Martin Stephen - The Conscience of the King

Gresham threw the letters on to the wooden surface. 'Might I make a suggestion, Your Majesty?' Gresham asked.

James did not agree, but neither did he deny the request.

'Some time ago now, the Bishop of Ely asked if he could be given these letters. Were they to be found.'

James looked up at that, with a sharp snap of his head.

'The letters are dangerous. The Bishop asked that he be given them, I do believe, so that he might destroy them. Because if such a man as he stated he had destroyed them, then he would be believed. While, I regret to say, a man such as myself might not be so believed. These letters are a threat, Your Majesty.' Something approaching a pleading tone was there in Gresham's voice. 'As their finder, might I ask in all humility that the Bishop be allowed his request? To burn these letters? Here, in the fire in this hearth.'

James had still not touched the letters. He looked at Gresham, and then to Andrewes, who gazed levelly back at him. He nodded. No words. Just a nod.

Andrewes bowed his head, stood up and took the letters. He did not look at the writing. He walked slowly over to the great hearth. He held each page near the fire until it caught alight, let it burn almost through and only then cast it into the fire. No unburnt scraps would float up through the chimney to land on Cambridge's streets.

‘It is finished,' said the Bishop. 'Thanks be to God.'

'You set me another task, Your Majesty,' said Gresham, standing beside his still unoccupied chair. There was a pause, it is my belief that your son died of natural causes.' James's mouth dropped open at that, and he took the golden goblet and emptied it. It was Mannion who came up and refilled it, as silent as night, ‘I have written for you here the opinion of several leading doctors.' He" drew more papers out of his pocket. 'One of the opinions is from the apprentice to Simon Forman. No man knew more about poison than Forman, who died recently. His apprentice believes there is no poison suitable to these symptoms. The fever of which Prince Henry died has a known progress. Moreover, events in the Prince's life prior to his tragic loss would have made it nigh on impossible for a poisoner to do his work. There is no one who might have contemplated such a deed who would reap benefit from it sufficient to justify the appalling risk. It is my belief that no human caused your son's death. Rather, it was God who called him.'

‘I thank you, Baron Granville,' said James. 'You have resolved yet another problem. And do these three wise men here' — the King motioned to Bacon, Andrewes and Coke — 'agree with your conclusion?'

Bacon glanced at all three, and made to speak, but it was Coke who got in first, ‘I agree with Gresham on nothing.'

James raised an eyebrow. Bacon started and Andrewes remained still. 'Except, Your Majesty, on this.'

Four bodies relaxed, three of them noticeably.

'My third task from Your Majesty remains to be achieved,' continued Gresham. 'The play scripts relating to yourself. Marlowe is still at loose, Shakespeare also gone to ground. They will be found. When they are, so will any other papers in Your Majesty's hand. They will also be destroyed, Your Highness. I give you my word.'

'Why were ye so insistent on these three others being gathered here tonight?' enquired the King, eyes resting on the ashes of the letters to his lover. He rose and went over to the fire. Taking the iron poker that sat by its side, he poked at the ashes until they were dust, caught by the heat and sent swimming madly up the chimney.

As the King had risen, so had Andrewes, Bacon and Coke. They stood by the table like naughty schoolboys told to stand in class.

'There has been much bad advice, Your Majesty, in these matters in which I have become involved,' said Gresham, standing by the other three and turning towards the King. James was backed by the fire now, the hellish red flames silhouetting him. 'Much bad advice, deceit, intrigue and lobbying for position.' Neither Bacon nor Coke shifted. 'It is better for me, and for Your Majesty, if any resolution I might bring to your dealings is done if not in public, then at least in front of a sworn audience. So there is no misunderstanding.' He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in. 'I was put on to these letters by Sir Edward. I resolve the issue in front of Sir Edward. I was put on to this play by Bishop Andrewes and Sir Francis. I hope to resolve the issue in front of them. If such can be allowed, as my fancy if nothing more, then I believe there will be no room for deceit, intrigue or jockeying for position.'

'Ha!' said the King. 'You would have done well in Scotland, I think. You have a mind for it. Would you take a peerage from me now from the land of my birth, on condition that you reside there and be my agent in sorting out that troubled country's deceits and intrigues?'

'Your Majesty,' replied Gresham, 'allow me first to sort out the deceits and intrigues of which I know here in England.'

'Yet you ask for these issues to be resolved in front of those who set you on to them in the first instance,' said the King. There was a small stool by the side of the fire, left in the hurried clearing of the room. James took himself to it, sat down. Half his face and body were lit by the flickering flames, half in darkness. An emblem for this man, thought Gresham. James motioned impatiently for the others to sit. They did so, turning their chairs towards the King. Gresham remained standing. 'There was another person present when you were first "set on" to these issues by Sir Edward. Sir Thomas Overbury. You did not call for him to be here tonight…'

'Your Majesty,' said Gresham, 'you have a rare jury here tonight.' He pointed to Andrewes, Bacon and Coke. 'A saint, a sinner and a solicitor. And myself.'

'Come, come,' said James, chuckling. He flicked his hand and as if by magic the golden goblet full of wine appeared in his hand. Mannion had been waiting for the signal and was the only one to understand it. "'Myself is hardly enough to describe you. "A saint, a sinner and a solicitor", eh? Well, what word do you use of yourself, Baron Granville?'

'A dangerous word to use in front of a king who has shown his power so recently to the person in question. But if commanded, as I have been, I would add a fourth word. A saint, a sinner, a solicitor and a survivor. Which, Your Majesty, might perhaps make two of that latter kind present here tonight.'

The fire crackled in the grate and a log collapsed down, throwing up a series of sparks.

'Be warned, Henry Gresham.' The King spoke in level tones, looking directly at Gresham. 'You push things to their limit. And sometimes the survivor survives only at terrible cost to himself.'

'I know,' said Gresham simply. He let the silence work, then spoke again. 'I despise Sir Edward as much as he despises me. He was wrong when he said he agreed with me on nothing except one thing. There are two things on which we, as sworn enemies, agree.'

'And what is the second?' asked the King.

'It relates to the subject of your first question. Sir Thomas Overbury. You have a Privy Council, Your Majesty. On it sit the highest in the land.' And Robert Carr, thought Gresham scathingly. 'Yet will you accept the advice of this, your extraordinary private council, tonight?

'I will hear it,' said the King. 'For this once.'

'We are united in one thing, other than loyalty to Your Highness,' said Gresham. 'We think it a wonderful thing for those in Your Majesty's court to have experience of serving Your Majesty abroad. Thus does a man prove himself. Sir Thomas Overbury is ripe for advancement. Yet he lacks something in the skills of diplomacy.' Something like a snort escaped from Coke. Bacon merely smiled, as if at a huge joke. 'A wise king might well seek to school such a man in these skills, as well as bind him even further in loyalty to His Majesty. What better answer than to appoint him as ambassador for His Majesty. Ambassador to a foreign country. A very far distant foreign country.'