Chapter Three
A Second to Be
The Palace is all a-bustle this morning: servants preparing rooms, cooks working on a grand feast - for today the young Prince Edward is returning to Court. He has been away for nearly eight months, convention finally outweighing his mother's determination to keep him at her side, living in his own household at Windsor. Today, however, he is returning home to his parents and his siblings; and the air of cheer is almost palpable.
The most senior Lords shall await him in the Presence Chamber alongside his Royal parents, but the less illustrious, such as Cromwell and I, shall greet the boy as he arrives, and we emerge as soon as word is sent that his entourage are approaching the gates.
The horses clatter into the Deal Yard, percussive strikes of shoes upon cobbles that spring sparks into the air. The beasts snort and whinny, while those aboard them talk amongst themselves, and shout out to the squad of grooms waiting to take the horses through to the mews.
We all bow deeply to the Prince as he looks at us from aboard his horse. The boy is growing well - tall and with that famous red-gold hair of his line. His expression is bright and happy - for he is to be reunited with his parents for a time - and his demeanour exudes a friendly joy that seems quite infectious. Queen Jane was always insistent that he learn that a Prince should inspire loyalty through love, as much as fear, and it seems that her demand is bearing fruit. While I would not wish Edward to be forced to carry the burden of kingship at such a young age, I know that I would willingly stand at his side on his Council, should he wish it.
"Welcome back to Court, your Highness." Cromwell says, solemnly, once Edward is dismounted, "The King's Grace and Her Majesty await you in the Presence Chamber."
"Thank you, my Lord." Edward answers, politely, in his rather piping voice, "I am glad to be back."
Unlike most at Court, the boy does not regard Cromwell with dislike or distrust - another legacy of his mother's education. Being a man of base birth, Cromwell is heartily disliked by those of higher stock; particularly by the Earl of Surrey. But then, Howard despises me for the same reasons, despite my Gentry-birth, and would happily have the pair of us bundled off to the Tower if he could do so. For those who consider the business of ruling the nation to be the sole preserve of noblemen, we are a poisonous infection that should be cut out at the first opportunity. That the world is changing, and Kings should be served by those who have proved their worth through merit, not blood, conflicts greatly with their sense of innate superiority, it seems. But then, he has never been obliged to deal with a demon, so what does he know of the work required to protect a Kingdom?
Edward advances through the Court Gate into the Privy Gardens to enter the corridors to the King's apartments. Deferentially, Cromwell accompanies him - but walks a pace behind. He is an Earl, but nonetheless knows better than to parade such status to those who gained their titles by blood. Almost immediately, Edward pauses, "Walk with me, my Lord."
Startled, Cromwell falls into step beside the Prince, who continues, "How is my father?"
The boy is eight years old - and yet he has the considerations of a man grown. Is that healthy, or wise? My own children were not given to such questions at that age - though they were granted the grace to be children for longer than this child.
"He is as well as can be expected, your Grace." Cromwell advises, honestly, "His leg is troubling him, but otherwise he is in fair health. Your gracious mother is ever at his side, and oversees the work of his doctors. Certainly, he is well today - and he is keen to greet you, though I suspect your Royal brother and sister are equally pleased at your return."
"Elizabeth is here?" Edward asks, surprised that she is not at her own house at Hatfield. Only little Prince Hal is now permanently in residence - his siblings in Households of their own. She is still being chased by suitors from across Europe - but has not, as yet, accepted any offer. I am beginning to wonder if she will ever do so.
"She is, Highness." Cromwell nods, "I believe she has made a gift for you."
Edward's face lights up. Prince he may be; but he is still a boy, and appreciates presents as much as any other.
As we walk through the outer chambers, Cromwell allows himself to fall a pace behind again, as he is not willing to give the impression that he has designs upon the future governance of the Prince. As we go, all bow deeply to the young boy, who seems able to take the deference in his stride, thank God.
