Marbeck stood abruptly and stumbled off along the cloister.
Comfortable as my allotted quarters were, I slept little that night. The hideous images Marbeck had conjured up recurred unbidden every time I tried to rid my mind of them. And the personal implications of his story for me were frightening. What was I being dragged into? Part of me was shouting, ‘Get yourself out of this.’ But there was another – a whisper, though insistent – which said, ‘You must do what you can to stop such villainy.’
When Cranmer summoned me back to his study the following morning I reported my conversation with the distracted choirman.
‘Poor John,’ Cranmer said. ‘I must see him and try to offer some comfort. At least his testimony seems to have been more persuasive than mine. I think you understand more clearly now the situation in which I am placed.’
‘Surely, Your Grace, if you were to report the Bishop of Winchester and his associates to the king, he would soon put a stop to their schemes.’
‘It is not so simple. His majesty will require proof. Just as Stephen Gardiner goes about to prove me a heretic, so I need to gain evidence of his stratagems. As I remarked yesterday, I have no alternative but to play the game of intrigue by the rules. The good bishop has a network of agents, as you have heard from the unfortunate John Marbeck. Master Holbein has been gathering information about this organisation and was on the point of discovering something vital. If he has been unmasked and forced into hiding, that is deeply worrying. Gardiner’s people are not only in Windsor. They are located throughout the land – in the royal court, in London, here in Canterbury, in many shires and certainly in Kent. There are leading men in this county who are against me – parish clergy, magistrates, townsmen, landowners. I, too, must have local people working for me. That is why I want you to discover all you can about your Kentish colleagues.’
‘You wish me to spy on my friends and neighbours?’
‘In a word, “yes”. I understand your reluctance. It does you credit. But reflect on this: any information you can gather about the plot against me may bring you closer to unmasking the villains who killed Master Holbein’s assistant.’
‘You think they were working for Bishop Gardiner?’
Cranmer frowned. ‘Stephen would never condone such an appalling crime. Of that I am sure. But is he able to control all those who work for him? That is a more open question. Now to practicalities. I have appointed a commission – on his majesty’s authority – to inquire into preaching throughout the diocese. It is headed by Sir Thomas Moyle, whom I’m sure you know.’
‘Yes, he’s one of the parliament members for the shire.’
‘That’s right. A good man. Thoroughly reliable. One of Lord Cromwell’s proteges. I’ll instruct him to add your name to the commission. That way you’ll be able to go round asking questions without raising suspicion. But, of course, you will report anything of interest directly to me.’ He drew a ring from his finger. ‘This will always ensure direct access to me, any time, anywhere. As far as possible you should report to me in person. If you need to put anything in writing do so under heavy seal and have it delivered directly to me or to my secretary, Ralph Morice.’ The archbishop rose from his chair. ‘For the moment there’s nothing more to discuss. You will find my guards ready to escort you back to Hemmings. Now kneel and I’ll give you my blessing.’
Chapter 6
It was an uncomfortable journey. The rain clouds had blown over, at least for the time being, and a sickly sun glimmered dimly, veiled in high haze. But it was not the weather that depressed my spirits. My thoughts were dominated by the task I had accepted and the problems of approaching old friends and neighbours as a covert information-gatherer. Yet even my personal predicament did not fully account for my sombre mood. We seemed to be clattering through a broken land. Waterlogged fields skirted the road, covered with flattened, unharvested and unharvestable crops. In some better-drained places farmers were already ploughing the rotten wheat back into the soil. Listless villagers sat outside their cottages. In Chilham and Charing the stocks and pillories were fully occupied with men and women arrested for vagrancy. The bodies of thieves and other felons swung from most way-side gibbets. As we passed through Maidstone a group of young men – scarcely more than boys – threw stones at us and disappeared down a narrow alley where we could not give chase.
‘Why are they angry with us?’ I asked my escort captain.
‘They blame the archbishop and we wear the archbishop’s livery.’
‘Blame him for what?’
‘I doubt whether they know,’ he replied. ‘Their bellies are empty. Their shops lack customers. They have to blame someone.’
‘’Tis the preachers who put them up to it,’ another of the guardsmen said. ‘They tell the people his grace is leading the king deeper into heresy and God is punishing the land with plague and dearth. I’ve heard them myself.’
‘Then they should be arrested for treason.’
‘Who’s going to do that? Most of the magistrates are on their side. I tell you this, Master Treviot. Have a care for you and yours. The country all around is ready to break out in open rebellion.’
Such doom-laden prophecies seemed to be supported next day when I called on my neighbour, Sir James Dewey. His estate at Hadbourne was some five miles from Hemmings. Though he was a few years my senior, we had been friends ever since we had trapped conies on our fathers’ lands and gone fishing together in the local streams. I found him in his orchard supervising the collecting of the crop.
His welcome was warm. ‘Glad to see you, Thomas – glad and relieved. When your people came down from London without you I was worried that you’d fallen prey to the contagion. Things are obviously bad in the City. People have been flocking down here to escape.’ He linked his arm in mine and we walked together towards the house.
‘Has that made things difficult?’
‘Difficult? That is not the word I would choose.’Tis my ill fortune to be JP again this year. Scarce a day passes when I’m not called on to give judgement on vagrants, market thieves, cutpurses, dicemen and I know not what. This summer alone I’ve sent five villains to the quarter sessions for robbery on the highway or breaking into houses. And, of course, for every felon we catch there are a score who go on their evil way.’
‘Do you know of any gangs of hucksters selling their services to wealthy patrons?’
‘There are always desperate men who will do anything for instant coin.’ James looked at me quizzically. ‘But you, I hazard, have a particular reason for asking.’