises her to go ahead and sign it, but then make a separate protestation before witnesses. Mary’s still not game, so Chapuys sadly tells her that the Emperor is no longer of a mind to interfere on her behalf. Mary’s shocked and scared to realize she’s on her own. She asks Chapuys what will happen if she doesn’t sign, and he says it’s very possible Henry will have her killed. She absorbs this, steels herself, and signs.

In Italy, a red-robed cardinal is greeting a priest named Reginald Pole. Now, Reginald Pole isn’t just any priest—he’s the son of Margaret pole, the last of the Plantagenet line. He skipped the country in the 1520’s to avoid taking sides in the Henry/Katherine divorce. He eventually started publishing pretty blistering attacks on Henry and the Reformation in England, which made him fairly popular with the Pope but didn’t play out well for the rest of his family, as I’m sure we’ll see.

So, the cardinal’s meeting with Pole, and he asks how long Pole’s been in Rome. A year, he answers. The cardinal says that, if Henry would make even a tiny gesture of obeisance, the Pope would be appeased and would lift the bull of excommunication. Pole says his mother’s written to him, expressing a hope that Jane is, at heart, a true Catholic who could help persuade Henry to ease up a little. The cardinal has bigger plans for Lady Salisbury, and for Pole, apparently. He suggests Pole return to England in order to influence events there.

Ursula’s reclining on a windowseat, wearing nothing but the necklace Bryan gave her, while he recites some poetry, so they haven’t completely dropped that aspect of his character, at least. Still doesn’t make him sexy or seductive, though.

In Robert Aske’s well-appointed house in Yorkshire, he’s got the now noseless Madonna statue from the beginning in his study. He sits in a chair nearby, looking at it, then kneels before it and begins to pray.

Henry’s in his study, listening as Cromwell reads a letter from Elizabeth’s governess, Lady Bryan (no relation to Sir Francis Bryan, as far as I know). Elizabeth’s outgrowing her clothes, as kids do, and Lady B. wants permission to buy some new ones. Henry, being a complete and utter asshole, won’t even give permission for the lady to buy the kid some new clothes because he doesn’t even think Elizabeth’s his. What? What a spiteful douchebag. She’s three years old, Henry! Just let her get some new frigging clothes! God!

Cromwell moves on to the next order of business: Mary’s signed submission. That gets Henry’s attention. He tells Cromwell to make arrangements for Henry and Jane to meet with Mary privately, away from the court. Oh, and the coronation has to be postponed, because there are rumors of plague in London. Cromwell nods and withdraws. Before he can go, Henry tells him that Rich shared the most recent figures, and he’s very pleased with Cromwell.

In her room, Jane opens a jewelry box, pulls out an impressive emerald necklace, and tells Lady Rochford to send it to Lady Bryan to buy clothes for Elizabeth. She also muses about finding a gift for Mary, whom she’s looking forward to meeting. Lady Rochford tells her she’s very kind. Jane reassures Lady R. that it’s not her fault George slept around, any more than it’s Mary’s or Elizabeth’s faults to be the children of a king. She says that women have it rough in their world, and she wants to do whatever she can to promote their interests, though she has to do it fairly quietly.

Somehow, the rebels up in Yorkshire have gotten their hands on a decent arsenal of weapons, including swords and battle axes. Aske, wearing a red cross pinned to his chest, is signing up volunteers. The one in front of him now is the port wine stain shepherd from the beginning, whose name is Charlie. I bet he’ll be one of the first to get killed. Aske tells young Charlie that they’re not rebels, they’re pilgrims going out on a pilgrimage. Sure, just like the crusaders did. Seriously, talk about trying to ease your conscience. He makes Charlie swear allegiance to God and to the king. Charlie does, with his hand on the bible. Once that’s done, Aske hands him a badge showing the five wounds of Christ, which proves they fight in Christ’s cause.

While all this is going on, Henry’s knighting Cromwell, naming him Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon, and Lord Privy Seal. Charles, looking on, looks like he’s about to vomit. As Cromwell leaves the throne room, everyone bows to him.

At Mary’s place, Jane’s meeting with her and presenting her with a gift. Mary thanks her, and Jane’s very sweet, saying it gives her great pleasure to see Mary reconciled with her father. Henry’s lurking in the corridor outside, watching this. He finally comes in, and Mary curtsies deeply as he approaches her. He looks at her strangely, like he’s not sure she’s actually Mary, which is odd, then raises her up. He draws her aside and hands her some cash (seriously) and tells her that, if she needs anything else, she only has to ask. She thanks him, calling him “your majesty”, and he corrects that to “father”. He kisses her on the forehead and leaves, while Mary gasps for air, clearly grossed out by having to sell out completely to keep her own father from lopping her head off.