When we arrive in the Presence Chamber, the glitter of silks, jewels and cloth of gold is all but blinding. All of the highest Nobles are present: Suffolk and Norfolk - returned once more - at the King's side, while the Earls Surrey, Shrewsbury and Hertford stand nearby. As we approach, Cromwell and I, with the other lesser councillors stand aside and allow the youth to approach his parents alone.
As he does so, I cannot help but feel sorry for him. On the rare occasions that I am able to leave Court, my own children greet me as a father, and indeed I fondly recall the times when they were younger - before age obliged them to temper their behaviour - that they would run to me, and call me 'Poppa'. Edward, however, must approach with stiff formality, and bow to his parents - for they are his King and Queen as much as his mother and father.
"Welcome back to Court, my boy!" Henry declaims from his heavy chair, "We are right glad to see you so well!"
Edward is no novice at this game, "As I am glad to see your gracious Majesties!" he answers, with that same stilted formality. He knows that, once they are in the King's private apartments, the formality shall drop, and he can be a boy again. At least, I hope that is still so.
The Royal family do not stay long: one would have to be blind to fail to see that Queen Jane wishes heartily to remove her child from this stifling place and into that private world where the Crown can be taken off, and the Prince and Queen can revert to being son and mother. As they depart, the King being hefted on his massive carrying chair, Cromwell watches them, his expression sad, "So the vultures gather, Richie. We must work to ensure that he is not used for the personal gain of those who would grasp power from a child."
Amen to that.
Today has been a very long day; endless papers upon my desk that require the minutest degree of attention, problems that seem utterly insurmountable unless brought to me to deal with. To think that I was once envious of Cromwell for his elevated position; how is it that he dealt with all of this and not go mad? After today's annoyances, I am quite sure that the next person who annoys me shall be hurled from the window. Never before I have I been so grateful to stow my quill in a pot and set my papers aside.
While it is an extension to the working day, our Prince's Council meeting is a relatively welcome one. There are no loaded comments, nor is there any sense of being surrounded by enemies, or a lingering air of distrust. The matters we discuss are relevant and essential for the future of the realm - the very core of Cromwell's Mission. The only problem is that we cannot discuss those matters in the presence of the King - not unless we wish to risk placing our necks upon the block.
As always, Lady Rochford is my escort, leading me through a sequence of passageways that conceal us from those who might wonder whither I am bound. The need for such secrecy is frustrating, as it would be better for all of us if we could introduce our circle to his Majesty - but so great now is his fear of dying before Edward achieves his majority that he has become convinced that the mere mention of such a calamity shall bring it to pass.
Her Majesty is awaiting us, Suffolk and Hertford already present, while Cromwell arrives but a short time later. Jonathan serves us all mulled ale as we seat ourselves, though I note that, as he sits, Cromwell has brought his swords again - despite not being dressed to hunt. Clearly we are to welcome a new member to our council table.
"Gentlemen." The Queen begins, "Before we commence our discussions, I have decided that our meeting this night should include one other." She turns to a small antechamber, and nods at the slightly open door. To our astonishment, it opens to reveal Prince Edward within, and we all stand at once.
'Your Highness." Cromwell says, gravely, and bows. Now I know why he has his swords - her Majesty must have discussed this with him in advance.
"My Lords." Edward says, in his high, child's voice, then comes to sit at the far end of the table, opposite his mother.
"Forgive me for bringing another into our secret, Gentlemen." The Queen says, "I do not consider it wise to keep this knowledge from him, as he shall be King in time, and it is better that he know now the forces ranged against him, and the loyal Subjects who stand to protect him from those forces."
Cromwell nods, quietly, though I can see from his expression that he is not as keen for the boy to know this as the Queen seems to be. God above, it's hard enough to know what lies ahead as a King, without knowing that his Kingdom is ever in danger of being overrun by demons - and all that stands against them is a man with two swords.
