CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Like Nothing Ever Happened

I have slept well overnight, and I feel greatly refreshed - albeit rather nervous. I have not stepped into the offices since I fled the palace a fortnight ago, and it seems odd to me that I should return there with so little fuss. I do, however, receive some odd looks from the Clerks, as they have never seen me without my beard, and the rough stubble that will eventually grow into a new one still looks truly dreadful. It feels dreadful, too - and I shall be glad when it is as it was again.

No one quite knows what to say to me, for the reasons behind my departure were probably extensively discussed - and I can imagine not a few of them exchanged knowing glances that I had finally proved that I was not to be trusted. Those who did so are now probably deeply embarrassed at my exoneration and return, but as I do not know who spoke against me, and who did not, I do not particularly care. I know the reputation I have, despite having abandoned such an outlook two years ago.

My former desk is bare of my writing equipment, and seems to have been hastily cleared. I imagine it had been serving as a dumping ground for papers since I was no longer present to use it. No one claimed it for their own, then. That surprises me, for it is slightly set apart in an alcove - and I certainly valued the privacy it afforded me. Smiling almost triumphantly, Peter brings over a coffer that contains my inkhorn, a leather portfolio of which I am particularly fond, my quill knife and sand pot. He has clearly kept them safe, and I realise that he is almost certainly one of the few that did not think me guilty on the basis of my reputation alone.

Then Wriothesley enters the offices, and seems to freeze at the sight of me, before hastily setting some papers down on his desk and looking most uncertain over what to do next. I have never before seen him so uncomfortable, and I wonder why. Does he think I shall embrace him, or shout embarrassingly loud thanks to him for uncovering the papers that proved to be our salvation? It seems odd, for he looks almost guilty.

Since I am back, the Clerks must know that Cromwell shall be returning. I imagine he is currently with the King, for we have both missed a great deal of business while we were away from the Palace. I noticed almost as soon as I returned that the carefully established bureaucracy that he had built was starting to crumble in his absence, despite the presence of the equally efficient Wriothesley, and the clerks are frantically trying to clear the mess of papers that have accumulated. They know he shall not be pleased if he sees how lax they have become in their filing.

Eventually, after a few minutes' dithering, Wriothesley approaches my desk, "It is good to see you returned, Sir Richard," He says, almost as though each word is a ball of acid upon his tongue, "We were all most shocked at what happened."

"As were we," I agree with him, "but all is mended, and we are restored to our former posts."

"Indeed." Wriothesley concurs, and hastens back to his desk, clearly relieved to have crossed that hurdle, and to be free to escape to his own work again. Why on earth is he so keen to be away from me? I cannot fathom it.

After an hour, Cromwell finally makes his entrance, and, once again, the offices go silent - though the clerks seem more eager to state their loyalty to him than they did to me. Proof, I suppose, that his approval is more important than mine.

As before, Wriothesley seems most uncomfortable, and his greeting of the Chancellor is as strained as his was with me. Cromwell's expression as the Secretary returns to his desk is as bemused as mine probably was. Why is Wriothesley so nervous around us? It was his action that helped to save us - and yet he seems not to think so. It is truly odd.

My first order of business is, as the King commanded, to draft up the bill that shall overturn the Act of Attainder against Cromwell. I find it a most enjoyable activity - and I am hard put not to taint the paragraphs with loaded comments that are aimed at those who decried Cromwell as a traitor. Having examined the Act that was passed, I have taken care to ensure that every clause is included and overturned. Most particularly, I want the bill to categorically state that the charges were entirely false and largely malicious. I do not have to do this for myself, as the bill drafted against me was never debated, so it has not passed into law. Not that I would have wanted to read what had been set against me.

I ask Peter to arrange the copying and proofreading, though the King has no intention of sending this to Parliament - he wants it drafted and put before him for immediate Royal assent, so I am determined that it shall be correct from the outset. I am sure that Peter was the one clerk who remained loyal to us, and to ask him to undertake the task is - despite appearances - the best proof that I can give him that I am grateful.

"I shall take great care with this, My Lord." He advises, as I hand him the papers, "Things did get rather behind while you and Mr Cromwell were not here."

