After pulling at his long nose Master Robinson shook his head and flipped the coin. It rang with a musical clarity as it landed on the clerks counter. “Margaret, I fear you’ve become mired in the politics of the Royal Court. This coin proves as much.”
Ned tried not to slump as his worst fears were confirmed. “How so?” Ned’s squeak of shock punctured the silence that had followed Master Robinson’s pronouncement. Damn that didn’t sound anything like assertive. He gave a slight cough to hide his nervousness.
Master Robinson smiled in Ned’s direction before picking up the treacherous coin and held it between thumb and forefinger. It sparkled and glittered seductively in the sunlight. “Well my friends, for a start this coin and its kin have been recalled for assaying and...”
Mistress Black interrupted. “By assaying don’t you mean debasing?”
Rather than being offended, the King’s Ordinancer smiled indulgently. “Yes Meg. That is one term for it, but this one has escaped as have, I suspect, its brothers. It was struck here some years ago and is still crisp without any marks of wear. That’s unusual.”
The Black clan must have been taking it in turns for Rob spoke up next. “Why would it be so unusual? Gold is used all the time.”
“Well firstly, if as you suspect, this is one of thousands, then only a very, very wealthy lord could afford to keep them out of circulation for the past four years, and by doing so avoid the proclamations of the King. Secondly, to have this quality on the coining they must have been stamped here and removed immediately, and the only persons capable of that are his Sovereign Majesty or the Lord Chancellor.”
Ned had enough familiarity with the operations of the court to understand that any gold flowing into the royal purse soon passed into ready hands. So its chance of remaining pristine was nil. QED, it was from Wolsey’s personal strongbox and Ned immediately felt morally justified in any seizure.
Rob however was not so certain of the situation and threw out one more question. “Why would Wolsey try to smuggle gold out of the country? He’s the Lord Chancellor.”
Ben Robinson gave a brief smile and rubbed his lean hands together. “The reasons could be many—to pay for spies or bribe some foreign lord, or pay for influence at a foreign court. But I think it may be something else. The Lord Chancellor has had a very difficult time of late. The King’s annulment case is just one.”
Oh yes, that disaster. Ned remembered his friend Will’s report of the proceedings, although he wouldn’t have thought that a few barrels of gold would be enough to dig the cardinal out of that mess. Ned began to have an inkling of why they might be here and shot off his own question before Mistress Black could grab the steering tiller of the conversation. “What other concerns does Wolsey have?”
That earned him a raised eyebrow from the clerk and a glower from Mistress Black. The first appeared to be quirky approval and he didn’t care what message the second conveyed.
The senior clerk of Ordinance took a deep draught of a proffered firkin of ale before continuing. “The Cardinal has been trying to prop up our alliances with France against Charles, the German Emperor, and the word this last week is that his attempts to do so have failed.”
That provoked a bitter laugh from everyone. The Cardinal’s war against the Emperor had been a joke, and was mostly disregarded by the English merchants who continued to trade with the imperial cities in the Low Countries in defiance of his proclamations. Since the triple assault of the sweats, famine and cattle murrain last year, only the grain vessels from Antwerp had saved London from starvation.
“Whatever hope the Cardinal held has been dashed. I’ve heard that King Francis of France has concluded a secret peace treaty with Charles V. So the Cardinal’s leverage with His Holiness the Pope for the annulment is in ruins. After all Charles is unlikely to countenance the removal of his aunt is he? As for the French, why should they help us?” Master Robinson gave a dismissive shrug.
Ned had been around the Inns of Court long enough to pick up how the manoeuvring of international alliances affected the court factions here in the city. In blunt terms, the collapse of Wolsey’s plans overseas meant no more Legatine commission, and therefore no annulment. His Sovereign Majesty the King wouldn’t be happy about that, and Wolsey knew it, as did his rivals. But that hadn’t settled the question of the golden angels?
Since Ned had seized the intuitive from his rival he stubbornly kept on. “So who would the gold be intended for?”