"Edward," Jane continues, "The men who stand before you are loyal above all others to his Majesty, to me, and to the Kingdom. No matter what comes - they shall be your protectors and mentors. Indeed, they saved your life, and mine, even as you were born. They have risked their lives to keep us safe - and, no matter what any others tell you, you must believe me - there are no others who are as loyal to you as they. They shall never lie to you, nor shall they flatter you. They can be trusted in all things - as I have learned. Keep them at your side, and they shall serve you better than any in the Kingdom."
"Yes, Mother." He nods, then sits, allowing us to do the same.
"Perhaps you would like to commence, my Lord Cromwell?" Jane invites.
He nods, then turns to the Prince, "Highness, I must admit it was not my wish that you be here today - for the matters that concern us are a heavy burden to carry even for a man grown. I should have preferred it if you could have remained safely ignorant for a little longer - but I would not hesitate to defer to the wisdom of her Majesty. Thus you should know that, while preachers speak of demons, they do not appreciate how real such creatures are, nor do they understand that infernal forces view England as a place suitable to take and hold as a fortress for their aims to destroy all of mankind.
"There is, however, an Order of men who stand to prevent such a calamity - and I am a member of that Order. The Lord Privy Seal works to assist me, both in seeking knowledge, and in fighting the creatures that we face. Your Uncle is a staunch ally who has stood at our side these six years past, while Lady Rochford stands as your mother's personal bodyguard."
Edward nods, but it is obvious that his eyes are upon Cromwell's swords, so he carefully draws one, "This sword is forged from the finest steel, mixed with silver - for infernal beings cannot endure the bite of silver. This, and its twin, have together saved this Kingdom from all who would come against it, and they shall continue to do so." He pauses, then looks directly at the Prince, "You have my sworn word, Highness, sworn upon these blades, that my loyalty to you shall be as absolute as it has been to your father, and to your mother. For as long as I am able, I shall wield them for your protection and safety - and, if the time comes when I can no longer do so, then another shall come to take my place, and their loyalty shall be as trustworthy as mine."
I hate it when he speaks of such things - I have not forgotten that ghastly time when I thought he was doomed to die upon the block. It is not only this Kingdom that would be rendered bereft by his loss.
Edward sits quietly and takes in Cromwell's words, then nods, "I accept your promise, my Lord Cromwell. I trust you, and you, my Lord Rich. As I trust my uncle and my mother."
"You shall learn more in good time, Edward." Jane finishes, quietly, "There is much to take in - but be assured that you shall be advised of all things that you should know on matters of this nature. But I must ask you to remain silent upon such matters at all times unless you are in our company at a meeting such as this."
The boy nods, "Yes, mother. I give you my word."
God - he's only eight, and even as he speaks, I am quite convinced that he shall not let the secret slip.
Jane turns to me, "Have you received anything from the House?"
I shake my head, "At present, matters are quiet. The Spies have not uncovered anything of concern to us; so we remain vigilant as always."
"I have not detected ichor at any time for nearly five months, Majesty." Cromwell adds, "Though I undertake regular searches, to be sure I miss nothing. I have no wish for the reappearance of a revenant, or a ravener, to be announced through the discovery of their activities, rather than their odour."
"Lady Rochford," Jane says, then, "Could you escort his Highness back to his quarters, please?"
Rather than protest at being asked to leave - as it's quite clear that matters are not concluded - Edward rises to his feet, prompting us to do the same, and follows her as she departs.
"Forgive me for bringing him here, Gentlemen." Jane says, a little contritely, "I feel it is important that we demonstrate your loyalty to him at the earliest opportunity, however. In a world such as this, few are to be trusted - and we have all learned from harsh experience that those who are trustworthy can be harmed by those who are not. The sooner Edward understands that your loyalty to him is absolute and unimpeachable, the better. I do not, however, wish for him to be present any longer - as we must now discuss matters that would be considered treasonous."
Cromwell nods, "It is clear that those who had supposedly departed from Court are now returning in the light of the King's growing infirmity. For I note that Norfolk has emerged from his previous retirement, and is consorting with Surrey in hopes of being foremost in any new Council. I have no doubt that he aims to be Lord Protector if he can manage it. Though I think Northumberland might have something to say about it. He is nothing if not ambitious."
