CHAPTER TEN

Trapped in a Downward Spiral

The Council chamber has emptied, except for me. Wyatt has gone, at my insistence - for, despite my sense of encroaching panic at what has happened, the one thought in my mind is that, if Cromwell has fallen, then I am in serious danger of equal opprobrium. Thus the jovial Thomas Wyatt must, for his own safety, flee from me and repudiate our apparent former friendship to avoid being dragged down with me should I not escape. For escape, I must.

I cannot turn away from Cromwell. Even if I could find it in myself to betray him now as once I would have done, our close association is too well known, too commented upon. If I were to claim that I was no true friend of his, who would believe it? No. Even if it could serve me, which I doubt now, I could not do it. I could never betray the Raven. Not even if my life depended upon it.

"I suggest that you not remain here, Sir Richard." The voice startles me, and I look up to see Suffolk standing in the doorway nearby, "Though I think you should know that his Majesty has been informed of the incident that took place. While he is reunited with the brooch, he has ratified the warrant to send the Lord Chancellor to the Tower. In another hour, or perhaps less, he shall dispatch commissioners to seize Mr Cromwell's property."

That can only mean one thing - and Suffolk confirms it, "You should also know that the King has granted approval to the Council to enact a Bill of Attainder against him." He sounds sympathetic - for he knows as I do that this act has been carried out through jealousy and malice, not truth. He might not like me, or Cromwell, but he is a fair-minded man, and I have never seen him act out of vindictiveness. His eyes sad, Suffolk turns and leaves. While he has said nothing of it, I am not fool enough to think that suspicion is not already being directed towards me: as an accomplice if not an equal partner in this wholly fabricated affair. I have very little time to act - possibly only minutes - before the Palace Guard comes to escort me to a barge, and then to the Tower.

I do not dare to return to my own quarters, for that would be expected of me; but where can I go? Grant's Place, assuming it is not seized; but how can I depart without being seen? Even if I could, hiring a wherry would be impossible, as my purse is in a coffer at my desk, and to walk alone through Cheapside in my current garb, unarmed and looking so wealthy, would leave me at risk of being murdered for my fine clothes and my chain of office, so I must disguise myself in some manner. Even a cloak would do - but I have no access to one. There is no one left that I can trust - Wyatt must pretend that we have turned upon each other to save ourselves, Cromwell is even now being transported to the Tower, and may already be there for all I know. Who can I turn to? Oh God, I am so alone…

"Sir Richard?" This time from behind me, this time the voice of a woman. Startled, I turn, and find Lady Rochford nearby, her expression worried, and her movements somewhat furtive, "Come with me - quickly."

I do not doubt her - for only the Queen could have sent her in search of me. There is still someone I can trust. Keeping away from all who might see us, she leads me through the servants' corridors to the Queen's apartments, where her Majesty has again dismissed all but Jonathan. As soon as we arrive, she turns to me, "Jonathan came to me with the news of Mr Cromwell's arrest, for it has spread all about the Court, and I knew that it could not be an arrest based on truthful charges. Thank God Lady Rochford found you - you must leave the Palace, Sir Richard: immediately. The King has agreed to your arrest upon sight."

"I have no cloak." I say, stupidly, for my eyes are now filling with tears as the shock becomes more than I can stand. I never imagined that our mission could be destroyed so easily…and by such means…

Then I am furious with myself, and I pinch myself hard. I am not in the Tower - I am still able to get away from here, what the hell am I doing, crammed with this damned self-pity? I have left that cowardice behind, for God's sake! What use am I to my Silver Sword if I let myself falter now?

"Forgive me, Majesty," my voice is firmer, "I am being a fool - though I should still appreciate a cloak, if there is one available."

