CHAPTER THREE

The Genoese Ambassador

With the passing of Twelfth Night, marked once more by another sumptuous feast in the hall, we return to work. With the continued failure of the Council to agree funds for the new system of roads that Cromwell is keen to commission, Parliament will not be recalled until the winter is over - though, if he had his way, the King would happily manage without them. As he needs them to grant him monies, however, he has little choice.

The chill of the new year is still present, and I am grateful for the warmth of my furred simarre, while the clerks frequently gather beside the fireplace in the antechamber. Given the large quantities of paper in the offices, it is the only fireplace that we have, and even those of us who can afford warmer clothing are not averse to doing the same. As there is ice even inside the mullions, Cromwell has already advised the clerks that, should he join them at the fire, he is doing so for the same reasons as they - and they are not obliged to hasten back to their work if he does. Only Wriothesley seems not to be pulled to that welcoming blaze - as though he enjoys an almost monastic devotion to discomfort.

The weather, while bitter, is still dry, however, and we do not have the pleasure of snow to distract bored courtiers. Instead, they wander about dressed in furs, bickering and gossiping; and the news from the Continent seems to add fuel to their waspish conversations.

As Privy Councillors, we are fully aware of the problem - for Charles, Holy Roman Emperor, has taken it upon himself to menace the tiny state of Genoa. With little else to recommend it, the small republic has become something of a centre for banking, and thus has amassed great wealth in doing so. In his eagerness to maintain a state of conflict and expansion of his empire, Charles has borrowed enormous sums from Genoese banks; so much so that he can no longer repay them. Cromwell's spies have already reported long since that the Empire has suffered a series of bad harvests, and the cost of the Emperor's wars have left his coffers depleted. Like Philip of France did with the Templars, it seems that Charles wishes to quash his debts by removing the creditor.

Ever eager for military glory, Henry is most keen to flex his muscles in the face of such apparent aggression on the part of a fellow Prince, though we are not yet sure whether he intends to do so as an ally, or an opponent. It is only later in the afternoon after the meeting that we can be sure - as his voice cuts loudly across the presence chamber, "And to what do we owe this pleasure, Excellency?"

The recipient of this comment, the Imperial Ambassador, turns in surprise, for Chapuys has not expected to be addressed. He is often about the court, politicking, socialising and listening for gossip - so much so that many pay him no mind. Hastily, he bows deeply, "Forgive me, Majesty, I am merely engaged in discourse over the weather."

"Of course you are." Henry's observation is loaded with sarcasm, and even the newest at court could not miss the inevitability of a coming outburst, "And what of your royal master, Lapdog?"

The room goes quiet at once. If the King is offering insults, then it is clear that the coming conversation shall be most uncomfortable for all present - particularly Chapuys. I can see Castillion nearby, smirking into a cup of wine.

Henry is now on his feet, limping with surprising nimbleness towards the Imperial Ambassador, his expression frighteningly hard. Having been the focus of a rage such as this myself, I feel a sense of real sympathy at Chapuys's expression - though he was present at that incident, and looked much the same then when the anger was aimed at me.

The King goes on to subject Chapuys to a shocking tirade of invective, insults and accusations against his Royal master. Whether or not he is being gratuitously provocative, or actually means all that he says, none of us know - but he punctuates his words with sharp stabs of his finger into the Ambassador's shoulder, his reddened face unnervingly close to Chapuys's ear. Accusations that Charles is a thief, a bad debtor, an aggressor and an unwelcome invader…the list goes on and on until, at last, he shouts at the unfortunate man to get out of his presence - and he is allowed to escape.

Looking rather pleased with himself, Henry returns to his throne and continues to accept petitioners as though nothing has happened - albeit that he has made himself exceedingly red in the face. I almost wish I could go after Chapuys, as he is - when not politicking - a most gracious man, and to see him so humiliated is very sad. As I turn, I note that Cromwell looks no happier. They might have their differences, but he is as well disposed to Chapuys as I - for the Imperial Ambassador has been a presence at court for many years.

"Do you think the Emperor shall recall him?" I mutter, quietly, as we opt to return to the offices, rather than linger.

"It is possible - I imagine a strongly worded report is being composed as we speak." Cromwell agrees, "I am told that Genoa has dispatched an Ambassador to speak upon the behalf of their Doge - for they are seeking alliances to protect themselves from the Emperor's forces; though I doubt that such overtures shall succeed in the end. Charles is too strong - even if his exchequer is empty."