"Even though there shall be no need for one." I add, crossly, "The presence of a Queen seems not to dent their aspirations."
Suffolk sighs, "Indeed so. The fear of a woman upon the throne, even as a Regent, is strong - for, though Queen Katherine proved most skilled when called upon to serve the Realm, it was while her husband lived, and was set to return from abroad. We have seen no Queen Regnant in this realm. The only woman who tried found herself deposed, and then came years of war."
"How is his Majesty?" I ask, then; a little nervous of the answer.
"Much the same as he has been these few weeks past, my Lord." Queen Jane answers, sadly, "He is no better, and no worse. But I think we are all aware that he shall not live to see Edward achieve his majority. Not if he does not moderate his behaviour - and it is too late now, I fear."
"I shall continue to examine the intent of our fellow Councillors;" Suffolk advises, "We need to ensure a good balance of men who can serve King and Realm equally, with minimal self-interest."
"That shall be an interesting task." Cromwell smiles wryly, "For who is not self-interested here?"
Indeed.
The atmosphere is again unnerving, for the King's temper is once more inflamed by his hideous legs. Their appalling reek clashes horribly with the strong scent that he is wearing in a desperate attempt to mask that foul miasma, but such measures have long since ceased to be effective; if, indeed, they ever were in the first place.
The Privy Council meeting is conducted as swiftly and with as little contention as possible. Even Surrey seems unwilling to throw his weight around, despite his obvious disdain for those of lesser blood than his. In his current mood, King Henry might well decide that something as little as an outbreak of snobbery be sufficient reason to send a man to the Tower.
Given the sense of tension, it is no surprise to me that we still fail to discuss that which is of the utmost importance. We know that Edward shall succeed, followed by his heirs male. Failing that, Hal shall rule, and then his heirs male. If he should miscarry, then Elizabeth shall do so - though most are convinced that this eventuality shall not come to pass. Perhaps it is just as well, for despite his determination to refer to her as 'Princess' once more, this has not been confirmed in law, and the King has done nothing at all to amend her legitimacy. As he cannot call Mary legitimate without declaring Elizabeth a bastard - and vice versa - he prefers to ignore it entirely.
While this is obvious to all, what is not is how the Realm shall be governed should Edward come to the throne while still a minor. That, above all, needs to be settled by the Council - not our 'Prince's Council' - and it cannot be, for his Majesty will not countenance the suggestion that he shall die before Edward is old enough to rule in his own right. Despite the absurdity of the situation, I cannot help but feel sympathy for the King. After all, he knows what follows when a King dies with only a child to succeed him; and his fear of initiating such a calamity himself is almost as great an assault upon his pride as the fear that he would never have a son at all.
And so, in the absence of sensible discussion with the Privy Council, Cromwell and I discuss the matter with Hertford, Suffolk and her Majesty. It should not be so; but with things as they are, it is that or nothing.
As we depart from the Council chamber with another set of tasks to undertake that do not include the succession, I know that Cromwell's frustration is at least as great as mine. His intent to ensure order in the Realm is being greatly hampered by the King's intransigence, and our fear of stirring his anger if we challenge it. Even Cromwell does not dare - for the favour that he currently holds could dissipate in a heartbeat. He learned that lesson well.
As we repair to his office, he offers me a glass of sack, and I seat myself opposite him as he settles behind his cluttered desk, "We must act, I fear, Richie." He sighs, "I shall raise it with her Majesty, and I suspect she shall agree with me. This is not a task for Mr Whorwood - I would trust no one other than you to draft the Bill that shall set out the future governance of the Realm during his Highness's minority."
While I am somewhat flattered by his faith in me, I know the risk that I shall be taking, "I think it best that I do so at Grant's Place, then. If nothing else, it shall give me the opportunity to introduce Mr Cecil to the Library."
Cromwell looks surprised, "You have approached him, then?"