"I am surprised by that, Peter," I tell him, "Didn't Mr Wriothesley keep things in order?"

"Oh, he did," Peter says, blithely, "Though as it was only he, it was rather difficult. He very nearly threw some papers on the fire - I was so surprised when I came upon him, and so was he! For he only throws scraps away in such a manner - but he had forgotten what he had, and almost destroyed vital papers."

"Vital papers?" I ask, a vague suspicion beginning to form in my mind.

"Yes, my Lord." Peter continues, "He had set them on a table with the scraps he was burning. I saw them - they were letters in French, which is my particular language, as you know. I do not know where they came from, but they concerned some communications between the King of France and the Genoese Ambassador about the Empire and the state of Genoa - though I had little more time than that to examine them, I drew his attention to the papers, and what they signified - for did they not show that Mr Cromwell had been impugned? The other clerks were most surprised; and he was most annoyed - at his mistake, I presume. So he returned them to his desk."

Now I understand the reason for Wriothesley's discomfort around us. As Gardiner claimed, Wriothesley had indeed managed to uncover evidence that Campofregoso was conspiring with France against us - and had planned to destroy it. Perhaps he had been searching for more evidence to incriminate us, but had exonerated us instead. Had it been Gardiner's idea to burn the evidence or Wriothesley's? I suppose I shall never know; though I have a sense that the Secretary is quite capable of acting in so underhand a manner. He seeks high office, as we all do, and I am quite certain that, had I been in his position two years ago, I would have done exactly the same thing. Had Peter not seen him with the papers, and known what they were - he could have burned them, and instead of sitting at his desk, working his way through the business of the day, Cromwell would by now be dead.

I must tell Cromwell - he should know that it was Peter who saved us, not Wriothesley.

By midday, the clerks are still uncomfortable around me - not as a consequence of recent events, but thanks to the maddening itching of my chin as my beard re-grows. I cannot stop from scratching at it, and they all avoid me - I can only assume they think I have acquired an infestation of lice.

"Come, Mr Rich." Cromwell is at my desk, "I am not sure about you, but I am famished. The King has apprised me of his plans for the coming session of Parliament, and I need to discuss them with you. Perhaps it would be best to do so over some dinner."

I cannot help but notice the relief upon the faces of the clerks as I depart.

Dickon has secured us a rather fine roasted capon upon which to dine, and Wyatt is soon with us. I wonder how he knows that we are dining - it seems as though it might be some innate sense; though I suspect that Cromwell sent him an invitation earlier in the morning.

"Did I not say, Richard?" He grins, "It is as though nothing happened yesterday. The Court has seen fit to collectively forget all."

"As all resolved in the course of a single day," I admit, "I suspect the shock of it might have led to Mnemosyne's all-encompassing descent. But it still amazes me that it could have resolved so utterly in so short a time. I cannot help but feel that we have benefited from a deus ex machina."

Cromwell shakes his head, "Perhaps not - for after all, the entire construct was naught but a house of cards built upon a foundation of sand - as are all conspiracies founded through lies. Campofregoso might well have laid his plans well, but even as he diverted the course of the river, he found, too late, that it can just as easily be diverted back again."

"If the Queen had not helped us," I admit, "then I suspect it would not have been. If you had not pledged yourself, and us, to her service, then we would not have had her aid - and I should be lamenting your death, and my failure to prevent it. Quite probably from a cell. God above, I might even have been obliged to stand beside you upon the scaffold - though I think the King was most keen to see me face far crueller end."

"I doubt it." Cromwell disagrees.

"I do not. For I heard him say it with my own ears." I tell him, rather dejectedly, "He might have been willing to commute your sentence to beheading - but not mine."

"Then I am most glad that the Queen's plan saved all. For did I not say that she was the one true hope of the Kingdom when I fell at her feet? That is, after all, what you claimed I said."

"The conspiracy fell as quickly as it did," Wyatt muses, "because that which caused it to fall began to be set in place two years ago - before the conspiracy even began to be laid." He pauses, and looks at Cromwell, "What?"

