Chapter Twenty-Five
Route to Truth
I am glad to be back at my desk, I must admit, for much work has accumulated in my absence that I am keen to clear. Griffin and Wriothesley have been working to keep that pile to a minimum, as has John Dudley, but nonetheless there are certain items that must be dealt with by me. Besides, I am sure that the heap of papers on Cromwell's desk shall be far larger.
Griffin has nothing to report to me, but is genial and offers to assist me with any outstanding papers; while Wriothesley seems almost hostile. As he has resented my presence in the office chambers at any palace where there is no separate chamber for me, I am not surprised, though I do notice that that awful sense of nervous discomfort I feel in his company is most conspicuous by its absence. I have never understood why I have found him so intimidating, but at present he is just a sour face in a room, and that is a relief that I am happy to embrace.
By midday, I have brought the number of papers back down to a reasonable amount, and I depart in search of some dinner in the Hall. Their Majesties are present today, and thus people are on their best behaviour; while the selection of dishes for those of us at the higher placed tables are rather more extensive. Queen Jane prefers to dine in private wherever possible, as her son is still becoming accustomed to being on public display after years of being protected from such scrutiny. Thus her visits to the Hall for meals are slowly becoming more frequent - but are still limited to a few days each week.
Many of those present shall remain today, I think; for there is a small consort of musicians present to entertain the royal family, so I have no doubt that there shall be some dancing this afternoon once the tables have been cleared. My absolute incompetence as a dancer ensures that I shall not be one of them - even more than my pressing work in the offices. As Cromwell has not joined us to dine, I assemble a chunk of cheese and some slices of bread in a napkin and take it back to him. He is, as always, deeply engrossed in the papers before him, and had not even noticed that he was hungry, "Thank you for this, Richie. I had lost track of the time."
He pours us each a glass of sack before sitting down to make a brief meal of the bread and cheese, "This reminds me of the first meal we shared together - bread and cheese with a glass of sack. You had not yet decided whether or not to become my Second, for you knew nothing of my mission."
"A decision I have never regretted, Thomas." I add, "Well, not entirely never regretted. I think there were a few moments of utter panic when I wondered what on earth I had done. Usually when I had managed to get myself into danger in some fashion. I suspect that I would have been more filled with regrets had I not turned back to you after my faith in myself was so crushed by my helplessness when you were possessed by that malevolence." My smile falters at that, for I still, to this day, feel a sense of horror that I came so close to failing to aid him - and it was only thanks to Wolsey that he was not lost forever.
"I have not forgotten that." Cromwell admits, "As though I could - but even if you could not enter that place of misery to find me, you remained at my side, and were there when I returned. You, and Tom, were the most welcome sight I could have imagined upon waking from the horrors forced upon me by that malevolence; nothing, and no one, could have made me feel safer and more assured that I was truly home again." He sits back, "To return to the present - have you noticed anything of concern in relation to my Lord Northumberland?"
I sit and think for a moment. I have not had the opportunity to meet with Ambrose yet, and we have not yet attended a council meeting, so I have not seen his father. As I have no other friends at Court - well, none of any value to our mission, at least - I have not heard rumours. Certainly there were none at the dinner tables, and I had failed to notice whether Northumberland was in the hall. God, my head must be full of straw!
"No, alas, I have not - but I have been back only a day, and I am not so well acquainted with the rumour-mill in the palaces as you are, Thomas."
He sighs, "Then we are both blind, for I have had no more success than you. He is at Court, but I have not heard any suggestion that he is acting in any manner at all that is conspiratorial. He seems even to have given up attempting to subvert Prince Henry - though I have heard that his friendship with Ambrose is apparently working wonders for the boy's temperament."
"Which might explain Northumberland's withdrawal?" I offer, hopefully. It would be a good thing if we could persuade Dudley to set that sort of nonsense aside and become a more trustworthy member of the Council.
"I think so - though I am not convinced that it has stopped him entirely." Cromwell admits, "Unless I can truly verify that he has indeed decided that conspiracy shall aid him less than active and loyal service, I shall assume still that he is conspiring."
"But with whom?" I ask, at once, "We have no evidence that he has formed any factional connections with any other Courtier, and it is nigh-on impossible to conspire alone."
"That, Richie, is the sticking point." He admits, "I am no more certain of that than you are. We shall have to wait for Madame Askew to locate our missing Draper."
The council meeting is no more helpful, for Northumberland seems to have shifted from being hostile and unfriendly to almost frighteningly eager in his wish to be a useful and worthwhile councillor. Part of me hopes that Ambrose's theft of his influence over Prince Hal has awoken him to the foolishness of his behaviour - but I know that I would be deceiving myself. If only my sword's warnings did not affect me so brutally - it might be helpful at this juncture to know what he is planning; but alas, I cannot risk the headache and fever that almost invariably follows. Worse, I might even faint at the council table and send people into a panic that I have caught some dread contagion.