“Well it’s unlikely to be for King Francis. If Meg’s assumption about the quantity is correct, there isn’t near enough to buy France’s support after defeats in Italy and it doesn’t match the promises of Emperor Charles.”
Ned had some difficulty there in comprehending how this vast quantity of golden angels wouldn’t be enough. Perhaps he suffered from a lack of vision granted to only high lords and sovereigns.
“It’s commonly said by many at the Court that the Cardinal does have desires that the gold would aid.” Instinctively they all lent closer as the clerk’s voice dropped and Gruesome Roger twitched a reflexive glance over his shoulder. Ned noted the habit and understood that even in private company it was hard to dismiss off the threat of the Cardinal’s pursuivants.
However Ben Robinson had all their undivided attention as he whispered. “How about ‘His Holiness’ Wolsey of the Apostolic See?” This elicited a universal gasp of amazement. Everyone knew of the rumours that the Cardinal aspired to the throne of St Peter. Ned shifted his thinking to try and view Wolsey as an ambitious man rather than as the all–powerful Lord Chancellor. Well if he still hungered after power where else could Wolsey climb? He was at the crest of Fortuna’s wheel in the kingdom and there were no more rungs available on the ladder here in England. Considering his reputation, ambition would eat at him every day and cleric or not he must hunger for that last prize—the Papal crown.
Having shocked his guests into silence, Ben Robinson continued to outline his case. “A few years ago when the Emperor Charles’ army captured Rome and Pope Clement, Wolsey tried to set up a rival curia in France to free the Holy Father. It was a disaster. Only a few cardinals and bishops supported him. The rest made deals with Emperor Charles. There have also been rumours that the Cardinal has been receiving a stipend from the Emperor, along with a promise of support for his election, but I am not sure about them. Many at Court receive gifts from both Charles and Francis for their friendship.”
For Ned, used to picking up the scraps of rumour at the Inns, this was all common knowledge. The lords always traded patronage for reward.
“Tis more than rumour I’ve heard. It’s spoken openly by his servants. Everyone knows Wolsey is greedy for power.” Of course that bleakly simplistic assessment came from Mistress Black. From the bitter tone of her voice, Ned thought she took the Cardinal’s sins very personally.
Master Robinson gave a briefly indulgent smile and shook his head. “Oh I do not doubt that temptations clutch hard at a man in the Lord Chancellor’s position. However if he were guilty of every sin that rumour accorded him, Wolsey would be more evil than the Devil himself.”
Ned had to agree with that assessment. Rumour and gossip could provide vital clues to the machinations of the many court factions, but it should never be relied upon without real evidence. Only a foolish man trusted the cupboard whispers.
Mistress Black appeared to be not so accommodating when it came to the cardinal. Ned could see her eyes narrow and lips clenched tightly together. At a guess, if some gossip claimed the Cardinal now dined on roasted babies like the heathen Turk, she’d lead the mob to storm his palace without a moment’s hesitation.
Ned switched his attention back to the clerk. Master Robinson had noted Mistress Black reaction and with a cheeky lilt he continued. “Tis a pity that piece of news came from one of his rivals so is probably as real as faerie gold. Though if I were to place a wager on which of Wolsey’s enemies had a hand in Smeaton’s murder then my ‘angels’ would tilt towards
Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk.”
To Ned this was puzzling. The reason appeared correct. Even in the Inns of Court every apprentice lawyer had heard of the rancour between Norfolk and Wolsey. Every week you could see it played out in writs and litigation by their followers. What concerned him was how could the Senior Clerk of Ordinance speak with so much familiarity? A combination of curiosity and wariness prompted his next question. “How can you know so much about the Duke and what happens at Court?”