I turn and see that he is smiling - albeit a rather snide smirk, and I can guess why.

"I cannot deny that I was most pleased to enjoy Campofregoso's humiliation last night." Cromwell admits, "And it is perhaps unbecoming of me to be so gleeful at his misfortune; but he placed me in the hideous position of applying chastisement upon my dearest friend - and I have never been able to forgive him for that. Or myself." He sighs, "But now he is undone by his own scheming, and I am content."

"Do you think he has acted against other Silver Swords?" I ask. I am not sure why - but I feel a very strong suspicion, and I am sure that Cromwell does, too.

"That I cannot say with any certainty; but I am aware of some cruel accidents that befell two Silver Swords - for there was one, who went by the Sigil 'Fox', who was garrotted in Seville for unspecified crimes, and another, 'Hawk' who was found hanged. A third, 'Wolf' disappeared, and none could say what happened to him. Consequently, the High decreed that his Sigil should not be used again - for it could not be certain that he was dead."

"But you have no evidence." Wyatt says, quietly.

Cromwell nods, "Only suspicions - and they are not sufficient. It would not surprise me if Campofregoso were not involved in some way, but I cannot claim to be unbiased. But now that the King has so roundly brought him down, I think his time of causing trouble is over. He needs access to highly placed men to make mischief, and that is now denied him - for who would accept his service if he has been so utterly captured in the act of his conspiracy against the King of England? None would trust him now, for his competence has been called into question. No, I think we shall not see his face again - and I am glad of it."

"And what of Lamashtu?" Wyatt asks, pointedly, for I think we have all been rather skirting about that topic, "What destroyed her? For I cannot say whether it was you, or something in your place."

Cromwell sits for a moment, clearly thinking through his answer with care, "I wish that I could answer your question fully, Tom." He says, after a while, "But I cannot - for my own memory of the incident is hazy at best. When you threw the pouch to me, and I set the jewels in my hand, from that moment my actions were not entirely my own - and became less and less so as each moment passed. I was present - but at the same time, I was not."

I can understand that - for it is very similar to my experience of being overtaken by Wolsey.

"I felt no fear - for I knew that that which was present with me meant me no harm. I do not know how that is so, for no words were spoken. It was a sense of safety, and of peace. If that malevolence had shown me hell, then I think this might have shown me a glimpse of Heaven, for it was of Holy origin, of that I am certain."

"I agree," I add, "For it claimed to be the living spirit of the Word. And was that not all that there was in the beginning?"

"In the beginning was the Word." Wyatt says, quietly, "and the Word was God, and the Word was with God."

"As a man, I could not fight Lamashtu." Cromwell says, quietly, "But, for the Almighty himself to have destroyed her, all would have been destroyed with her. There was but one thing that could undertake the task - but it needed to combine with a powerless mortal: the power of creation itself."

"The Word." I confirm, "Though I know not what the Word is. Perhaps we are not meant to."

"I know what it is." Cromwell says, "It is the one thing that remained in my mind, even if all else is vague."

We look at him, almost nervously, and he eyes us gravely, "It was: 'Be'."

"What of the Gems now?" Wyatt asks.

"They can remain where they are." Cromwell says, firmly, "I may have a reputation in some quarters for being inhuman - but that truly was. I would want nothing more to do with either of them, and I am most glad that they are far beyond my reach. I have no wish to invoke that strangeness ever again."

It seems such a simplicity - the entire complexity of creation obeying a single command: to be. I turn the thought over in my head as I return to my quarters. My scratching at my chin has left me quite sore, and John has obtained a soothing oil from an apothecary of his acquaintance. If that can - at least briefly - ease my discomfort, then I shall find the afternoon altogether more easy to complete at my desk.

I have not thought about the awful visions that Lamashtu imposed upon me when she discovered I had the jewels in my hand - nor the voice that came to me at the last, which caused me to drop them into Wyatt's hands. Were those visions from my own mind - or did Lamashtu put them there?

Both, I think.

Wolsey.

"Both?" I ask.