Back at Whitehall, Henry and Jane are having dinner, and Jane’s raving about how sweet Mary was. Henry looks bored, and takes a moment to check out Ursula while Jane blathers on. Jane urges him to invite Mary to court and show her off. Henry only grunts in reply, so she asks what his problem is. He tells her he’s disappointed she’s not pregnant yet.

"Why, yes, I am as bland as an unsalted roast, why do you ask?"

Dr. Frankish and his sidekick burst into Cromwell’s office to tell him that a large part of the north has risen in rebellion against Henry. Frankish says that, just ten days ago, he and his men were set upon by a mob while they were out collecting taxes, and the mob captured one of them and beat him to death in the street. Damn. This is getting serious pretty fast. Cromwell asks what the rebels want, and Frankish lays out the demands: more days off, no more taxes, and no more despoiling the churches.

The sidekick adds that he heard Cromwell and Rich are both on the rebels’ hit list. Rich asks why the local gentry’s just sitting on their asses instead of suppressing the rebels, and he’s told that the gentry tries, but they’re hopelessly outnumbered.

Cromwell takes the news to Henry, who isn’t pleased. He demands to know why Cromwell didn’t know about this earlier. He rants and raves about Cromwell’s shortcomings and then, in a moment that was so absurd I cracked up the first time I saw it, he jumps up so he can smack Cromwell on the back of the head. Yes, that’s right: Henry VIII, who was over 6 feet tall in real life, is played by a guy who has to jump up to hit James Frain in the back of the head. Not that James Frain’s a dwarf or anything, but he’s not exactly playing for the Harlem Globetrotters, you know?

Henry tells Cromwell to take a letter, in which he expresses dismay over the commons daring to rise against him. He also claims that taking church property was never his intention (yeah, right). He says that honest men would approach him with a petition, not swords, and he commands them to return to their homes and acknowledge his supremacy as their king.

Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen, because up in Yorkshire, John is urging a large gathering of rebels to march towards York.

Meanwhile, Cromwell’s writing to the Yorkshire gentry, reminding them of their duty to suppress the traitors. Didn’t he already learn that they tried and couldn’t? Rich wonders if it might not be a good idea to stop sacking the churches for a little while, until this present crisis is over? Cromwell, of course, says that’s not going to happen, because the only way to teach the rebels that their cause is hopeless is to go full steam ahead, not matter what they say or do. And what they’ve just done, as we almost immediately learn from Frankish, who comes bursting in, is capture Lincoln. Wait, where were these guys starting from? Did they just bypass York? Because that’s much further north than Lincoln. They were starting from inside Yorkshire, which is a different county from the one where Lincoln is. Oh, whatever. They have Lincoln, and now their numbers have swelled and they’re marching on York.

Henry, after receiving the news, tells Charles that, when he was 5, he and his mother had to take refuge in the Tower when Cornish rebels attacked London. That would be one of the Perkin Warbeck rebellions, the second Cornish Uprising of 1497. It did not go well for Warbeck. Henry says that it was a chaotic time, since everyone was panicking and there was no news of the royal army or King Henry VII. Henry admits he was terrified at the time.

Henry tells Charles he wants him to lead the counterattack against the rebellion. He tells him where he can find guards and arms. Charles promises to do everything Henry commands, and more. Henry reminds him that these are rebels and they must be horribly punished.

While Charles is getting ready, Duchess Kate comes sweeping in and asks what’s going on. He dismisses the servants and explains that he’s been tasked with leading the army against the rebels. She closes her eyes for a moment, and then lowers her head. He tells her not to worry, since he’ll have more than enough men and arms to kick the rebels’ asses. Charles is sure he’ll be fine, and that this might even be an opportunity to get rid of Cromwell, since the rebels are calling for his head.

In his study, Henry’s got his leg propped up and he’s trying to work, but he’s distracted by leg pain again, and when he goes into the next room, he lowers his boot enough to reveal a seriously nasty ulcer there. As he tries to get the pain under control, Cromwell is announced and enters. Henry takes a moment, then reemerges into the study to tell Cromwell that he’s dispatched Brandon with an army, and he’ll send another one if necessary to destroy the rebels. Henry goes on to say that Brandon has his permission to burn the rebels’ homes and destroy everything they have, in order to make an example of them. Henry promises to destroy the rebels, their wives and kids, and then to destroy Cromwell, if this goes badly.

Up north, the rebels have gathered into a vast army, which even Aske looks bewildered to see. They raise banners, and cheer, clearly ready to put up a hell of a fight.

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