There are no arguments, nor is there any posturing; instead we achieve a great deal more than we used to - for no one objects that Parliament must consider certain aspects of our plans, nor does anyone complain over the proposed religious settlement. That said, it has rather stalled in Parliament, for those on both sides who refuse to acknowledge the view of their opponents are equally stubborn over the reality that the King and Regent consider it to be absolutely none of their business who believes what as long as they are loyal Englishmen. Given the insularity of the people of our little nation, I have no doubt that the loyalty of our Catholic subjects to England comes ahead even of their loyalty to the Pope. He is, after all, a foreigner.
The Lady Elizabeth has been at the Council Table for all meetings since our departure to London, and has proved - as predicted - that she is both tolerated rather than welcomed, and very capable of seeing, but saying nothing. Her opinions are ventured afterwards, it seems, and I understand, so far, that they are most interesting and incisive.
As is often the case, Cromwell and I remain behind to consider the discussions, which is easily achieved by taking longer than everyone else to clear our papers. As we generally have far more papers than anyone else, most are long gone before we have finished, even if we are not intending to meet with their Majesties.
"We have not made as much progress as I had hoped with the Religious settlement." The King sounds most disappointed - but he is still very young, and does not appreciate the delicacy of the situation. Not all people think has he does, or as his sister does. It is hard for his mother to do so, but she has found it in herself to appreciate the views of her children. Elizabeth has seen the outcome of religious strife in ways that he has not, of course; but he has spent time in her company, and, despite his tender years, is no fool.
"It is hard for men to find common ground on a matter such as this, Majesty," Cromwell sighs, "I myself am little better, for my own views are rather set; but I know as you do that we cannot continue to impose cruelties upon one another over matters such as transubstantiation or the veneration of saints. For those of us who do not see these things as religiously valid, there are many more for whom it is central to their faith. When all is said and done, we all look to the same Holy Father, and the manner in which we do so is perhaps of less importance to Him than the fact that we do so at all."
"I wish that more people thought as you do, my Lord."
"Until I was united with the Gemfire, Majesty," He admits, "I did not. I was as keen to stamp out the old faith as men such as Bonner are keen to stamp out the new, and worked quite fervently to ensure it would happen. When I was overtaken, it was by the Word, that very Word which was spoken at the beginning of all things. I felt its power, and the source from which it came - and then I understood that it is faith in God that is important, not the manner in which it is expressed; for the rituals of our worship are mere trifles and embellishments - and serve more to bring people together in faith than to overtly save them."
"Exactly!" the King agrees, pleased at Cromwell's words, "That is what I think! Mr Ascham wanted me to see that, and I'm glad of it, for has there not been enough strife over such matters?"
How old is this boy again?
Once he has returned to his Privy Chamber, the Queen sighs, but her expression is proud, "He is so young - and yet he has been educated well. He does not have his father's impulsiveness - but he does have the strength, and intelligence that belonged to his late Majesty."
"He also has you, sister." Somerset reminds her, "I suspect that the government of our realm would be very different had he been required to stand up to the wishes of an interim council and a Lord Protector." He has the grace to look sheepish - for it is almost a certainty that he would have been that Lord Protector, or fighting for his own interests against whoever had been appointed had he not.
"I believe Ambrose Dudley has arranged for him to go hawking for the rest of the afternoon," she adds, "and Hal is to go with them, though he is less interested in the sport and thus is attending for the ride only."
"If it brings the brothers together, Majesty, then it is all for the good." Cromwell says, sagely, "But we must away back to our desks; and I hope that we shall have some word from our agent soon - as her quarry should far easier to find than those previous."
His estimation proves to be correct, for Baxter has left a note in my portfolio upon my desk while I have been in the Council chamber. It seems that Madame Askew has found a great deal of information - and now I can remember where I have heard the name Drayton before. Mr John Drayton is the son of the brother of Agnes Drayton; who married William Wriothesley, the York Herald. Thus, he is the cousin of Thomas Wriothesley - who is sitting across from me at his desk, as he has since he returned from recording the Council meeting.
I frown at the letter, bemused - what has this cup got to do with the cousin of the King's Secretary? It makes no sense…
Hopefully Cromwell shall have more ideas than I, and I step through to his office.
"Thank God you are here, Richie - I was about to send for you." He looks most dismayed.
"What is it?" his expression is such that my note is all but forgotten.
"Anne." He says, quietly, "She has been arrested."
For a moment, I am silent, but then the questions come crowding in, "How? How did that happen? Why?"
Cromwell is pouring out sack again, "Take a seat, and I shall tell you what I know - which is not much."
Slowly, I sit down, and take the glass, though I do not drink.
"Madame Askew was in male attire when she visited the Draper's Hall, for they would have been less likely to note an enquiry about a Liveryman from another man, as she was feigning an interest in seeking apprenticeships." He sighs, "She had not exchanged it for female garb when she returned to her lodgings and emerged again, presumably as her business was unfinished, and was arrested by some men - apparently working for Edmund Bonner. It seems that he has arrested her for heresy."
