The Traitor’s Mark (20 page)

Ned was replacing one of the guttering candles. ‘One thing that has occurred to me,' he said ‘is the hurry everyone is in – or perhaps panic would be a better word. When I lived in the cloister, everything was regulated. Prayer, worship, work, silent meditation – all things had their allotted
places. Life followed a measured, calm routine. That was the beauty of it. When I came out into your world my first impression was one of mad, headlong rush. It took me several weeks to realise that it was an illusion. Very few people, in fact, move faster than they need to move. The seasons come and go, so do feast days and fast days, market days, wash days, baking days. Folk love the unhurried pattern. They avoid frenzy. So when I see people madly rushing to and fro, it makes me wonder why.'

‘You mean like Black Harry?'

‘Him, certainly. He is in London, then he's here, then in Essex, then back to London. But he's not the only one. Your Johannes Holbein moves rapidly to and fro across the City, never resting more than a day or two anywhere. And now, here you are, caught up in the same delirious rampaging around the country.'

‘Not of my own free will, I can assure you.'

‘Exactly!' Ned said with a tone of triumph. ‘Now, if not your will, whose?'

‘I'm not sure I follow.'

‘Then let me catechise you. What turns a trickling stream into a raging torrent?'

‘A greater volume of water coming from upriver.'

‘And what causes the greater volume of water?'

‘Well, storms, unusually heavy rain.'

‘So what is the storm that is turning so many lives into a tumbling, raging fury?'

When I hesitated to reply, Ned answered his own question: ‘Fear. Black Harry provokes fear in Holbein but only because he is afraid of someone behind him – upriver, to continue our analogy. Now who can strike fear into the heart of this Godless fiend?'

‘His paymasters.'

‘Yes, he is well protected by powerful men and, presumably, well paid also. But what if he fails to satisfy them?'

‘No more protection and no more gold.'

‘Exactly. His patrons will not hesitate to abandon him if he does not give them what they want. And then?'

‘The great Black Harry becomes just another desperate outlaw, heading almost inexorably for the gallows. That's all very interesting, Ned, but I don't see how it helps us.'

‘It always helps to know your enemy, especially his weaknesses. Just bear in mind that yours is vulnerable, One day that knowledge may come in useful. I also counsel you to cultivate the art of reflection.'

I laughed. ‘Would you have me become a recluse, a holy hermit?'

But Ned was quite serious. ‘I would have you stay alive, my friend, and you are more likely to do that if you can stand back from your problems. Rush and hurry begin in the mind – or the soul – and may gallop us unheeding to the precipice. One of the mystics tells us, “The man who lives in contemplation will not err in his worldly affairs”.'

‘Easily said if you live in a monastery,' I said. ‘Now, talking
of fear, I'm very worried about Bart and Lizzie. They and the children ought not to be in the City while the plague is raging.'

‘I agree, and—'

‘Then there's Bart's impetuousness. As long as he plays the lone hunter, trying to corner a beast like Black Harry, he's in constant danger.'

‘Yes, that's why—'

‘We must try to find some safe refuge where we can keep a check on their activities.'

Now it was Ned's turn to laugh. ‘You prove my point most eloquently, Thomas. While you've been rushing from anxiety to anxiety, I have made the necessary arrangements. A friend of mine – ex-abbess of a Poor Clare convent – has her own house not far away. She will be delighted to take in Lizzie and the children. I've also persuaded Lizzie to let Bart stay here with me. If he has to go out we can arrange a suitable disguise, as we did the other day, and I may just possibly be able to exert a calming influence.'

I muttered something to cover my embarrassment.

‘And you,' Ned continued, ‘what are your plans?'

‘I'll leave messages for Master Johannes with his friends in the hope of arranging a meeting. For the next few days I shall be busy in Kent on the archbishop's commission.'

‘Have you thought of trying, to work your way back upstream?'

‘Upstream?'

