A/N: And another Friday comes to a close! Having spent a week in Shakespeare Country (did you know that you can now visit his old schoolroom? I had no idea until we walked past and saw people going in!), I'm back home again and ready to upload a new chapter.
As always - thanks for your comments. Special shout-out to Violet Rose Lily for reminding me that I actually forgot that I was uploading on Elizabeth's birthday; you were totally right! Shocking error on my part and I'm grateful that you popped that in so that it got marked at least after the fact. Ironically, I was at Kenilworth yesterday, so she was very much at the forefront of my mind.
Other hellos to my lovely regular reviewers, Tricorvus, Robin4, Child of Dreams, Audriel and Athenais Penelope Clemence, and to anyone I've missed (sorry!). And thanks also to the guest reviewers. Finally, another shout-out to AllegoriesinMediasRes, without whose challenge I would not have begun writing this story at all.
So - young Baron Percy of Alnwick has been a most naughty boy, and embarrassed his Queen. Now there are some seriously ruffled Spanish Feathers to be smoothed over; but whether he's learned his lesson remains to be seen...
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Sedition
The hoofs of the horses clatter upon a well paved road that has connected Portsmouth to the ever expanding network of roads across England. The repair crew stand aside and doff their caps to the entourage, their fluttering royal banner a clear statement of the Queen's business.
At the head of the column, Northumberland acknowledges their deference - a gesture that few others might be willing to make - but he has learned from men of lower origins than his own, and the man he respects above all upon the Council might in other circumstances have been one of these.
Thank God for the road, though; were this route to still be a poor track, then the chances of their reaching port before the ship hired by Percy docks would be far less. As it is, they shall barely get there in time - and his greater concern is that the foolish boy sent word ahead, so that a man in a small boat might get to them and warn them away to a lesser port where their arrival would be missed.
His pretext, instead, is that they are there at the behest of the Queen to welcome the vessel home and reward the sailors for their harrying of a papist enemy - with the intention also of claiming her share of the largesse. It is certainly the word that he has allowed to spread from the inns where they have sheltered for the night on the journey down, so at least there is a chance that the men aboard ship shall assume that they can keep that which they have squirrelled away for themselves. It is only once ashore that they shall find themselves arrested for unlawful acts at sea against a foreign power, and whatever they have grasped shall be confiscated in lieu of a fine. Only the captain and his officers shall be held for questioning; for they are the ones who conspired.
Nonetheless, he hopes to God that they shall believe the ruse and put to shore where they intended, or all of this shall be for nought, and Lord Richmond shall be obliged to find monies to fund the entire cost of the losses.
"I suspect the most interesting procedure of this journey shall be seeking out the more inventive hiding places that the men have created for their spoils." Lord Sadleir, now a baron, observes as they make their way through a wooded avenue lit with dappled sunlight through the leaves, "It may be that we shall have to dry dock the wretched tub and hack it apart with billhooks."
"In which case, you shall make a report to his Grace of Richmond concerning the compensation that is likely to be required to the owner of the ship." Northumberland laughs, "Unless, of course, they are equally complicit, in which case, the cost shall be nothing."
"What is his Majesty of Spain's view of this incident?" Sadleir asks, nervously, "Has he spoken of war?"
"Not at this time, for we have sent words of contrition and assurances that this was an isolated action on the part of discontented youths. His Ambassador has agreed that we shall return all that we can retrieve from the ship, and additional monies to cover the costs of repairs to the vessel, for that is the manner in which civilised nations deal with one another."
"Perhaps that is the case; but shall Englishmen see it in such terms?"
It is a pertinent observation; there is no doubting that many in England shall praise the young men who have singed the King of Spain's beard. It is, however, madness to antagonise a King who has the ear of the Pope, and pressure from Rome upon him to restore England to the yoke of the Roman Church in spite of the settlement. While it is not politically expedient to do so, he shall turn a deaf ear to those insistent promptings - but who can say what shall be the spur to overturn that intention?
"Then it might be wise to let slip the cruelties of the inquisition, and what it might do here - even to those who are not of the reformed faith. To accept the reformers and do nothing to impede them might be seen as an equal crime - and thus even those who have remained in the Roman church might be sent to the fire."