"Being dressed in male attire." I mumble, "But he cannot do anything - heresy is only punishable by death if the perpetrator has relapsed."
"She has been held before, Richie - remember? That was the service we rendered to her - for she was held once before for speaking publicly against the Six Articles established by his Majesty. I knew nothing of that, for we were engrossed upon the defeat of Lamashtu, so that matter was handled by Bull. We could not save everyone, but we tried; and she was one of those who was successfully defended. Unfortunately, to be seen wearing male attire, and to have no good reason for doing so, could be viewed as a relapse into heresy again - and that is still punishable by death."
"What do we do? How can we aid her?" After all that she has done for us, the thought of her facing such a ghastly fate is appalling, and I wish more than anything to extricate her from it.
"There is nothing that we can do." He sighs, sadly, "No matter how much power we wield, we are not above the Law. While the King is working to end the view of heresy as either a crime or a sinful act, it has not yet been resolved. King Edward might well act to save her - but it is not a matter that would normally involve royal power, so why would the authorities put the matter to him? Besides, until we know who is truly behind this, we are blind. At present it is likely to be an accusation of heresy - but if any of our enemies are involved, who knows what might follow?"
"This might help," I hold out the note, "She had time to dispatch this before she was taken. John Drayton is the cousin of our very own Mr Wriothesley."
"Wriothesley?" Cromwell stares at me, dismayed, "God - I had not thought to consider him amongst those who are ranged against us; but why would his cousin be so keen to get hold of a cup that we need in order to prevent a demonic incursion? There is no other connection to the Court, or to men of high estate. Wriothesley is not a Lord, but he works amongst many who are."
"Northumberland?" I ask, at once.
"Who is to say? There is no evidence one way or the other. Northumberland has changed his behaviour so utterly that it is either a feint, or he has decided to cease his plotting - but only we would see his actions in such a light. We have no means to prove that he is the one who is consorting with Eligos."
"Where is Anne now?" I decide to drop the 'madame' - she is in need, and she is one of us.
Cromwell looks up at me, "The Tower."
"God, no…"
"It would not be wise for me to attempt to gain entry - for I am too prominent. Were it possible to do so, then I would be aboard a barge and on my way to the Tower now. There is no suggestion that we are connected to her in any way - but the risk of giving those who wish to remove us an opportunity to claim one is very great."
"I am not as well known as you, Thomas. I shall go in disguise - I'm sure Baxter can aid me with that. I have not been to the Tower since we battled Lamashtu, and none there shall know my face."
"You must be very careful, Richie - very careful indeed. I have no doubt that she is being watched to see if any are aiding her. If you do so, you must take great care not to be apprehended."
"I shall take the risk - but I shall also ensure that the spies are advised. One of the warders is with us - and he shall aid me in reaching her, while the others can assist in getting me in, and out, without being apprehended."
He nods, "Speak to Baxter to make the arrangements; and for God's sake, be careful."
"Always, Thomas."
I have ridden down from Hampton Court to Whitehall, ostensibly to accompany some important papers to be archived, so none comment at my absence. Baxter awaits me in the Privy Garden, dressed as a gardener again, "I have already arranged for Anne's lodgings to be cleared, Mr Rich," he begins, "It is done as a matter of course. Bonner's agents found nothing of any worth when they searched the rooms yesterday, but there are a few items that might be of interest to you, so I shall have them delivered to Grant's Place."
"Thank you." That, at least, is something - they have no evidence to use against her, and nothing to suggest that she is working for us.
"It will be at least two days before we can get you in to see her, though." He admits, "Our plant in the Tower reports that she is undergoing interrogation as we speak - Bonner is with her, and two others."
"Who?"
"I shall find out for you." He says, quietly.
I spend those two days in a fever of worry - though I can guess who one of the interrogators is, for Wriothesley is absent from the offices. Northumberland is also absent, but the word is that he has gone to one of his estates in Berkshire - purchased from Giffard, I believe - and thus I shall have to wait to find out who the second interrogator might be. While I wait, I think over how I shall be disguised, and decide to re-use the pseudonym I invented when I was at Whitehall, and once again call myself Dickon Empshott.
On the morning of the third day, I make my way to the Privy Stair in a suit of borrowed clothing, where Baxter is awaiting me. A wherry bobs alongside, the oarsman a rather brutal looking man by the name of Griffiths, but who nods, respectfully, "Mr Rich."
Another spy, then. I might have control of them, but I could not identify any of them if I met them.
Fortunately, the tide is not racing, and thus it is safe to risk the passage between the starlings at London Bridge. I am not fool enough to disembark at the Tower Wharves, but instead at Blackfriars, where a cart piled high with bales of straw for the Tower awaits me. I am about to burrow into the heap, when the carter stops me, "Don't be an idiot, Dickon - you ride with me on the seat."
I am not used to being surreptitious - it appears that I have much to learn.