"Not yet - but his thirst for knowledge and his enjoyment of pure research is so clear to me that I think I shall have little difficulty in persuading him to undertake the task."
He smiles, "I think it best that we speak to him together, then. Better to have the entire horror in one dose than to grant him bitter spoonfuls over a longer time. I am quite convinced that he shall struggle to accept what we must tell him." He pauses, then continues, "Invite him to join us for supper tonight. If he is as talented as you think - and Mr Wriothesley concurs - then it would be appropriate for him to be introduced to me even if not as a prospective apprentice Second. It is most remiss of me not to have met with him already."
Like most who have not met the Lord Chancellor, Cecil is somewhat nervous. Despite his arrest and imprisonment, Cromwell seems able to command such awe that most view him with a sense of minor fear. He has the favour of the King - and, equally, regained it after losing it. So few have achieved such a feat that most are convinced that he is now absolutely safe - particularly given his Majesty's pretence that the entire episode was staged to bring down a rogue ambassador.
To those who see him only as the man who brought down a Queen, he is an intimidating figure, and Cecil is no exception. Those of us who know him personally, however, see him in an altogether different light, for he is good humoured, kind and an excellent host. Now Cecil is to become a member of that privileged band; though, as yet, he knows it not.
"Forgive me for asking, my Lord." Cecil says, as we stroll through the corridors to Cromwell's fine apartments, "Why would the Lord Chancellor wish to sup with a newly arrived clerk?"
"He has his reasons, Mr Cecil," I keep my answer bland, for the passageways are busy with people, "your talent is such that it has caught his attention, and he wishes to discuss more specific tasks with you; tasks that he considers you to be suitably skilled to undertake."
He looks very pleased at this - but not conceitedly so, thank God.
We are admitted to Cromwell's apartments by James, his still rather bemused manservant. The main chamber is scented with the appetising aroma of roasted mutton and herbs, and I note that Cromwell has not dressed too formally. In fact, he appears to be in one of his hunting outfits. God, is he going to start Cecil's apprenticeship tonight, then?
Ignoring my startled expression, Cromwell indicates a seat, "Good evening, Mr Cecil - welcome. Please be seated."
Cecil stammers his thanks and does as bid; this is clearly not what he has been expecting.
"I am given to understand that you show a great deal of talent as an administrator and researcher, Mr Cecil." Cromwell continues as James sets to work carving the mutton, "Consequently, upon the advice of my Lord Rich, I wish to discuss a matter of importance with you. One that offers you the opportunity to step forth and serve your King, and the Realm. Tell me; what do you know of me?"
I am startled by such an immediate question, but not half as much as Cecil, who pauses to think, "I…er…" his voice trails off, then he clears his throat and tries again, "I know that you are regarded well by some, but ill by others, your Grace." He begins, diplomatically, "For myself, I think you to be a man of great ability, and I truly hope that I can be as loyal a servant to the Realm as his Majesty considers you to be."
"And what if I told you that I was a warrior against the forces of Darkness?"
"I should think you to be jesting with me, your Grace." Cecil chuckles, then goes rather still as he sees the steadiness of Cromwell's gaze, and realises that he is actually perfectly serious. Then again, the suddenness with which Cromwell has stated what he is has rather startled me.
"Forgive my abruptness, Mr Cecil," Cromwell sighs, sadly, "I should have preferred it if we could have approached this matter more gently; but I have good reason to do so."
I have heard him relate this story many times, now, but nonetheless it still fascinates me. As Suffolk did mere weeks ago, Cecil leans in, quite captivated by the tale; though he remains sceptical. Again, it is the presence of the magnificent Raven blades that finally induces belief, albeit rather grudging.
"Forgive me, your Grace," he says, eventually, "but I am at something of a loss as to why you have told me this."
