“With me,” he said. “I took it and split it with the others.”
“And left this man to take your punishment.”
Morton eyed Stuart. “I’m sorry, Winslow.” He looked at the judge. “It is the truth of it. I am the one you seek, not him.”
Sir Thomas More turned to the three judges and spoke to the chief justice. “Sir, I move that the prisoner be dismissed and the charges against him dropped. You heard the witness.”
The judge leaned forward and whispered to the man on his left, then to the judge on his right. They both nodded, and the judge said, “Your request is granted, Sir Thomas. The court finds Stuart Winslow innocent of any wrongdoing.”
At that, the crowd cried out, some in outrage, some in relief. Stuart’s parents came forward, crying out his name. The three embraced.
Heather was there, and after his parents had embraced him, she came and held out her hands. He took them. Her eyes were filled with tears. “You’re free, Stuart.”
“Yes, I’m free, but I’m not free at the same time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to find William Tyndale. God has told me I’m to serve him. I am going to help him in his task of getting the Bible to every plowboy in England!”
PART FOUR
The Fugitive (1528–1536)
20
After Stuart’s release, he went at once to Stoneybrook, for going to live at court was not what he wanted. He was making plans to find Tyndale.
He spent much time with his parents but made frequent trips to Richmond Palace to visit the queen and Princess Mary. The pope had refused to allow Henry to divorce Catherine; Henry was still determined to divorce her. But only his queen’s heavy heart bothered Stuart.
On one of his visits to the queen and Princess Mary, the queen opened her heart as she never had before. They were walking along one of the paths in the garden, the queen showing Stuart the beautiful roses, when suddenly she said, “You never mention my situation to me, Master Winslow.”
“Why—why, no, Your Majesty. It’s not my place.”
“Everyone in England knows about it. I have no secrets.” Bitterness scored the lines of her mouth. She stared down at the ground, and when she lifted her eyes, Stuart saw the pain and grief that marked her face. “I was a foreign princess brought here to produce sons. It’s clear now to all that I will never succeed in bearing a son. After that is out in the open, what else is left to hide?”
The two continued their walk. Stuart was extremely uncomfortable. He had never seen Catherine in this mood before. He wanted to comfort her but did not know how. After a long pause, he said, “I am sorry for your situation, Your Majesty, but how can Henry do this? The church clearly forbids divorce.”
“He’s already informed me of how it will be,” she said. “He says that we have never been married at all.”
“Whatever does that mean?”
“I was first married to his brother Arthur, and Henry claims the Bible says that my second marriage to him is incest. The priest gave him a text found in the book of Leviticus to prove this. What foolishness! Even if it were so, it would not apply, because my marriage to Arthur was never consummated.” Tears came to her eyes then. “Think of it, Stuart. Almost twenty years of being a faithful wife, and he says we are not married at all! I must go now. Forgive me—” She turned and walked away, and Stuart’s heart went with her as she disappeared into the palace. But Henry was determined, and Stuart was struck by the same feeling, watching the queen disappear, as he was when Jan Dekker left his sight for the last time.
On one of his rare visits home to Stoneybrook, Stuart spoke with his father about Tyndale and his fierce determination to follow God’s call. “I don’t see why there’s a problem, Father. I mean, after all, Henry has authorized the use of Bibles in English in the churches even though there are none in print.”
“That was last year. This is now. His mind has been changed, and who knows why Henry does anything?”
“But it’s foolishness! Doesn’t he realize that there’s a need in the churches to hear the Bible read in English? Hasn’t he seen the people’s enthusiasm?”
Claiborn shook his head sadly and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re far closer to the king than I. If you do not know the cause of his reversal, I am that much more befuddled.”
“Where is Mr. Tyndale now, sir?”
“Oh, he’s in Marburg, a hundred miles north of Frankfurt and well off the beaten path of government agents.”
“The king has sent agents looking for him?”
“Oh, yes. He has even offered him amnesty and a place in the government.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Well, Tyndale doesn’t believe it. He’s found a printer there and he’s turning out Bibles as fast as he can.”
“He’s selling them?”
“He doesn’t make a penny from any of his work. He could probably have been a rich man if he had sold them, because there’s a hunger in the hearts of many for the Word of God, but he refuses to make any profit from serving God.”
The two men sat talking about Tyndale for some time. Claiborn smiled. “Do you know what part of the scripture he’s working on now? The Old Testament.”
“I wasn’t aware that he knew Hebrew.”
“He doesn’t, and that’s the miracle, Son. He doesn’t have any opportunity to learn it here in his homeland.” Jews had been banished from England since the reign of Edward I, and those who remained often hid their heritage for fear of being banished—or worse. “So he found an old Hebrew grammar and began the study of the language on his own. But it’s hard, Stuart. He’s in exile, living from hand to mouth, with the constant threat of arrest, and there he is learning Hebrew, translating and revising the New Testament, completing the first of the five books of the Old Testament. I don’t understand how one head can hold so much.”
“Neither do I, nor how one man can bear to defy the king. You well know that the king will take his head if he can find him.”