The Queen smiles at me, "That is no hardship - for my brother left one here not a day ago. I give it to you with pleasure, for I am deeply vexed with him for his act." She nods to Jonathan, who fetches it for me, "Now, Jonathan shall take you to the Queen's water gate via the lesser known passages - there are some which are for the exclusive use of my servants. I singularly doubt that these would be watched, for none of the council would know of them, so why would you be seen there? Take this purse - for you shall need to hire a wherry to carry you away from here." She hands me a small leather pouch.

"Thank you, Majesty." I drop to my knees before her, for she is our best hope of salvation now. No wonder Cromwell called her the one true hope of the Kingdom. Then, as I rise, I pause, "Majesty - what of my manservant, John? I cannot abandon him, for if I am gone they might harm him in their search for me." Wyatt whispered that he would take Dickon into his service as we hastily agreed how he would appear to have abandoned Cromwell and me, but I have made no provision for John.

"I shall arrange for him to transfer to my service - on the grounds that you have treated him poorly and he deserves a better position." The Queen promises, at once, "I shall also do all that I can to help your cause within the Palace, and I shall make contact with Thomas Wyatt so that we can arrange a means to keep you informed of all that happens here." She advises, "Now go, Sir Richard, and God keep you."

Jonathan says nothing as we make our way through alleys and passages that I have never visited before. I have no idea if Cromwell knows of these, but I suspect that he does. I am in constant fear of discovery, so I call upon my limited skills at silence and stealth, watching Jonathan carefully so that, if he draws to the walls to conceal himself, I do the same. As the Queen hoped, none here are searching for me, though I have no doubt that I am being hunted in the other precincts of the Palace where I might be more likely to be hiding. Thank Christ Whitehall is so large.

The Queen's water gate is well concealed, for privacy; and Jonathan waves down a passing wherry with little difficulty, for many of the Ladies hire them. As no Wherryman would know me on sight, I have no fear of betrayal now, and I thank Jonathan as I board. I suspect that I am viewed to be a fleeing amour of one of the Ladies in Waiting; for the Wherryman's expression is quite knowing. Thus, I am one of many faces, and my departure in his boat shall go unremarked. Once out on the river, our boat shall be one of many, and no one shall notice as we sail past the windows of the Palace.

I am free from the Palace - but God alone knows if I have anywhere to go now. I can only hope that the commissioners did not seize Grant's Place. If they have - then we have all gone to hell.

As the wherry pulls in at the Tower Wharves in the growing darkness, I look about for fear that there are guards waiting; for I cannot shake a conviction that our enemies know where I have gone. There are, of course, none, for my escape thanks to the help of the Queen, could never have been anticipated. I imagine they shall think me to be hiding in hopes of getting to the mews to take my horse.

Never before have the walls of the Tower looked so forbidding - for no one of importance to me has ever been incarcerated there in anticipation of death. Wyatt might have been held there, but he was found innocent and released. Cromwell is inside that fortress somewhere, imprisoned and alone. I wish, so much, that I could tell him that I am safe, and that I have the support of her Majesty to help him. Perhaps Wolsey shall tell him when he dreams tonight. Assuming he can sleep.

To my relief, Grant's Place is occupied and unmolested. We have taken such care to keep its existence hidden, so the King's commissioners missed it. Austin Friars has been confiscated, along with all that it contains, leaving Cromwell's extended family with no home, and no means of securing alternative accommodation. Grant's Place is not sufficient for their requirements, so Goodwife Dawson tells me that they have looked to friends for assistance. She also tells me, to my dismay, that Gregory is here.

"Gregory?" I ask, hoping that, if I question her statement, she might suggest instead that she is wrong.

She nods, "He is the only member of the family who knows of this place - and when he heard the news, it was to us that he came once he found that all of his father's property had been seized."

I do not need this - how can I work if Gregory is present? He knows nothing of his father's true mission; how can I keep it from him if he is in the house all the time? And yet, I cannot help but feel sympathy for the young man who has seen his world collapse in but an instant. He knows that his father has been imprisoned, and the claimed crimes that have led to it; but he cannot fathom how anyone could think such a thing. He is entirely unaware of the depths of vindictiveness that can run riot in the English Court; he does not yet appreciate how deeply men covet access to the King, alongside the financial and political rewards that can accompany it.