Sadleir shudders, "We have worked hard to demonstrate that the peaceful way is the better one. England has prospered without the ghastly cost of conflict draining our coffers, and thus there is money to spare to aid those who cannot earn for themselves. Spain has not acted against us, and thus King Philip is thought of but little. Those who have prospered upon their own account would abhor the prospect of war with Spain, and consider what Percy has done to be madness."
"Assuming that the ship docks in Portsmouth, and we can impound it, we shall soon find out."
By late afternoon, the procession is making its way along narrow streets towards the harbour, where the Harbourmaster awaits them, "It has been sighted in the Solent, my Lord. I shall dispatch pilots as though all is in order, and give no indication that you are awaiting them."
Northumberland nods, "I should not wish for them to cast as much of their spoils overboard as is possible for them to achieve. We intend to retrieve as much as we can."
"I have set aside a shed for that purpose, if you can provide men to guard it."
"There are sufficient men amongst the escort, good sir. Is there a secluded berth available? It may be that we shall be required to search the vessel with a thoroughness beyond that of customs men."
"Indeed so - the shed is alongside one of the oldest of our docks, which is less preferred by most men owing to its isolation. Given the cargo, I have no doubt that he shall be most grateful for our consideration, for he shall not wish for others to see what he has brought to shore."
The promised shed is sizeable and is blessed with only one door. Its side easily conceals the large number of guards that have accompanied the two lords of the Court. They shall remain to the rear of those who would be expected to be present, including customs men who have been advised to accept any bribes that they might be offered to ignore the cargo, on the proviso that they are then donated to the poor. Sadleir smiles to himself as he hangs back; they have been asked to do so, but whether they shall is another matter entirely.
Another two hours pass, and the sun is beginning to set, before the large carrack is warped to its berth and made fast. A gangplank is lowered in the fading light, and the man who descends approaches the harbourmaster, ignorant of the additional men to the rear, who are now concealed in the shadows.
As expected, there is a quiet conversation, and a clear exchange of money that prompts the customs men to walk away. Apparently assured, the captain re-boards the ship; within a few minutes, a number of the crew begin to emerge on deck, clearly encumbered with objects of considerable weight. Grateful now for the dark, the two Courtiers step further back into the shadows, while Northumberland indicates to the Captain of the guard to be ready, "Until all the men are off, we must remain hidden."
"How many of you are aboard?" the Harbourmaster asks, as though making conversation.
"Thirty five." The captain answers, "Given the weight, the fewer the better."
And fewer to share the spoils. Northumberland thinks to himself. Beside him, he can see Sadleir's lips moving as he silently counts. Once all are off, it may be possible to shut them collectively in the shed, and then perhaps all might be recovered.
Another hour passes as the group travel back and forth up the gangplank, bringing off more stolen gold. Then, much to the relief of the two hiding Lords, the entire company follows the spoils into the shed - presumably to quarrel over who shall keep what.
"Now?" Sadleir asks, tensely.
"Now." Northumberland agrees, and turns to the Captain, who nods.
From the other side of the door, it is clear that the camaraderie of the crew lasted no longer than the time it took to get the gold off the ship. Voices are rising, and even from without, the sense of tension is remarkably strong.
Such is the noise, not one of the men in the shed are prepared for the sudden clatter of the doors opening, and the arrival of a large group of well-armed soldiers, "Stand aside in the name of the Queen!"
There is silence for a brief moment, and then there is uproar, though the number of men with weapons who are not wearing the Queen's livery is too small to prove much of an effective opposition. In a few minutes, the entire crew are subdued, and gathered to the rear of the shed, their expressions a combination of mutinous, and fearful; though one or two of the soldiers are sporting contusions and not a few burst knuckles.
"It is my duty to inform you that you are all under arrest, pending the Queen's pleasure." Northumberland announces, "All that you have brought ashore shall be impounded, while your persons, and your ship, shall be searched. Each of you shall be removed to Portchester in chains and under guard, where you shall be held and questioned over your treasonous behaviour."
That has captured their attention. Even after near-on twenty years, the word treason retains the dread that the previous King set upon it in his willingness to use it as a weapon against those who displeased him. The hints of defiance are gone; all that remains now is fear, and not one of them resists as they are gathered, placed in manacles and marched out in a column, escorted by guards armed with pikes. The Harbourmaster has already secured a large boat to contain them for the short voyage to the north end of the great harbour, where the castle lies.
"Let them sit and fret awhile." Northumberland snaps, crossly, "For it shall take us that long to seek out all that they stole."
