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Gresham walked to a position just in front of the two stools. He bowed deeply to the King. The other two he ignored. He sensed the curtsey from Jane by his side. He was so proud of her. No tears, no wailing. She felt the fear, of course. Yet she had the mark of real courage. Feel the fear and conquer it.

'Sir Henry… and Lady Gresham…' The accent was already quite thick. Under pressure, or when the drink was truly in him, James retreated to a thick Scottish burr. The 'Sir' had almost been 'Sair'. Pressure or drink?

James waved a hand, carelessly. 'Or is it Sir Henry and Lady Gresham? Or two stonemasons and a housewife?'

There were titters from Coke and Carr. Sycophantic idiots! Gresham calmed himself.

'I believe we follow in a tradition set by Your Majesty's illustrious forbears,' said Gresham, bowing to the King. 'Previous monarchs of this country have changed their garb and wandered unannounced through their realm as though they were mere subjects…' Or they had in folklore, at least. Most of them in reality wouldn't have lasted two seconds in a real bar room brawl. 'It is sometimes good for those of lesser worth, such as my wife and myself, to emulate the actions of our superiors, and by doing so learn from them.'

You clever bastard, thought Gresham. And, no doubt, thought King James. Yet it was good at this stage to not show too much fear.

James paused for thought. Carr, Gresham had time to note, was gazing vacantly out of the window. There was a long pause.

'Would you care to take a seat?'

'We thank Your Majesty for his courtesy,' said Gresham. A seat in front of a monarch was a privilege. Courtiers spent most of their time standing. Yet the delay in asking them to sit had made it clear just what a privilege was being offered. Neutral. Neutral. Nothing yet on which to base a ploy. Listen. Look. Learn. Personally Gresham would have preferred to stand. He sat.

'Perhaps ye may be wondering why I summoned you here, rather to your surprise I should not wonder? I do apologise, of course, for any disruption to your plans.' The 'of course' rendered the apology meaningless. The threat was clear, unequivocal. It breathed out from the evil stone and brick that surrounded them., No one was brought to The Tower for their pleasure. 'I'm sure I may have dragged ye away from more important things.' The accent again. 'Ye' rather than 'you'. Had it been 'more', or was it 'mair'?

'There can be no more important things than Your Majesty's pleasure,' replied Gresham. God, why do I hate this sycophancy so much? 'We are more than pleased to serve Your Majesty, and count it a privilege to be in Your Majesty's presence at any time.'

'Aye,' said the King, 'you do that well, Sir Henry, well indeed.' Was there the slightest hint of a smile beneath the bearded face? If so, it vanished almost immediately. 'Yet the reason for my ordering this meeting is a good deal more important than the exchange of Court pleasantries, however weel ye may do them. There's shite on the velvet of your reputation, Sir Henry. I fear you may be working against me, sir!' James's coarseness was legendary. In the popular eye it was one reason why he had felt uneasy at appointing the clean-mouthed Andrewes as Archbishop of Canterbury.

Time for a hard stab.

'I am mortified to hear so, Your Majesty. Yet I will say to you now, sire, with your permission, that I have never in my life knowingly stood against any crowned monarch, or sought to dispute the right of any monarch to govern and to rule. I believe the health of the nation lies in the health of the monarch. I have been willing in times past to put my own life down as my bargaining counter to support that belief.'

Well, thought Gresham, that's almost the truth. I actually believe better the devil you know, and better any devil than the devil of rebellion. I've seen where that leads.

There was a dignity and power to Gresham's simple statement that carried its own weight of meaning. There was a prolonged silence. James reached out and took a lingering sip of his wine. Then he looked, pointedly, at Sir Edward Coke.

Coke was the accuser! That look told Gresham his true enemy!

Coke also knew that he was on trial. Yet there was the flush of achievement in his face. He had manoeuvred Gresham onto his own choice of battleground. This was a court hearing. Coke was the prosecutor. Gresham and his impossibly beautiful wife the accused. But there was no jury here to call the prosecutor to order. Merely a half-sodden monarch, whose single word could mean that this man and his wife never left The Tower.

'Yet you would not deny, Sir Henry,' asked Coke in his most silky voice, 'that you were instructed by the late Lord Salisbury to find and return certain… papers. Papers that were of importance to His Majesty? And that you were instructed by the same good lord to work with myself in pursuit of that aim?'

Carr was gazing, his mouth half-open, at Coke. The distaste he felt for the wrinkled lawyer was clear. Did Carr have any brain at all?

It was an old lawyer's trick. Start reasonable. Ask questions to which there was only one, positive answer. Establish thereby one's desire as a prosecutor to be fair to the witness. And then screw him. Therefore, it was necessary for Sir Henry Gresham to stop the process somehow.

First of all, he looked to the King, his eyebrow slightly raised. Do I have your authority to answer this man? the eyebrow said. After all, in a room where the King of England (and Scotland, in this case) sits there is only one authority. Before speaking to a lesser authority, one should obtain the permission of the higher authority.

There was an almost imperceptible nod from James. Yet he would have noted the courtesy.

'I fear I would deny that, Sir Edward.'

Coke looked as if he had swallowed a prune stone. This was not according to the plan.

'It is possible that for you a summons from Robert Cecil was a new occurrence. I regret that for me, and indeed latterly for my wife, it was no such thing.' Gresham turned to James, speaking as if in confidence. 'Cecil used me as an agent in Your Majesty's interests on numerous occasions. Such summonses usually came late at night, latterly in the form of one Nicholas Heaton.' The air froze for a moment. 'These calls were peremptory and always involved me risking my life. For some reason, it always seemed to be my life and never Cecil's. I grew accustomed to accepting the challenges, but not without noting with whom lay the danger.'

It was there! Something that was unequivocally a smile, albeit briefly, had passed over James's face.

'But you cannot deny that you were summoned, and that you were given instructions?' Coke bored in, only half-realising that he had given away most of his game plan. He was harsh, aggressive. This should have come later. Somehow Gresham had managed to jump the hearing forward.

'But of course.' Gresham was now all sweet reason. Yet he should have been nervous, on edge, and Coke the voice of calm. 'Of course I was summoned, as in countless times past. And, as in countless times past, I went. I went, Your Majesty,' and as Gresham spoke he turned again to the King, 'to meet Robert Cecil, your Chief Secretary. To my surprise, I found the meeting was with Robert Cecil and with Sir Edward Coke. And later, after he had beaten up a servant and tried to attack me, with Sir Thomas Overbury.'

'Ye met Overbury? And he was violent?' James had let his head sink into his vast ruff, but now he straightened up. Had Coke been stupid enough not to tell the King of Overbury's presence? Yes, by the look on his face! Before Coke could interject, Carr jumped in.

'Your Majesty,' he said, 'this slander against Sir Thomas is unfair, without Sir Thomas here to prove it false. Might I ask to summon him.

'No, sir, you may not.' The King cut off his favourite with a sharpness Gresham had never seen before. That tightening across James's brow — James tolerated Overbury because he loved Carr, and Overbury made it so that the one had to come with the other. Yet even James was not insensitive to the awfulness of the man. 'And did it surprise you, Sir Henry? To find Sir Edward there?' It was the King who spoke, to Coke's obvious annoyance. Coke had raised his hand to respond as well.