"Sir Richard?" he is there, in the doorway of a chamber, as I enter the building and remove Hertford's cloak, "What has happened? Why is my father arrested?"

In that, at least, I can be truthful, "He has made many enemies in the Council, Gregory." I advise him, "For reasons of their own, they have acted against him."

"He is not a spy!" Gregory cries, angrily.

"Indeed he is not." I agree, "Nor is he a thief, and most certainly not a murderer. The charges against him are all false - but I know not how they were planned, and, if I have nothing to counter them, I cannot defend him, or myself; for I, too, am so accused - as an accomplice. That is why I am not in the Palace, for I cannot grant him my aid if I am also in the Tower. And aid him I shall - I promise you."

Supper is most subdued, for Gregory fears for his father, and I fear for him, too. Molly fears for Dickon, despite my assurances that Wyatt has taken him into his service. Dickon has not been Cromwell's servant for long enough to be of interest to those who would bring him down, so he is most unlikely to be molested: for what point would there be? As soon as we have eaten, Gregory withdraws to his bedchamber, while Molly joins Goodwife Dawson in the Kitchens. I do not ignore the opportunity, and hasten to the Library.

Before I do anything else, I hold out my right hand, "Lezviye k moyey ruke." To my great relief, the call works, and my sword is safely in my possession again.

Setting it down at the reading desk, I sit for a while, my head in my hands, and allow myself some time to lose the tight control I have had over myself since I pinched myself in the Queen's chamber. I suppose it helps to cry, for a while at least, to get rid of the tears that have been building from the moment I thought myself utterly alone. Once they have gone, I can get to work.

"Eminence," I venture, once I have recovered myself, "I need you to tell Thomas that I am safe - that Gregory is here at Grant's Place, which is undiscovered - and that Tom and the Queen are working for our salvation. He at least needs some hope in the midst of this disaster."

For once, Wolsey's shade does not insult me for my tears, but instead consents, Consider it done. As soon as he dreams tonight, I shall speak to him.

Now that I am unable to return to the Palace, I am - naturally - in the most desperate need to be there. How am I to know what is happening? There was no time to arrange some means of conveying messages, and now there is nothing I can do to establish something. How ironic that, now I have all the time in the world to search the library, it is the one place I cannot truly afford to be.

I still retain some of my property at Grant's Place, so at least I have clothing other than that which is on my back, and the bedchamber that was set aside for me is always prepared. Having thought that I should be far too tense to sleep, instead I am exhausted, so I set my sword carefully to one side in the Library, and emerge upstairs again. How strange it is that we were burying William this morning, and now, suddenly, all that we thought we had built has collapsed about us - in a single day. It feels like weeks have passed, not hours. All but asleep on my feet, I drag myself to my bedchamber, and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Two days pass before I hear any news. Wolsey has reported to me that he has passed my assurances to Cromwell by that strange means they use thanks to the presence of the Rosary. It appears that the manner in which Wolsey is in contact with Cromwell is very different from that which he approaches me. As Cromwell comes to him, rather than he to Cromwell, the Cardinal cannot see where he is held - and Cromwell himself does not know exactly where he is kept. Fortunately, what he does know is that he is being kept in reasonable quarters, though not of the high standard that would be afforded to one of true noble rank. They have, at least, not placed him in one of the dank cells at the waterline, where the damp is cruel and the light poor.

A butcher's boy calls at the side door with a leg of mutton, and a letter. We are fortunate in that Goodwife Dawson is so highly respected in these parts, and the butcher is such a friend to Dickon. Between them, they have contrived to find a means of transferring messages between the Palace and Grant's Place, so at last I have a method to communicate with Wyatt. Dickon would come himself, as his wife lives here - but the risk of being stopped, particularly if he travels more regularly than usual, means he has opted to use a more circuitous method.