"And he risks travel at this time of the year?" I ask, surprised.

"He was based in Paris for a time - and has been resident in Calais since Christmastide. All he requires is a fair wind, and he shall be here. I suspect that, with the roads as they are, he shall make the entire journey by ship and disembark in the Pool of London - for I understand that he is extremely wealthy, and could meet the costs of such a journey even if his master could not."

Within a few days of the incident, the weather changes, and Cromwell learns that the Genoese Ambassador has departed France - and admits that he has been using messenger pigeons following Wyatt's suggestion that I do so from Hampton Court. If the winds continue fair, this new man should arrive in London within two days, and the King is most keen for him to be offered all available hospitality. With his habitual rudeness, he places the task upon Suffolk rather than his chief Minister; as, in his view, it should be a Peer that makes the welcome, not a commoner - and he ignores the smirks of his high-born lords at the obvious insult to Cromwell, who equally ignores the insult.

We are at work when the new Ambassador arrives - a Signor Campofregoso. We know nothing of him beyond the already well-known facts that he is wealthy, but also that he has connections with some of the most highly placed churchmen in the Holy See - which can only serve to increase his standing with the Courts of Europe, though I cannot say for certain that it would do so with Henry, the self-declared head of the Church of England. I suppose it shall not be long before we find out, however, as Suffolk has organised an official reception to greet the new arrival, at which the Privy Council shall be present alongside the higher placed court officials and Lords.

The gathering takes place in the King's Presence Chamber, and only those who are invited are to be present. Those who are not remain gathered in the outer halls, as though forming a guard of honour for Campofregoso as he is escorted by Suffolk and four Palace guards with ceremonial halberds. When he comes into the presence of the King, he makes a most impressive sight: an emerald green velvet doublet liberally slashed with blood red satin and thickly embroidered with gold thread - over which he wears a heavy, dark green simarre trimmed extensively with sable. His upper hose extends down to his knees, and is puffed and slashed with the same red satin as his doublet, while his shoes are green satin trimmed with gold. He positively drips with jewels, which seems to me to be almost unforgivably crass; but he does not compound this as he bows floridly, and waits for the King to speak.

Remarkably, Henry seems quite impressed by the Ambassador's rather spectacular entrance, and stands to greet him, "Your Excellency - welcome to my court."

"Thank you, your majesty," He answers, his words heavily accented, "Forgive me, but I seem to have inadvertently bedecked myself with your jewels. If you could kindly grant your indulgence, I shall remove them and have them sent to you at the first opportunity."

Everyone about me exchanges shocked glances at his presumption; but the King finds the comment most amusing - possibly because of the obvious statement that he is to be gifted a fine array of new baubles - and he laughs delightedly, "And so I do, Excellency - so I do. We shall talk anon over wine - but first I introduce you to the nobles and highly placed men of my court." He indicates that Campofregoso join him, and the new ambassador turns to stand beside the King to accept a bow from all assembled.

It is then that I feel Cromwell stiffen almost violently beside me, for it is only now that the Ambassador's face is fully visible. Startled, I look at him to see that his expression has gone terrifyingly hard, and his bow is as shallow as he can manage without drawing comment. It appears that he knows this new arrival - and there must be bad blood between them. As I have not seen Cromwell with such an expression since he faced Thomas Boleyn, I can only imagine how bad their relations must have been - and I dread to imagine what must have happened.

As we rise again, the King waves everyone away, and guides Campofregoso through to the Privy Chamber beyond. The assembly disperses, and I turn to Cromwell, "What?"

His expression remains hard, but I can see an edge of pain in his eyes as he continues to look at the door through which the two men have exited, "That is one of the vilest men I have ever encountered. God help us all if he is involved."

"You know him?" I ask, "How?"

He sighs, then, and looks at me, "I knew him many years ago, Richie, and I have never forgotten. I never could."

The remainder of the day is very uncomfortable for all in the offices. Cromwell says nothing more to me about his sour mood as we return, and his silence and ill-temper unnerves everyone - even Wriothesley, who does not approach him unless he must. As he is not normally so put-out, we are all bemused - and things only seem to get worse as he tells Wriothesley to leave him be in such a rude manner that all are surprised - not least the Secretary himself, who withdraws with a most injured air.

