The King's Achievement

by Robert Hugh Benson

  CHAPTER XI

  A CLOSING-IN

  Ralph kept his resolution to pretend to try and save Sir Thomas More,and salved his own conscience by protesting to Beatrice that his effortswere bound to fail, and that he had no influence such as she imagined.He did certainly more than once remark to Cromwell that Sir Thomas was apleasant and learned man, and had treated him kindly, and once had goneso far as to say that he did not see that any good would be served byhis death; but he had been sharply rebuked, and told to mind his ownbusiness; then, softening, Cromwell had explained that there was noquestion of death for the present; but that More's persistent refusal toyield to the pressure of events was a standing peril to the King'spolicy.

  This policy had now shaped itself more clearly. In the autumn of '34 thebill for the King's supremacy over the Church of England began to takeform; and Ralph had several sights of the documents as all business ofthis kind now flowed through Cromwell's hands, and he was filled withadmiration and at the same time with perplexity at the adroitness of thewording. It was very short, and affected to assume rather than to enactits object.

  "Albeit the King's Majesty justly and rightfully is and ought to be," itbegan, "the supreme head of the Church of England, and so is recognisedby the clergy of this realm in their Convocations, yet, nevertheless,for corroboration and confirmation thereof ... and to repress and extirpall errors, heresies and other enormities ... be it enacted by authorityof this present Parliament that the King our sovereign lord ... shall betaken, accepted, and reputed the only supreme head in earth of theChurch of England, called _Anglicans Ecclesia_." The bill then proceededto confer on him a plenitude of authority over both temporal andspiritual causes.

  There was here considerable skill in the manner of its drawing up, whichit owed chiefly to Cromwell; for it professed only to re-state a matterthat had slipped out of notice, and appealed to the authority ofConvocation which had, truly, under Warham allowed a resolution to thesame effect, though qualified by the clause, "as far as God's lawpermits," to pass in silence.

  Ralph was puzzled by it: he was led to believe that it could contain novery radical change from the old belief, since the clergy had in a sensealready submitted to it; and, on the other hand, the word "the onlysupreme head in earth" seemed not only to assert the Crown's civilauthority over the temporalities of the Church, but to excludedefinitely all jurisdiction on the part of the Pope.

  "It is the assertion of a principle," Cromwell said to him when he askedone day for an explanation; "a principle that has always been held inEngland; it is not intended to be precise or detailed: that will followlater."

  Ralph was no theologian, and did not greatly care what the bill did ordid not involve. He was, too, in that temper of inchoate agnosticismthat was sweeping England at the time, and any scruples that he had inhis more superstitious moments were lulled by the knowledge that theclergy had acquiesced. What appeared more important to him than anyhair-splittings on the exact provinces of the various authorities inquestion, was the necessity of some step towards the crippling of thespiritual empire whose hands were so heavy, and whose demands soimperious. He felt, as an Englishman, resentful of the leading stringsin which, so it seemed to him, Rome wished to fetter his country.

  The bill passed through parliament on November the eighteenth.

  * * * * *

  Ralph lost no opportunity of impressing upon Beatrice how much he hadrisked for the sake of her friend in the Tower, and drew very movingsketches of his own peril.

  The two were sitting together in the hall at Chelsea one winters eveningsoon after Christmas. The high panelling was relieved by lines ofgreenery, with red berries here and there; a bunch of mistletoe leanedforward over the sloping mantelpiece, and there was an acrid smell ofholly and laurel in the air. It was a little piteous, Ralph thought,under the circumstances.

  Another stage had been passed in More's journey towards death, in theprevious month, when he had been attainted of misprision of treason byan act designed to make good the illegality of his former conviction,and the end was beginning to loom clear.

  "I said it would be no use, Mistress Beatrice, and it is none--MasterCromwell will not hear a word."

  Beatrice looked up at Ralph, and down again, as her manner was. Herhands were lying on her lap perfectly still as she sat upright in hertall chair.