It is as the Queen feared - my apartments were searched shortly after Jonathan saw me away from the Water gate, but John did as told, and made out that I was such a cruel master to him, that he was only glad that I had fled the Palace and offered his best hopes that I should be arrested and tried as the Lord Chancellor had been. I had never once spoken to him of the work that I did, for I demanded he be silent and have no involvement with me except to serve my immediate personal needs. He is now in the Queen's service as an Usher, while Dickon is in Wyatt's service. He had needed a new Man for some time anyway, so none remark at his usurpation of Cromwell's manservant.

All of my possessions within the palace have been confiscated, though there are no current plans to confiscate any other of my properties in the hope that I might run to one of them and, finding it still in my possession, think myself safe. At least, then, my own extensive family shall not suffer for this debacle - or at least, not yet. I can only hope that things do not worsen.

Wyatt's letter goes on to tell me that, as soon as the opportunity arose, Dickon and he crept into the offices and emptied out Cromwell's weapons cupboard. Given the degree of fascination all have with it, for he keeps it carefully locked at all times, there is no doubt that Wriothesley shall be asked to account for its contents at some point. As he has no knowledge of what the cupboard contains, he shall have no answer and must search for it himself. Indeed, it seems that Wyatt's action was not a moment too soon, for the very next day, Wriothesley had the cupboard broken into - and found nothing. But for Wyatt's quick thinking - and the keys that Cromwell entrusted to us, we would have lost the Raven swords.

There has been no progress yet on the Bill of Attainder against Cromwell - though Wyatt has been questioned, but he has taken great care to paint a picture of enmity between himself and I, a falling out that has caused him to abandon me altogether, and with great relief, for he was tired of pitying my friendless state. In doing so, he seems to have convinced Hertford, who has no interest in pursuing him, and Gardiner, who cannot see any hope of finding more evidence to destroy the man he longs to replace. Thus they have left him be; not that he was fool enough to be open in sending a communication to me. I dread to imagine the efforts he must have been put to in order to ensure he was not seen dispatching it.

"The butcher's boy says that he can take any letter back as we need him to." Molly advises, as she hands me a badly needed cup of small ale, "He visits us every day, so there is no need to send for him."

All of this effort - from so many people. And I had thought myself to be alone.

I have been trapped at Grant's Place for just over a week now. Wyatt cannot risk sending regular communications to me, but when he does, the news becomes ever more frightening. It seems that more evidence is emerging, courtesy of the spies retained by Campofregoso, of Cromwell's alleged duplicity - making out that his plans to marry the Lady Mary would have been a forced marriage, for none are fool enough to implicate her in the so-called plot. His Majesty would have been poisoned, as would Edward - for Cromwell was so trusted, who would have thought to keep him from their food? I groan in frustration - how can people believe this nonsense?

Wyatt is becoming particularly concerned that Lamashtu's inactivity against the Queen is merely through an alliance with Campofregoso - for she has been seen in his company, and did he not bring her to Court in the first place? She is now well installed - and, to my horror, is now the King's mistress, as there is no Royal Rosary to keep her from him. All that protects the Queen now is Wolsey's blessing - and if that were to fail, there is no means to re-establish it, for Wolsey needs to use me to do it, and I cannot get to the Palace.

I am beginning to strongly suspect that Lamashtu and Campofregoso have colluded to the point that she has told him that Cromwell is a Silver Sword. As the Genoese was expelled from the House for his failure in the final Trial, the discovery that he can inflict such punishment on the man who succeeded at his imagined expense must have been too great a temptation to let by. He must have been using the King's favour to erode his trust in Cromwell for months - though I cannot believe that Hertford could have conspired with someone so foreign. Gardiner yes, for his desire for favour and the opportunity to counter Cranmer's efforts to progress the Reformation of the Church has blinded him to his principles; but not Hertford. Lamashtu has what she desires - open access to the Royal Family to destroy them as she wishes. Campofregoso has revenged himself upon a Silver Sword. I imagine they are both very happy.