“He knows that, I’m sure, but he just doesn’t think about things like that the way most men do.”
Stuart said in a voice of wonder, “He is a man to admire.”
“Indeed he is. There’s not another like him in all England. He will have the Bible to put before the peasants and potentates of England or he will die in the attempt.”
Stuart had made up his mind to go to William Tyndale. He knew he had made a vow to God when God had delivered him from death, and part of that vow, at least, was to serve under William Tyndale’s direction. He had no idea what he would do or even if he could find the man, for the secret agents of King Henry had not been able to find him.
He had prepared himself to go in search, but he wanted to make one more visit to court. He asked for an audience with Catherine and as usual she was glad to see him. When he told her of his plan to be gone for some time, her face fell. “Why are you leaving us, Master Winslow?”
“I must see to some private business, Your Majesty.” He saw that the queen was depressed. “Try to keep your spirits up.”
“I will never have a life. It’s all over. My hopes are for Mary.”
“She’s a fine girl. Bright, smart, pretty. You can well be proud of her.”
“I wish her father were as proud.” The words were bitter, but at once she passed her hand in front of her face as if brushing away a thought. “Hurry back to us, Master Winslow.”
“I will try, Your Majesty. Good-bye now.”
“Thank you for your many kindnesses to me and to Mary. Be a friend to her if you can. When I am gone, she will need all the friends she can get.”
“You may count on it. I will do my best to help her in every way I can.”
Stuart ignored the giggling ladies-in-waiting, who stared at him with seductive eyes and boldly looked him over. Their attention sickened him, reminding him of Anne Boleyn and all that was wrong with the court. Nell was long since gone, off to marry an anc
ient French nobleman with plenty of money. But as one woman disappeared, another took her place, always with the same intentions, always on the same downward spiral. His grandmother was right. The court was an evil and dangerous place. He went down a flight of stairs in the gardens, eager to have the maids out of his sight. He thought of his new life, serving under William Tyndale. He would go and find Tyndale, and he would serve God by serving him.
Edmund rolled over in his bed and opened his eyes. Sleep eluded him, as it had for weeks now. He stared at the pillow beside him, thinking of the last time Edith shared his bed; he really didn’t miss her. He sighed and got out of bed. He pulled aside the heavy draperies, noting the beautiful morning. His eyes swept over his mother’s house, now Claiborn’s, and the lush land that extended from it, now heavy with ripening hay.
It was a relief to be past the bitterness and on to acceptance. If only Edith would let it alone! How long had he acted in the same manner, though, held onto the anger he’d felt over Claiborn and Grace? No love replaced it; he merely felt that he no longer cared. And even that was a relief.
Dressed now, he went for a brisk walk, exiting the castle gates with a nod to the guard, out into his own fields. He returned by way of Claiborn’s tract of land and ran across his brother sitting on a bench, playing with a litter of puppies.
“Those are nice-looking dogs,” he said, stopping in front of Claiborn.
“They’ll be exceptional hunting dogs, Brother.” Claiborn smiled. He lifted one in his direction. “This is the pick of the litter. I know you lost yours last year. Please, I want you to have him.”
“Why, I thank you, Claiborn.” Taking the puppy, Edmund stroked the silky fur and pulled at the long ears. He was surprised and embarrassed by the offer, more so over the fact that Claiborn had noted his affection for his old lead hunting dog and seemed to be addressing his loss. He had never given Claiborn a gift since his return, even at Michaelmas. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“He’ll be the best. I remember when you gave me Chieftain. I was only ten, but you knew how to please a boy. I never forgot that gift, Edmund. Best present you could have given me.”
“You did love that dog,” Edmund murmured.
“You gave me lots of gifts when I was a boy and you took me to many places. I’ve never forgotten any of those times.”
Edmund shifted uneasily, remembering his fondness for Claiborn when he was young, those trips to London. “I’ve treated you badly,” he blurted out. He was shocked to hear his own words but realized they were true. “I don’t know what’s happened to me. Why I couldn’t get past … you and Grace. Why I couldn’t simply get on with life.”
“I wronged you, Edmund.”
“Not any more than I’ve wronged you.” The confession seemed to open a part of Edmund that had been long closed. He suddenly sat down next to Claiborn on the bench and found himself overwhelmed by regret. “Mother would have been so pleased to see us reconciled. I—I wish I had had this conversation with you before she died.”
“I think she knew that we’d again learn to love each other as brothers.”
Edmund found that his eyes were suddenly blurred with tears. His voice was thick as he said, “Do you think so, Brother?”
“I’m sure of it. And we don’t have a big family. We need each other, Edmund.”
“Yes, that’s true!” Edmund hesitated, then said, “I’d like that very much.” And then he felt Claiborn’s arm around his shoulders. He could not speak for a time, then he whispered, “I can’t undo all the cruel things I’ve done to you. To Grace. To Stuart.”
“No need to speak of that,” Claiborn said at once. “We’ll start again. What if we went hunting, just the two of us. It’ll be like when we were children. You can speak to Grace and Stuart when you feel ready.”
“That would be fine!” he said. He put the puppy down and could not find the words to express what he was feeling. He said, “I’ll get ready.”