No one pays us any attention as the cart clatters along the riverside towards the looming bulk of the Tower. I suspect that Madame Askew is being held in the cells of the old fortress, but as the straw is likely to be used as floor covering and bedding for the lesser prisoners, at least I shall have access to those ghastly corridors, for they store the stuff down there as well as the prisoners. If I am caught doing this, then I imagine that I shall end up being stored here, too.
The warder that awaits us nods, and shakes the carter's hand, but does so in a particular way, his forefinger pointing along the back of the carter's hand - and I realise that he is our man. Thank God - he shall get us to where we need to go, let me in to see Madame Askew, and get us back out again. If I did not have access to the talents of these people, then I should be truly helpless.
"She is being held here, Mr Rich." He whispers, the echoes covering his words.
"Empshott, Quaesitor," I suggest, "I am Mr Empshott for today."
He nods, "You should note that her inquisitors have been most determined - and they have acted illegally. The Constable refused to do what they demanded - and I believe he is even now on his way to Whitehall to beg the King's forgiveness - so they did it themselves."
"Did what?" I ask, though I can guess, and I feel sick at the thought.
The warder pauses at a cell door, looks both ways, and unlocks it, "You have ten minutes at the most, Mr Empshott - use them wisely. We shall see to the straw." As soon as I enter, the door is closed behind me, and locked.
"Christ have mercy…" I cannot believe what I am seeing - for she is lying, supine, upon the floor in a long smock that covers her to her ankles. She does not move, but her head turns slightly, and she moans as she does so. There is only one means of interrogation that can leave a victim so helpless: she has been racked.
"Mr Rich…" her voice is weak.
"Anne; dear God - what have they done? Who did this to you?" I am on my knees beside her, my voice a low whisper to avoid any overhearing us.
"No questions, just listen." She says, faintly, "Drayton is Wriothesley's cousin - as I told you. He is in league with Northumberland, and they were both here, trying to find some means to bring down you and the Raven. They know that I am no mere religious speaker - and they tried by any means they could to get me to tell them that I was working with you both to destroy the King and rule through his brother. They want you out of the way because you can stop Northumberland's plan."
Northumberland…so he is involved…
"He has lost sight of all that is important; he has been tempted by riches and power beyond the right of man. He wants the cup, because it can summon just as easily as it can banish. I found something…some papers…but I cannot read them…"
"Baxter had your lodgings cleared. They shall be in my hands before the day is out. Rest assured of that."
"Then I can die content."
"No, Anne - do not think so. We shall help you…"
"You cannot, Mr Rich. Not this time - besides, my limbs are ruined for all the strings of my elbows and knees are wrenched and broken - Wriothesley and Northumberland saw to that, with their own hands. I cannot move without pain…it is better that I go, for what use am I to the Order now? One more death for faith, and then it shall end - for none shall countenance another martyrdom. Perhaps this shall win the settlement…"
Wriothesley? And Northumberland? God have mercy - they could not persuade Anthony Kingston to commit such an immoral and illegal act, so they did it themselves. Damn them…damn them both…
"I am not afraid, Mr Rich. It shall be a release from my pain - and I shall go to God with my conscience clean."
"We shall do what we can to ease your passing, Anne. I promise you. I promise you."
"Bless you." She smiles at me, "The Order gave me a reason to live - a purpose. I am grateful, for I have done good things with my life."
"As have I." I agree, carefully stroking some rogue strands of hair from her eyes, for she cannot, "I shall be there when you are brought out, and I shall ensure that it is over as quickly as possible."
"Thank the Raven for me. It was an honour to serve."
"I shall do so." I want to get out of here - I want to run, flee - scream and howl my grief and rage. Why is this still happening? Why has the plotting not stopped with the death of Henry? What is wrong with people? And yet, I am no better, for now I want to destroy Wriothesley as he has destroyed this good woman…and is that not wrong? Am I not meant to forgive those who hurt me?
But I cannot. I cannot…
I am pulled from my anguished reverie by the scrape of the key in the lock of the door, "Forgive me Mr Empshott, but we are done. You must come now."
"Go." Madame Askew smiles at me, despite her obvious pain, "I shall look out for you when my time comes."
"I shall be there. I promise."
Shaking with grief, and anger, I follow my colleagues out of the prison, and board the now-empty cart. None notice our departure, any more than they noticed our arrival, but rather than return to the Palace, I step down from the seat as soon as we are amongst a crowd, and slip away. There is a coffer awaiting me at Grant's Place.
I do not risk staying overnight at the house, for I have no doubt that my absence shall be noticed; but with the coffer safely contained in a large canvas bag over my shoulder, I change into more appropriate clothes for a man of my state, and the carriage delivers me to the Tower Wharves as though I am merely travelling back to the Palace after undertaking some private business.
