Paul Doherty - The Relic Murders

'Wouldn't that happen anyway?' Kempe retorted. 'If both countries claimed to possess the Orb?'

'Oh no,' Benjamin retorted. 'If the Emperor had the Orb and the French claimed they had one as well, the King would play both sides off against each other. He would tell the Emperor that the French were only acting as a dog in the manger and, in time, whisper the same response to the French. I am also certain another Orb would have been sold to the Papal Envoys.' 'Preposterous!' Kempe sneered.

Thoroughly enjoying myself, I rapped the table with my knuckles.

'Is it, Sir Thomas?' I asked. 'Is it really preposterous? What do you know about relics?' I ticked the points off on my fingers. 'There are enough pieces of the true cross to build a navy. At least five cities in Spain claim to possess the right arm of St James. The veil that Veronica is supposed to have used to wipe the face of Christ can be venerated in cities from Warsaw to Cadiz. Who would object if there were three Orbs of Charlemagne, with each owner claiming he had the original one?'

'Roger speaks the truth,' Agrippa declared. 'Very few people have seen the true Orb of Charlemagne. It was stored in a coffer in a secret chamber in the Tower.'

'The thefts,' Benjamin declared. 'Let us return to the thefts. We were ordered to steal the Orb from here. Of course that was nonsense, a mere diversion intended to make the Imperial envoys believe the Orb must be genuine – and Cornelius for one fell into the trap – for otherwise why would Henry send two agents with secret orders to steal it back? However-' Benjamin smiled thinly. 'When it was indeed stolen Henry was furious because his plans had been upset. He would have to get the stolen Orb back but how could he do that? If the Imperial envoys had stolen it themselves, and he just gave them a replica, then he'd turn himself into a public mockery. Indeed -' Benjamin leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, '- Henry might even have suspected that the Orb had been stolen so that the Imperial envoys could establish the truth.' 'And if it had been stolen by others?' Agrippa asked.

'The thieves might try to sell it to the French,' Benjamin replied. 'That's why you. Sir Thomas, moved quickly, ensuring the King made some profit from his trickery. What we have established,' Benjamin continued, 'is that those who did steal the Orb from Malevel did so to line their pockets. They traded it to Lord Charon who, in turn, sold it to the Papal Envoys. Now that would have infuriated our King: an expected source of profit had been abruptly cut off.'

'So?' Agrippa scraped back his chair. He stood up and stretched. 'In the end the French have an Orb, the Papal Envoys have an Orb but the one the King is supposed to have given Charles V is missing. Very clever,' he commented. 'Very subtle.' 'And who,' Kempe asked, 'was responsible?'

'Oh, we'll come to that by and by. But, Sir Thomas, am I speaking the truth?'

'A farrago of lies and tittle-tattle, based on conjecture. All this mummery!' Kempe waved his hands. 'Sending Agrippa's men round the house…' 'That wasn't mummery,' Benjamin intervened. 'I have just established proof, at least in my own mind, of how the massacre here took place. Now, Sir Thomas, either you tell me the truth and I'll prove who stole the Orb, or I'll take the swiftest horse and ride direct to my Dearest Uncle.' Benjamin leaned on the table, narrowing his eyes. 'He doesn't know anything about this, does he? He'll reproach the King for not taking him into his confidence. I will have to tell His Grace what a marvellous opportunity was missed, all frustrated by Sir Thomas Kempe. Who knows, Sir Thomas,' Benjamin added. 'Could you prove to the King that you acted wisely in these matters? Suspicion might fall on you. You know I am speaking the truth. You have Sir Hubert Berkeley's accounts, which show how long Sir Hubert was working on this matter. At court there are many suspicious minds, and the King himself, in certain moods, will suspect anyone. He might ask how many orbs were really made, and whether Sir Thomas Kempe was engaged in a little private profit?' 'How dare you?' Kempe sprang to his feet

'Oh, quite easily, and sit down!' Benjamin snapped. 'I'm not accusing you but others might.'

Kempe was no fool. He would have liked to have swept out of the room. However, such dramatic gestures might look fitting in certain circumstances but Benjamin's words must have chilled his sly heart. The Great Beast trusted no one and, once suspicion was sown in his wicked brain, it always came to full flower! Kempe sat down and breathed in deeply.

'What I tell you,' he began, 'is the King's own secret. Henry does not want Imperial ships. Oh, he'll take the gold but you won't see English troops in France.' He licked his lips. 'Henry is more concerned that he has no heir. The Queen, how can I put it, is past child-bearing. There is only the Princess Mary.'

(So, in that dusty, shabby room at Malevel I heard the first rumble of the storm that was about to break. And what a storm! Slowly, surely, Henry was about to take those steps which would deluge the kingdom in blood; send men like More and Fisher to the block; tear England from the Church of Rome; cause the north to rise in bloody revolt; and queens to be accused of treason and barbarously hacked to death. Merlin's prophecy was about to be fulfilled.)

Kempe appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, perhaps even he was fearful. 'Continue,' Agrippa said quietly.

'Henry cannot understand why God has not given him a male heir,' Kempe continued in a rush. 'He has studied the Bible. He believes his marriage is cursed because Catherine was once married to his elder brother Arthur.'

'But the marriage was never consummated,' Benjamin declared. 'Arthur was a mere stripling. A weak, sickly child.'

'Who told you that?' Kempe retorted. 'Has Dearest Uncle confided in you?' Kempe pointed a finger. 'Master Daunbey, you should be very careful. The King believes otherwise. He believes the marriage was consummated: accordingly, he should never have married Catherine of Aragon and that's why his marriage has been cursed and is without a male heir.'

So, there it was. Henry had tired of Catherine. He had consulted with God and realised that he should not have married her in the first place. Now Henry's brain was a box of teeming worms. He often found it very difficult to draw a distinction between his will and that of God. Once he had got it into his fat head that God was displeased with him, or that God wanted him to do something, then nothing on earth would stop it, as thousands found to their cost.

'Is that why His Excellency the Cardinal has not been informed of these matters?' Agrippa asked.

'Yes, yes it is,' Kempe retorted. 'The King-' He paused. 'His Grace believes he should marry again.'

'And who's the lucky girl?' I quipped before I could stop myself.

'Haven't you learned your lesson, Shallot? Are you so clodwitted? Don't you remember the banquet where the King gave you a present, a German hunting dog that was supposed to rip your balls off? It wasn't because you won a riddle – the King caught you making eyes at his beloved!'

I recalled Anne Boleyn. Kempe was right. Henry was jealous and I had paid the price for my little flirtation. 'Boleyn?' Benjamin exclaimed.

'Anne Boleyn. The King is smitten with her,' Kempe replied. 'You know some of the game, Master Daunbey, but not all of it. Of course, the King would like to make a profit. Of course, he will take gold from the Empire, from the Papacy, from the French. Aye, even from the Devil himself! But it's not money the King is really after – or even to take his armies to France. He wants a divorce. Charles V is Catherine's nephew. He'll have to be persuaded to support the King.'

'And, of course, the same is true of the Holy Father in Rome?' Benjamin asked.