Sadleir nods, aghast at the astonishing amount of wealth set out before them, "If even this is insufficient to pay for the King of Spain's wars, then I thank God that we have not been called to fight."
If there is an equal amount of wealth still aboard, then it shall take them at least two days to secure it all - and then, of course, it must be carried to London to be handed back to Spain.
"I think." Sadleir adds, with a tired sigh, "I shall see to securing every ox-cart I can lay my hands upon. I suspect that we shall need them."
"Is this all of it?" Richmond asks, as astounded as Sadleir had been at the enormous list that was brought back to Placentia from Portsmouth; the Court obliged to return to London to deal with the outcome of the robbery of the Spanish ship.
"It is impossible to know." Sadleir advises, "We had no inventory from which to work, so we have collected all that we could find - that which was unloaded, that which was secreted about the person of the crew and that which had been secreted aboard the ship for later retrieval. The crewmen remain housed at Portchester, but I presume that they shall be fined and sent on their way in due course?"
"Her Majesty has indicated as such; though her mind might change now that I have received word of the damage to the ship itself." Richmond is consulting papers, "His Excellency Renard has presented us with a claim for twelve thousand ducats."
"Twelve thousand?"
"Indeed." Richmond is not pleased, "I think it more than likely that we are being gouged; but without sight of the vessel, there is no way to refute the demand, particularly as there is also no way to know whether that which has been recovered from it is the entirety of that which was loaded before it departed from Spain's holdings in the Mexica."
"Then these young fools have cost England a great deal in terms of both money and diplomatic travails."
"They most assuredly have. I should not wish to be her Majesty at this moment; if she is to keep the fools here, then what punishment is it for them? But equally, should she send them from Court, with or without a flea in the ear, they shall be out of sight, and thus who shall know what they do? It would not be a reasonable requirement to damage young Warwick's reputation by making him equally culpable, for he is not."
"But again, if we do not, then they shall suspect that he was the one who alerted the Council to their foolish act. There is little more that can be done other than to grant said flea in the ears of those who deserve it, but have them close where they can be kept under watch."
Richmond shakes his head, "Her Majesty is young, keen to be good to all. I have no doubt that she has her father's ruthlessness within her nature; but how much it is softened by her feminine nature, I cannot say. The failure of her sister to raise an army against her - and her failure to land - gave her Majesty little cause to show her true mettle; but this? This shall almost certainly prove to be the truest test of her rule, for it is the actions of her own subjects that are of concern."
The pair look up as Wiltshire is shown in, "It take it that we are still assessing our unwanted debt to Spain?"
Two nods. Wiltshire snorts with mild amusement, "God above, for a supposedly noble family, the Percys seem quite determined to cause as much trouble as they can. Perhaps it is in the blood."
Richmond shrugs, "My lord of Cumberland seems to have accepted his place at Court; it is his son who has proved to be the problem. I can but hope that the elder shall have the strength to rein in the younger. Now that he has been given his head, however, I suspect that he shall be no easier than a mettlesome stallion to bring to a halt."
"He is young." Wiltshire continues, "Thus he is the master of all knowledge, immortal, invulnerable and only others possess faults. I was prone to such foolish thoughts at such an age, and it is only as I have matured that I have learned that I was a fool to think so. I fear that understanding how little we truly know is not a privilege of youth."
"I wish that he could be taught that lesson through the obligation to meet this debt to Spain." Richmond grunts, looking down at his records again, "I suspect that a debt of twelve thousand ducats would be a singular learning experience. Instead, we shall meet it, and he shall doubtless learn nothing."
Wilshire chuckles again, "And thus you prove to us all that you are - in all ways, a remarkable cynic."
"It kept my head upon my shoulders in the previous reign, and it is a hard habit to abandon. I trusted no man in King Henry's Court, and my trust now is granted to few."
"I hope that I am one of them?"
"Every third Sunday, between sunrise and sunset." Richmond looks up again, with a cheerful smile, before resuming his perusal, "There. All is settled; time, I think, to advise her Majesty that we should invite Renard to look unbearably smug while her Majesty apologises for the foolishness of youth."
Elizabeth's expression and voice are both calm and courteous; but those who know her well can see two red spots upon her cheeks: a true signal of her bubbling temper. A number of her courtiers have embarrassed her, and she is not at all pleased to be put in such a position.