Even as Daniel refills his inkhorn - never an easy task to do tidily at the best of times - the spillage of a few drops as he lifts the jar causes Cromwell to turn upon him with startling venom, "God above, Daniel - can you not be clumsy for at least a few minutes?"

"I'm sorry my Lord." Daniel stutters, almost fearfully, and hastens away. I shoot a rather aggrieved look at Cromwell on Daniel's behalf, but he ignores me, and goes back to scratching away with his quill.

His displays of temper have so cowed everyone that all move about as quietly as they can, and none dare to speak, except for Peter, who has been working elsewhere for much of the day, and arrives in full flow - for he has seen the Lady Mary again, and the clerks are always most competitive over their rare glimpses of the royal family.

The noise of his excited chatter, as he is oblivious to the atmosphere until it is far too late to stop himself, causes Cromwell to stand up, his expression so enraged that I cannot believe he could show such anger to anyone that is not infernal, "God's Blood, Peter! Cease your pointless chatter! Why should any of us care that you have seen the Lady Mary! Is she an item to be collected and compared like a vase or a jewel? Get yourself back to work, or God help me I shall slap your head!"

That is more than I am prepared to accept, and he sees me stand, which - somehow - causes him to pause, and his expression falters. He turns to Peter who, as the youngest of our clerks is easily cowed, and realises the boy is near to tears; and I can see that he has recognised that he has overstepped the mark.

"Forgive me, Peter." He says, much more quietly, "I have spoken out of turn. As I have to all of you today. I am out of sorts - but you are not to blame for that, and it is most remiss of me to turn my poor mood upon you all. My apologies - I shall leave you in peace." With that, he turns and leaves, and all are silenced, not knowing what to make of it all.

I know I must follow, but I turn to the chastened clerk, "Could you see to tidying the Chancellor's desk, Peter?" I ask him, "I suspect he shall not return tonight - but he shall be in a better temper on the morrow, I am sure of it."

Looking happier, both at the apology, and from my kinder words, Peter nods, and I quickly tidy away my own papers. Hopefully Cromwell has retired to his quarters - I shall seek him out there.

William admits me with a look that suggests that I have deduced correctly, and as I enter, I see Cromwell is sitting before the fire, a cup of ale in his hand, and a sad expression upon his face. He looks up as I approach, and he waits for me to sit and accept another cup from William. I do not need to ask.

"When I knew Campofregoso last, Richie," He says, very quietly, "he had no family name - for none of us did. We all gave them up when we entered the House - for we became just citizens of the towns from whence we had come. He was, to me, 'Alessandro of Genoa', as I was 'Thomas of London'. He arrived at the House when I was in my second year there, and came with wealth and an arrogance so towering that he thought himself the greatest creature to ever have walked upon God's earth.

"His education was already fit for one of his class, for he was an aristocrat, as most of us were not. Thus he joined with those of us who had been present for longer than he - including myself. Our education at the House was not fixed to a limited term - those who showed promise could stay as long as needed to learn all, and swords were only granted when they became available; but failure was rarely tolerated. At each year's end, the student, and the Masters, would agree between them whether or not they felt ready to continue, or to hold from the final trials for another year. I was one of a few who showed such ability that we were taught separately, and it was to our group that Alessandro was joined."

"Why was that?" I ask, intrigued to be learning more about this strange Order of Warriors.

"He showed great skill with weaponry, and his abilities with languages had also grown apace. Such was to be expected of a man of his class; for most of us had had to learn these from the beginning. There was no need to place him with those whose skills were less than his - for he had been found to be capable of detecting ichor, and his abilities placed him in our company." His expression darkens, "But he found no favour with us, for his class had made him arrogant, and he was not willing to set that aside and mingle with those he considered to be lesser beings than himself."

I know that this alone would not be sufficient to earn Cromwell's ire, "There is more than that, though, is there not?"

He nods, "At that time, I was closely bonded in friendship to another student - from Nuremberg. Joachim was his name." He pauses, and for a moment I see such great sadness that I wonder if I need to know more, "We had become fast friends when I arrived, for he had been there a year before me, and I was in great need of companionship. There were no others from the northern countries of Europe at that time, and we were alone amidst a sea of southerners - and we soon became as brothers. He was as bright as I, strong and with clever wits. Between us, we became quite a handful - I remember the Masters used to refer to us as 'the Northern Rogues' for our japes."

