‘When people ask me, “Is it strange to see the people brought to life?” I think, “but when were they ever dead?” The Man Booker winner on writing her Thomas Cromwell trilogy
In the City of London, behind the Bank of England, there is a little street called Austin Friars. Sober and narrow, it offers glimpse of a city garden, something sweetly natural at the granite heart of the establishment. The garden belongs to Drapers’ Hall, which stands on the site of one of the great powerhouses of Tudor London. In the 1530s, Austin Friars was the home of Thomas Cromwell, who was, except for the king, the most powerful man in England. Rich, cultured, multilingual, a friend and patron of artists and scholars, he was a master of the political arts. The house was a bustling ministerial headquarters, where petitioners from all over Europe pursued the royal secretary for favours and begged for a glimpse, a word.
Cromwell was a man of property. He had apartments at court, and the Rolls House in Chancery Lane went with his job. London was small then, and his Hackney and Stepney houses stood in the fields. He had a hunting lodge in Canonbury where in summer, in his rare quiet moments, he could sit in one of the garden towers and look down on London’s treetops, contemplating the daily challenges thrown up by his master, the exacting, clever, capricious Henry VIII.
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Cromwell was a man of property. He had apartments at court, and the Rolls House in Chancery Lane went with his job. London was small then, and his Hackney and Stepney houses stood in the fields. He had a hunting lodge in Canonbury where in summer, in his rare quiet moments, he could sit in one of the garden towers and look down on London’s treetops, contemplating the daily challenges thrown up by his master, the exacting, clever, capricious Henry VIII.
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