Simon Renard de Bermont is a tall, thin man with keen brown eyes and a smartly trimmed beard that has been formed into twin points from his chin. His thin face wears a polite, equally benign expression, but only a fool could think that he is not enjoying this young woman's enforced apology.
"I fear that, in my youthful inexperience, I have failed to remind the young men of my Court that I am not to be trifled with, nor are my commands to be ignored. Thus, I gladly meet his Majesty's demand, returning all that was taken from his ship - as best as we can reckon in the absence of an inventory - and monetary reparations for the damage to the vessel. I hope that his Majesty of Spain shall be good to us, and accept our most humble contrition."
For all his reputation, Renard is not a cruel man, and he has no dislike for the young Queen who has so politely met his Master's demands. Bowing fulsomely, he nods, "I am most grateful for you goodness, Majesty, and I assure you that his Majesty my master shall be glad to resume our friendly relations that were disturbed so by this rude incident. We are all fools in youth, I fear; but experience is a gift of maturity. That others have not yet received that gift, when it has been so clearly granted to your Majesty, is perhaps unfortunate, but I am authorised to advise you that his Majesty is equally keen to put this unfortunate matter behind us."
Indeed. Cromwell thinks, sitting nearby, for it remains politically expedient to maintain good relations with the combined wealth of England and Portugal in defiance of that old fool in Rome who demands otherwise.
Elizabeth inclines her head, a slightly awkward manoeuvre now that the babe in her belly is more pronounced in its presence, "I am grateful to his Majesty, and to you, Excellency, for dealing with this matter with such courtesy and tact. I assure you that those young men who entered into this foolish enterprise shall be disciplined for their actions. It is my desire that we retain our good relations with Spain."
"I shall advise my master of your intentions, Majesty." Renard bows again, and steps backwards, withdrawing from the Presence Chamber.
Once he has gone, the façade drops sharply, "Let no man mistake me." Elizabeth's voice is diamond hard, but equally brittle as ice, "I shall not be so embarrassed by my Courtiers again. The cost to the realm could have been far greater but for the diplomacy and tact of my senior councillors in the face of the rank stupidity of those who might - one day - sit at the council table in their place. On the basis of this day's events, however, I am entirely unconvinced that such Courtiers shall be suitable, or welcome, to do so. Should such an incident recur, I assure you that I shall do what I must to effect appropriate discipline upon those who defy my will. I am Elizabeth. I am the Lion's Cub, and as the great Lion bared his teeth when the situation demanded it, so shall I!"
Her tone has risen with her temper, and there is no denying the look of fury upon her face now. Philip reaches for her hand, "Take care for our child, my beloved. The foolishness of your Courtiers is of lesser account than the blessing that resides beneath your heart. The safety of our babe, and his mother, is of paramount importance to me."
She turns to him with a sigh, "That is true, my husband. But nonetheless, my will is not to be disobeyed, and thus those who have done so shall be required to depart to their estates for the duration of the summer, and they shall be forbidden all communication with one another on pain of imprisonment. Out of courtesy to his Grace of Northumberland, young Warwick shall remain, as shall Alnwick, for his father, too is upon my Council; but make no mistake, gentlemen, your activities shall be watched, and you shall be forbidden to keep one another's company. I am deeply disappointed that I have been placed in this position, and I shall not be so accommodating should this incident be repeated."
Still clutching tightly at her husband's hand, she rises from her seat, accepts the bows of the assembled courtiers, and withdraws. As the gathering breaks up, Wiltshire inevitably gravitates towards the still-seated Cromwell, who already has Richmond at his side, "Quite a number of sour faces in our midst."
"Indeed so." Cromwell agrees, his gnarled fingers clutching tightly at the two sticks that shall support him once he has been aided in rising from his chair, "It is perhaps inevitable that there shall be resentment, for young men cannot abide to be ordered against their will - especially by a woman."
With the assistance of his two friends, he rises, "Come, gentlemen, I have been gifted a very fine burgundy wine by the French Ambassador, who seems most keen upon the patronage of an old man at a time when his worth is waning."
They speak of neutral matters as they wend their way back to Cromwell's apartments; only resuming discussions of the matter in hand once behind closed doors, "Are you fearful that the boy Alnwick shall disregard her Majesty's will?" Wiltshire asks.