Master Robinson’s demeanour changed ever so slightly and his eyes bored deeply into Ned’s—it was distinctly uncomfortable. The clerk lost his veneer of affability, and his reply was dry and succinct, full of an iron–hard will that had been chattily veiled. “Red Ned Bedwell, the contingencies of my position require a great deal of knowledge. It is my duty to prepare the King’s great Gonnes for war, and since they are the modern hammers of battle and siege, they cannot be deployed on land or sea with a day’s notice or on a whim. For some years now I have found it necessary and expedient for my honest duty to be ahead of the machinations of the court factions both for myself and my friends.”
There was in that the slightest flicker of his eyes towards Meg Black as he continued with his explanation of the realities of statecraft. “The King’s Ordinance is our sovereign realms’ power and majesty made manifest, and in these modern times, the determining factor in warfare. It is horribly expensive and its loss on flawed or vain ventures could spell ruin for the kingdom. So I make it my business to know what is going on and by whom.”
Ned had to admit it made quite alot of sense, but he also suspected that Master Robinson’s connection to the Black clan also included certain knowledge of heretical works and sympathies. Since Mistress Black was still quelled Ned pushed on. “Well why the Duke of Norfolk? Who else do you suspect is after us?”
The Senior Clerk of Ordinance frowned and brushed back his thinning crop then began to go through the current factions. “Norfolk’s always regarded Wolsey as an upstart and loathed the way a ‘butcher son’ paraded his power before the lords. Now that the papal commission has failed, Wolsey is vulnerable. I’ve heard the King has forbidden him from the Court. Apart from Lady Anne, Norfolk is in the front of the pack baying for the Cardinal’s blood. However there’ve been rumours that Norfolk is also behind the recent campaign to raise Queen Catherine’s status.”
These pieces of news predictably received a loud snort of derision from Mistress Black. For once Ned felt that she could be justified in dismissing this piece of gossip. Catherine of Aragon the queen had acquired many misconceptions about the English regard for her, including the idea that she was universally loved. Maybe in the countryside but that wasn’t quite so in London. Some fountain gossips reckoned she was as popular as old fish in summer. Though truthfully Ned had found opinions evenly divided. Many including his uncle had quietly muttered that it would have been better if the old King had let go of her dowry and sent her home when young Prince Arthur had died. Last year the King had made public his concerns about his marriage and had raised doubts about the legitimacy of his daughter, Mary, as heir. It had gained him only the lukewarm sympathy of Londoners.
Ben Robinson ignored Mistress Black’s interruption and continued with his summation of the factional situation. “I think his support for Queen Catherine is a ruse. Norfolk’s more worried about the status of his niece, Lady Anne Boleyn. Her association with the King could be useful but he resents the influence of her father, Thomas Boleyn. Their faction has gained power at Court these last couple of years and that encroaches onto Norfolk’s preserve. If the rumours are true and Lady Anne wins out and marries the King as some speculate was the reason behind the legatine commission, then Norfolk may fear he’ll lose the bounty of the royal favour. Thomas Howard has the reputation of cunning and survival. If he can find a lever against Wolsey, then Boleyn isn’t such a threat and he can bargain his way to prominence.” The clerk paused in his explanation.
So far Ned was impressed. The analysis was up to the standards of his canny and unscrupulous Uncle Richard.
Once more the clerk’s voice dropped, drawing in their rapt attention. “Then there are the religious problems to consider.”
This was going to be very interesting. Ned tried not to glance at his new companions. That would betray too much of his secret knowledge. Instead he made his own play at guile. “What problems would those be Master Robinson?”
The Senior Clerk of Ordinance gave him another penetrating stare before the twitch of an eye in the direction of Meg Black. Ned could only imagine what sort of silent message was being conveyed, but Ben Robinson relaxed ever so slightly. “Why Master Innocent Lawyer, it concerns the New Learning from the German lands, but I think you must already know that. Gray’s Inn is rifer with it than rats. And it’s well known that the Boleyn’s support scholars like Simon Fish and others too dangerous to mention. Norfolk though is of older habits and is set against it, and will work hard to hinder any advancement—he has his own plans and his penchant for cunning would leave a snake in knots.”
