by Paul Doherty
The game began. Agrippa's men dispersed. Benjamin told Robert to count to one hundred but the fellow could only go to twenty before he became confused so I had to count for him and then he went hunting. Now 'Lovelocks' could move like a cat but the game soon ended. A shout from a chamber further down the gallery showed he had been apprehended. Benjamin called him and the rest back into the kitchen.
'It's impossible,' 'Lovelocks' declared. 'The floor is uneven. No footpad, not even a fellow with cloths around his boots, could move round this manor without being detected.'
Agrippa thanked and dismissed them.
'Why all these games? This deception?' Kempe snapped.
Benjamin closed the doors. He went and sat at the far end of the table, with myself on his right.
'Deception, Sir Thomas?' he asked. 'Deception? How dare you sit there and talk about deception! Where is the Orb of Charlemagne?'
Sir Thomas made to rise.
'Oh, sit down and don't look so aggrieved,' Benjamin mocked. 'You know full well what I'm talking about, Sir Thomas. The Orb of Charlemagne, the great relic?'
'Are you witless?' Kempe retorted, sliding back in his chair. 'It was stolen! Stolen from here. You were given the task of recovering it!'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous!' Benjamin snapped. 'How can I recover something that has not been stolen? You have the Orb of Charlemagne.' He pointed down the table. 'You, Sir Thomas.
You've known where it is all the time, whilst we have been chasing moonbeams.'
Sir Thomas made to rise again.
'No, you can't leave.' Agrippa took off his hat, running his fingers through his raven-black hair. 'You will stay. Sir Thomas. Your henchmen may be outside but so are mine.'
'You don't know, do you?' Benjamin asked Agrippa. 'Not even you, sir, know the truth of this. I am glad because that means Dearest Uncle is also innocent of any deception. Now, Sir Thomas, I shall tell you a story.'
Kempe sulked in his chair.
'It won't take long,' Benjamin said. 'Our noble king was the proud owner of the Orb of Charlemagne. This precious relic had been in the hands of English kings since the time of Alfred. Now, although I love the King dearly, I recognise his anxiety: fourteen years on the throne and he has not produced a living male heir. He would not let so powerful a relic as the Orb be given away so lightly: it would not only be a betrayal of those ancestors who wore the crown of St Edward but also a source of power which the King needs in his daily prayers, that his wife Catherine of Aragon conceive and bear a son.'
'Be careful what you say, Daunbey,' Kempe warned.
'Oh, I'll be very careful,' Benjamin replied. 'I am not criticising the King but rather those who give him advice and counsel. For His Grace not only wants an heir, he also wants to humiliate the power of France. Emperor Charles V, nephew of our Queen Catherine of Aragon, has the fleets and armies to do this, and Henry asked for his support. In return instead of an alliance cemented by a marriage or division of the spoils, Charles made one demand, and one demand only: the return of the Orb of Charlemagne which, the Emperor believes, is rightfully his. Is that not true, Doctor?' Agrippa nodded. 'Agreed, agreed!'
'What could Henry do?' Benjamin continued. 'If he refused, he wouldn't get the ships and troops and would have made a powerful enemy. Of course, the Emperor's demand was made public, and throughout Christendom interest was reawakened in the Orb. France laid its claim, and so did the Papacy. Both these parties sent envoys to England to counter Imperial pressure on our noble King.'
'What has this to do with the theft of the Orb?' Kempe snapped.
'Everything,' Benjamin replied. 'Henry was now in a quandary. He sought advice. One of his councillors offered a subtle plot. A stratagem which would not only allow Henry to keep the Orb but also mock his enemies abroad and so enrich the Exchequer that England might not need foreign armies and ships.'
'Are you talking about me?' Kempe asked sardonically.
'If the cap fits!' I taunted. 'Wear it!'
'The plan laid before the King,' Benjamin declared, 'required precious metals and the work of a master goldsmith. Sir Hubert Berkeley was chosen and sworn to silence. The Orb was taken down to his shops where he was to make a replica. But, once Berkeley had finished one, how many more was he ordered to make? Eh, Sir Thomas? Two, three, four or five? After all, it would cost the King little: golden cups and precious ornaments litter the palaces but not hard cash. Golden artefacts were collected and melted down. The King's jewel house was raided for amethysts and precious stones. And so the replicas were ready. I am speaking the truth, am I not?'
'Finish your tale,' Kempe snarled.
'Oh, I'll finish it, Sir Thomas. But, in the end, you must tell the truth. Your plan was as follows. A replica Orb would be handed over to the Lord Egremont made out of genuine gold with precious stones. The work of a cunning goldsmith, it might have been years, if ever, before the Emperor realised he had been fooled. And if he did realise?' Benjamin shrugged. 'The English crown would protest its innocence, point out that the genuine Orb had left England and that what had happened to it after that was not their concern.'