  "You have done what you could, I know," she said, softly.

  "Master Cromwell did not take it very well," went on Ralph with anappearance of resolute composure, "but that was to be expected."

  Again she looked up, and Ralph once more was seized with the desire toprecipitate matters and tell her what was in his heart, but he repressedit, knowing it was useless to speak yet.

  It was a very stately and slow wooing, like the movement of a minuet;each postured to each, not from any insincerity, except perhaps a littlenow and then on Ralph's side, but because for both it was a natural modeof self-expression. It was an age of dignity abruptly broken here andthere by violence. There were slow and gorgeous pageants followed bybrutal and bestial scenes, like the life of a peacock who pacescomposedly in the sun and then scuttles and screams in the evening. Butwith these two at present there was no occasion for abruptness, andRalph, at any rate, contemplated with complacency his own graciousnessand grandeur, and the skilfully posed tableaux in which he took such asedate part.

  As the spring drew on and the crocuses began to star the grass along theriver and the sun to wheel wider and wider, the chill and the darknessbegan to fall more heavily on the household at Chelsea. They weregrowing very poor by now; most of Sir Thomas's possessions elsewhere hadbeen confiscated by the King, though by his clemency Chelsea was stillleft to Mrs. Alice for the present; and one by one the precious thingsbegan to disappear from the house as they were sold to obtainnecessaries. All the private fortune of Mrs. More had gone by the end ofthe winter, and her son still owed great sums to the Government onbehalf of his father.

  At the beginning of May she told Ralph that she was making anotherappeal to Cromwell for help, and begged him to forward her petition.

  "My silks are all gone," she said, "and the little gold chain and crossthat you may remember, Mr. Torridon, went last month, too--I cannot tellwhat we shall do. Mr. More is so obstinate"--and her eyes filled withtears--"and we have to pay fifteen shillings every week for him and Johna' Wood."

  She looked so helpless and feeble as she sat in the window seat,stripped now of its tapestry cushions, with the roofs of the NewBuilding rising among its trees at the back, where her husband hadwalked a year ago with such delight, that Ralph felt a touch ofcompunction, and promised to do his best.

  He said a word to Cromwell that evening as he supped with him atHackney, and his master looked at him curiously, sitting forward in thecarved chair he had had from Wolsey, in his satin gown, twisting thestem of his German glass in his ringed fingers.

  "And what do you wish me to do, sir?" he asked Ralph with a kind ofpungent irony.

  Ralph explained that he scarcely knew himself; perhaps a word to hisGrace--

  "I will tell you what it is, Mr. Torridon," broke in his master, "youhave made another mistake. I did not intend you to be their friend, butto seem so."

  "I can scarcely seem so," said Ralph quietly, but with a certainindignation at his heart, "unless I do them little favours sometimes."

  "You need not seem so any longer," said Cromwell drily, "the time ispast."

  And he set his glass down and sat back.

  Yet Ralph's respect and admiration for his master became no less. He hadthe attractiveness of extreme and unscrupulous capability. It gave Ralphthe same joy to watch him as he found in looking on at an expert fencer;he was so adroit and strong and ready; mighty and patient in defence,watchful for opportunities of attack and merciless when they came. Hisadmirers scarcely gave a thought to the piteousness of the adversary;they were absorbed in the scheme and proud to be included in it; and menof heart and sensibility were
as hard as their master when they carriedout his plans.

  * * * * *

  The fate of the Carthusians would have touched Ralph if he had been amere onlooker, as it touched so many others, but he had to play his partin the tragedy, and was astonished at the quick perceptions of Cromwelland his determined brutality towards these peaceful contemplatives whomhe recognised as a danger-centre against the King's policy.

  He was present first in Cromwell's house when the three Carthusianpriors of Beauvale, Axholme and London called upon him of their ownaccord to put their questions on the meaning of the King's supremacy:but their first question, as to how was it possible for a layman to holdthe keys of the kingdom of heaven was enough, and without any furtherevidence they were sent to the Tower.

