‘Of course. And if he “appears” again, in God’s name tell him that his boys are safe with me and that I must talk with him. Urgently!’
Chapter 14
That evening Ned and I sat until late examining from every angle a situation that was becoming more complex by the day. I reported my conversation with Meyer.
‘He had little to say, then?’Ned asked.
‘Oh, he had a great deal to say but very little to tell. Heaven grant I never have to listen to one of his sermons. He did, however, make clear his great anxiety for Holbein. He fears our friend may rush headlong into some desperate deal. That’s a concern I share.’
Ned was replacing one of the guttering candles. ‘One thing that has occurred to me,’ he said ‘is the hurry everyone is in – or perhaps panic would be a better word. When I lived in the cloister, everything was regulated. Prayer, worship, work, silent meditation – all things had their allotted places. Life followed a measured, calm routine. That was the beauty of it. When I came out into your world my first impression was one of mad, headlong rush. It took me several weeks to realise that it was an illusion. Very few people, in fact, move faster than they need to move. The seasons come and go, so do feast days and fast days, market days, wash days, baking days. Folk love the unhurried pattern. They avoid frenzy. So when I see people madly rushing to and fro, it makes me wonder why.’
‘You mean like Black Harry?’
‘Him, certainly. He is in London, then he’s here, then in Essex, then back to London. But he’s not the only one. Your Johannes Holbein moves rapidly to and fro across the City, never resting more than a day or two anywhere. And now, here you are, caught up in the same delirious rampaging around the country.’
‘Not of my own free will, I can assure you.’
‘Exactly!’ Ned said with a tone of triumph. ‘Now, if not your will, whose?’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Then let me catechise you. What turns a trickling stream into a raging torrent?’
‘A greater volume of water coming from upriver.’
‘And what causes the greater volume of water?’
‘Well, storms, unusually heavy rain.’
‘So what is the storm that is turning so many lives into a tumbling, raging fury?’
When I hesitated to reply, Ned answered his own question: ‘Fear. Black Harry provokes fear in Holbein but only because he is afraid of someone behind him – upriver, to continue our analogy. Now who can strike fear into the heart of this Godless fiend?’
‘His paymasters.’
‘Yes, he is well protected by powerful men and, presumably, well paid also. But what if he fails to satisfy them?’
‘No more protection and no more gold.’
‘Exactly. His patrons will not hesitate to abandon him if he does not give them what they want. And then?’
‘The great Black Harry becomes just another desperate outlaw, heading almost inexorably for the gallows. That’s all very interesting, Ned, but I don’t see how it helps us.’
‘It always helps to know your enemy, especially his weaknesses. Just bear in mind that yours is vulnerable, One day that knowledge may come in useful. I also counsel you to cultivate the art of reflection.’
I laughed. ‘Would you have me become a recluse, a holy hermit?’
But Ned was quite serious. ‘I would have you stay alive, my friend, and you are more likely to do that if you can stand back from your problems. Rush and hurry begin in the mind – or the soul – and may gallop us unheeding to the precipice. One of the mystics tells us, “The man who lives in contemplation will not err in his worldly affairs”.’
‘Easily said if you live in a monastery,’ I said. ‘Now, talking of fear, I’m very worried about Bart and Lizzie. They and the children ought not to be in the City while the plague is raging.’
‘I agree, and-’
‘Then there’s Bart’s impetuousness. As long as he plays the lone hunter, trying to corner a beast like Black Harry, he’s in constant danger.’
‘Yes, that’s why-’
‘We must try to find some safe refuge where we can keep a check on their activities.’
Now it was Ned’s turn to laugh. ‘You prove my point most eloquently, Thomas. While you’ve been rushing from anxiety to anxiety, I have made the necessary arrangements. A friend of mine – ex-abbess of a Poor Clare convent – has her own house not far away. She will be delighted to take in Lizzie and the children. I’ve also persuaded Lizzie to let Bart stay here with me. If he has to go out we can arrange a suitable disguise, as we did the other day, and I may just possibly be able to exert a calming influence.’
I muttered something to cover my embarrassment.
‘And you,’ Ned continued, ‘what are your plans?’
‘I’ll leave messages for Master Johannes with his friends in the hope of arranging a meeting. For the next few days I shall be busy in Kent on the archbishop’s commission.’
‘Have you thought of trying, to work your way back upstream?’
‘Upstream?’
Ned chuckled. ‘Forgive me. I was carried away by my own metaphor. What I mean is, since all these misfortunes have their origins in the royal court, do you have any contacts there who might be able to help with information or advice?’
‘I have done work for some members of the Privy Chamber. In fact, only a few months ago my workshop made a magnificent astronomical clock for Anthony Denny, his majesty’s Groom of the Stool. A gift for the king. It was designed by Holbein – a most elaborate piece: clock, hourglass, sundial and compass all in one. It stretched my workmen to the limit. Master Anthony was delighted with it.’
‘Could you not have, a word with him? Perhaps there might be a way to dam the flood upriver or divert its channel.’
‘He will be with the court. I believe they’re all out in Berkshire somewhere.’
‘No more than a short day’s ride.’
‘I thought you disapproved of my galloping round the country.’
Ned turned on me his familiar deceptive smile which gave the impression he was a rather simple old man, and concealed his guileful wisdom. ‘It seems to me there is much difference between following a trail and laying one.’
As I took my candle and hauled myself wearily up to Ned’s guest chamber my head whirled. All this talk of rivers and trails! Would I ever again find an even and well-signposted road beneath my feet?
Any thought of taking Ned’s advice was put from my mind when I arrived back at Hemmings. Among the messages waiting for me was one from James Dewey, my friend and Kentish neighbour, suggesting an itinerary for our investigation of local clergy. However, more urgent was the summons to serve on the jury at the Canterbury quarter sessions. There was also a letter from Ralph Morice in response to my reports to the archbishop. The cumulative effect of these documents was worrying in the extreme. I sat in my chamber with them spread before me, looking from one to the other, trying to form a coherent impression of the situation that was developing in the county.
The summons stressed the importance of the forthcoming judicial proceedings:
There is much more business than usual. The postponement of the Michaelmas sittings at Westminster has led to some cases being referred to the quarter sessions. More pressing is the growing unrest in the county. Jails are full with offenders awaiting trial. Until these are dealt with and space made to detain other malefactors, magistrates will find it difficult to place in custody the noisome preachers and popular agitators who are everywhere disturbing his majesty’s peace …
The notice instructed jurors to make provision for spending several days in Canterbury to deal with the crisis.
James’s letter listed seven churches that, in his opinion, warranted our urgent attention.
… Information has been laid against the Vicar of Bremley, that he is sluggardly in setting forth the king’s supremacy, utters saucy words against his grace, the archbishop, and has removed the Bible from his church. At St Margaret’s, Settringham, there has been much stirring caused by the parson, Edmund Styles. People complain of statues defaced by his order and of his preaching in the marketplace. He seems to have built up a large popular following of hot-brained young men who talk of using force to – as they say – rid the realm of popery …