"My lord," said the Archbishop, I have come to you about a very serious matter. The Lollards are about to rise and it is time that we took action against them."
"The Lollards!" cried the King. "We keep them in check do we not? We know how to deal with them if they become too saucy."
"They have become more than saucy, my lord. They have become a menace."
Henry studied his Archbishop intently. Always alert for the rights of the Church, he thought. Always watchful lest some privileges be filched by the State. Henry believed that the State must come first. The Archbishop would not agree. There was always this conflict between the two parties.
Arundel had had a stormy career. He had been banished by Richard; and because Richard had been his enemy, Henry the Fourth had been his friend. Arundel regretted the passing of the fourth Henry and was going to be very wary of the Fifth of that name. And rightly so, thought the new King.
No need to worry. He was an old man. I shall soon be appointing my own archbishop.
"My lord, the Lollards conspire against the crown when they would attack the Church."
Henry raised his eyebrows.
"Lollardry was behind the Peasants' Revolt, my lord," said the Archbishop. "Make no mistake about that. This is a villeins' charter. They would try to make you their puppet or set up one in your place."
"We have had the Lollards with us for several years. Tell me, my lord Archbishop, why are you excited about them now?"
"Because, my lord, they have a new leader. A man of some wealth and the power to lead. They are gathering together under his leadership. They will be marching on London if we do not take some action."
"Cannot you take this leader and put him in the Tower that he may be judged of his treason?"
"It can be done, my lord, but in view of who this man is, I thought it best to bring the matter first to your notice and ask what you would have done."
"But if this man is the leader of a band of rebels who plan to revolt against the crown ... why do you hesitate?"
"It is Lord Cobham, my lord, who was at some time Sir John Oldcastle. He is known to be a man whom you held in some regard. Before he is arrested we would know your will"
"Oldcastle!" cried the King. A slow smile touched his lips. You old rogue, he thought. What are you up to now? "So he has become a reformer, eh?" Henry was thoughtful for a while. He had not entirely surprised. Old John had loved to discuss, and at times he had leaned towards, those views which were held by the Lollards. It was difficult to imagine him completely serious. He would never give up his lazy lecherous life for a cause surely.
"It appears to be since his marriage to Lady Cobham my lord."
The King nodded. "She is an heiress, is she not?"
"The granddaughter of old Lord Cobham who died some years ago. She now owns Cobham Manor and Cowling Castle"
"What sort of a woman is she?"
"She is about thirty. Oldcastle is her fourth husband."
"A much married lady. One of firm opinions I imagine, and of course by his marriage to her John Oldcastle acquires the title. He will like that."
"There is much Lollardry in the district in which he and his wife now live. It has increased of late. I have heard that the reason is that Lord Cobham is a forceful leader and knows how to recruit men to his cause."
"He would do that," agreed Henry. "I never knew a man more persuasive in his arguments."
"It is proposed that he be arrested and questioned."
Henry nodded. "I will talk to him," he said. "I will show him what a dangerous position he places himself in. It is true he was a friend of mine. It would please me to advise him."
The Archbishop nodded and when he had retired the King sent to Cobham Manor with a command that his old friend visit him without delay.
They faced each other—those two who had been the roystering companions intent on savouring adventures, outdoing each other in their recklessness, boastfully declaring that they would stop at nothing—however offensive to conventional society.
There is a change in him, thought the King. He is as rotund as ever; he still has the merry twinkle in his eyes; but there is a new seriousness, a purpose; one might even say fanaticism.
"Well John," said Henry, "you may have guessed why I have sent for you."
"It is because you have missed my merry company and wish to make use of it again."
"Of a truth I have missed it but there is little time in my life now for such merriment as that which you and I indulged in. You have become over serious, John."
"My lord, you have become a King and I detect something of a change in you."
"I have to speak to you seriously"
"You have been in conference with my lord Archbishop I'll swear."
"Then you know of this grievance against you."
"'Til warrant that my lord Archbishop knowing of a certain fondness between you and me will have your permission first before he proceeds to clap me into the Tower"
"John, you have to stop this nonsense."
"Nonsense! My lord, you have failed to understand. As well might I ask you to give up your crown."
"Now it is you who talk nonsense. You have not only joined the Lollards but have become their leader and because you are yourself ... with a strength of persuasion which I know is powerful ... and because you have now married Lady Cob-ham and make use of her wealth and her title you have provided a rallying point. You are in danger, old man. As one who has been your friend, I am warning you."
"Your words fall on stony ground, my dear lord."
"Then I intend to cultivate that ground and make it fertile. John, you must listen to me."
"I had hoped to make you listen to me."
"Come, would you turn me into a Lollard?"
"We do not stand against the King, my lord. We have our eyes on the Church."
"What could a band of rebels ... peasants for the most part ... do against the Church?"
"We want to reform it. You must agree that Christ and his apostles did not wrap themselves in fine garments. They did not live in palaces. They went about humbly and in poverty to do good. A Church which holds landed possessions, collects tithes and takes money from peasants who are starving and can ill afford to pay for burials and baptizing cannot be doing the work Christ intended on this Earth"
"I have no doubt that your intentions are good, John. We have the Church and we have always had the Church. I cannot have my Archbishop roaming the countryside and sleeping under hedges when he cannot beg a bed, living on the scraps thrown to him by some farmer's wife. Let us be reasonable, John. I fear for you. They will arrest you. They will question you. God's ears, old man, can you not see what fate could be in store for you? Have you forgotten William Sawtre?"
"I have not forgotten him. Nor will many. He was the first man to be burned to death for his religious opinions. Acts like that do not deter. They strengthen purpose."
"They should be a lesson to you."
"They are indeed, my lord, a lesson that a man's soul is his dearest possession and that cannot be destroyed by fire."
"I had rather see my former lewd companion than this earnest reformer."
"Then you do wrong," answered Oldcastle seriously. "I rejoice to see a King where once was a reckless boy. Do you remember, Hal—forgive the familiarity but my mind goes back to the days when we were boon companions, for I speak of those days. Dost remember a humble tailor of the diocese of Worcester? His name was John Badby?"
The King turned away shaking his head impatiently, but he did so to hide the fact that he was moved. Yes, he did remember John Badby. He had thought of him often during the months that had followed that day. He had smelt the acrid smell, heard the groans of agony. It was something he preferred to forget.