Japes? Somehow the word does not fit with the man sitting before me. While I know that he appreciates humour, it had never occurred to me that he might be responsible for tricks and foolery.

"We fitted together well - for we competed with one another, supported one another and thus excelled in all that we did. As none of us knew - for we were not told so until after receiving swords - that some Silver Swords are assigned to work within Royal Courts, we planned to ride together when we received ours. We neither of us doubted for a moment that each of us would do so, and we saw ourselves as Knights Errant, travelling the world to rescue those in need, destroy darkness and save all about us. Such was our youthful ebullience.

"We cared nothing for the arrogance of Alessandro, for the fine cut of the clothes he wore, and for the gifts with which he purchased friendship. He never sought trouble when the Masters were near, but did all he could to bring trouble upon those he considered to be more favoured than he. He continually failed to do so with us, however, for we had learned one of the great rules of the House: never to be caught."

This is a side to Cromwell that I have never seen - and I find it hard to imagine him so, "This alone could not have caused you to be so offended, Thomas." I say, "What did he do that brought down your ire upon him?"

"I can recall one midday, as we were gathering to dine, that Joachim had succeeded in thieving a bottle of fine Hock from the Master's cellar." He continues, "I had not been present when he did so, and had not known that he had taken it upon himself to try - for all knew how guarded the cellars were. We joked between ourselves over the tasting of it that night in the cell that we shared, and I went out to my afternoon lessons quite at ease; for at no time had we ever been caught in our thefts. I recall that afternoon well, for I had spent many painful hours learning to mount a horse at the gallop, as the horse-men of the eastern steppes were reputed to be able to do. It was upon that afternoon that I succeeded in learning whatever trick they used, and I returned in much joy to our cell - to find our Master present, and Joachim - with the bottle of hock."

"What was his punishment?" I ask.

"For most infractions, even minor ones, we were birched." He says, quietly, "God knows I was obliged to receive such punishment frequently when first I arrived, for I disliked the constraints of the rules placed upon us - but it was used for even a failure in language; I can remember occasions when students were birched for speaking in the wrong tongue. This, however, was different. Joachim had been caught stealing from the Masters - and such an infraction earned him ten strokes of the lash."

I wince at the thought.

"His crime was not so much the theft itself - but to have been seen carrying it out; as I have already said, the great rule of the House is to not be caught. But, as my friend, it was thought that he had placed me at risk of guilt by association, and thus I was tasked with administering the whip."

"You?" I stare at him, astounded - why not one of the masters?

He nods, "And it was made clear to me that I must not flinch from it, nor stint in the application - or I should face the same punishment myself. I think, and thought so at the time, that they knew I had been aware of the theft, even though I had not participated in it, and so they were punishing me as much as Joachim. Or perhaps they thought it a lesson that I required to learn - for all Silver Swords must be absolutely ruthless, and I had not learned to set my feelings aside. And so, I did as required of me, and flogged my dearest friend."

He goes silent for a few minutes, gazing into the cup of ale, and I do not feel I can prompt him to continue - but instead he raises his head and speaks again, "He had fainted by the eighth stroke, and as the Masters carried him away to receive care, I overheard Alessandro boasting that it was his word that had brought Joachim to this. He did so within my hearing - perhaps in the hopes that I might turn upon him and be lashed in my turn - but I did not, for it would have choked me to give him such satisfaction. If I had disliked him before, now I despised him.

"Joachim told me later that he had indeed reported the theft - and had earned a slap from the Grand Master for his tale-bearing; but the damage was done. I think Joachim's greater ire was inspired by his loathing of Alessandro's excessive religious piety - for Alessandro was quite determinedly Catholic, particularly in the face of those who were not; for Joachim was a Lutheran, and we had both a Jew and a Saracen amongst us.

"From that point, however, a state of enmity grew between us - for Joachim intended to exact payment for Alessandro for each cut he had received from that whip, and I shared that aim, for I had been forced to apply them. Our battleground was our learning, and we strove with all our hearts to outdo him in all things, to make him appear a fool, and perhaps even trip him into a failure that could see his departure from the House - for any who failed in any task could expect such an outcome."

I am intrigued to discover that Joachim was a follower of Luther - and I find myself wondering if this, coupled with Alessandro's excessive piety, has inspired Cromwell to cleave to the Protestant faith himself. His expression, however, has changed again, and I suspect that the worst is to be told.