Indeed - it is far easier to use what is already present than to create something, Richard. Your guilt over More's death - your fear of the Huntress. Why not bring them together? And then, that which Thomas told you of the five men who tormented him and tried to wall him up - she brought that upon you, did she not? As the Huntress threatened to eviscerate you. Thus she brought both together again - and you found yourself about to drown in your own blood. It was most interestingly inventive.

"Not to me, it wasn't." I snap, not wishing to remember it. It was not just the ghastly experience itself - but the dreadful sense of being so utterly alone and helpless. Until someone came…

"There is one thing, Eminence." I say, suddenly, "When the Gemfire told Lamashtu what it was, it mentioned three conditions had been met - Blessing, Loyalty and Forgiveness. I am aware of the Blessing, for that came from the Queen - and the Loyalty came from me, or so I am told. What of the Forgiveness?"

It is quite simple, Richard. The Forgiveness was gifted to you. I could not reach you, nor could I help you for I was too weakened. It was another who saw your need and came to you; and, in so doing, forgave you for your act against him.

Thomas More.

Had he heard my desperate cry to him that I was sorry? I might have been trying to say it to that ghastly shade of him that was so grotesquely mangled - perhaps he heard it and knew it to be sincere? For it most certainly was.

"It seems that the forces arranged against Lamashtu were even wider than we thought." I muse.

Many souls, both living and passed. Do not underestimate your own contribution, Richard. Nor Thomas's, nor Tom's. The three of you together were the most vital of all, for all was placed in your hands. If not for the three of you, then none of us could have acted against Lamashtu.

"I am glad that it is done, Eminence - and I am more grateful than I can express for the help that came from those who are no longer with us. It gives me hope for the life to come."

In which case, you need to behave yourself. Wolsey says, a smirk almost audible in his voice.

I redden slightly, thinking of my past behaviour, "I think I need to get back to work."

I might be back at my desk, but my concentration is most certainly not upon my work, so it is just as well that I completed the bill this morning, and Peter has been working so diligently upon it. It should be ready for the King's Assent by the end of the day.

Despite all that we have managed to glean from our collective knowledge of it, the Gemfire is still a mystery to me. It was - it claimed - the living form of the 'Word', which - Cromwell says - is 'Be'. The command that caused all of creation to come into being was just that: 'Be'. If such simplicity has led to such complexity, why have we created such complexity about such simplicity? Perhaps Cromwell is right - we do not need to be so beholden to rites and rituals. My God - am I becoming a Lutheran?

Shaking myself slightly, I re-tune my thoughts to the Gemfire itself. It came from the two jewels, and returned to them, so it could be recalled if we needed it. I wonder if we might? Given how determined Cromwell is to never touch the two gems again, I do not think it likely that we could persuade him to do so even if the need arose. No matter how willing he is to sacrifice himself for the greater good - somehow I think that he would not consent to allow that twin fire to consume him again. It was too inhuman, even though he felt, for the briefest of moments, a sense of heaven's glory while within its embrace.

And that leads me on to Thomas More. When I pleaded that I was sorry - and begged forgiveness, it was not fear of my situation that pulled that from me. I have always been sorry, for I despised myself when I committed the act, and I had always wished that I could tell him that I wished to have been anywhere but there. The King wills - the King must have. He wanted More's capitulation to his will - but More would not comply. My fear of losing what I had was as much behind my act as my agreement to Cromwell's plan. I was far too cowardly to risk incurring the wrath of the King, and losing all that I had gained when I entered Royal service. I am certainly braver now - far braver; but even so, I am not sure I would have done any differently had I been faced with the same choice again.

Despite all - More heard me, and forgave me. And in doing so, was able to help me as Wolsey was not; for the Cardinal had weakened himself too much to come to my aid. I think that More must have also forgiven Wolsey for his enmity. I would be lying to myself if I did not still consider him to be bigoted at times, but he had the courage to cleave to his principles and his faith even at the risk, and cost, of his own life - and that I truly admire.

Rousing myself from my thoughts, I look down at the paper. I have not written a word. Irked with myself, I put the thoughts out of my head, and start drafting.