Ned chuckled. ‘Forgive me. I was carried away by my own metaphor. What I mean is, since all these misfortunes have their origins in the royal court, do you have any contacts there who might be able to help with information or advice?'

‘I have done work for some members of the Privy Chamber. In fact, only a few months ago my workshop made a magnificent astronomical clock for Anthony Denny, his majesty's Groom of the Stool. A gift for the king. It was designed by Holbein – a most elaborate piece: clock, hourglass, sundial and compass all in one. It stretched my workmen to the limit. Master Anthony was delighted with it.'

‘Could you not have, a word with him? Perhaps there might be a way to dam the flood upriver or divert its channel.'

‘He will be with the court. I believe they're all out in Berkshire somewhere.'

‘No more than a short day's ride.'

‘I thought you disapproved of my galloping round the country.'

Ned turned on me his familiar deceptive smile which gave the impression he was a rather simple old man, and concealed his guileful wisdom. ‘It seems to me there is much difference between following a trail and laying one.'

As I took my candle and hauled myself wearily up to Ned's guest chamber my head whirled. All this talk of rivers
and trails! Would I ever again find an even and well-signposted road beneath my feet?

Any thought of taking Ned's advice was put from my mind when I arrived back at Hemmings. Among the messages waiting for me was one from James Dewey, my friend and Kentish neighbour, suggesting an itinerary for our investigation of local clergy. However, more urgent was the summons to serve on the jury at the Canterbury quarter sessions. There was also a letter from Ralph Morice in response to my reports to the archbishop. The cumulative effect of these documents was worrying in the extreme. I sat in my chamber with them spread before me, looking from one to the other, trying to form a coherent impression of the situation that was developing in the county.

The summons stressed the importance of the forthcoming judicial proceedings:

There is much more business than usual. The postponement of the Michaelmas sittings at Westminster has led to some cases being referred to the quarter sessions. More pressing is the growing unrest in the county. Jails are full with offenders awaiting trial. Until these are dealt with and space made to detain other malefactors, magistrates will find it difficult to place in custody the noisome preachers and popular agitators who are everywhere disturbing his majesty's peace ...

The notice instructed jurors to make provision for spending several days in Canterbury to deal with the crisis.

James's letter listed seven churches that, in his opinion, warranted our urgent attention.

... Information has been laid against the Vicar of Bremley, that he is sluggardly in setting forth the king's supremacy, utters saucy words against his grace, the archbishop, and has removed the Bible from his church. At St Margaret's, Settringham, there has been much stirring caused by the parson, Edmund Styles. People complain of statues defaced by his order and of his preaching in the marketplace. He seems to have built up a large popular following of hot-brained young men who talk of using force to – as they say – rid the realm of popery ...

The letter from Ralph Morice was longer and slightly rambling, which was strange, coming from someone who had an orderly mind.

His grace thanks you for your endeavours and regrets that they have yet to bear fruit ...

No mention of Holbein's name. Perhaps Morice feared his letter might be intercepted.

... The information is more important than ever ... His grace's enemies among the cathedral clergy and shire gentry have met in secret, as they suppose, to plan their campaign. Their immediate target is Richard Turner, vicar at Chartham, a true Bible man and a zealous preacher. They have arrested him and purpose to bring him before the sessions. The reason is, not so much his godly teaching – though that they abhor – but that he stands high in his grace's favour. If they can once indict Turner for preaching against official doctrine and have him brought to trial, they hope to tear from him recantation of the truth and words they can twist and use against his grace and sundry of our friends who stand by the king's supremacy and the reformed religion. His grace dares do nothing for the poor man's delivery save that he sanctions me to approach our friends at court to inform his majesty of the wicked deviousness of these papists ... His grace is in his manor at Croydon and waits to receive any new information you have ...