"I saw his face; it was livid with resentment, even though the boy did what he could to hide it. She has - to his mind, I think - humiliated him before all at Court, though I would not say as much. His partners in this enterprise have been dismissed from Court, but he is obliged to stay here, and under the thumb of his father. At least the Captain and crew of the ship he hired are now released - albeit with substantial fines levied against them. I have no doubt that Alnwick shall find no ship to aid him should he desire to rob a Spanish vessel again."
His manservant pours out the wine, and three seat themselves in the light of a rather fine oriel window that looks out over the parkland. There is little more to be said upon the subject of the youths who embarrassed their Queen, and instead they resume the altogether more trivial discussions that had accompanied their journey from the Presence Chamber.
Sitting back, Cromwell listens as Richmond and Wiltshire enter into a good-natured argument over some small matter of little note. In all the years that he has lived, these have been, without doubt, the best: two fine friends with whom he can share confidences and humour, an excellent Queen upon the throne who has absorbed all the lessons that he could teach upon the matters of diplomacy and politics, and loyal service to a good woman who might otherwise have been swept aside as her ruthless husband looked to another potential bride in his endless search to bring a son into the world.
His mind is, as always, busy. That the Dowager Queen has found friendship with Lord Lincoln is beyond doubt - despite their discretion - and he is now convinced that she would find joy in more than that simple companionship. Her Majesty has begun to make oblique references to her own happiness in her marriage that are, to a man of his perception, clear signals that she wishes for her mother to share that joy. But how to bring it about? Legal impediments may be few, but the political barriers? That is another matter entirely.
Ah…a challenge. A grand challenge that he shall meet with all of the ability at his command. Without realising it, he smiles.
"What?" Richmond is looking across at him.
"Nothing, Richard; a matter of little note."
If Richmond intends to pursue the issue, there is no opportunity, as Cromwell's manservant approaches, "My Lords, his Grace of Northumberland is without and seeks to speak to you."
At Cromwell's nod, he returns to the door to show in the Duke, who approaches with a disgruntled expression upon his face, and a battered paper in his hand, "I wish that I did not have to spoil your jovial mood, gentlemen; but I think that I must."
Frowning slightly, Cromwell reaches for the paper. As he reads it, his eyes harden, while Wiltshire and Richmond exchange a confused - and slightly nervous - glance.
"It appears that we are to be assailed with pamphlets again, my Lords." Cromwell growls, handing over the offending article to Richmond who quickly looks over the text.
Beware of false Prophets which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns? Or figs of briars? Even to every good tree bringeth forth good fruit. But a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit: nor yet a bad tree can bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be hewn down and cast into the fie. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.
England lies within the hands of a foreign papist; are we to be vassals of Portugal? Are we to be subject to the foul depravity of the inquisition? The devil's creature that squats upon the cesspool of Rome screeches for English blood and flesh to roast upon the fires of damnation! We have tolerated his papist goblins in our midst for too many years - let them all begone!
Hang them all! Hang all the filthy papists! Or if they will not hang with necks of brass, drive them into the sea!
"I think that those who remain of the old faith were not the men that Matthew had in mind when his gospel was set down." Richmond observes, a little tiredly, "It is most discomfiting when men use God's scripture to further their own desires."
Wiltshire sighs, "And we thought that the settlement was working so well."
"It is." Cromwell insists, "The production of a pamphlet of such sulphurous sentiments is born of desperation, not security. I think I shall ask my men to investigate the source of this document, and perhaps dissuade them from producing more - or, if we cannot, we shall look to producing pamphlets of our own. I think, however, that if her Majesty bears a son, such tiresome screeds shall be little more than a fool pissing in the wind. Let us hold all together until that moment, and all shall be done for us."
"As long as I am not the papist that is hanged," Richmond snorts, "I shall abide by that action."
Anne's eyes narrow as she reads the pamphlet, "What is to be done with this? Do we know how widely it has been disseminated?"
Cromwell sighs, "That, I cannot say with certainty, I fear. All is rumour; there is nothing solid upon which to base a conclusion. My sources tell me that most congregations are settled, and neighbour lives easily with neighbour; but most of the discontent seems to be amongst the young and wealthy, who share rumours of atrocities upon the continent that grow ever more lurid with the telling. That there shall never be an Inquisition in England seems not to matter."
She looks at him more incisively, "What is it, Mr Cromwell?"
His face falls, "There was a time when I would have known this, Majesty. A time when I could almost feel the very pulse of England; but my fingertips are old, gnarled and trembling. I can no longer give her Majesty the advice that she deserves."