  Then, again, he was present in the Court of the Rolls a few days laterwhen Dom Laurence, of Beauvale, and Dom Webster, of Axholme, wereexamined once more. There were seven or eight others present, laymen andecclesiastics, and the priors were once more sent back to the Tower.

  And so examination after examination went on, and no answer could be gotout of the monks, but that they could never reconcile it with theirconscience to accept the King to be what the Act of Supremacy declaredthat he was.

  Ralph's curiosity took him down to the Charterhouse one day shortlybefore the execution of the priors; he had with him an order fromCromwell that carried him everywhere he wished to go; but he did notpenetrate too deeply. He was astonished at the impression that the placemade on him.

  As he passed up the Great Cloister there was no sound but from a bird ortwo singing in the afternoon sunlight of the garth; each cell-door, withits hatch for the passage of food, was closed and silent; and Ralph felta curious quickening of his heart as he thought of the human life passedin the little houses, each with its tiny garden, its workshop, its tworooms, and its paved ambulatory, in which each solitary lived. Howstrangely apart this place was from the buzz of business from which hehad come! And yet he knew very well that the whole was as good ascondemned already.

  He wondered to himself how they had taken the news of the tragedy thatwas beginning--those white, demure men with shaved heads and faces, anddowncast eyes. He reflected what the effect of that news must be; as itpenetrated each day, like a stone dropped softly into a pool, leaving noripple. There, behind each brown door, he fancied to himself, a strangealchemy was proceeding, in which each new terror and threat from outsidewas received into the crucible of a beating heart and transmuted byprayer and welcome into some wonderful jewel of glory--at least so thesepoor men believed; and Ralph indignantly told himself it was nonsense;they were idlers and dreamers. He reminded himself of a sneer he hadheard against the barrels of Spanish wine that were taken in week byweek at the monastery door; if these men ate no flesh too, at least theyhad excellent omelettes.

  But as he passed at last through the lay-brothers' choir and stoodlooking through the gates of the Fathers' choir up to the rich altarwith its hangings and its posts on either side crowned with gildedangels bearing candles, to the splendid window overhead, against which,as in a glory, hung the motionless silk-draped pyx, the awe fell on himagain.

  This was the place where they met, these strange, silent men; everypanel and stone was saturated with the prayers of experts, offered threetimes a day--in the night-office of two or three hours when the worldwas asleep; at the chapter-mass; and at Vespers in the afternoon.

  His heart again stirred a little, superstitiously he angrily toldhimself, at the memory of the stories that were whispered about in town.

  Two years ago, men said, a comet had been seen shining over the house.As the monks went back from matins, each with his lantern in his hand,along the dark cloister, a ray had shot out from the comet, had glowedupon the church and bell-tower, and died again into darkness. Again, alittle later, two monks, one in his cell-garden and the other in thecemetery, had seen a blood-red globe, high and menacing, hanging in theair over the house.

  Lastly, at Pentecost, at the mass of the Holy Ghost, offered at the endof a triduum with the intention of winning grace to meet any sacrificethat might be demanded, not one nor two, but the whole community,including the lay-brothers outside the Fathers' Choir, had perceived asoft whisper of music of inexpressible sweetness that came and wentoverhead at the Elevation. The celebrant bowed forward in silence overthe altar, unable to continue the mass, the monks remained petrifiedwith joy and awe in their stalls.

  Ralph stared once more at the altar as he remembered this tale; at therow of stalls on either side, the dark roof overhead, the glowing glasson either side and in front--and asked himself whether it was true,whether God had spoken, whether a chink of the heavenly gate had beenopened here to let the music escape.

  It was not true, he told himself; it was the dream of a man mad withsleeplessness, foolish with fasting and discipline and vigils: one haddreamed it and babbled of it to the rest and none had liked to be lessspiritual or perceptive of divine manifestations.

  A brown figure was by the altar now to light the candles for Vespers; ataper was in his hand, and the spot of light at the end moved like astar against the gilding and carving. Ralph turned and went out.