"It had been agreed that eight of us would undertake the Trials of the House that year - Joachim, Alessandro and I were three of those eight youths. The trials began with tests of our learning of languages, manners, history and politics; while those of our abilities with weapons and stealth would follow. Those who came through the trials would then face that which all aimed for - the final Trial, which would test our stealth, silence and ingenuity - for it was this that would determine which of us would be granted swords.

"We did not know it at the time, for I learned it only afterwards, that the Trials only occur when there are swords to be claimed. Two Silver Swords had returned their weapons in that year - one had died, the other retired to take up a post as a Master; and their gauntlets awaited two of us in a tower at the far end of the complex of buildings that was the House. All routes to the Tower had been cleared - and were to be patrolled by the Masters. It was the task of the five of us who remained after completing the first Trials to reach that tower undiscovered, and claim one or other of those pairs of gauntlets. Those who succeeded would be granted swords. Those who reached the room undetected, but too late to claim, would be granted another attempt when there were swords available. Any who were caught would be required to leave the House immediately, and not return."

I recall now that Cromwell once told me that he had claimed his Raven gauntlets in one of the fastest times anyone had ever achieved, though he had never told me how he had done so. It seems now that I am to find out.

"We were granted two hours to undertake the task. All of the routes had ample places of concealment for those who opted to use them - but I chose a different method. Many of the outer walls of the House could be easily traversed without being seen from windows, and I had achieved many of my finest thefts from the Kitchens by using them, for they were old and liberally scattered with hand- and foot-holds. As the day was warm, I discarded my doublet - and my shoes, for as you know, I never climb while shod - and I took to the walls to make my way upwards."

So that was how he did it.

"The journey took me little more than a half hour - for I was well acquainted with the walls, and I was soon able to enter the tower - at the very foot of the stairs that would lead me to the place where the gauntlets lay. There was but one master patrolling the one corridor that led to the room; and, while it was a route that contained many places to hide, the need for absolute silence was paramount. I concealed myself, and waited for him to depart on his patrol, before climbing the stairs to the tower room, and snatching up the Raven gauntlets - which I still wear today.

"As I had reached the goal so quickly, I was obliged to wait with the Grand Master - who was seated in the room to await those who reached it undetected - until the other arrived. Such was my faith in my friend that I was convinced that it should be Joachim who would collect the Hound gauntlets. All, however, was silent until I heard the sound of scuffling from the unglazed window nearby. I could not restrain my interest - and I looked out to see Joachim, attempting to climb for that same window from which I was looking down. I knew that only one thing could have driven him out onto the walls - Alessandro must be near; and it was now a race between the two."

And then I remember what happened next - for he mentioned this incident when he was describing his time in that awful nightmare inspired by the malevolence that possessed him.

"I heard a shout from the corridor, and I could not suppress a stab of wild exultation - for I knew that someone had been caught, and it was almost certainly Alessandro, so he would have to leave with nothing. And then…" he stops as his voice catches; he clears his throat and tries again, "And then, I turned to look at Joachim, who now had no one to reach the gauntlets ahead of him, and thus I was made to watch him lose his footing upon the stones, and plunge to his death upon the flags of the courtyard below."

"I am truly sorry, Thomas." I murmur, quietly. What else can I say?

"When Joachim fell, he took much with him - his intelligence, his humour, and - for many years, at least - my wish to ever grant friendship to that degree ever again. I no longer despised Alessandro - for now I hated him, and wished him as much suffering as he had settled upon me. I should not hate - it is not right for a Silver Sword to hate; but I have never been able to let that leave me. And now I must, for he is the Genoese Ambassador, and I am His Majesty's Lord Chancellor."

"And I am a Privy Councillor, Thomas," I remind him, "As is Tom. There are few occasions when you shall be obliged to deal with him alone; and, if you must, then hold back your anger, and release it when you are in our company - for we shall understand, and shall not be offended."

He smiles, then, "And hope that more raveners enter the court."

"He is but an Ambassador, Thomas," I add, "What can he do? The King's Grace never treats the representatives of foreign courts with excessive respect - for he considers himself far above them. I cannot see how this man could ever hope to cause harm - for all that he is here to do is petition for aid on behalf of his master, who is not Royal anyway. He is not even on the same level as those who represent the European Courts, so why should his Majesty pay him any mind?"

