Anselma

Anselma is a figure from Thomas Cromwell’s earlier life whose appearance in the present is mediated by memory, a tapestry, and the arrangements of the royal household. The narrative connects her with a period in Cyprus, with private devotion, and with the Queen of Sheba image later given to Cromwell by Henry VIII. Though her ultimate circumstances remain uncertain, her return to Cromwell’s domestic world shows how the past persists in objects and in relationships that court politics cannot entirely contain.

Identity and Introduction

Anselma enters the story not through a public role or a continuous account of her life, but through Cromwell’s recollections and the object that carries her image into his present. In a conversation with Thomas Wyatt, Cromwell explains that the king had seen him raise his eyes toward the Queen of Sheba tapestry and recognized the woman represented there. Cromwell had once known her; Henry then identified the tapestry as something that had belonged to the Cardinal of York and directed Cromwell to make a place for it at home. The king’s response turns a private history into a royal gift and a household arrangement.

The tapestry’s identity is complicated by the narration’s play between image and person: Wyatt passes his hand over the Queen of Sheba, “that is to say, over Anselma.” The wording joins Anselma to the depicted queen without suggesting that they are literally the same person. The image becomes a point of recognition for those who know Cromwell’s past, while remaining a public furnishing whose former ownership and new destination are determined by powerful men.

A Memory of Cyprus

Cromwell’s recollection places Anselma in Cyprus, at a moment when he was considering whether to leave his bank and travel east. He was curious about the Holy Land, its people and plant life, and the places associated with the disciples. In the room behind him, Anselma was playing dice. Their exchange over the result—three and three—becomes part of the memory through which he explains his decision to go home. The passage presents this not as a grand revelation or decisive command, but as a small turn in fortune: the dice have given him a gentle nudge back toward Europe.

The memory then moves to the home he associates with that return: a narrow, shuttered house beside a quiet canal. Anselma is shown praying before a small silver altarpiece kept in her room, which she regards as her most precious possession. She prays in her own language, and Cromwell’s recollection dwells on the moment she finishes and turns back to him. The scene establishes both a private religious practice and a relationship known through domestic intimacy, without explaining how the two first met or how long they remained together.

The Tapestry in Cromwell’s Household

Years later, Henry’s gift brings the tapestry—and Anselma’s remembered presence—into Cromwell’s household. Cromwell tells Wyatt that the king arranged for the work to come to live with him after recognizing it at Greenwich. In Wyatt’s rooms, the tapestry is associated with Anselma as well as with the Queen of Sheba, making it more than a valuable furnishing: it carries personal history into a household where Cromwell also shelters people and manages the risks of surveillance.

The object’s meaning is not limited to Cromwell’s private remembrance. Thomas Avery looks toward the Queen of Sheba while examining a book Cromwell has given him, and Cromwell wonders how the boy could have known or encountered Anselma. He recalls having told Henry about her, and the connection between the tapestry and the memory thus runs through the king’s knowledge as well as his own. Anselma’s image can attract the attention of someone who has never met her, while Cromwell alone recognizes the history held within it.

Uncertainty and Narrative Significance

Anselma’s present fate is not established. While showing Thomas Avery the mathematical work of Luca Pacioli, Cromwell asks after Jenneke, then concludes that she is either dead or in love with someone else. This does not confirm either outcome for Anselma; rather, the thought sits beside the tapestry and the memories it evokes, revealing how Cromwell’s personal histories survive in fragments, names, images, and unanswered questions.

The narrative’s treatment of Anselma is therefore deliberately partial. She is not given an independent account of her later life, and the scenes that recall her are filtered through Cromwell’s memories and the objects associated with her. Her religious observance, the dice in Cyprus, and the Queen of Sheba tapestry provide distinct points of contact with a past that Cromwell cannot simply leave behind. At court, Henry can transfer the tapestry and prescribe where it should go; he cannot make its private associations disappear. Anselma’s significance lies in that persistence: a remembered relationship remains present inside Cromwell’s political household without being resolved into a complete story.