History is usually written by the winners, but Hilary Mantel decided to write it through the eyes of the man who did the winning for them. If you’ve spent any time in a bookstore over the last decade, you’ve seen that stark, black-and-gold cover. Bring Up the Bodies isn’t just a sequel. It’s a surgical strike. It’s the middle child of the Wolf Hall trilogy, and honestly, it’s the one that most people find the most addictive because it moves like a psychological thriller rather than a dusty period piece.
Thomas Cromwell is back. He’s older, wealthier, and significantly more dangerous. When we first met him, he was just trying to survive the fallout of Cardinal Wolsey’s demise. Now? He’s the engine of England. He is the "blacksmith's boy" who can unmake a Queen with a few well-placed whispers and a stack of legal depositions. It’s brutal.
The Reality of the "Bring Up the Bodies" Command
The title isn't just a metaphor for digging up the past. It’s a literal legal command. When a trial was set to begin at the Tower of London, the order was given to the gaoler: Habeas corpora, or "bring up the bodies" of the prisoners. Mantel uses this to frame the entire narrative around the fall of Anne Boleyn.
We all know how it ends. Anne loses her head on a scaffold at the Tower. But knowing the ending doesn't ruin the book. If anything, it makes the tension worse. You’re watching Cromwell weave a net, and you’re watching Anne—smart, prickly, and increasingly isolated—walk right into it.
Why Mantel’s Version of Cromwell Matters
For centuries, Thomas Cromwell was the villain of British history. He was the greedy bureaucrat who tore down the monasteries and killed the "saintly" Thomas More. Then Mantel showed up and flipped the script. Her Cromwell is a man of the future trapped in a medieval world. He’s a polyglot. He’s a lawyer. He’s a father who mourns his daughters.
Most importantly, he’s a man who remembers every insult.
Bring Up the Bodies focuses heavily on the revenge aspect of Cromwell’s personality. The men who mocked his master, Wolsey, are the same men Cromwell targets when he needs to find "conspirators" to take down Anne. It’s personal. It’s not just politics; it’s a long-game vendetta that pays off in blood.
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The Fall of Anne Boleyn: It Wasn't Just About a Son
Common history tells us Henry VIII killed Anne because she couldn't give him a male heir. That’s the spark, sure. But Mantel shows us the wood and the oil that made the fire so big.
Anne was exhausting.
By 1535, Henry was tired of her sharp tongue and her political meddling. He was already looking at Jane Seymour—the "milk-and-water" girl who seemed like the polar opposite of the fiery Anne. Cromwell sees the wind changing. He knows that if he doesn't provide the King with a way out of his marriage, his own head might be the next one on the block.
The book details the agonizing process of building a case out of nothing. Cromwell doesn't necessarily believe Anne committed adultery with five different men, including her own brother. He just needs the paperwork to say she did. It’s a masterclass in how "truth" is manufactured by those in power.
The Seymour Strategy
Jane Seymour is often portrayed as a boring, innocent victim of circumstances. Mantel’s perspective is way more nuanced. She presents the Seymours as a family that is just as ambitious as the Boleyns, just quieter about it. They use Jane as a pawn, coached to be the submissive, silent alternative to Anne’s vibrant aggression.
Cromwell aligns himself with them because he has to. He visits their home, Wolf Hall, and starts the machinery of Jane’s ascent. It’s a tactical alliance. There is no room for sentiment in Cromwell’s world, even when he’s dealing with the death of a woman he once respected.
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Writing That Actually Feels Like 1536
One of the reasons Bring Up the Bodies won the Booker Prize—making Mantel the first woman to win it twice—is the prose. She writes in a "present tense" that feels like it’s happening right now.
She uses "He, Cromwell" or just "he" in a way that puts you directly inside his skull. You smell the damp Thames water. You feel the scratch of the wool robes. You hear the rustle of the tapestries where spies are definitely listening.
Most historical fiction feels like a costume party. This feels like a documentary.
The Trial and the Execution
The final third of the book is breathless. The arrests of Henry Norris, Francis Weston, William Brereton, and Mark Smeaton are handled with a cold, terrifying efficiency. Cromwell interrogates them not with a rack, but with his mind. He finds their weaknesses. He uses their own arrogance against them.
The execution scene itself is famously understated. Mantel doesn't go for the gore. She goes for the silence. The "body" is brought up, the sword does its work, and the world moves on. The King is already planning his next wedding before the blood is dry on the straw.
What Most People Get Wrong About This Story
People often think of the Tudor era as a time of knights and chivalry. Bring Up the Bodies destroys that myth. It’s a book about middle management. It’s about the guys who do the paperwork so the King can keep his hands clean.
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Another misconception? That Cromwell was a cold-hearted monster. In Mantel’s world, he’s a pragmatist. He doesn't kill for fun; he kills because the system he serves demands it. If he doesn't destroy Anne, the country slips back into civil war. Or at least, that’s how he justifies it to himself.
How to Approach the Book If You’re New to the Series
- Don't skip Wolf Hall. You can read this as a standalone, but you'll miss the emotional weight of Cromwell’s rise.
- Keep a family tree handy. The Howard, Boleyn, and Seymour families have a lot of overlapping names. It gets confusing.
- Watch the BBC adaptation. Mark Rylance’s performance as Cromwell is legendary and captures the quiet menace Mantel wrote on the page.
- Pay attention to the ghosts. Cromwell is constantly "seeing" the dead—his father, the Cardinal, Thomas More. It’s a haunted book.
Practical Takeaways for History Buffs
If you want to understand the real history behind the fiction, you should look into the work of Eric Ives, who was the definitive biographer of Anne Boleyn. He argues that Anne was a victim of a political coup, which aligns perfectly with Mantel’s narrative.
Also, check out the primary sources. The letters of Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial Ambassador, provide much of the "gossip" that Mantel turns into high drama. Chapuys is a major character in the book, and his real-life reports to Charles V are just as witty and cynical as they appear in the novel.
The legacy of Bring Up the Bodies is its reminder that power is fragile. In one chapter, Anne is the most powerful woman in England. In the next, she’s a prisoner. Cromwell knows this better than anyone. He knows that the same machinery he used to bring her down will one day be used on him.
To really grasp the impact of this era, visit the Tower of London and stand on the site of the execution green. It’s a small, unremarkable space for such a massive shift in history. That’s the essence of Mantel’s work: the small, human moments that change the world forever.
Start by reading the deposition scenes in Chapter 4. Notice how Cromwell never raises his voice. That’s where the true power lies—not in the crown, but in the man holding the pen. Check out the latest editions that include Mantel's own essays on the "The Mirror and the Light" to see how she finally closed the loop on Cromwell's life. It's a journey through the darkest parts of the human ego, and it's worth every page.