Cromwell shakes his head, "You have not seen his ability to ingratiate himself with those he views to be above him, Richie. It was perhaps his greatest talent of all, and you have already seen it - for did he not arrive bedecked in jewels that he claimed were intended for the King? That alone sparked a great deal of interest, and I fear that he shall build upon it. I shall not be at ease until his mission is ended, and he is gone from the court."

Cromwell's ability to hide his ire is put to the test the very next morning, as we of the Privy Council are summoned to meet with the King and the newly arrived Ambassador. As Campofregoso has a number of requests to put to the King, his Majesty wishes us to be present as well, whether we wish it, or not.

Perhaps it is no surprise that the King is wearing a fine emerald-bedecked chain about this neck, which was last seen decorating the Ambassador's shoulders - the easiest way to gain Henry's interest is to present him with valuable gifts. All that says to me is that the Ambassador has taken care to investigate his audience in hopes of gaining favour - I should have done much the same myself.

We are all introduced individually to the man from Genoa, who is far more soberly dressed today - albeit still very richly, for his garments are of the finest cut, and the cloth is of the best quality. He greets all before him with aplomb, though his responses seem very much tailored not so much to the man before him, as to his status, and his expression when he greets me is one of mild disinterest, for I am nothing more than a Knight, so I am not ennobled, and I have a functional role within the Court. To him, I am but a common worker, and he considers me beneath him - I can see it in his face, and hear it in his voice.

Finally he is introduced to Cromwell, in terms of both name and rank. While the Court position he holds is powerful, and he has the King's favour, Cromwell is still very much a commoner of base-birth, and the King has no qualms about saying so. I cannot avoid a sense of tension - for I have no idea if the Ambassador recognises the man he once trapped into whipping his best friend; but it seems my fears are misplaced, for either the former Alessandro of Genoa has no memory of the man Thomas of London, does not see him standing before him, or is a very capable actor. The contempt he seems almost to exude is purely for a man of common blood, and he is quite content to ignore Cromwell from that point onwards. I am not sure if I am the only one of us that gives a sigh of relief as he does so.

The request is simple enough - that the King sign a treaty with Genoa pledging both political and military support should the Holy Roman Emperor take it upon himself to invade the Republic. Given the distance between the two realms, the entire treaty would be for appearances only - or so it would seem to me - but Henry has always been swayed by the promise of glory in battle, and the thought of leading troops into the fray, crowned helmet upon his head and a glorious surcoat with his royal colours over his finest armour, can always be counted upon to awaken his bellicosity. That he is stiff, gouty, crippled by his ulcerated leg and has a massively expanded girth seems to escape his notice.

It is, naturally, the detailed terms of the treaty that shall require discussion and consideration, for which the Ambassador shall not be present; but it seems that, today at least, we are not required to commence those discussions. The King has invited Campofregoso to dine with him, so we are all dismissed to go about our business.

As we return to the offices, we make a short detour into a quiet chamber to discuss our observations, for it seems that the Ambassador shows no remembrance of Cromwell at all.

"He seems not to recall you, Thomas." I say, as he sits down beside a chill, empty fireplace.

"Indeed he does not." Cromwell agrees, "I cannot help but wonder if it was his dispatch from the House that has led to this - for I was not aware until I received my swords that not all Silver Swords are itinerant. We had always thought that we roamed and sought out evil - and it was only upon gaining the name Raven that I discovered that some are planted in the Royal Courts to protect the Princes of Europe. Alessandro would not have known that, I think - so he does not see me for what I am; nor does he know what a Second is, Richie, so he certainly does not know you for what you are."

"He does not even recall your name."

Cromwell snorts with amusement, "There are so many Thomases in this Court that he would be hard put to place one. I am but one in a hundred."

The King's apparent fascination with his new Ambassador has one unexpected effect, in that it completely diverts his attention away from his wife and children. Tonight, he is to sup privately with Alessandro, despite having dined with him earlier in the day. With all eyes upon this new partnership, none are interested in our arrivals in the Queen's Presence Chamber, where Jonathan and Lady Rochford preside over another of our meetings.

As with the King, her Majesty is also bedecked with some very fine new jewels, though I suspect she is wearing them more for our benefit than her own, as her first comment is an observation about them, "See my new finery, Gentlemen. It appears that our new Ambassador is most free with his purse, does it not?" her tone is sarcastic, for she sees the gifts for what they are - bedazzlement.