And so I take up the tale, "All Silver Swords assigned to the Royal Courts are assisted by a Second, Mr Cecil. Their role is to seek out information pertinent to the work of their Silver Sword, and that is my task. I am Thomas's Second - and, while it is my primary duty to work with him to identify threats and combat them, it is also my duty to seek out and train an apprentice. My first apprentice is now at work in Iberia, working in the Court of King Miguel and Queen Maria. I am hopeful that, should you agree to it, you shall assume that place. Your talent for research is remarkable, and I feel it would be a waste of that talent if it were not put to use in the service of the Kingdom against darkness. You deserve to be more than a mere petty politician."
Now he is staring at me; and I find myself nervous that we have moved too quickly, and that he shall flee from us. But instead, he sits back in his chair, deep in thought. Eventually, he looks up again, "You stated that there was a good reason for granting me so much information in so short a time. What might it be, your Grace?"
"Proof that what I tell you is true, Mr Cecil." Cromwell turns to me, "For the first time in many months, I detected ichor this evening. Thus we must hunt. Richie, I shall ask James to fetch your sword."
I look at him, pointedly, "Lezviye k moyey ruke." In an instant, my sword is in my hand. I do not have to look to know that Cecil is staring at me in astonishment.
"Or, you can summon your sword, and we can depart as soon as we have supped." Cromwell smiles.
Our excursion into the dark corridors of the Palace always raise memories for me of my first emergence into the world of demons and darkness; even more so this night, as we have a companion with us whose nervousness is absolutely akin to mine on the occasion of my first hunt all those years ago. The only difference is the location; my first hunt took place in Hampton Court.
It is also a reflection of Cromwell's detection of ichor that I am armed with my sword; for I should not have done so if there was no risk of discovering a demon. Behind me, Cecil is distinctly uncomfortable; for he has never seen me armed with anything more deadly than a quill. He is, however, silent - and, to my mild embarrassment, far more adept at moving surreptitiously than I have ever been.
Fortunately, our quarry is not difficult to find - for we still know the places where they are most likely to lurk - and Cromwell quietly draws his sword as the ravener snuffles here and there in search of prey. Even my own senses are sharpening again, for I, too, have fought creatures such as these, and I find myself tensing as he does.
Before he advances into the small court where the ravener is lurking, Cromwell turns to Cecil, "Remain out of sight," he whispers, almost inaudibly, "Allow us to deal with the matter." His eyes wide at the sight of the ghastly creature, he does not object. Cromwell exchanges a glance with me, and I know - from long experience - that he wishes for me to remain out of the fight and protect our unarmed companion should the need arise. My primary concern now is that Cecil shall start asking questions at a time when silence is essential; but again, he says nothing; his eyes only upon Cromwell's approach.
As I was on that first night, I am astounded at how easily Cromwell moves; and that look of exhilaration upon his face. And yet…now that I see him in the dubious light of the torches, Wyatt's words return to me. Yes - he is indeed greying at the temples now, his hair whitening with age, and equally those additional years are carved into his face. No - I will not think of that. Not now - not at all. He is moving easily, and silently - and then at last the ravener sees him.
Like most of its kind, it does not see him for what he is; keen only upon the appearance of what it assumes to be prey. Its only action is to hiss viciously at the loss of the element of surprise; and from that moment, it is doomed. The fight thus takes merely moments - and the creature is soon dust.
"There." Cromwell says, quietly, as he returns to us, "Thus we are at peace again - though I am surprised to see one after such a long time. I cannot help but wonder if it is owing to a settlement amongst those of higher stock in the demonic realms."
Even I am unnerved by this, "Do you think it might be, Thomas? That, we do not need."
"I hope not," He admits, "for with matters as they are, I should prefer our problems to be related solely to the future of the realm in political terms. I suspect, however, that this was a rogue aberration. Unless more appear in the coming days, I think we shall be safe for the time being."
Our journey back to Cromwell's apartments is undertaken in silence; but James has ensured that there is a flagon of warmed cider awaiting our return, with a meat pasty for us to share should we be hungry.
