C Sansom - Sovereign

‘Years I worked away at it, years. I went to Braybourne, visited the grave of my grandparents, heard the local people speak in the same accent as my father. But it was a decade before I found a copy of the Titulus, in a chest of discarded papers at York Minster. Then I found a painting of Cecily Neville, in one of Lord Percy’s houses. I bought it, though it cost a year’s fees. It is hidden in my library. It shows her sitting at a table, with the jewelbox before her, the jewelbox my father kept to the end of his days and that Maleverer has now. And wearing this ring.’ He held up his hand, the emerald glinting. ‘Then I began making visits to London. I found, as you did in Hull, people who remembered Cecily Neville declaiming after Edward IV died that he was the son of an archer and that Richard III, not King Edward’s young son, was the true King. I had to be very careful, it was nearer in time to the event then, but gold loosens tongues and eventually I had a number of depositions written down.’ His hand went unconsciously to his doublet again. ‘In time I had enough evidence. Perhaps it is as well my wife and I had no children, or I would not have been able to afford my bribes, my purchases of papers and pictures.’

‘Yet you have left me your library. Or was that another falsehood to secure my friendship?’

He winced. ‘No, I have left it to you and it is out of affection. Others will have removed the dangerous things before it comes to you.’

‘Before it comes to me. I will still be alive, then. I thought perhaps you plan to kill me now.’

His eyes bored into mine. ‘I want you on our side, Matthew. I feel you are on our side already. I have seen that you know the King for what he is, feel for the cruel things he has done to the north, to all England.’

‘Why did you wait so long, Giles?’

He sighed. ‘Yes, many more years went by and I did nothing, content with my life. But those were the quiet years, before the King married the witch Anne Boleyn and prohibited religion itself while we were taxed and oppressed more each year. Public opinion loved the King before then. To reveal what I knew would have brought punishment and death, not popular support. And I wondered, had I the right to threaten the throne when England was at peace? I did not want bloodshed. My father had said to act if a right time came, and this was not it.’ His face clouded. ‘Or was I just lazy, content in my prosperous middle age? Perhaps I needed to be looking my own death in the face before I found my courage.’

‘Then the north rose in rebellion. The Pilgrimage of Grace.’

‘Yes. And still I did nothing. To my shame. I thought the rebels would win, you see. I thought the King’s power would be broken and I could reveal the truth afterwards, when it would be safe. Back in 1536, as you know, the King promised negotiation. But then he broke his word, and sent an army to the north with fire and sword. You saw yourself what he did to Robert Aske. Cromwell’s informers and servants came to run the Council of the North and supervise the destruction of our monasteries, selling their lands to London merchants who take the rents to the capital, leaving Yorkshire to starve. It was then I decided to act at last, reveal my knowledge to others. When my illness began, and I had nothing to lose. I screwed up my courage, my resolution.’

‘So you joined the conspirators.’

‘Yes. I made certain contacts in York, told them my secret, showed them the papers. They were ready at last to overthrow the King. Royal spies were everywhere and it was agreed I would keep silent until Yorkshire had risen and was ready with the Scots to march south. Then the truth of King Henry’s ancestry would be cast in his face to confound him. The papers were handed over to Master Oldroyd, to keep them safe and to bind me irrevocably to the conspirators.’

‘But the conspiracy was betrayed.’

‘There was an informer, yes. We do not know who. And after the leaders were taken someone must have been tortured into revealing that a cache of papers proving Edward Blaybourne was Edward IV’s father existed. But whoever talked did not know my identity. And why should anyone suspect a respectable old lawyer? But Broderick knew. It was he who came to me and told me to bring the papers to London, try to make contact with sympathizers there. He didn’t have names, but I had to look at Gray’s Inn.’

‘Now he is dead.’

‘There are others in London. I will find them before I die. That is my final task.’

‘You must have lived in constant fear that Broderick would talk.’

‘I knew what manner of man he was. Far braver than me. I knew it would take the utmost torture to make him talk. It was my duty to help him die. I am not ashamed; you should be more ashamed of helping keep him alive against his will. I was deeply shocked when you told me Cranmer gave you that task.’

‘Perhaps you were right to be,’ I said slowly.

Wrenne’s keen eyes narrowed. He leaned back in his chair. ‘That is my tale, Matthew. I regret nothing. Believe me, though, when I say I never meant to kill you at King’s Manor. Only knock you out, as I did Radwinter. Sometimes one must do unpalatable deeds for a higher end. I hated deceiving you. Sometimes it brought me to tears.’

Another shiver ran through me, followed by a hot flush. I felt sweat on my brow. I was catching a fever.

‘But it was for a higher end,’ I repeated. ‘The overthrow of the King.’

‘You have seen him. You have seen Yorkshire. You know he is the Mouldwarp, the Great Tyrant, cruelty and darkness personified.’

A heavy splash of rain from outside, as a gutter flooded over, made me start.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘He is a monster.’ I rubbed at my wrist, where the manacle was chafing again.

‘And no rightful King, a pretender to the throne as his father was. He does not have the royal blood that God ordains for Kings.’

‘A few drops from the Tudor side. But none from the House of York, no. There too you are right.’

He patted his pocket. ‘I have the papers here. Tomorrow I take them into town. I will find the men I seek. I will have those papers printed and posted all over London. With the arrest of the Queen there will be more discontent. What better time could there be to start a new rebellion?’

‘Your last chance.’

‘Come with me, Matthew, be a part of it. A part of the new dawn.’

‘No,’ I said quietly.

‘Remember how he mocked you at Fulford. A casual piece of cruelty that people will gossip about behind their hands for the rest of your life.’

‘There is far more than my feelings at stake. Whom would you make King in Henry’s place?’ I asked quietly. ‘The only Clarence left, if she still lives, is a female child. And the law is not even clear a female can inherit. The people will not rally to a little girl.’

‘We shall offer a regency to the next living Clarence. Cardinal Pole.’

‘A papist bishop?’

‘The Pope would let him renounce his office to take the throne. Come with me, Matthew,’ he said intently. ‘Let us destroy these brutes and vultures.’

‘And Cranmer?’

‘The fire,’ he said with certainty.

‘No,’ I told him again.

For a moment he looked deflated, then a calculating look came into his eyes. I thought, what will he do? This was why I had wanted Barak back; to provide force if it was needed to keep Giles Wrenne here.

‘You are still a reformist at heart?’ he asked. ‘You oppose the restoration of true religion?’

‘No. I am beyond allegiance to either side, I have seen too much of both. I oppose you because your belief in the rightness of your cause blinds you to the reality of what would happen. I doubt your rebellion would succeed but whether or not it did there would be bloodshed, anarchy, protestant south against papist north. Women left widows, children orphans, lands laid waste. The Striving of the Roses come again.’ I shook my head. ‘Papists and reformers, you are so alike. You think you have a holy truth and that if the state is run by its principles all men will become happy and good. It is a delusion. It is always men like Maleverer who benefit from such upheavals while poor men still cry out to heaven for justice.’