"They are very fine, Majesty." Cromwell responds, diplomatically.

"Fine, yes - but they are intended to purchase my favour, and I am not so willing to grant it as my husband appears to be." She smiles, "Perhaps it is feminine intuition, but I find him a most objectionable creature, who seems to have more than one agenda in the Court. Somehow, I do not think that England shall be well served by an association with him."

"I fear the same, Majesty." Cromwell admits. Wyatt, who was not present when Cromwell told me of their mutual history, looks at him in surprise, "He is an unwelcome face from my past - and I learned then that he was not to be trusted. I have not yet found reason to reconsider that opinion."

Jane looks at him for a moment, her expression quite intent, and then she speaks, "I do not see dislike in you, my Lord. I see something far stronger. He has not merely earned your distrust. Has he?"

He takes a deep breath, and then speaks again, "Indeed, Majesty. He earned far more than my distrust - he earned my hatred, and I am striving with all I have in me to quell it, for one such as I cannot afford to feel such an emotion. Hate serves only to harm the one who hates, not the one who is hated - and it can cause acts of great rashness that have consequences that last for the rest of one's life."

"So he has caused you pain, my Lord?"

"Yes Majesty." He is not ashamed to admit it to Queen Jane - for he knows that she will understand, and will also keep it to herself.

She smiles at him, kindly, "I hope that he shall not stay long, then; for my husband is most impressed by his wealth, manners and humour. It has been a long time since any man has caused him to laugh as much as he has recently, and his freedom with his gifts has caused him to gain much favour - though not with me. Nor, for that matter, has he earned the friendship of the Lady Mary, or the Lady Elizabeth. It appears that they have no more liking for him than I do. They are both most wise, I think."

She is right - for they have learned the hard way that flattery is empty, and earns nothing of true value - after all, they held, then lost, then regained the King's affections, and they know from experience how to keep his love. It is through appearing that their joy in life, their happiness, stems entirely from him; but even that was not enough when their mothers fell from favour. Their only certainty in this shifting world of alliances and loyalties is their stepmother - for her love for them is truly unconditional. Perhaps, in time, they shall learn, as Jane has, that our loyalty is equally firm and unbending - and that we can be trusted as no others can. I can no longer imagine what it must be to live in a world where no one is to be trusted.

But then, no one is as mercurial and uncertain as King Henry - for he changes his mind on a sixpence. Today, Alessandro Campofregoso is a great friend to the Realm, a wonder to behold and the truest friend he might ever have - but tomorrow, he could find himself despised and expelled from the Court. There is no way to know. Only those of us who have had long experience in dealing with one such as he can hope to survive - and that in itself is a fragile hope. Why else do I trust no one but Cromwell and Wyatt?

It seems, however, that the Genoese Ambassador is a wily man - for he has worked out a means not only of gaining the favour of the King, but of keeping it. He has been in the court barely two weeks, and is now almost as much a fixture at court as any of the favoured young bloods that the King kept about him in the early years of his reign. The gifts keep on coming, today a bolt of the finest cloth of gold, yesterday a fine bay palfrey for the Lady Elizabeth, the day before a coronet for the Prince Edward. All of these gifts are bestowed with almost outrageous flattery, and Henry accepts it all with the air of one who expects such adulation. Already, the highest placed Lords are attempting to emulate this ghastly display - except for Suffolk, whose friendship with the King is such that there is no need for him to do so, and for us, as we are not the King's friends, and if we did so, he would look at us as though we were mad.

Astonishingly, he is now so much in the King's company, that they seem almost to be like David and Jonathan - and if one is present, all are bemused if the other is not. They walk together, hunt together - and Campofregoso is even permitted to attend the meetings of the Privy Council, albeit in an observational capacity. Not that this stops him from commenting upon our discussions if he sees fit.

Cromwell is, yet again, attempting to secure agreements to fund the road-building programme that he has been attempting to settle now since the autumn. That we need them is beyond doubt - but no one seems interested in finding the money to pay for them, nor do they seem to have realised that the cost will be recouped in terms of increased trade if goods can be moved more easily and swiftly. He has managed to obtain agreements over the funding of the schools that shall bear the Prince's name - though Gardiner still has many barbed comments about the risk of spreading heretical thoughts in such institutions. The roads, however, remain a sticking point.