The work on the Bill of Attainder is still in progress, but the debate is likely to be within a few days. The degree of suspicion is such that all seem to have been touched by it other than Hertford and Gardiner. They, of course, being the accusers, appear above suspicion. Wyatt adds that, for a brief time, even Queen Jane was accused - though the King is not, it appears, so enamoured of his mistress that he has forgotten the woman to whom he is married. No one knows who raised the rumour, but the King's rage was such that it was quickly dropped again.

I hate being so helpless - for I have no means of aiding Wyatt, or Dickon, or the Queen as they risk all for our sakes. I know that Wolsey is doing what he can, in his own fashion, to assure us - for he no longer insults me when we talk, and instead makes suggestions and offers ideas in terms of the papers in the library that might aid me in making that final link in the puzzle. If I knew how to use Red Fire and Blue Fire, then I could prevail upon Queen Jane to help me secure them. Though it would still require me to break into the Tower and find Cromwell - but as he has no idea where he is within that great fortress, neither does Wolsey. For every plan we make, there is an obstacle that seems insurmountable.

I must wait another week for Wyatt's next missive, and I groan as I read it.

My dear R,

Things are worsening by the day. His Majesty saw fit to declare Eustace Chapuys a traitor at the end of the last week, and a fugitive from the King's Justice. A mob descended upon his house and surrounded it, hurling stones and crying out for the Ambassador's head. Windows were broken, and the house set alight - but the King's guard did nothing to stop them, or to hold them back, and only worked to put out the fire when it became clear that other houses were at risk. Fortunately, Chapuys was not present at the time - but has fled the realm with naught but the clothes upon his back.

The Holy Roman Emperor has taken great offence at the manner in which his Ambassador was treated, and has written to the King in the strongest terms. Such is his Majesty's fury that he has sent a response couched in the rudest of language - the Council were told of its contents, and thus the news has inevitably spread beyond the Privy Chamber - demanding that Charles stay out of English business, and send less duplicitous Ambassadors in future. Only a fool would not think that he is spoiling for war - as he has not seen conflict since his youth, and is still desirous of military glory.

We await the Emperor's reply - but none of us expect it to be any less than a declaration of war. That which we most fear may well be upon us. For God's sake, R - you must, must, must find the means by which the stones can be used. J promises to take steps to secure Red Fire, and to grant us Blue Fire immediately that Red Fire is claimed All we need is the word from you that this can be done.

T

He is doing what he can to disguise both himself and me - as the front of the letter bears only the Raven sigil. There is no further news relating to Cromwell's fate, but a worse one for England could not be stated. Henry wants to take us to war - and is doing all he can to bring it about. Is he mad? We cannot afford conflict - the exchequer is too depleted; worse, the chaos it would cause, particularly if we lost, would grant Lamashtu the free rein she has wanted from the beginning. Richard Crookback died to stop her - must Cromwell die, too?

Not if I can avert it; and I shall do all I can to do so, even if it means my own life. God, all this talk of dying, and I haven't even started looking for that last instruction. If I find it, then it may well mean that we all live, and isn't that the better goal to aim for?

Despite the rather desperate tone of Wyatt's letter, I must not allow myself to sink into panic - that would serve no one but Lamashtu. Instead, I seat myself at the desk that was once Wolsey's, resting my elbows upon the table and forcing myself to breathe in and out slowly and calmly. There must be something in that library. There has to be - or what was the point of creating it? God would not place this task upon us, and leave us without that which we need to bring it about. I must have faith, not only in God, but in Cromwell, in Wyatt, in the Queen and - most of all - in myself.

Tomorrow, I shall fetch Molly, and the pair of us shall shake out that bloody library until there is not a paper left in it.