By the end of the day, I have more or less caught up with the work I had planned to undertake before I allowed myself to become distracted by the thoughts stirred up by my conversation with Wolsey. I have not yet told Cromwell of Wriothesley's duplicity - and I wonder if I should. It would not surprise me if Cromwell had guessed for himself, as the Secretary is still very uncomfortable in his presence; but, as I would not have acted any differently had I been in his shoes two years ago, I feel that I should let sleeping dogs lie. I shall, however, keep a very close watch on him from now on. It seems rather unfair to Peter, whose act - in all innocence - saved us; but I know full well that sometimes heroes must be unsung for the benefit of all.

It is growing late, and only Cromwell and I are now at our desks - though Daniel is still present, filing some papers. When he is done, he looks to the Chancellor for a dismissal, and is grateful to be allowed to go. As soon as he has departed, I rise from my desk and cross to Cromwell's, "So, what now? As Lamashtu is no more, do you think we shall need yet to hunt?"

"Perhaps not." He admits, "Though it would feel most strange not to. Besides, as her Majesty is to enter confinement in the next few days, it would not do any harm to ensure that there are no infernal beings on the loose in the Palace. While she is not at risk herself, that does not mean that others are safe."

I sit down, "I think you should know, Thomas. Even though I came to the conclusion earlier that it was best not to mention it. It was not thanks to Wriothesley that we were saved."

"Oh?" Cromwell looks confused for a moment, for he was - of course - not present when Gardiner made his rather ad hoc announcement that he had found evidence that exonerated us, "I thought it was thanks to the work of her Majesty."

"That, and the discovery of papers that showed Campofregoso had been in league with agents of the King of France." I tell him, "Wriothesley uncovered them - and Gardiner claimed that they had found new evidence that exonerated us; but only because he was cornered into doing so when he saw how the land lay. I think that, instead, Wriothesley and he were looking for additional evidence to incriminate you, for the King's mind was changing, and they needed to convince him. Instead, he found that which would free you. He was going to burn it."

Cromwell's eyes widen - and I realise that he hadn't guessed for himself.

"He would have done so - but Peter came across him, and saw the letters. He realised their significance, for he is fluent in French, and Campofregoso had been too arrogant to rely upon a cipher. When he drew Wriothesley's attention to what he assumed to be a mistake, he gave Wriothesley no choice but to retain them - for Peter said so in the company of others and they were astonished at his words. I suppose Gardiner seized upon them as a chance to save himself when he found that the pendulum had swung too far to for him to stop it."

Cromwell sits back in his chair with a sigh, "I must confess that, while I am surprised, at the same time, I am not."

"Neither was I," I admit, "for, before I became your Second, I would almost certainly have done as he did - with the same intentions. I have no doubt that he wishes to assume a higher office than that which he currently holds. My involvement with a higher purpose seems to have awakened a latent sense of honour in me."

He laughs, "Then I am grateful - for you are far wilier than Wriothesley. I would fear you far more as an opponent than he."

I know I should not feel proud of this - but I cannot help myself: I do. Cromwell notices, "Is that your head expanding, Richie? Perhaps I should insult you and deflate it."

As we have decided to hunt tonight, we shall sup first - as we always do. I am, however, not dressed to hunt, so we agree to go our separate ways and meet at his quarters in an hour. It seems rather pointless to go out in search of infernal creatures when we have only just defeated a creature as powerful as Lamashtu - but old habits die hard, I suppose.

There are candles lit in my apartments when I return, though John is not in the main chamber. I assume he is in my bedchamber, fetching my black 'hunting' garb from the closet, so I shrug out of my simarre and set it aside. While William is no longer here, Dickon has taken over his role with such aplomb that he must have warned my Manservant beforehand that Cromwell intends to hunt - and that usually means that I hunt with him.

It is as I emerge from that thought that I realise that I am not alone in the chamber - but the other man is not John. Instead, the stranger rises from his seat beside the fire and turns to me. I curse: even now, after all this time, I am still perfectly capable of walking into a trap.

Campofregoso says nothing, but he looks at me as though I am the Devil incarnate and makes a single gesture. In that single moment, I realise that there is a man behind me - but then stars seem to explode inside my skull, and all goes black.