It is hard to conceal that bubbling anger that Madame Askew's dreadful plight has inspired in me, but I must - for neither Wriothesley nor Northumberland must know that I am aware of what they have done. Anthony Kingston's visit to the Palace to seek the King's forgiveness for his dereliction of duty shall be a pointless exercise given that his Majesty is at Hampton Court, and thus his Majesty shall not know of their behaviour until it is far too late to act. How I can return to my desk in the offices and sit there with the Secretary mere feet away, I cannot begin to imagine - but, again, I must; for otherwise they shall know that I am aware of his plans. Does he know? Is he aware that, in conspiring with Northumberland, he is consorting with a Demon? I imagine that Bonner does not - for despite his determination to stamp out heresies, he would never, ever do so in league with an infernal being, any more than Gardiner would have done.
The river is too dangerous at the Bridge to go any further, and I am obliged to disembark and search for another boat upriver, which delays me somewhat - but Urban is awaiting me, already saddled, and I am quickly on my way out to Hampton again. As time is shorter than usual, I do not stop to dine, and press my horse to a canter wherever I can, thus reaching the Palace as the last of the autumn light fades away into night.
None see my return, and I am soon back in my chambers, the coffer carefully stowed in a closet under some of my finer Court clothes that are reserved for formal occasions. Now that I am hidden and in private, however, I cannot keep my anguish repressed any longer, and sink down on the bed, tears streaming down my face. I want to save her - but I cannot…I cannot…
I am roused from my misery by a knock at the door, and I hastily wipe at my damp face as best I can, though I know that Cromwell would not be scornful of my tears. But it is not Cromwell who is awaiting me in my main Chamber. Instead, it is the Duchess of Somerset.
"My Lady?" I ask, having been obliged to clear my throat at the first attempt.
"My Lord." Her expression is urgent, and distressed, "Forgive me, I did not wish to disturb my husband, and I did not know where else to turn."
I am most confused, for I cannot imagine what she would wish to discuss with me, "How can I be of assistance?"
"I need to get to the Tower," she says lowering her voice, "You are one of very few people who can arrange a warrant to grant me entry, and you are trusted by the Queen and my Husband so I think you shall not betray me - there is one there to whom I must speak."
I can think of only one person, "Anne Askew?"
Her eyes widen fearfully, "How did you…"
"It was but a guess, Madame, for I have been there myself this very day, and spoken to her. I cannot think of any other prisoner that would cause you to come to me." I pause, "Though I think there would be no objection if you chose to visit her."
"Perhaps not, but I am sure that my visit shall not go unremarked." She says, quietly, "For my husband is unpopular in some quarters, and his destruction would be welcomed by them. For his wife to be seen consorting with a known heretic and traitor…"
"Traitor?" I ask. I was not aware that she had been accused of treachery as well.
"It is rumoured that she is working to bring down some of the councillors - though there are no comments as to who she is allied with, or who they aim to destroy."
"My Lady - please, be seated. I have much to tell you, but it must be spoken of quietly." I guide her to a chair beside the fire, and lower my voice, "I visited Madame Askew this morning, and she is in a most pitiable state - for she has been racked."
"That is illegal!" the Duchess protests, fortunately not too loudly – she has more sense than to speak too loudly, it seems.
"The intention was to implicate the Lord Chancellor and myself in a plot to overthrow the government. Needless to say, she has not done so, for it is patent nonsense, and such is her forbearance and courage that she refused to tell her tormentors what they wished to hear in order to end her ordeal."
"God have mercy upon her…"
"She expects to be condemned, I fear - but I have promised her that we shall ensure that her passing is eased. We shall ensure that a bag of gunpowder is placed about her neck to end the suffering as quickly as possible. For it is certain that she shall burn, unless his Majesty reprieves her. So damaged is she, however, that she hopes that he shall not."
"His horror of such cruelties shall almost certainly prompt him to do so." She insists. And I agree that she is likely to be right.
"That is, of course, on the assumption that he finds out. I have no doubt that there are people present who shall do all they can to ensure that he does not - or, if he does, it shall not be until after she is dead."
The Countess places a small purse in my hand, "Then use this to buy the gunpowder, my Lord. If you are to be present, I wish to be the one who gives the gift." She is close to tears, and I nod. I promised Anne, and it shall be done.
"Where is the King?" I ask Cromwell, as I enter his office the following morning for there is no sign of either his Majesty, the Regent or Somerset today, and I was not present to notice any departure thanks to my own absence.
"Ambrose Dudley has been prevailed upon by his father to host them at one of his new Manors." Cromwell advises, crossly, "I attempted to suggest that the timing was not sensible, but Prince Hal grew most contrary when the Queen demurred, and it was decided that they might do so on this occasion - largely to avoid an embarrassing royal tantrum."
"So he is not present to know that Madame Askew is condemned." I sigh - for the news came through this morning. Consequently, I have not entered the offices, for I am not sure that I shall be able to stop myself from striking Wriothesley.
"It shall be done the day after tomorrow, two days before his Majesty is due to return."
