Walt brought his horse alongside mine. ‘That was well spoken back there, Master. I don’t like troublemakers but that Turner was poorly treated.’
‘I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me.’
‘You’ve shown there’s at least one honourable man in Kent. Where to now, Master? Back to Hemmings?’
‘Not yet,’ I replied. ‘We have a call to make in Croydon.’
The early sunshine softened the austere outline of the archbishop’s venerable palace. The large building, partly of stone and partly of brick, was certainly impressive but the gentle eastern light gave it a warm, almost welcoming appearance. We had arrived in Croydon on Thursday evening and obtained lodging in a pleasant inn. The following morning I rose early in the hope of meeting Ralph Morice before he became embroiled in the day’s affairs. When my presence had been announced, I was led through several rooms and up a staircase to a first-floor long gallery. I had heard of this architectural fashion for a special space where the residents could take indoor exercise but had not before encountered one. As I waited, I slowly paced the length of the room, pausing occasionally to admire the view through its many south-facing windows. These overlooked extensive gardens and offered an excellent prospect of wooded upland beyond.
‘What a beautiful day.’
I had not heard Ralph Morice’s approach. Turning to shake his hand, I said, ‘Yes, and an excellent vantage point.’
‘This is his grace’s favourite house. He’s spent considerable sums on improvements over the years. Lambeth Palace is appallingly damp and Ford is too close to Canterbury for comfort. I gather you’ve just come from there.’
‘Yes, and was glad to be quit of the place.’
As we paced up and down the gallery, I recounted the events of the last few days.
Morice listened attentively, occasionally interrupting to ask a question.‘Poor Richard,’he said at last.
‘Can you do anything for him?’ I asked.
‘I hope so.’ He walked on a few paces, head forward, hands clasped behind his back. He stopped and turned. When he spoke it was with a new gravity and urgency. ‘Thomas, you are already a long way into this business. May I ask you to go even further?’
‘Will it help me keep my friend from the gallows?’
‘It may. His fate has become tangled with matters of greater import.’
‘Then, I will do whatever I can …’
‘It will be dangerous – more dangerous than even I can guess. The people we’re up against are driven by forces that I don’t hesitate to call demonic. As soon as they know you’re probing their affairs …’
‘Ralph, for God’s sake, will you tell me what all this is about? I’ve picked up bits and pieces, hints and suggestions, suspicions and accusations. I can’t fit them together. I don’t even know if they do fit together.’
‘Thomas, you are closer to the truth than you know.’ Morice breathed a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Come sit.’
We moved to two large panelled chairs by a window and Morice continued. ‘The pieces do not fit. If they did that would suggest that there is a scheme, a pattern, a plan, something governed by coherent principles. In England today no such intelligent arrangement of facts, ideas, policies exists. All is chaos.’
‘I don’t begin to understand.’
‘No, and it would be better, safer, for you to continue in ignorance. But, if you want to save your friend and, God willing, also the archbishop, you must open your mind to the unpleasant truth.’ He paused. ‘There is pain that is so intense it can drive a man out of his wits. Our king is a victim of such pain – in his legs.’
‘Are you saying his majesty is …’
Morice put a finger to his lips. ‘We may think it but must never say it. He is not afflicted all the time. When his ulcerous sores are opened and drained, or when he has been bled, he has a measure of relief. Then, we get glimpses of the old Henry – affable, approachable, rational. At other times … Well, I prefer to think ’tis the devil that possesses him. Then no one can guess what he will say, what he will do, what he will order to be done.’
‘If what you say is true, how is England governed?’
‘It isn’t. Not properly. Not this last three years,’
‘Since Cromwell’s fall?’
‘Aye. He was a political genius – and a man of God. He understood what ailed his majesty. He could ride the king’s moods, handle complex affairs of state, give England a political direction – and a spiritual one. He had a vision for the building of a godly commonwealth. He could speak plainly to the king. I’ve seen his majesty box Cromwell round the ears and Cromwell walk away smiling. He knew how far he could go; what he needed to do to keep the king’s trust.’
‘Until the day he lost it.’
‘Aye, and since then England has been like a ship adrift.’
‘But surely the Privy Council …’
Morice snorted his contempt. ‘Worse than half-brewed ale! They’re frightened of the king and each one is concerned only for his own security. That is why they squabble among themselves.’
‘And it’s the Duke of Norfolk and Bishop Gardiner who are heading the attack on the archbishop?’
‘Foxy Gardiner is the one to watch. Old Norfolk is all oaths and bluster. He lacks the wit for conspiracy. I wonder he’s survived to three score years and ten. His influence is largely based on family ties and the power of the ancient nobility, especially in the remote areas away from London. Gardiner is canny and he has a large section of the Church behind him. He really does head a “party”, a “faction”, a far-reaching “web”. He has friends among all those who hanker after the old days of papal Antichrist, whether in parliament, among the parish clergy or the shire gentry. You’ve heard Marbeck’s story. You’ve seen for yourself the campaign against Turner. I could name a baker’s dozen of other good Christian souls who have been embroiled in Wily Winchester’s plots this last year alone.’
He stood up. ‘Let’s walk a little more. My legs become stiff with too much sitting.’
As we turned to pace the gallery again, the secretary resumed his tale. ‘This business in Canterbury is the most dangerous yet.’
‘Because it aims to unseat Cranmer from his position at the centre of the diocese?’
‘Yes, the real power there lies with the prebendaries, the senior clergy. Most of them have been in place several years and are reactionary to a man. In order to limit their influence, his grace established a new body, the Six Preachers, whose task it is to maintain regular Gospel preaching. Richard Turner is one of them.’
‘Really? I did not know that.’
‘The two groups and their supporters are locked in conflict and their quarrel extends into the parishes and the manor houses of Kent. This you know. What you probably do not know is that the prebendaries take their lead directly from the Bishop of Winchester. The link is Germain Gardiner, the bishop’s nephew and secretary. He travels constantly between the court and the cathedral.’
‘Why doesn’t his grace take strong action to deal with these subversive elements?’
Morice sighed and lifted his gaze heavenwards. ‘Because he disdains intrigue. Because he thinks he is not called to play worldly politics. Because he believes God will support him against the machinations of evil men. Because he is sure that truth will prevail. In short, because he is too much the saint and too little the archbishop. So I must play the Machiavel, make the deals, conceive the strategies, do the best I can with the cards his grace has been dealt.’