New information? Heartily did I wish that I had
any
information – anything that made sense to me, any facts that were firm beneath my feet, instead of the shifting sands of feuding factions, clashing religious convictions, personal rivalries and violence which knew no limit. It was now the end of September and I was no closer to finding Holbein, saving Bart from the gallows or obtaining justice for a poor
young man butchered in Aldgate than I had been the first day of the month, when my involvement in this wretched business started. Nor, I realised, would I find my way to solid ground while I was embroiled in the rivalries and hatreds of Kent's political life. Ned was right; I would achieve nothing as long as I continued to let events propel me along a twisting lane leading I knew not where. It was time to do some of the pushing myself. But not yet. For now I was caught up in the cumbersome machinery of the English legal system.

These thoughts occupied my mind for much of the next day's journey to Canterbury. James and I travelled together with our own escort and spoke little.

‘Do you know anything about this Turner troublemaker we have to deal with at the sessions?' I asked the question as we sat in the inn at Lenham, where we had stopped for dinner.

James carved himself another slice of cheese. ‘This is very good,' he said. ‘Turner? I only know what Thwaites and others say. They've been trying to silence him for a couple of years. Every time they send him up to the archbishop's court he comes back with his grace's blessing.' He grinned. ‘Frustrating for them. Personally, anything that upsets Thwaites is sweet music to me.'

‘Has the archbishop appointed Turner to. speed up the pace of reform?'

‘Not so much Cranmer; more his secretary, Ralph Morice. It was Morice who instituted Turner to the living at
Chartham. I don't think even Morice can save him this time.'

‘Because he's being brought to the secular court?'

James nodded. ‘Violation of Statute of Six Articles, 31 Henry VIII number 14.'

I laughed. ‘I didn't know you were a lawyer. Do you have all the laws of the realm at your finger ends?'

‘Not many,' he replied with his mouth full, ‘but this one's particularly useful.' He swallowed, cleared his throat and recited: “‘In the most blessed sacrament of the altar, by the strength and efficacy of Christ's mighty word, it being spoken by the priest, is present really under the form of bread and wine, the natural body and blood of our Saviour Jesu Christ, conceived of the Virgin Mary, and that after the consecration there remains no substance of bread or wine.'”

‘So, you are a theologian as well as a lawyer.'

‘No, I don't understand all the stuff about “substance” and “real presence”. The beauty of this statute is that I don't have to. All we magistrates are called on to do is recite the words and ask the prisoner, “Do you believe it?” If he says no, he burns. Of course, very few do say no. I've only ever sent one man up to a higher court for the death sentence.'

‘I think that would worry me.'

‘What?'

‘Sending someone to the stake for what he believes.'

He shrugged. ‘Life was easier for magistrates when we didn't have‘' to get involved in such cases but since his
majesty has extended the scope of common law we have no choice. You've no idea how much the burden of our work has increased in the last few years. Anyway, most of these heretics recant under pressure and then lose credibility among their own followers.'

‘So when I cast my vote in the jury hearing Turner's case I will be expected to find him guilty so that he'll be persuaded to recant?'

James frowned at me over the rim of his tankard. ‘You know your duty, Thomas.'

‘I know nothing. I just need to understand what will be expected of me as a juryman.'

‘Turner will be indicted for preaching against the Six Articles. You have to decide if he's guilty.' James pushed his trencher to one Side. ‘Now we should be getting back on the road.'

I did not move. ‘And if he's pronounced guilty the archbishop's enemies will accuse him of supporting heretics.'

He stood and set his cap on his head. ‘I really don't know ...'

‘James, we've been friends for too long. I can tell when you're trying to hide something from me.'

‘There are things it would be better if you did not know.'

‘Then let me guess. Magistrates are under pressure to uncover any information that can be used against Cranmer.'

James hesitated for several moments, then said, ‘All I can tell you is that certain men – powerful men – feel the
archbishop is trying to force change too quickly and that it encourages rebellious spirits.'

‘By “certain men” you mean Sir Thomas Moyle and his friends.'

But James was already walking to the door.

As we rode our horses out of the inn yard and turned along the short village street, James pointed to a group of men and women emerging from one of the larger houses. ‘In my opinion, the law would be better occupied keeping an eye on them.'