"There is much to learn, Mr Cecil," Cromwell advises as he pours out the cider, and divides the pasty, "While I am sure that the risk of a demonic incursion remains low, neither Lord Rich nor myself shall remain here forever; thus we must make preparations for the future. While the man who shall replace me is in training in Milan, there is no such preparation for that new man's Second. Based upon Mr Rich's recommendation, I would concur with him that you possess the aptitude to become a Second of great skill."
"Would I be obliged to take up arms?" Cecil asks, doubtfully, "I have no skill with weapons."
"It is not essential." I advise, "I am rather unusual, for the battle against Lamashtu required me to do so, and I feel no shame in admitting that my ability with a ranged weapon is so poor as to be nonexistent. If it is not your preference to fight, then that is no matter - for our role as Second is primarily to offer learned support."
"I hope you do not think me to be cowardly, my Lord," he admits, "I have no fear of hard work, or of deep study of ancient documents and tracts. If that is your primary requirement of me, then I should be honoured to accept the challenge."
"In which case," I smile at him, pleased at his choice, "If it is possible for us to be absent on the morrow, Thomas, I shall introduce Mr Cecil to the Library."
"An excellent idea." Cromwell agrees, "Leave Mr Wriothesley to me."
The news that greets me the following morning is both welcome, and unwelcome. While it is good to know that we are finally to escape the reek and foulness that is encroaching ever more determinedly upon the palace, the decision that we shall move to Hampton Court is less so. I have far less time than I should have liked to introduce Cecil to the Library; so it is just as well that we are to go to Grant's Place today. Wriothesley is not pleased at this news; and again I feel that odd chill down my spine. Much as I have every right to discomfit him, I do not like to do so - and yet I cannot work out why I feel that way.
That is, however, of no moment. Today, the grooms are waiting in the mews, Adrian saddled and ready for me, and I note Cecil approaching as I mount up. While I am glad of his determined acceptance of our offer to become an apprentice Second, as I recalled my own doubts, I could not help but wonder if he would join me. John, my manservant, has already arranged for some of Cecil's effects to be transferred across to Grant's Place, as I do not intend to return until tomorrow at the earliest.
"How long have you been his Grace's Second, my Lord?" Cecil asks me as we make our slow way along the Strand towards Cheapside.
"Some nine years, Mr Cecil." I reply, "Though my introduction to this world was far harsher, for it was rather sprung upon me when I found myself confronted by his Grace all but felled by a stab-wound. The remedy for that was shocking, and filled me with both horror and fear. I wish that I could tell you that this path is an easy one - but it is not. It may be that you shall come to regret accepting our offer; though I truly hope not. While I have endured pain, great fear, and suffering as a result of my calling, I have no regrets - for I have gained far more than I have ever lost."
Cecil nods, "I am aware of your reputation, my Lord; but also of your great friendship with his Grace. For I am told that there was once a time when you both disliked and resented him."
"There was indeed." I agree, "I have worked hard to secure my poor reputation, Mr Cecil; for it serves me well. I am disliked, and therefore few attempt to gain preferment through association with me. Oh, they offer bribes, of course, which I accept - for I am not fool enough to turn down such gifts, even if I do not keep them for myself. But there was a time when I was as venal as any other in this poisonous place, but I was also desperately lonely - though I knew it not. I was not aware that his Grace's loneliness was equal to mine, for his is not a path that should be travelled alone. When I discovered it, my own became too much to bear, and I stepped forth to take my place at his side. He has become the greatest friend I have ever known, and I would give my life for his without hesitation."
"There is much to learn, is there not?"
"I fear so." I admit, "Though I was obliged to learn alone, and thus made many errors. My hope is that you shall learn from my errors as much as from that which lies within the Library. I have made many mistakes as I have learned how to be what I am; so I shall speak to you of them so that you may learn from them and thus not repeat them. You are already well acquainted with the languages of the papers held at Grant's Place, so my first interest is to introduce you to his Eminence's great index."
"Eminence?" Of course - he does not yet know who built that wondrous repository.
"The late Cardinal Wolsey." I wait for his reaction, and I am not disappointed.
"Wolsey?"