"You seem so intent upon them, my Lord." Campofregoso says, urbanely, from the chair he occupies, close to the King, but not at the table, "But then, you are a tradesman yourself, are you not?" he makes the word 'tradesman' sound like 'traitor'.

Henry laughs at this, "Indeed he is, my dear Alessandro - a cloth trader, of all things. Perhaps he might have goods you would wish to purchase?"

"I think it unlikely that he could provide anything of the quality I prefer, Majesty." Campofregoso responds, loftily, which then causes more laughter. While Cromwell has the King's favour, his Majesty is never above taking the opportunity to humiliate him - particularly so now that he has an ally in his new favourite.

Those about the table who view him with enmity are smirking, and some even laugh with the King. Suffolk, however, does not, any more than I do. There is nothing dishonest in being a tradesman, and indeed, his solid business sense is one of the reasons for his wealth - not to mention his understanding of the need to increase England's trade. That the King finds it amusing is insulting - but he does not rise to it. He never rises to such barbs. Instead he waits for the laughter to subside, and tries again.

"Come now, your Majesty, are you truly willing to endure such boredom?" Campofregoso interrupts almost immediately, "I am sure I saw a new white stallion being delivered not an hour ago - shall we not investigate it?"

Astonishingly, the mention of yet another gift - for that is surely what it is - captures the King's attention at once. How can he possibly be so blind to such a blatant act? But it seems that he is, and he dismisses us with no more than a wave of his hand. Apparently, if he is not present, then we cannot continue. Within five minutes, only Cromwell, Suffolk and I are still at the table.

"God above, this Ambassador has him in his thrall." Suffolk says, crossly, "How can he be so wilfully blind to such acts of flattery?"

"I know not, your Grace." Cromwell admits, "Perhaps it reminds him of his younger days, when he could take such things for himself. An alliance with Genoa could bring us strong connections with the bankers of the republic, and reciprocal wealth, so perhaps he permits it with a view to securing England's financial future."

"I suspect your first assessment is more likely to be correct." Suffolk's comment is very dry, but we know that he is right. Henry has always lapped up flattery - as long as it is not too fawning. Campofregoso seems to have struck the correct balance between the two, and it has earned him an unprecedented level of favour for a man of his standing. In doing so, he has thrown the whole court into a state of almost completely unpredictable topsy-turvy. Even so, that it is a shock to us both as we return to the offices to find the Lady Mary concealing herself in a doorway in one of the lesser corridors.

"My Lady?" I stutter, as we both bow to her.

"Forgive me, Gentlemen," she says, though we can see that she is greatly distressed, "I did not know to whom else I could turn - but I beg your help."

"What has happened?" Cromwell asks, quietly.

"His Excellency the Imperial Ambassador has been banished from Court - not recalled by his master, banished. He has long been one of my dearest friends and allies - when I was separated from my Mother, he was one of the few who could pass messages between us…" she stops, nervous at how her words sound.

"And you value his counsel, my Lady." Cromwell finishes, "He regards you most highly - almost as though he were a favoured Uncle."

Her eyes show relief - for he has said what she could not find the words to say, without sounding as though she was enamoured of Chapuys, "Her Majesty trusts you, and I have learned from her to do the same; so, I beg of you, my Lord - please, you have the favour of the King, can you not speak to him on the Ambassador's behalf?"

We both know that such an act would be largely fruitless, as the King is currently very much against the Emperor, but I am not surprised at Cromwell's response, "I can make no promises of success, my Lady - for I am but a commoner, and the King does not always listen to me - but I shall do my best. That, I can promise."

She is profuse in her thanks - but at least she does not bob any curtseys as she did that shocking Christmastide. Instead, we bow to her, and she departs.

"He won't listen to you, Thomas." I advise him, sagely, "Chapuys is as far out of favour as it is possible to be without being in the Tower."

"Perhaps - but then, if he is not present, how can our negotiations be reported to the Emperor? After all, if we are to conclude a treaty with Genoa, then surely it is best that he knows, in which case he might withdraw? It is better to find a peaceful way, and if Chapuys can carry messages between here and Charles, then all might be resolved without commitments to wage war. If nothing else, we cannot afford the cost of doing so."

"In which case," I smirk, "I suppose we should just ask Alessandro to pay for it."