We see as much in the scene where Cromwell bodily removes Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton from the Privy Council chamber for speaking his mind and telling “Harry” where he’s going wrong in the matter of his daughter Mary. A good attack dog, Cromwell uses his physicality to enforce Henry’s will. He also throws his weight around in dealings with Catholic plotters the Poles, taking Sir Geoffrey Pole by the shoulders to quite literally put him in his place when he attempts to stand in his way. However much Cromwell’s wits are now his weapon, the former soldier who carries a knife up his sleeve is never far away. As he warns French ambassador Chapuys, this blacksmith’s son may have lost the art of metalwork, but he can still swing a hammer.
With Princess Mary (Lilit Lesser), Cromwell hides the brute and instead shows her the loving father-figure and royal servant. Reading between his lines, she signs the oath of obedience Henry requires of her, and once again, “Crumb” delivers what Henry demands and is rewarded.
With each step of his ascendency though, comes the threat that lowborn Cromwell is rising dangerously high, and that’s thanks to Damian Lewis’ gently terrifying performance as Henry VIII. Lewis imbues the king with vicious menace and in this episode, does most of it behind a smile. His unctuous post-wedding night boast in Cromwell’s ear about Jane Seymour’s “freshness” and maidenly modesty may have been nauseating, but not more so than how Cromwell subsumes himself to his king, measuring his every word and look. When Mary complains, “I thought they would all say plain what I know they believe,” about the nobles on whose support she’d relied for her restoration to the line of succession after Anne Boleyn’s death, she’s showing her naivety. In the court of Henry VIII, saying plain what you believe is no way to survive.
Survival – both Mary’s and his own – preoccupies Thomas Cromwell in this first episode. As Henry VII’s leading adviser, he has his head in the mouth of a lion and is astute enough to know that one clumsy move will be the end of him.
Succession, eat your heart out: no drama better illustrates the precariousness of being in the employ of a tyrant than Wolf Hall. Its historical setting raises the stakes to the skies – take a wrong step in the court of Henry VIII and you won’t just lose your livelihood and reputation, but also your head. That’s why Mary feels frustrated. Her father’s courtiers may well believe in her divine right to succeed him on the throne, but they’re damned if they’re going to say so out loud.