"Lady Somerset has asked me to aid her in securing a bag of gunpowder." I advise, more quietly, "As I had already planned to do so, it was no hardship to agree to it. As I assume she has gone with her husband and their Majesties, I shall go there myself to ensure that there is at least one friend present for Anne - and that her end is quicker than it might have been,"
"The King shall be most distressed when he returns to discover this." Cromwell admits, "For he is vehemently opposed to using fire in such manner - and he was not present to prevent a burning." He looks at me, then, "I need to go over some papers with you today, Richie. If you could draw up a chair, we shall do so at my desk." He knows I cannot bring myself to go to my own. Not while Wriothesley is present. God, I wish we were back at Whitehall - I would then have an office of my own and not be obliged to be anywhere near a man that I now regard with an almost rabid hatred.
By the day's end, we have at least managed to get some work done - though we are both rather distracted, and I note that Wriothesley has departed Hampton Court. Clearly he intends to be present at the burning, too - though his reasons are likely to be partly in the hope that she cries out something useful to him, and partly because he enjoys watching others in pain.
Why did I think that? I have not seen it to be so - and yet it is such a strong conviction that I cannot shake it off. Oh God, is that infusion wearing off? That is the last thing that I need at such a time as this.
"Shall you come tomorrow?" I ask, as we sup - or, rather, pick at the victuals set before us with little interest.
"I fear not." He sighs, "My absence here shall be noted - but, equally, if I am seen there, people shall assume that I am the one who ordered her death, and I do not wish to cause any outbreaks of disorder. She deserves better than the indignity of a public riot." Instead, he reaches into his desk, "Place this upon the bag of gunpowder before you hand it to the executioner, Richie. She shall recognise it, and know that I have not forgotten her."
I examine the small piece of fabric that he has given me - a small black patch in the shape of a standing bird that is clearly intended to indicate a raven. A single pin should hold it, and even if it meant something to that craven individual who shall gloat over her death, it shall be obliterated before he can retrieve it.
My sleep is disturbed by ghastly dreams of fire and pain, and I wake in a most unpleasant state of tiredness; but nonetheless, I must go - and so once again Urban carries me back to London. I shall travel across to Grant's Place rather than to Whitehall, for I cannot be certain that Wriothesley shall not be there - though I have no doubt he has a London Residence as I do. I shall also be much closer to Smithfield, where she is to die. As if that were not bad enough, her death is to take place almost outside one of my homes, for I hold the Advowson for the Great Church of Bartholomew, and some of the former monastic buildings are now converted for residence. God, I could watch her die from my own main chamber - but I do not want to go there tonight; I would be alone there, and tonight I need to have company.
The mood at Grant's Place is, I am not surprised to find, most subdued, and I note that Baxter is also present, "I have secured the gunpowder, Mr Rich." He advises, grimly, "I can pass it to the executioner on your behalf if you wish - to conceal who has given it."
I shake my head, "She has not given our names, Quaesitor - thus I feel no fear of revealing that I am with her. The King shall never permit my arrest over a matter such as this, and our enemies know it. Besides, I promised her that I would do it, and also another Lady who came to ask that the service be performed."
He nods, then retreats to collect the bag, which he hands to me, "For her." He says, simply, "There are none better. I do not believe that her arrest was thanks to her - someone betrayed her."
Someone, or something? If Northumberland is consorting with Eligos - he could have warned his human factor…but again I cannot prove it. Without proof, I have nothing.
The night that follows is longer than any I have known, for I sleep not at all. Instead, I carefully ensure that the small raven patch is fixed to the bag of gunpowder, and spend not a few hours on my knees. I cannot save her - but I can ask for her to receive both mercy and grace. It is all that I can do in the absence of a reprieve.
And so, in the grim first light of a cold, grey morning, Baxter departs first, and I follow half an hour later. We are both early, but I want to be sure that I can get to the executioner, and arrange with him that he sets the gunpowder around Anne's neck. I promised her - and Lady Somerset. I still have the purse of monies that she gave me, and that shall be used to reward the man for his service.
It does not take me long to get there, and I am soon alongside the man who shall bind her to the stake, "Set this about her neck, I beg you." I place it in his hands, along with the sizeable number of coins that Lady Somerset gave me, "For God's sake, let her go quickly."
He nods, and carefully sets the bag about his person. Now it is out of my hands. Christ, if I were not positively dangerous with a ranged weapon, I would take up station with a crossbow somewhere to ensure that the promise is kept - but I could not hope to do it. Perhaps Baxter shall.
I was right to come early; for, as I step back into the porch of my house to conceal myself, I note Wriothesley has arrived, accompanied by a few other councillors who are present for formality's sake and who shall be seated upon a platform that has been constructed alongside the wall of the old church, facing away from the converted buildings that are now mine. From their expressions, none of them wish to be present, though the man himself seems quite wrapt with anticipation. My God - he cannot wait to watch a woman burn…
And again, I am grateful that I cannot shoot safely, because, God help me, if I could, then he would be dead. Here and now.
