D. Wilson - The First Horseman

‘You still believe he intends to put a complete end to the religious life in England?’

‘Why would he stop now? The attack on the smaller houses was like a gage thrown down to see if anyone would take it up. Well, the brave northerners’ challenge very nearly stopped him short. It was our last — our only — chance. If the Pilgrims of Grace, as they called themselves, had pressed home their advantage, we’d have seen an end to this headlong plunge into heresy.’

We moved into single file to negotiate a narrow packhorse bridge. ‘Of course,’ Ned continued, ‘brave Harry would not have had the wit to think out this scheme for himself. It took your friend Cromwell to harness the greed of the gentry and would-be gentry. Distributing some of the confiscated land to eager estate builders was a clever move — diabolically clever.’

I thought of men like Sebastian Humphrey and could only agree. Such men would be invaluable allies for Cromwell as he set about creating his ‘new’ England.

‘Do you miss the life of the cloister?’ I asked.

He paused a long time before replying. ‘That is a question I often ask myself. I was comfortable and secure at Farnfield. As a child I had been put there by my father and had no choice in the matter. I was the youngest of four sons and there was no way he could provide me with any inheritance. I suppose he thought it would be useful to have at least one member of the family pledged to pray constantly for his soul. I don’t recall any time when I did not assume that I would live out my whole life in the priory. And I never doubted that my brothers and I were performing a useful service — praying for the king and the realm from one dawn to the next.’ He sighed. ‘Hubris! We had no real contact with the realm and certainly not with the king. How could we pray properly — particularly as our numbers dwindled. The world outside our walls was changing, spinning — perhaps to its destruction. Had we any right to be cocooned from that reality? Religious communities needed to be shaken out of their complacency if they were to serve this land turned topsy-turvy. There was a time when I thought that what Cromwell was about was a painful but necessary reform and that I might play some part in reviving monastic life. Self-deluding fool!’ Ned laughed, mirthless. ‘I think that is no answer to your question but ’tis all I can offer.’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘I still think better than you of Lord Cromwell but, even if I did not, I would have no choice about serving him. I need his protection.’

‘Then pray God you continue to please him,’ Ned observed grimly, ‘for we are all in the same case.’

‘All?’

‘Aye. You and me and Jed and Lizzie and your mother and little Raphael and all your household. We stand or fall with you. You have recruited us to His Lordship’s service — without giving us any say in the matter.’

A young hind pranced across the road in front of us and made Golding prick up his ears. I was no less taken aback by Ned’s statement. God forgive me, it was true. I had been dicing with the lives of people I cared about.

All I could think to say was, ‘Well, please God, this business will soon be over, and we can all resume our normal lives.’

‘A fond wish.’ Ned stared at me solemnly. ‘Life is not a trundling wagon you can jump on and off at leisure. For example, have you thought what’s to become of Lizzie?’

‘She’s welcome under my roof as long as she wishes to stay. Raphael will need a nurse for several years. I don’t know what other options she has — but then there’s much about her I don’t know. For instance, how did she learn to write?’ It was a clumsy attempt to turn the conversation but Ned seemed as ready as I for a new topic.

‘As far as I can gather from snatches of conversation, her father was servant to a wealthy merchant,’ he explained. ‘Lizzie grew up alongside this man’s daughter and, when he hired a tutor for the girl, Lizzie also attended lessons. She even has a little Latin. That all came to an end when Lizzie’s father fell out with his master — something to do with drink and missing money, I think. When the family were turned out, her father had no hesitation in putting his pretty thirteen-year-old daughter to work in the dockland streets to please sailors who came ashore with their wages.’

‘Poor Lizzie.’

‘Indeed. Fortunately she’s a girl of spirit. It didn’t take her long to calculate that if she was doomed to be a whore she would work on her own terms. That’s how she ended up at St Swithun’s. That’s why I ask you what’s to become of her. She deserves a better life.’

We stopped in Ash at the Sign of the White Swan to refresh ourselves and see the horses rested, fed and watered. After that I left the members of my little caravan to make the best time they could while I rode on ahead with a couple of servants. I wanted to get as close as possible to London before nightfall in order to reach home the next morning. If Cromwell had sent to summon me to his presence I had no wish to keep him waiting. We reached Deptford before a darkening sky obliged us to seek lodging. We had almost left it too late. The man I sent on ahead returned with the news that the inns were full. However, he had discovered that a certain Mistress Flower had a house near St Nicholas’ Church on the Strand, where she sometimes welcomed guests. I, therefore, presented myself at her door and the good lady, having inspected me closely to ensure that I was what she called ‘suitable’, welcomed us in.

It was immediately apparent that, by good fortune, we had stumbled upon a haven much more agreeable than any of Deptford’s bustling and overcrowded inns. We were comfortably accommodated and well fed. The only drawback was the garrulity of our hostess. Having had a substantial meal set out for me in her main room, she insisted on joining me at the table and regaling me with anecdotes about some of the impressive ladies and gentlemen she had welcomed beneath her roof.

‘’Tis all on account of Placentia being so close by,’ she explained.

‘Placentia?’ I asked.

‘The palace at Greenwich.’ She tut-tutted. ‘I still call it by the old name. Can’t get out of the habit. Lovely it is — and big, that I grant, but I prefer Eltham. It has the dignity of age, if you understand me, Master Treviot. But His Majesty prefers Pla… Greenwich. So there you are.’

‘Is the king coming here for Christmas?’ I asked.

‘Oh, indeed. He wouldn’t be anywhere else. He used to spend a lot of time at that ugly, sprawling place upriver that was the Cardinal’s.’

‘Hampton Court?’

‘That’s right, Hampton Court, but between you and me, I think he’s got tired of it. He likes to come here and see his ships being built in the new dock. Oh yes, he’ll be here for Christmas, right enough. And his new queen, of course. Have you seen Queen Jane? I haven’t, not yet. But I’m hoping to get a glimpse of her this time. They say she’s taller than the last one. More stately, but, then, she could hardly be more un stately than the last one — that lewd Frenchified jade.’ The lady laughed raucously.

Mistress Flower paused for breath and I managed to get a word in. ‘I suppose the inns are always full when the court comes to Greenwich.’

‘Yes, only ’tis worse this time. All these northerners, you see. Now that the rebellion’s been put down we’ve got gentlemen and noblemen and churchmen and I don’t know what else all coming here to prove their loyalty. They say — and I was told this by one of Archbishop Cranmer’s gentlemen waiters… Now there’s an odd man. Have you met him? I’ve seen him two or three times. Looks a bit of a dreamer to me. Not your typical bishop. He never seems, well, comfortable at court, if you understand my meaning.’