‘He only wishes to do justice,’ Philip said, gravely.
‘He wishes to keep his reputation as the Good Duke with the poor, is nearer the truth,’ Kenzy retorted. ‘As Serjeant Shardlake says, he does not think things through. And in truth Somerset cares for nothing but conquering Scotland.’
‘I have occasionally wondered whether perhaps it might be better if the foot of the body politic had the rule,’ I said, greatly daring, ‘given how the head treats the foot.’
Old Margaret Coleswyn was scandalized. ‘You would deny the social order ordained by God? You sound like an Anabaptist, sir, who would bring the land to murder and anarchy!’
I gave her a wintry smile. ‘I recall just three years ago, when accusations of Anabaptism were thrown at every Protestant by religious traditionalists. Strange how readily reformers themselves now throw the name Anabaptist around. Mistress Joan Bocher has been found guilty of Anabaptist heresy, has she not? I believe she is in the care of Lord Chancellor Rich, who tortured Anne Askew. Perhaps she too will be burned. It is strange how the wheels turn.’
The old woman did not reply, but simply looked at me in outrage. There was silence round the table. Then, to the relief of us all, the second course was brought in; a platter of roast beef on a bed of herbs, plates of chicken in lemon juice. Everyone set to with a will.
‘I congratulate you on the fine meal, Mistress Coleswyn,’ Edward Kenzy said eventually.
‘Thank you. It was hard to get everything, things are either scarce or expensive. The merchants hoard goods one month, then sell them the next when prices have risen again.’
‘I know,’ Kenzy said. ‘I think everyone round this table would at least agree the rise in prices is a serious problem.’ He looked around. ‘But what is the cause, hey? Merchants withholding goods so prices rise, yes, but the real problem is the debasement of the coinage. It is no accident we have had two re-coinages this year alone, and that prices rise faster than ever. The root problem is the waste of money on that war in Scotland, which can never be won. The six-year-old Mary, Queen of Scotland is gone to France, now she will never marry King Edward, and there are French troops in Scotland too. I believe that is all the Protector cares about, fighting this unwinnable war to the cost of everyone.’
Nicholas spoke up from his end of the table. ‘But sir, England must protect itself. Every time we have gone to war with France, the Scotch have attacked us in the rear. If we take control of Scotland, we shall have secured our back door.’
‘But the Protector’s campaigns have been disastrous,’ Kenzy replied, irritably. ‘His chain of Scottish forts have fallen one by one, support from Scotch Protestants is non-existent, and our soldiers are deserting. That is the root cause of our troubles, Master Overton. Silver taken out of the coinage and used to finance a failed war. King Henry started this ruination of the coinage, but that is nothing to what the Protector has done since.’
‘I disagree the war has failed,’ Nicholas persisted. ‘A fresh campaign is being prepared even now.’
Ethelreda said, ‘I saw a troop of Switzer mercenaries passing through London last week, mounted and in armour and carrying arquebuses.’
‘I saw them too, madam.’ Nicholas’s face was alight with the youthful enthusiasm for war. ‘A remarkable sight.’
‘A fearsome sight,’ Ethelreda answered quietly. ‘What if they turn on us?’
‘They are pledged to the King.’
I said, ‘They will pledge themselves to anyone for money. On this matter at least I am with Master Kenzy.’
‘An honourable nation should never be afraid of war,’ Nicholas said firmly.
I looked at Beatrice, sitting opposite him. Until the talk had turned to the war, she had been talking with Ethelreda Coleswyn, turning her head away to rebuff Nicholas’s attempts to join in the conversation. It looked to me like a womanly tactic, so he would be grateful when she did deign to converse with him. I said, ‘Good Mistress Beatrice, what think you of the war? Do you agree with Master Nicholas, or your father?’
Beatrice looked disconcerted. She blushed and turned to her mother. Laura Kenzy smiled. ‘My daughter has no views on such things. She has been taught to concern herself only with matters appropriate to a young lady.’
Beatrice looked relieved. ‘You see, Nicholas,’ she said, ‘what a poor girlish wit I have.’ She gave me a sudden look of pure anger before turning back to Nicholas. ‘Let us talk no more of war,’ she said lightly. ‘Though you will be gone north yourself next week. I shall fear for you.’
‘Only to Norfolk, Mistress Beatrice, it is very far from Scotland.’ Nicholas spoke reassuringly, though I was sure Beatrice was perfectly aware Norfolk was a long way from Scotland. Nicholas touched her fingers with his. She smiled round the table, as though to say, how stupid I am.
But, I thought, you are not.
‘I wish you were not going,’ she told Nicholas. ‘Perhaps when you come back you will be speaking the local tongue, and I shall not understand you.’
‘Well, at least we have taught our daughter to speak properly,’ Laura Kenzy said. I looked at her, realizing she was humourless as well as a snob. I caught her husband’s eye, and he winked.
I said, ‘Norfolk people cannot be so different. Norwich is the second city in England, after all.’
‘And has some of its finest buildings,’ Edward Kenzy said. ‘The great cathedral, the fine guildhall.’
‘You know it?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I once had a case which took me there, although that was many years ago. I hear its economy is greatly decayed since then.’
Just then Philip reminded us that curfew time was near, and no one was supposed to be out after ten. We parted, none of us altogether sorry to end the rather fractious supper. It was almost dark now, and candles had been lit during the meal. Philip sent his steward out to fetch some link-boys to guide us home with their torches. We waited for them outside in the balmy evening. I stood next to Edward Kenzy. ‘An interesting evening, Brother Shardlake,’ he said. ‘I am glad we agree on the debasement, but tell me, would you really have the social order overturned? Do you not, like all gentlemen, fear the rabble, feel easier when accompanied in the streets by your assistant with his sword? Do you not turn your eyes away in disgust from the hordes of beggars as they thrust their hands at you, showing welts and sores that half the time are painted on?’
‘I turn away with shame, Brother Kenzy, not disgust. But I do turn away, so perhaps indeed I have no right to preach. Still, I would see the wrongs of the common people righted.’
Kenzy did not reply, merely rocked a little on the balls of his feet as he smiled and inclined his head to where Nicholas was bowing over Beatrice’s hand, making an elaborate farewell.
‘Young Nicholas is a good lad, if a little brash.’ He looked at me, keen eyes glinting in the candlelight from Philip’s window. ‘My wife is dazzled by the range of your contacts at court. You once worked for Lord Cromwell himself, did you not?’
‘Those contacts were never easy, Master Kenzy. Only the Lady Elizabeth is left, and I am only assistant to her Comptroller, Master Parry.’
‘That’s enough for Laura.’ He chuckled, and I realized Kenzy did not really care whether the relationship between Nicholas and Beatrice prospered or not, so long as it kept his wife from bothering him. I looked again at the young couple. Laura Kenzy was saying that she hoped Nicholas would come to dine with the family when he returned from Norfolk. ‘Oh, yes,’ Beatrice agreed, looking up at Nicholas with her large eyes. I saw something false in her fond look that he did not see. But who can see clearly when they are in love?