Ned accepted that. The Duke of Norfolk had a fearsome reputation at the Inns. Mistress Black however resented his intrusion giving Ned a suspicious glare and interrupting the dialogue. She must have felt excluded or maybe the stroll into forbidden heretical territory made her nervous. “What of his rivals? We found that some of Suffolk’s men were after us yesterday.”
Ben Robinson gave a simple nod as if expecting their appearance. “The Duke of Suffolk is also very dangerous. Charles Brandon is a man with ambitions to advance his current position. A few months ago he was Wolsey’s man. I’ve heard that Suffolk has decided to strike out on his own. One rumour has King Francis as his backer.”
And so all the court factions gather. That Suffolk was also involved in his own right gave the matter of Smeaton’s death an extra layer of complexity. After all who hadn’t heard of Brandon, the husband of the King’s youngest sister? It had been the talk of the land. She was bound to marry the old King of France, Louis XII, and had been under escort by the King’s closest friend, Charles Brandon. However the French King had expired within a month of the marriage either from age, excess or as others maliciously suggested, poison from the hand of his young English wife. Then the new King Francis had conveniently allowed the secret marriage of the ‘grieving’ widow to her long–time swain, Charles Brandon. It had been rumoured that Henry had been in a towering rage at the presumption of both of them, and demanded a hefty fine to overlook the transgression. He’d received it, and after a brief spell in the Tower Brandon’s ascent of the Court hierarchy resumed with the added benefit of being married to one of the three Tudor heiresses.
After a thoughtful sip of his ale Master Robinson continued. “Even the lowest beggar in London has heard that Suffolk insulted Wolsey at Blackfriars so to prosper his old patron must fall. Suffolk is the King’s closest companion. That’s how he survived the clandestine marriage, though paying back the King has left Brandon much poorer. He needs all the money he can lay his hands upon.”
“I’ve heard that Suffolk doesn’t support the Boleyns.”
Master Robinson slowly nodded his head in answer to Mistress Black’s latest interjection. Ned was curious to know how this news engaged her attention.
“You’re right. There is personal rivalry between Brandon and Sir Thomas Boleyn, though it goes deeper than that. Mary, the dowager queen of France, is jealous of her pre–eminence at court, and has made it very plain that she’ll brook no attempts to supplant her, especially since if the divorce goes through, she and her children become heirs to the throne.”
It sounded to Ned like the sort of personal bitterness and petty jealousies that were rife in many families and that had provided so much work for his brethren at the Inns of Court. Except there was one detail missing. “What about Princess Margaret who married the Scottish king—wouldn’t she be first?”
Master Robinson laughed at that question and shook his
head. “Accept the children of some hairy kneed Scot? The kingdom would have to be in pretty desperate straits before that ever happened. The Parliament and Lords would acknowledge even a bastard before that.”
Ned was forced reluctantly to agree with the Senior Clerk of Ordinance. The people would accept almost anything rather than a foreign prince. But the rest of his assessment was chillingly realistic. They had been unwittingly drawn into a vicious vortex of colliding ambitions that could affect the very future of the kingdom. Ned felt a cold shiver run up his spine. These men would commit any sin or crime to achieve their ends. The deaths of a few commoners such as them wouldn’t even register as a minor distraction.
While his compliance had been reluctant before, certainly when it came to Mistress Black, now the whole issue came down to a simple truth—he had to trust someone. Master Robinson seemed very well respected by both the Black siblings and Ned suspected that he too shared their religious leanings. It was a bit of a struggle of conscience. His daemon was insisting that betrayal was at hand, while his angel counselled patience and Christian trust. At this point in the affair they were all bound together. If one fell all fell. To his surprise Ned slowly withdrew the letters and handed them to Master Robinson. “Sir I would appreciate your opinion on these.”
The Cardinal's Angels (Red Ned Tudor Mysteries) Page 18
