The sun cast long shadows across the sprawling grounds of Whitehall, where the king's hunting party had gathered. The air was crisp, and the scent of damp earth lingered from the recent rains. King Edward III, a man of regal bearing with a salt-and-pepper beard, sat atop his majestic steed, his piercing blue eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of game.

As the king surveyed the landscape, his discontent with his queen, Eleanor, was palpable. Whispers among the courtiers hinted at the growing rift between them, a chasm that seemed insurmountable. The archbishop, Thomas Cromwell, a shrewd and calculating man with a keen interest in matters of both church and state, saw an opportunity in the king's disquiet.