  Then on the fourth of May he was present at the execution of the threepriors and the two other priests at Tyburn. There was an immense crowdthere, nearly the whole Court being present; and it was reported hereand there afterwards that the King himself was there in a group of fivehorsemen, who came in the accoutrements of Borderers, vizored and armed,and took up their position close to the scaffold. There fell a terriblesilence as the monks were dragged up on the hurdles, in their habits,all three together behind one horse. They were cut down almost at once,and the butchery was performed on them while they were still alive.

  Ralph went home in a glow of resolution against them. A tragedy such asthat which he had seen was of necessity a violent motive one way or theother, and it found him determined that the sufferers were in the wrong,and left him confirmed in his determination. Their very passivityenraged him.

  Meanwhile, he had of course heard nothing of his brother's presence inLondon, and it was with something of a shock that on the next afternoonhe heard the news from Mr. Morris that Mr. Christopher was below andwaiting for him in the parlour.

  As he went down he wondered what Chris was doing in London, and what hehimself could say to him. He was expecting Beatrice, too, to call uponhim presently with her maid to give him a message and a bundle ofletters which he had promised to convey to Sir Thomas More. But he wasdetermined to be kind to his brother.

  Chris was standing in his black monk's habit on the other side of thewalnut table, beside the fire-place, and made no movement as Ralph cameforward smiling and composed. His face was thinner than his brotherremembered it, clean-shaven now, with hollows in the checks, and hiseyes were strangely light.

  "Why, Chris!" said Ralph, and stopped, astonished at the other'smotionlessness.

  Then Chris came round the table with a couple of swift steps, his handsraised a little from the wide, drooping sleeves.

  "Ah! brother," he said, "I have come to bring you away: this is a wickedplace."

  Ralph was so amazed that he fell back a step.

  "Are you mad?" he said coldly enough, but he felt a twitch ofsuperstitious fear at his heart.

  Chris seized the rich silk sleeve in both his hands, and Ralph felt themtrembling and nervous.

  "You must come away," he said, "for Jesu's sake, brother! You must notlose your soul."

  Ralph felt the old contempt surge up and drown his fear. The familiarityof his brother's presence weighed down the religious suggestion of hishabit and office. This is what he had feared and almost expected;--thatthe cloister would make a fanatic of this fantastic brother of his.

  He glanced round at the door that he had left open, but the house wassilent. Then he turned again.

  "Sit down, Chris," he said, with a strong effort at self-command, and hepulled his sleeve away, went back
and shut the door, and then cameforward past where his brother was standing, to the chair that stoodwith its back to the window.

  "You must not be fond and wild," he said decidedly. "Sit down, Chris."

  The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced himagain, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place,looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs.

  "What is this folly?" said Ralph again.

  Chris stared down at him a moment in silence.

  "Why, why--" he began, and ceased.

  Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to bepaternal.

  "My dear lad," he said, "you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. Whendid you come to London?"

  "Yesterday," said Chris, still with that strange stare.

  "Why, then--" began Ralph.

  "Yes--you think I was too late, but I saw it," said Chris; "I was therein the evening and saw it all again."

  All his nervous tension seemed relaxed by the warm common-senseatmosphere of this trim little room, and his brother's composure. Hislips were beginning to tremble, and he half turned and gripped themantel-shelf with his right hand. Ralph noticed with a kind ofcontemptuous pity how the heavy girded folds of the frock seemed tocontain nothing, and that the wrist from which the sleeve had fallenback was slender as a reed. Ralph felt himself so infinitely hisbrother's superior that he could afford to be generous and kindly.

  "Dear Chris," he said, smiling, "you look starved and miserable. Shall Itell Morris to bring you something? I thought you monks fared betterthan that."

  In a moment Chris was on his knees on the rushes; his hands gripped hisbrother's arms, and his wild eyes were staring up with a fanatical fireof entreaty in them. His words broke out like a torrent.

