‘We were having our prayers,’ Margaret explained, as she rose to greet me. ‘Robert always conducted them when he was home. I do my poor best to keep up the tradition, though I’m not as learned as Robert. But then, everything we need is in here, isn’t it?’ She pointed to the open book on the table — Tyndale’s Testament.
‘Should you not be more cautious about reading that?’ I asked.
Margaret squared her shoulders and looked at me with unblinking eyes. I realised that something about her had changed. Her demeanour was more confident, even defiant. ‘When Robert was here,’ she said, ‘I did sometimes worry that Stokesley’s men might come a-raiding. But then I told myself that he and his crew would not dare make trouble for Robert. I see, now, that I was hiding behind my husband’s reputation. Well, no longer. We have just been reading what is written here in Second Timothy.’ She picked up the book and recited, ‘“I am not ashamed. For I know whom I have believed, and am sure that he is able to keep that which I have committed to his keeping.” If the bishop wants to send someone to shoot me or drag me off to one of his Smithfield bonfires, so be it. He will be doing me a great service to reunite me with dear Robert.’
I could not find an appropriate response and, after a brief silence, Margaret continued brightly, ‘So, Thomas, sit down and tell me what you have discovered. The last I heard was that you had been to Antwerp. Thomas Poyntz came to see me before Christmas — poor man — and told me that you had been busy over there.’
‘How is Master Poyntz?’ I asked. ‘I thought he was staying longer in Antwerp.’
‘He is in wretched case.’ Margaret seated herself opposite. ‘The Emperor’s people made so much trouble for him that he had to leave the English House in great haste. His wife and children remain over there and are safe but he is staying with his brother in Essex. He cannot continue his business and is like to be utterly ruined. Thus does ‘Stoker’ Stokesley make honest Englishmen fugitives in their own country. Oh, the wickedness of these papists!’
At that moment, a maid appeared bearing a tray on which stood a jug and two glasses. She placed it on the table and departed silently.
Margaret poured out a deep yellow liquid. ‘Escobar,’ she said. ‘My physician prescribes it as a remedy for melancholy and the damp humours. Unlike most of the concoctions he brings me, it is quite palatable.’
I sipped the sweet cordial. ‘Very pleasant — as is the news I bring. Robert’s murderer is dead.’ I reported Il Ombra’s detention and despatch, omitting any data that might be considered politically sensitive.
My hostess nodded solemnly. ‘And you have sufficient evidence against Stokesley as the instigator of the assassination?’
‘He was not the perpetrator,’ I explained. ‘The man who had a vendetta against Robert and, later, against me was John Incent, a member of the cathedral chapter.’
‘Hoh!’ Margaret uttered a scoffing laugh. ‘That haughty lewdster with hair the colour of hellfire! I know him well. He is a sworn enemy of Bible people. He came here once — it must have been six months since — complaining about a speech Robert made in the parliament house. He said Robert should have more respect for the clergy. It will be good to see him brought to book.’
I was struggling to find words to explain, as gently as possible, that this was not going to happen, when the arrival of a new guest was announced. Moments later William Locke bustled into the room. He and Margaret greeted each other warmly and for several minutes we exchanged small talk. Locke had laid aside his cloak, revealing an exquisite doublet of dove grey, embroidered with black and silver thread. Now he unfastened the large purse attached to his belt and drew out a thick pamphlet whose pages were crisp and uncurled. ‘I am delighted to find you here, Master Treviot. I brought this along to show Mistress Packington but it will interest you, too.’
He laid the document on the table and pulled up a chair. I stared down at the blank cover. No title. No author’s name.
‘Printed in Antwerp,’ Locke explained, ‘and arrived in London two days since. I bought it from a bookstand in Paul’s Yard and straightway read it, cover to cover. When I went back this morning the stallholder told me his stock was all gone and he’d sent for more. “’Tis the talk of the City,” he said, and I well believe it.’
‘So, what is it?’ I asked.
‘’Tis about the Hunne case,’ Locke replied. ‘You were a child when it occurred and may not have heard of it, but it caused much commotion at the time.’
‘Indeed, I do know of it,’ I said. ‘In fact, I had the privilege of experiencing Master Hunne’s accommodation in the Lollards’ Tower. But this is an old story. Why should people be interested in it now?’
Locke smiled knowingly, excitement showing on his usually grave face. ‘Now is precisely the time to publish a full account of that appalling affair. All London is talking about poor Robert’s death — and we all know who encompassed that. Then there is the burning of Master Tyndale. People are still outraged about the sordid doing to death of a fine English scholar. Now, with the collapse of the papist rebellion in the North, the truth can finally come to light on all these things. Also, good news comes from the court — ’
‘Then the pilgrimage is definitely over?’ Margaret interrupted.
‘As good as,’ Locke replied. ‘When the king had the arch-traitor Aske to court and made much of him, the other leaders in the North felt themselves betrayed. The latest information is that the one-eyed lawyer has been shunned by former supporters and that his movement is falling apart in mutual recriminations. But, as I was saying,’ he hurried on, ‘good news comes from court. Cromwell, at the king’s command, is to preside over a grand council or synod of clergy and laymen to debate the great doctrines of our faith. The bishops will be called to justify all their traditions from Holy Scripture.’
‘All this is interesting,’ I said, ‘but how does it help us?’
‘Don’t you see?’ Locke looked at me impatiently. ‘It all affects the mood of the City. Now, though he might wish it otherwise, the king cannot afford to ignore London. He can threaten and dissimulate with the barbarous northern rabble but he dare not antagonise his capital. This’ — Locke prodded the pamphlet — ‘will inflame the populace and force His Majesty to expose the plot against Robert. Twenty-two years ago, a leading London merchant was brutally murdered in the Lollards’ Tower. Why? Because he challenged the power of the clergy and because he put his trust in English translations of the Bible. Today we have another leading member of our mercantile community assassinated for the very same reasons. Anyone would have to be totally beside his wits not to make the connection. After the Hunne case the complicity of the Bishop of London and his cohorts was hushed up, largely because the king did not want to antagonise the clergy. This pamphlet explains how the truth was suppressed and prints documents of the time that were concealed. It will infuriate people. The clergy will not find the king so compliant now, especially after the support some of them have expressed for the rebels.’
‘What exactly did happen to Master Hunne?’ Margaret asked. ‘I’ve often wondered.’
Locke picked up the pamphlet. ‘’Tis all here, in great detail — an appalling indictment of the lengths churchmen will go to to protect their own kind. It shows exactly how the bishop’s chancellor, William Horsey, plotted brutal murder. Thomas, this will help you to expose the truth about Robert’s death.’
Margaret shared his enthusiasm. ‘Perhaps the tide is really turning at last, William. Thomas here has worked so hard in our cause and, as a result, the villain who shot Robert has paid for it with his life. I ought to say, “God rest his soul” but, in truth, I cannot. Now, it only remains to expose the ones who lay behind this crime and, as you say, the papists will not escape punishment this time.’