Oh God…his eyes are filling with tears; without hesitation, she reaches across the chess table to lay her hand upon his arm, "Nay, my friend. You have served England with diligence for the entirety of my daughter's reign. I have relied upon you for advice and guidance - and you have never, never failed me. You place too much upon yourself; are you the only man upon her Majesty's Council? Do you not have the aid of Baron Sadleir? Why is it solely upon your shoulders to know all that happens in England? England does not ask you to see all, and know all. She asks you to serve her diligently and with good governance - which you have done, and continue to do. Leave the business of spying to others - they must be prepared for the work, after all."
And then he smiles, "Indeed so, Majesty. I lack immortality, after all."
Lady Wiltshire approaches, "Lord Lincoln is without, Anne. He seeks to know if you wish to walk in the gardens to discuss the progress of your charitable institutions."
Cromwell sits back and smiles. It is not a signal for a discreet assignation. With her duties to the Realm now in her daughter's hands, she has looked to other means to exercise her intelligence and will to serve. She has always interested herself in such matters, of course; but it is only now that she has stepped aside from the rule of England that she is truly free to do so without snide comments over her work to secure a place in Heaven after stealing a Queen's crown.
There is no disguising the look of pleasure upon her face either. She truly values the company of that man - and would share more of her time with him if she could. Again, his thoughts are upon how he can find the means to give her that time. Her love for the young Henry Percy had been equally youthful, while her love for the King had been as much a means to survive the consequences of his infatuation as any sense of affection of her own.
It is not a woman's prerogative to marry for love, of course; that is a fortunate outcome rather than the objective of the union. Her first attempt to do so had fallen to nothing in the face of threatened disinheritance, but not this time. Not if he can find a way to bring it about.
"Forgive me, my Lord." Anne smiles back, "We shall speak anon." She turns and beckons over two of her ushers to assist him to rise, and he sees her join her Private Secretary for their walk before he gathers his sticks and hobbles out.
The notes upon his desk are now quite extensive, as he ponders the problem of a Dowager Queen who loves a Baron. Even were she to relinquish her crown, her rank is greater than that of Lincoln, for Henry himself made her a Marquess. The Marquessate would become his, of course, should they marry; but the gossip that would accompany such a union is more than he would wish to countenance. She has endured such snide observations for much of her life - and deserves to be free of it.
The thud of a stick captures his attention, and he looks up to see Richmond approaching, another paper in his hand, "What is it, Richard? Another pamphlet?"
"I wish that it were, Thomas; but it is not." Irked, Richmond hands over the offending paper, before lowering himself awkwardly into a chair, "It seems that the second Edward is raising his head again."
The most Excellent Chronicle of
Edward of Carnarvon
Containing his treacherous Court and the plots therein, war and rebellion
As hath been lately acted by the Duke's men
By Edward Strickland
"So I see." Cromwell grunts, "Not that they are brave enough to admit to its playing, I note. The employer of the actors and the place where it was allegedly played are left unmentioned."
"We do, at least, have confirmation of the plot." Richmond adds, "To describe it as allegorical would be the height of understatement. I think that there is a character to represent each of us, and I have no doubt that their dialogue shall paint that most openly to ensure that even the dullest of watchers shall know who, and what, is meant."
Cromwell turns the page over and reads the text on the back, "That is indeed so. The King's wife has indeed become his mother, while I am her lover. I see that you and my Lord Wiltshire have stepped into the unwanted shoes of the Despensers. Presumably Wiltshire is destined to end his life upon a ladder as the younger Despenser did." Then he pauses, "Ah."
"You have seen how it ends?" Richmond asks.
Cromwell nods, "The people rise to overthrow the mother and her lover, and restore Edward to rule his kingdom well and wisely with a court of fine advisers who are true Englishmen."
"Neatly wrapped like a gift. That Edward and all about him were of the Roman faith seems not to matter."
"Nor the fact that Edward was overthrown by his wife and her lover, who ruled until the King's son was old enough to wrest back his rule; whereupon he had the lover executed and put his mother away until her death."
Richmond sits back in his chair and scowls, "Who amongst her Majesty's subjects would know that now? Most would not care, for they have more pressing matters upon their minds. But this? Regardless of its untruth, it is a story that would enthral an audience. Under the right circumstances, it could cause great damage to their Majesties' hard work for the Realm. His Majesty is, after all, of the old faith - and this could not claim more clearly that such folk are England's enemy, and seems to cast all mischief in the hands of characters who share it. Even me."