  "Ralph," he said, "dear brother! for Jesu's sake, come away! I haveheard everything. I know that these streets are red with blood, and thatyour hands have been dipped in it. You must not lose your soul. I knoweverything; you must come away. For Jesu's sake!"

  Ralph tore himself free and stood up, pushing back his chair.

  "Godbody!" he said, "I have a fool for a brother. Stand up, sir. I willhave no mumming in my house."

  He rapped his foot fiercely on the floor, staring down at Chris who hadthrown himself back on his heels.

  "Stand up, sir," he said again.

  "Will you hear me, brother?"

  Ralph hesitated.

  "I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad."

  Chris got up again. He was trembling violently, and his hands twitchedand clenched by his sides.

  "Then you shall hear me," he said, and his voice shook as he spoke. "Itis this--"

  "You must sit down," interrupted Ralph, and he pointed to the chairbehind.

  Chris went to it and sat down. Ralph took a step across to the door andopened it.

  "Morris," he called, and came back to his chair.

  There was silence a moment or two, till the servant's step sounded inthe hall, and the door opened. Mr. Morris's discreet face lookedsteadily and composedly at his master.

  "Bring the pasty," said Ralph, "and the wine."

  He gave the servant a sharp look, seemed to glance out across the hallfor a moment and back again. There was no answering look on Mr. Morris'sface, but he slipped out softly, leaving the door just ajar.

  Then Ralph turned to Chris again.

  Chris had had time to recover himself by now, and was sitting very paleand composed after his dramatic outburst, his hands hidden under hisscapular, and his fingers gripped together.

  "Now tell me," said Ralph, with his former kindly contempt. He had begunto understand now what his brother had come about, and was determined tobe at once fatherly and decisive. This young fool must be taught hisplace.

  "It is this," said Chris, still in a trembling voice, but it grewsteadier as he went on. "God's people are being persecuted--there is nolonger any doubt. They were saints who died yesterday, and MasterCromwell is behind it all; and--and you serve him."

  Ralph jerked his head to speak, but his brother went on.

  "I know you think me a fool, and I daresay you are right. But this Iknow, I would sooner be a fool than--than--"

  --"than a knave" ended Ralph. "I thank you for your good opinion, mybrother. However, let that pass. You have come to teach me my business,then?"

  "I have come to save your soul," said Chris, grasping the arms of hischair, and eyeing him steadily.

  "You are very good to me," said Ralph bitterly. "Now, I do not want anymore play-acting--" He broke off suddenly as the door opened. "And hereis the food. Chris, you are not yourself"--he gave a swift look at hisservant again--"and I suppose you have had no food to-day."

  Again he glanced out through the open door as Mr. Morris turned to go.

  Chris paid no sort of attention to the food. He seemed not to have seenthe servant's entrance and departure.

  "I tell you," he said again steadily, with his wide bright eyes fixed onhis brother, "I tell you, you are persecuting God's people, and I amcome, not as your brother only, but as a monk, to warn you."

  Ralph waved his hand, smiling, towards the dish and the bottle. Itseemed to sting Chris with a kind of fury, for his eyes blazed and hismouth tightened as he stood up abruptly.

  "I tell you that if I were starving I would not break bread in thishouse: it is the house of God's enemy."

  He dashed out his left hand nervously, and struck the bottle spinningacross the table; it crashed over on to the floor, and the red winepoured on to the boards.

  "Why, there is blood before your eyes," he screamed, mad with hunger andsleeplessness, and the horrors he had seen; "the ground cries out."

  Ralph had sprung up as the bottle fell, and stood trembling and glaringacross at the monk; the door opened softly, and Mr. Morris stood alertand discreet on the threshold, but neither saw him.

  "And if you were ten times my brother," cried Chris, "I would not touchyour hand."

  There came a knocking at the door, and the servant disappeared.

  "Let him come, if it be the King himself," shouted the monk, "and hearthe truth for once."

  The servant was pushed aside protesting, and Beatrice came straightforward into the room.