‘And perhaps he is. So what should I do? Sit here in Kent and wait?’ I stood up and paced the hall, trying to force my thoughts and fears into a pattern that might suggest some course of action. I flung words out almost at random.
‘Bart is in danger. He may be able to hide from the magistrate. But from the criminals? What of Lizzie and the children? Won’t Black Harry seek them out in order to get to Bart? Where does Cranmer’s trouble fit into all this?’
‘Cranmer?’ Ned looked puzzled.
I gave him a brief account of my visit to Ford.
‘Mary and all the saints!’ Ned exclaimed. ‘What morass have you waded into now?’
‘Whatever it is we must make sure no one else gets trapped in it. Ned, we must keep everyone safe that we can. Please, go back to London. Bring Lizzie here. She won’t want to come but bring her – bound and gagged if necessary.’
‘I’ll try, but-’
‘No, don’t try; succeed! She can’t stay on her own in London. Here I can defend her and the children.’
‘Pray God you can. But what will you be doing the while?’
‘I don’t know. I must think. We have to assume, for now, at least, that our enemy is Black Harry. That means we have to act urgently. I don’t want to hustle you but could you set out straight away? I’ll send a couple of my men with you to bring you and Lizzie back safely.’
As soon as Ned had gone I took precautions for the safety of everyone at Hemmings, especially Adie and the children. I set up a twenty-four-hour guard rota so that the estate was patrolled constantly by armed servants. In order not to alarm everyone I told them the caution was necessary because of the disturbed state of the countryside. Since there were bands of hungry and desperate men abroad, breaking into houses and barns, I explained, all householders needed to take special measures. I urged everyone to be on the alert and report to me immediately they saw or heard anything suspicious.
The next thing I had to do was contact neighbouring landowners in order to carry out the archbishop’s commission. I sent messages informing the recipients that I intended to call upon them during the next week. In the event, I was forestalled by a letter which arrived two days later, on 16 September. It was from Sir Thomas Moyle, member of parliament for Kent, justice of the peace and probably the richest gentleman in the county. It summoned me to a meeting together with all the principal landowners of northern Kent on the forthcoming Saturday, the eighteenth, at Moyle’s house, Eastwell Court. I was curious to see the mansion that others referred to as one of the most splendid in the county. Although I was fairly well acquainted with the man, I had never visited him. His rise to wealth and influence had been rapid. As an associate of Thomas Cromwell in bringing down the abbeys, he had acquired several parcels of monastic land throughout southern England. The money with which to make this investment had come from his marriage to the daughter and heiress of Edward Jordeyne, one of the leading London goldsmiths. It was through this connection with the Worshipful Company that I got to know him. I was glad Cranmer spoke well of him and regarded him as an ally. This gave me some hope that he might bring his influence to bear in the search for my quarry.
I made an early start on Saturday but not before going round Hemmings and satisfying myself that all the walls, gates and buildings were secure and well-guarded. I and my men joined up with James Dewey’s party and we took the Dover road, avoiding the more direct route through the low-lying and sodden country to the south. We had just passed through Ghilham and were on the last leg of our journey when we came up with Edward Thwaites, whose home was nearby. He was one of the senior gentlemen of the shire and also one of the most conservative. He certainly did not seem pleased with his summons to the meeting.
‘You’d think Sir Thomas would know we have better things to do,’ Thwaites grumbled. ‘I’ve never known the country so unstable, not even at the time the monasteries were being pulled down. The more troublemakers I hang, the more are lining up to take their places.’
‘I believe the archbishop is hoping our commission will ensure that preachers stick to official doctrine. That ought to make our job easier.’
‘Hypocrite!’ Thwaites exploded in cynical laughter. ‘Cranmer’s the biggest heretic in England!’
‘That is foolish talk,’ James protested. ‘I’ve heard slackbrained ploughmen say that sort of thing after four jars of ale, but Cranmer speaks for the king and has the backing of parliament.’ .
‘For the moment,’ Thwaites muttered.
‘What do you mean by that?’ I asked.
‘No matter.’ Thwaites waved a hand. ‘All I know is that most of the pulpit pounders and Bible bashers round here claim to have Cranmer’s support. Let me tell you about the worst of the brood. He’s a snivelling little rabble rouser called Richard Turner, Vicar of Chartham, and he’s been rampaging around these parts for the last couple of years. He preaches inside the churches and out. He stirs young men to all sorts of vandalism. My grandfather left money – a lot of money – in his will for a statue of the Virgin for Chilham Church. Three months ago, one of Turner’s mobs hauled it down – sacrilegious, degenerate traitors! Don’t tell me his majesty sanctions that sort of behaviour!’ Thwaites’s face was red with fury.
‘You have the power to arrest such villains,’ James observed mildly.
‘Aye, and there’s the point of it. Twice I’ve had Turner clapped in jail and sent him up to the archbishop’s court. What happened? His grace says he “finds no fault” in the man. So Turner goes on his way, bolder than before. Well, this time I have him. He’s in irons waiting to go before the assize judges at Michaelmas. Cranmer won’t rescue him from the gallows this time.’
‘That was well done, Edward,’ I said. ‘I trust you are as hard on gangs who are paid by papistical bishops to go around maiming and killing folk not of their faith.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ the old man asked.
‘No matter,’ I replied, with a wave of my hand.
Eastwell Court was as impressive as popular rumour had led me to expect. The original courtyard had been extended westwards and a large workforce was occupied in erecting a balancing range of buildings to the east. Sir Thomas received us in his great hall where several guests were already assembled and were talking in small groups. Everything about Moyle impressed and was meant to impress. He wore a doublet of grey silk with a gold chain stretched across his ample stomach. He shook hands and shared a few words with each newcomer in turn. He clearly enjoyed holding court and was well practised at it. Having received his words of greeting, I moved towards the fire-place, before which a small group were engaged in debates.
‘Bishop Gardiner says he would give six thousand pounds to pluck down the archbishop. I have that on good authority from a friend on the Privy Council.’ The speaker was an austere man with lank black hair. I immediately recognised Sir Anthony St Leger of Ulcombe, a man high in the king’s confidence and but recently returned from acting as viceroy in Ireland. I joined his group.
‘How does Gardiner intend to achieve that, do you think?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I keep clear of religious infighting,’ St Leger replied. ‘I leave that sort of thing to my brother, Arthur. He’s a prebendary at Canterbury.’
Someone else said, ‘I gather all the prebendaries and senior clergy at Canterbury heartily wish to be rid of Cranmer.’
‘But again I ask, how are they going to do it?’ I persisted. ‘Brave talk is easy but I understand that Cranmer stands very high in his majesty’s affections.’
‘I agree with Thomas.’ Peter Flett, from Hadstead, near Tonbridge, like me, was one of the younger members of the gathering. ‘When there was all that trouble at Windsor, a few weeks back, everyone was saying that the archbishop would be caught up in it, but nothing has happened.’
‘As far as you know,’ St Leger suggested. ‘It matters not what “everyone” is saying; ’tis what is being said and plotted in secret that is important. When Cromwell was brought down who could have foretold it? For all the world knew, he stood high in his majesty’s affections. Yet, within a few hours, the upstart’s reign was over. My guess is that it will be the same with Cranmer. He is much unloved by people who matter. They will not suffer him to remain at the king’s right hand much longer. Anyone who is wise will be careful not to get too close to our dear archbishop. When ships sink, little boats can get caught in their wake and founder also.’