"Everyone is always so surprised." I smile, "As I was."
Our conversation moves on to more neutral matters as we make our way past St Pauls. I am pleased to find that Cecil is a genial, witty individual, and it shall not be difficult to be friends with him. He is naturally intelligent, and keen to absorb all the information he can lay his hands upon, but he is also very politically astute, "Where do you stand in the matter of the succession, my Lord?"
"On a precipice, I fear." I admit, ruefully, "While his Majesty is so loath to consider that his health is not great, and the chances of his seeing his son's majority slim to none, we are helpless."
"I do not doubt, however, that both you, and the Lord Chancellor, have plans, however."
"That is something to be considered when we reach our destination, Mr Cecil." I look across to him, "But, as you have doubtless noticed, his Grace and I refer to one another by our first names when we are in private. As you are now a member of our small group, I consider that privilege to be extended to you. Please, do not call me 'my Lord' unless we are in public. I am Richard."
"I should be honoured if you would do me the same courtesy, Richard." He responds, though still with rather formal courtesy. It is, of course, easier for me.
As I hoped, Cecil's reaction to the Library is one of wonder and excitement. Like me, he is truly fascinated by the sheer quantity of knowledge contained in that great cellar, though he, like me, is rather concerned that there is now a rather worrying shortage of space for it all, "There is a great deal of disorder, Richard. There are not enough shelves to contain all of these new papers and books. It seems to me that you require one who can dedicate appropriate time to review the contents of this remarkable collection."
He is right, Richard. This cannot continue, and you do not have the time to dedicate to the task.
Ah. I wondered how long it would take for Wolsey to comment. That said, it has been along time since we last conversed; the need to do so is far less these days.
"Alas, I agree, William." I admit - though I admit it as much to Wolsey as to Cecil, "But I cannot spare the time."
"I think that I could; nay, that I should. If I am to learn to support a Silver Sword through skill and knowledge, then where better to start than here?"
That, I did not expect, "I would not force such a position upon you, William. Your talents are of equal use to us at Court."
"Perhaps so - but then, perhaps not. There are many boxes here that remain sealed, for did you not tell me that Mistress Dawson does not involve herself in your work?"
That's true, of course. Goodwife Dawson, while frail these days, still guards this house like a lion, but she remains ignorant of its greatest secret. She cannot act as an archivist for us as she has no knowledge of Latin, or Greek. Additionally, her ability to read and examine documents is limited to household accounts. I could not ask her to undertake a task such as this. Is this the gift that we have been given? A man who can learn his way around the world of the Silver Sword through Wolsey's library? That would certainly be helpful.
Do it, Richard. He has the wherewithal to learn all that he needs to by working here, and his position at Court is not yet reliant upon his presence. Association with you and Thomas can remedy that when the time comes.
"This was not my initial plan, William," I admit, "but if you are content to do so, would you be willing to undertake the work required here? I fear it could lead to your career at court being stalled for years to come; and that may be a price you would not be keen to pay."
"I think it likely that I shall serve England better by working in this Library than in the Offices at Whitehall. I am well aware that my presence shall not be required if the Court removes to Hampton, for there shall not be room for a minor official such as I. I am too recently arrived."
That is true - only those of us who are most highly placed in the Government of the Kingdom travel with the Court; those who are of lesser state tend to remain in the main offices, so our situation could not be better. Thus Cecil can work in the Offices as he should, and also commence work in the Library with the papers that require work, "That sounds like an excellent plan, William." I agree with him, "Come, I shall show you how the indexing system operates; then you shall be in a position to begin cataloguing the newest material. Only the most urgent papers come to me personally, so the lack of them is always good news."
To my surprise, Cecil is clearly relishing the opportunity to set to work in the Library, almost to the point that he is keen to remain here while I return to Whitehall alone. That said, I have a great deal of work to do, drafting the proposed plan for the succession. This is the only safe place to do it, and I have Cecil to aid me. Thus, I think, I shall make a start on that in the morning.