Ned looked puzzled. ‘Why do these desperate men think you know where Master Holbein is hiding?’
‘It must be because they know I’m looking after his children. Their safety is my only concern. I’m just writing letters to all the main landlords,’ I concluded. ‘I mean to alert the whole shire. That way we should hear news of these villains.’
Lizzie glared at me across the table. ‘More folly!’ she shouted. ‘What’s the first thing they’ll do when they know they’re being tracked?’
Ned and I exchanged glances. We both knew Lizzie was right. To be sure of avoiding capture the murderers would not hesitate to get rid of their hostages.
‘What else can we do?’ I asked.
Lizzie answered promptly. ‘Give them this man they’re looking for.’
Ned shook his head. ‘But we don’t know where he is, Lizzie.’
‘Then try harder.’ Lizzie stood up, tight-lipped. ‘I’m going to take my baby.’
For some moments after she had gone Ned and I stared at each other in helpless silence. ‘So the children are doomed whether we act or whether we do nothing,’ I said at last.
Ned nodded. ‘We are in what the mystics call the dark forest of fear. Yet, what makes our case worse is that we are not the only ones lost in it.’
‘Your meaning?’
‘Well, for sure Black Harry (and it must be him we seek) lives in dread of the hangman. Adie and the children must be suffering from we know not what terrors. Poor Bart and this Master Johannes you tell me about are frightened into hiding.’
‘Aye, and it stops not there.’ I told Ned of my meetings with Cranmer and Marbeck. ‘All these things must be connected. For example, I believe I may know why this raid was made today.’
‘Tell me.’
I wandered to the window and gazed out across an overgrown patch of lawn where water had gathered in the depressions. ‘I have been very careful not to mention the name “Black Harry” to anyone I do not trust completely, because I do not know who might be among his patrons. Yesterday afternoon I’m fairly sure someone overheard me speak the name.’ In my mind I saw again the figure of Edward Thwaites emerging from the shadows in Moyle’s hall. ‘That same person is a sworn enemy of the archbishop. Later he pressed me – very hard – to stay the night with him.’
‘To keep you away from Hemmings?’
‘I think so.’
‘Because he knew the children were here?’
‘I think he must have overheard that, too.’
‘Even if you are right about this fellow ’tis not information you can use. Lizzie’s judgement is sound: we dare not let Black Harry and his associates think we’re on his trail. You see what I mean about us all blundering around in the same darkness. Not only do we need to find our own way out; we have to avoid bumping into each other.’
‘Mary and all the angels, what a mess! I suppose Lizzie is right. We must find Master Holbein.’Tis the only way.’
‘How, if he will not be found?’
‘I know someone who is a party to his plans; I’m sure of it.’ I told Ned about Jan van der Goes. ‘I’ll seek him out tomorrow.’
‘And you think you can persuade this man to betray his friend and then persuade Master Holbein to surrender himself to the assassins?’
‘Perhaps. Once he knows that his children are in mortal danger, he might do the right thing.’
‘Is it the right thing? What of his importance to Cranmer … and your own solemn oath? Heaven knows, I’m no lover of our archbishop but you are sworn before God to serve him. Will you so lightly put your immortal soul in danger?’
‘Don’t preach at me, monk!’ I glared across the room. ‘I need no one to draw the cords of conscience tighter than they already are. If you’ve nothing more useful to say, you’d better be away back to Southwark.’
*
The party that set out for London the next morning was in a sombre mood. Lizzie, as was her wont, rode astride and she had baby Jack well swaddled and strapped to her chest. I had chosen fresh horses for her and Ned. Several of those in my stable were tired, having been ridden hard along treacherous muddy tracks the previous day in search of the abducted children. We were accompanied by six of my strongest men. After the events of the weekend I was taking no chances for the safety of myself and my friends. I set as brisk a pace as the conditions would allow. Although the weather had brightened, the highway was still badly rutted and pitted. Some of the parishes along the way had taken their statutory responsibilities seriously. Groups of workers were out with spades, picks and carts of stone, filling holes and smoothing the surface. There was less wheeled traffic than usual, presumably because carters were wary of wasting long hours freeing their vehicles from the mud. That, at least, made travelling easier for horsemen. I had hopes that we might reach the City by day’s end and could set about our quest for the painter early on the morrow. Keeping up a good speed while, at the same time, watching for hazards ahead, left us little time for conversation. We were only able to discuss our plans in spaced-out, disjointed episodes.
‘I should come with you when you go to Bart,’ I suggested to Lizzie.
‘Why?’
‘’Tis my fault his daughter is in jeopardy.’
‘Like as not he’ll blame himself for starting all this trouble.’
‘That’s another reason for me to see him. I want him to know that I don’t reproach him. He stumbled quite innocently into matters of high state. He couldn’t have known of the dangers involved. Probably he still doesn’t.’
‘Well, I certainly don’t.’ Lizzie scowled. ‘What’s it all about, Thomas? If I’m on the point of losing my husband and my child, I’d rather like to know what cause they’re being sacrificed for.’
‘Lizzie, as long as there’s blood in my body, I’ll do all I can to save them – both.’
‘We know that’s not possible.’
‘You mustn’t think that.’
‘Mustn’t?’ she snapped. ‘I’ve been thinking of nothing else all night. If we save the children by giving this Black Harry you talk about what he wants, he’ll remain at liberty and Bart will still be an outlaw wanted for murder. But if we track down the gang in order to clear Bart’s name they’ll kill their hostages. So, don’t give me empty promises. Just explain what higher purpose this is all supposed to be serving.’
‘Oh, Lizzie, I wish I could. I don’t fully understand it myself. It’s all about …’
‘Politics?’
‘Yes – politics and religion.’
‘Dear God, the games these kings and great men play, using us for their cards and counters.’ Her angry bluster was an outlet for her anxiety, just as mine had been the previous day when I snapped at Ned.
We were coming into a small village. A little family group stood at the roadside – a mother and three young children, barefoot and ragged. They held out their hands to the passing travellers.
Lizzie found her purse and threw down some coins. ‘Do you think they care about kings and popes and archbishops?’
‘Probably no more than kings and popes and archbishops care about them,’ I said.
‘Then, in the name of all the saints in heaven – or wherever they are – why should we put everything at risk to keep one single nobleman or bishop in power or bring down another nobleman or bishop? Can you honestly tell me that this wretched business matters – 1 mean, really matters?’
In simplified terms I tried to explain that Cranmer and his enemies could not agree about the kind of church life England should have, that each was passionately attached to his understanding of truth and that for them, and many others, it was a matter of life and death. I don’t think I convinced her.
Sometime afterwards I brought my gelding alongside Ned’s horse. We had scarcely spoken since the previous afternoon.
‘I spoke rashly yesterday,’ I said. ‘Please put my foolish words down to worry.’
The old man smiled his usual calm smile. ‘We read in the Book of Proverbs, “A man of discretion controls his anger; it is his glory to overlook wrongs”. You were under great strain. You had to shout at someone. I’m glad it was me.’