“As will I,” Claiborn said with a smile, rising to shake his brother’s hand.
Edmund was sure that he saw joy in Claiborn’s eyes that equalled what he himself felt in his heart.
“I’ve made a decision, Mother.” Ives Hardcastle had entered his mother’s chambers. She was sitting at her dressing table putting cream on her hands. She was inordinately proud of them because they were graceful and youthful.
“What’s your decision, dear?”
“I’m leaving Stoneybrook.”
“To go where?”
“I’m going to offer my services to Cardinal Wolsey.”
His words caught his mother’s attention, and she turned around and studied his face. “Why do you think Wolsey would be interested in you?”
“I’ve already written him. I explained that I need a place. I need to learn about how things work at court. And I’d serve him well.”
“And he told you to come?”
“Yes. I’ve just received his answer.”
Edith sat very still for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. “That might be a very good thing. It’s good to have powerful friends, Ives.”
“Well, there’s no more powerful man in England than Cardinal Wolsey. He practically runs the kingdom.”
“King Henry has put him in his place of late over the Boleyn girl. Forced a rift between him and Rome.”
“But here in England, only the king exceeds his power.”
“He’s an ambitious man, and he can be cruel. You understand that?”
Ives smiled. “So can I.”
Edith laughed. “You learned it from me, my dear. Well, what do you need?”
“I need some money to live on. He said nothing about money. He probably thinks I’m wealthy.”
“I have some that I put aside. It would be a good thing if you became a trusted servant of Wolsey. That would open all kinds of doors for you.”
“For us, Mother, for us.”
“When will you leave?”
“Today.”
“What will you tell Edmund?”
“You tell him anything you please. Say that I’m going to learn a trade.” Ives suddenly smiled; there was a wolfish look about his face. He was essentially a greedy young man without morals, and his mother understood this well enough. But she removed a bag from her wardrobe; she took out some gold coins, added a few more for good measure, and handed them to him.
“You’ll have to use this wisely. It’s getting harder and harder to get money out of Edmund.”
“What a mercy it would be for us if he died.” He saw his mother staring at him and laughed. “Of course you’ve thought of it. So have I. That would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?”
“He hasn’t named you his heir yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Work hard, Mother.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll keep in touch with you.”
“Good success, Son.”
Ives considered going to talk to Edmund, but he shrugged. “Mother can do it better than I can.”
He left an hour later in one of the carts that held his belongings. His hopes were high, for he knew that Wolsey could do anything he pleased—as long as it did not go counter to what King Henry wished.
As Ives walked along the richly decorated corridors of Hampton Court Palace, the home of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, he was impressed by the wealth and the sumptuous trappings of the magnificent structure that Wolsey had built. Hampton was an architectural marvel, built entirely of brick, but in the manner of one of the older castles. It was surrounded by turrets, giving the palace an impression of strength.
Ives eyed the large paintings in gilt frames, the magnificent statuary imported from Italy. He took in the treasures that came from all over Europe. The floor itself was paved with marble that came straight from the finest Italian quarries.
He reached the room of the cardinal and knocked on the door. The cardinal’s voice boomed out, “Come in, come in.” He stepped inside, and Wolsey looked up from his desk, covered with docu
ments. He was alone. “Sit down, Hardcastle.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
While Wolsey finished writing, the silence was thick in the room. Then he laid the document aside, leaned back, and folded his hands over his large stomach. “So you would like to be in my service.”
“Very much, Eminence.”
“Well, I’ve learned you’re a bright man and shrewd enough to be included among my assistants.” The cardinal smiled at the shock registered on Ives’s face. “Surely you knew I’d investigate you before bringing you here. Ives Hardcastle, son of Lady Edith Winslow, potential heir of Stoneybrook, and yet not quite named as such. Menaced by the potential of Stuart Winslow taking it all in time. Hedging your bets by coming to court.” A smile suddenly came to his lips but not his eyes. “You are clever. I can see that. If you were not, I’d have nothing to do with you. The king is impetuous enough to keep the country intrigued. It takes thoughtful men like us to insure that our sovereign’s passions do not lead him into disaster.”
“I believe I see what you mean, Your Grace. He is a difficult man to handle, isn’t he—if one can speak of handling a king.”
“That is exactly the word I might have chosen. He may call me an adviser, but I am, in effect, the one who must convince the king to do that which is best—in his own interest, of course.” Once again Wolsey’s thin lips turned up in a cold smile. His eyes flicked to the window. “Only in one matter have I failed at this task. It will not happen again.” His eyes returned to Ives, looking him over.
Ives felt himself sweating under the gaze of the cardinal. It was like a bird being watched by a cat about to pounce!
“Let me tell you about power, Hardcastle. That’s what you’re interested in. I saw that when I first met you at Stoneybrook. I recognized very quickly that you are intelligent enough to rise, though I had to watch for a while to see if you had the kind of mentality for rule. I was the same sort of young fellow as you are. My father was a butcher, you know. I had to rise above all that, and I could not have risen to my position without learning the use of power.”
Honor in the Dust Page 20