A hand rests upon my shoulder, and I jump violently. Then I turn, and I am most surprised, "I thought you said you would not come?"
"I did so in case we were overheard, Richie. I could not abandon her any more than you could. Besides, I have a crossbow under my cloak in case the gunpowder does not work."
"Give it to me. Then I can destroy that bastard…"
"No I shall not." He says firmly, "Even if I could be certain that you would not miss, I shall not allow you to do it. All shall receive their due rewards in time."
The crowd that is gathering is a strange one, for most who are present seem not to regard what is to come as just; which pleases me somewhat. Hopefully they shall hurl abuse at the councillors, particularly Wriothesley, for neither Cromwell nor I am among them. Our concealed position in my porch also aids us, for a number of my stewards have emerged to keep people away from my property - but, of course, they shall not do the same to me.
And then comes Mr Kingston, leading a pitiful procession - four warders carrying a chair upon which Anne sits, her face ashen from the pain. I am standing upon the porch seat, so that I can see her, and she can see me, for she knows that this is my house. The Councillors are watching her, and still have their backs to the old church, and thus they are not aware of our presence. Despite his anticipation of what is to come, Wriothesley has not at any time turned to see if I am at my door.
As I hoped, the executioner, as he lifts her from the chair and sets her up against the stake, speaks briefly to her. Once she is secured, he carefully sets the bag of gunpowder about her neck. Slowly, she raises her head, despite the pain, and looks across to us with something close to a smile, for she can see that I am not alone.
I close my eyes for a moment, as the executioner directs the addition of wooden faggots to the platform upon which she stands, her arms hooked painfully behind her in order to hold her up, for her ruined knees shall not. How can she not be screaming? God, I do not have such courage as she - I could not hope to be silent were I standing where she is. Instead, she waits, her lips moving as she prays. I want to stop this - but I cannot, for I am not powerful enough to demand it. Only the King can save her now, and the King is in Berkshire, far from this horrible business.
All is done, and there is nothing left but to watch as the executioner applies a flaming brand to the bonfire. I am shaking, and I am not sure whether I shall vomit, or faint - for this is the death that I fear more than any other, and I must watch an innocent woman endure it. Cromwell sets his hand upon my shoulder again, and I am grateful that I am not here alone.
The flames catch, and begin to spread - but she does not move, or make a sound, still silently praying. Yes, if she can do no more upon this earth, then she shall die with courage, and be considered a martyr - hopefully the last that England shall ever see. Even as the flames rise, she remains silent for a while, but eventually she cannot remain quiet and a scream escapes her. I think something similar escapes me, too, and Cromwell's hand tightens upon my shoulder even more.
And then, at last, the gunpowder catches, and all fall back as it explodes. And she is silent again.
I am now more grateful than I can express that I am in the porch of one of my own homes, for I am able to flee indoors and hide in the hallway, where my anger and grief can finally give way into a storm of tears and cursing that would be most unseemly in public.
"Damn him! Damn him to hell for his cruelty - that bastard! Damn him!"
Cromwell says nothing, but instead allows me to vent my fury, until I have no words left and sink into a chair.
"Come, Richie," he sets his hand upon my shoulder again, "There is nothing more we can do here. Did you not say that you have the papers that Baxter retrieved from her lodgings? It may be that there is something there that shall bring this horror to an end, and secure our safety from the Grand Duke of Hell."
His hand is shaking, too - and I know that he grieves as I do. He is, of course, stronger than I - he always has been - but he is not without feelings. We have been wounded by this - but now we must regroup and fight back. Not just for ourselves, or for England - but for Anne Askew also. She has given her life for this - and we must ensure that it was not given in vain.
Cromwell is keen that we reach Hampton Court before Wriothesley, as he is unlikely to have seen us at the execution, despite my having a perfect seat from which to view it. Thus we depart as soon as the crowds begin to disperse, slipping away with the throng. The last I see of the assembled councillors, they are still seated on their viewing platform, and it looks as though Wriothesley is suggesting to the others that they might wish to dine. If that is so, then he is likely to remain in London overnight, for there shall not be enough time to reach the Palace before dark at this time of the year if he leaves in the early afternoon. It shall be a close enough thing for us if we leave now - but I cannot stand to stay, and would willingly ride through the night, with all the risks that that entails.
Neither of us wish to press the horses, but Benedict and Urban seem as aware as we of the closing hours of daylight, and move briskly. Thus we arrive in the mews as the last of the twilight fades into absolute darkness, and I am grateful to retreat to my chambers and shut out a day that I shall never forget.
There is a haunch of mutton awaiting me, but I have no appetite, and instead I fetch out the coffer that I hid in my closet. The contents seem to be of little immediate use - though it is clear that many of the items were of great importance to Anne, and thus I shall ensure that they are kept safe. At the bottom, however, is a bible - one of the English printings that Cromwell helped to pay for. Never having read it, I lift the cover, and sigh; but then stop as a sheaf of papers fall from between two front pages.