"You?" Richmond snorts, "Surely all would see that to be the falsehood that it is!"
"In London, perhaps - but elsewhere? Who is to know how I address my prayers to the Almighty? This is sedition - albeit unspoken as yet. We must take steps to ensure that it remains unspoken; it is better to prevent the sickness than to attempt to seek a cure."
"I think it to be too late, Thomas. Already there has been a pamphlet speaking out against those of us they call papists. It is best to accept that the sickness has emerged, and seek to cut it from the body before its hold is such that it cannot be eradicated without destroying all that we have won."
"I shall speak to Ralph. If there is a pamphleteer seeking to cause trouble, then we must act immediately. If he can be found, he can be stopped - but if not, we must counter him. I shall also ask Mr Cranmer to instruct his bishops to ensure that sermons are preached in the Churches to warn against rebellion, for it is destructive to all, not merely to those who rule."
Richmond nods, easing himself out of the chair, "Perhaps, one day, we shall be safe from discord. But I doubt it."
"But whoever offends one of these little ones, which believe in me; it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe be unto the world because of offences. How be it, it cannot be avoided but the offences shall be given. Nevertheless, woe be to the man by whom the offence cometh."
All Englishmen are God's children, and woe be unto those who bring one another to sin through lies and falsehoods.
"Stretch forth therefore against the hands which were let down, and the weak knees - see that you have straight steps onto your feet. Lest any halting turn you out of the way: let it rather be healed. Embrace peace with all men and holiness, without the which no man shall see the Lord."
A Kingdom divided cannot stand, and shall fall before the wolves which might harry us - and thereby devour all Englishmen.
Elizabeth reads the paper with a dismayed expression, "I am saddened that we must disseminate such pamphlets, my Lords. It is most discomfiting that certain of my Subjects have turned against others, particularly over the matter of a man's conscience. I have no wish to replicate the religious strife in France, where one's faith is acceptable upon one day, but forbidden upon the next."
Cranmer, seated alongside her, nods, "When I was in my youth, Majesty, I was all afire with zeal for reform, and saw not that others must be given time to decide for themselves, not be cajoled and herded to what I considered to be the truth. I am no longer a young man, and I hope that I have learned the lessons that God has seen fit to teach me, for the settlement has led to peace in the Realm that I could not have foreseen in my wilful blindness. Even I must learn God's lessons."
"As must we all." Cromwell adds, with a mild smile.
"Do we know who is responsible for the incitements against my Catholic subjects?" Elizabeth continues, "I refuse to doubt their loyalty to me as their Queen in matters temporal, for did not our Lord say, Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's and render unto God that which is God's?"
"Baron Sadleir has been set to work upon uncovering the men behind this pamphlet, Majesty," Wiltshire advises, "Once they are known, it shall be for you to decide how they shall make reparations for their rabble-rousing."
"Assuming that it is possible to identify them." Earl Percy adds, a little nervously; that is no surprise, all know that his son is one of the most vocal of the emerging 'anti-papist' faction. It would be a cruel burden upon him for his only heir to be censured yet further after his act against the Spanish treasure ship.
"At this time, it is impossible to know who is responsible." Cromwell adds, his tone mollifying, "Even if we cannot uncover the guilty party, we shall perhaps limit the impact of their efforts, for we also have access to the pulpits - where those who are not blessed with the skill to read can be reached."
"Then let it be done." Elizabeth sighs, shifting slightly in her chair as her child moves within her womb, "I should not wish to bring an heir into a fractured Kingdom."
The meeting at an end, she rises and returns to her apartments to join her husband, who has been engaged with members of the council of the North. He has less trouble, of course, for the North remains wedded to the old ways. It is London that is the lodestone of religious strife, not York.
Cromwell rises from his seat with Richmond's assistance, "I shall ask Baron Sadleir to commence the work to distribute the pamphlet across London and any other city or town where the other has been found. Equally, we must give further thought to Mr Strickland's play; for all its falsehoods, it shall fascinate an audience should one be found for it, and I should prefer that it not be played."
"And thus begins a battle of pamphlets." Wiltshire quips, coming to Cromwell's left as Richmond is upon his right, and the three make their slow - somewhat elderly - way from the Council Chamber.