As I lift them, I recall Baxter mentioning something that she had that she couldn't read - and realise that these are likely to be the text he meant, for it is in Greek. It is poorly written, and appears to have been taken from an older document in another language entirely; but I can read it, and as I do…
Cromwell opens the door to his chambers himself, so violent is my hammering upon it, "Richie? What is it?"
"She found it, Thomas. The papers - she found the information that we need."
He lets me in at once, "Tell me."
"I have not read them in much detail, Thomas - but as far as I can see, this details the ritual that shall repel Eligos - for it mentions the closing of a door, and the banishment of conflict. I have no idea where she found it, but it is what we need."
Intrigued, he asks James to find us some claret, and we seat ourselves beside the fire while I read the paper in more detail, "God, Thomas, this translation is appalling - it is very hard to understand what the original papers said, for the writer of this version seems to be most confused, and I cannot tell whether it is because he understood the original tongue poorly, or wrote Greek poorly."
"Tell me what you can, Richie."
"To my reckoning, the ritual requires bonded blood - which, as far as I can determine, is the mingled blood of two who are bonded by friendship or love. It is gathered in the cup, and an incarnation is spoken over it before it is poured out. That should drive Eligos away."
"And the incantation?"
I squint over the words, "I am not sure whether they should be spoken in Greek or English - though I imagine that either shall suffice given that they are neither of them the original language in which the paper was written." I pause over the words, and then begin.
"We brothers, bonded in weapons and blood
We speak as one but we are two
We invoke the power of this cup
We demand that conflict departs
We brothers, bonded in weapons and blood
We speak as one but we are two
As life is given, we give life
As death is demanded, we give death
In our blood, all shall be made well again
God aid us and grant us strength to speak, God aid us
Let it be done."
Cromwell smiles, then, "It seems that this shall require more than our blood, Richie, if this is to be believed. We must give life, and we must give death. That suggests that one of us must live, and the other die."
"Then the death shall be mine." I say, though I should very much prefer it not to be. I am not made to be a martyr.
He looks at me, bemused, "Why should it be yours? You have a young daughter that should not lose her father having lost her mother. You are ten years my junior - and I have lived a good life."
"And you have experience as a Silver Sword that should not be lost!" I tell him, at once, "Much as I wish it were not so, you must retire to Milan to pass on that which you have learned - I do not need to do the same, for I am but a Second, and my apprentice is well placed to succeed me!"
"No!" Cromwell's anger startles me, "Do you not understand your importance? No Second has reached your heights - and that should not be thrown away over something such as this - I am older than you, my loss is acceptable!"
"And mine is not? Why not? What use am I in comparison to you? You are the greatest Silver Sword that has ever been seen - and I am nothing more than a Second! My loss is acceptable! And it is far more acceptable than yours!"
"No it is not!" he shouts back at me, "Not to me! I will not lose you! Do you hear me? I have lost too many! My girls! My beloved Elizabeth! Joachim! Wolsey! Even Tom! I will not lose you! I WILL NOT!"
The silence between us is almost deafening after all the shouting, and both of us are shaking and tearful. If one of us must die to save England from Grand Duke Eligos, then that shall be so - but how can we do it if we cannot decide who it shall be?
"The point is moot, Thomas." I murmur, eventually, "For even if we have this incantation, we do not have the cup."
He sighs, for he know that we are at an impasse, for no matter what we do, we can do nothing without that silver cup - and we still do not know where it is. Until we find it, no amount of words, or deaths, shall save us.
A/N: I think it appropriate at this point to issue something of an apology to the reputation of Northumberland for the Tower incident above - as, whatever he might have done, or not done, in his life, racking a woman certainly isn't something he was involved in. Alas, as history tells us, the 'other' individual alongside Wriothesley who racked Anne Askew in the Tower was actually Rich himself, but I wanted to illustrate just how far this AU version has come in the decade since he first teamed up with the Raven, and now he serves as a reluctant witness to the ghastly event, rather than one of those responsible for it. I should add that Northumberland's behaviour in this tale is not entirely down to his character alone - which will become clearer the truth emerges.
While Anne's personal testimony after the fact is the only evidence we have that Wriothesley and Rich personally racked her - there's no evidence to the contrary, neither man denied it as far as we know, and Anne had no real motive to lie. Thus it's considered a valid testimony, and is a huge stain on an already dreadfully blotted copybook for the historic Richard Rich, and Thomas Wriothesley's reputation was little better when it came to political plotting and chicanery.
That said, regardless of who was responsible for it, Anne's courage in the face of extreme cruelty was incredible: she was racked primarily to try to force her to implicate Queen Katherine as a heretic, but despite everything they tried, she wouldn't do it. Even though I swapped out Rich and replaced him with Northumberland as being responsible for her ordeal, and changed the information they were trying to extract from her, her bravery and fortitude remains the same.