'And the other replicas?' Agrippa asked.
'Ah well,' Benjamin smiled. 'Like a trader in a market, Henry had raised interest in the Orb, so why not satisfy it? However, the Imperial envoys had to be satisfied first: a replica Orb was moved here. One of your archers kept you informed and you rejoiced: the replica Orb had been accepted and was closely guarded. The Emperor Charles would be satisfied and the King would get his troops and Imperial gold. Nevertheless, the French were still in London and then matters took a comical turn. You, Sir Thomas, sold another replica to the French. Heaven knows what story you peddled?' Benjamin smoothed the top of the table with his fingers. 'Do you know, sir, I suspect the King does not really intend to go to war at all? He'll take Charon's gold and the vast profits he has made in selling these relics to replenish his coffers.'
'This is nonsense!' Kempe scoffed.
'No, it isn't,' Agrippa intervened. 'Our King has a subtle mind. He hates the Emperor Charles. His resentment of the Spanish alliance is only surpassed by his deep contempt for the King of France.' Agrippa spread his black gloved hands. 'What I say is not treason but the truth.'
"The King would love it,' I intervened. 'He has made fools of his fellow monarchs and a vast profit to boot.'
'Of course things went wrong,' Benjamin continued. 'When the Orb was stolen from Malevel, Henry was furious. Matters might become even more tangled if the Emperor learned that an Orb was now held by the French. The Emperor might even accuse Henry of stealing it himself in order that the French should have it.'
'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 t
he 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.
'Precisely. Not to mention the French. The University of Paris, and the French cardinals will be asked for an opinion and the King wants them to agree with him. Now,' Kempe continued, 'about fifteen months ago, I hatched a scheme whereby the King could win Imperial favour, not to mention gold, and at the same time woo the French and the Papacy as well as make them pay. Henry was delighted. He laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. He said he would relish till his dying day how we had fooled them all in one fell swoop.'
'As well as win a new wife to boot,' I interjected.
'Of course,' Kempe smiled. 'And it really didn't take much. Henry raided his treasury and cups, plate and dishes were melted down. The royal jewel house was rifled, and appropriate amethysts given to Berkeley, who was sworn to silence. He was given a glimpse of the real Orb, provided with precise drawings by me and set to work on the King's secret assignment. I then let it be known in the Empire, in France and in Rome that the Orb of Charlemagne was for sale. They all rose like fish to the bait. The King, of course, had chosen to do business with Emperor Charles. Lord Theodosius of Egremont arrived in England. I thought there would be no difficulty.' He paused at the sound of horses outside.
"That will be Lord Egremont,' Benjamin declared. 'Agrippa, can you keep him busy?'
The good doctor agreed and left.
'Naturally, the theft upset the King,' Kempe continued. 'Not to mention myself. Can't you see, it's the one thing we hadn't planned on? No one was to steal that Orb: the King's merriment soon turned to anger.'
'And you know nothing else?' Benjamin asked.
'All I know, you now know,' Kempe concluded. 'Naturally, the King has been mollified by the treasure found in Lord Charon's stronghold. To a certain extent the King received his profits from the Pap
acy with interest and, of course, the French, having paid a small fortune, also believe they have the true Orb.'
'Very well.' Benjamin got up and unhitched his cloak from the back of the chair. 'Sir Thomas, I am going to unmask the assassin. To do that, I need your co-operation. Whatever I say, you will agree to. Understood?'
Kempe swallowed his pride and nodded. Benjamin went to the door and opened it. Lord Egremont, followed by Master Cornelius, almost knocked him aside as he swept into the room.
'What is it?' he snapped, glaring at me as if he'd like to take my head.
Kempe vacated his chair. Egremont took it, throwing his cloak and hat at Agrippa. The good doctor picked them up and tossed them unceremoniously on to a bench.
'Sit down, my lord.' Benjamin returned to his own chair. 'Sir Thomas, too, and Master Cornelius, by my side.'
'You've found the Orb?' Egremont asked.
'No, I am afraid I haven't,' Benjamin replied. 'Boscombe has that.'
'Who?'
'Boscombe, the tavern-keeper at the Flickering Lamp.' 'What has that knave got to do with it?' 'That knave,' Benjamin repeated. 'That knave, my lord? Do you know him?'
Egremont shifted in the chair.
'You should,' Benjamin continued. 'His real name is Jakob von Archetel, a former member of the Noctales.' Benjamin turned to Cornelius. 'I believe he fled the Empire. What was he nicknamed, the Slaughterer? He's responsible for the murders here at Malevel.'
Oh, to see the confusion break out! To watch virtue outraged! Oh, the huffing and the puffing! Agrippa sat like an imp come to judgement. Egremont made to leave but the good doctor shook his head.
'Stay, sir! Stay or you'll be arrested! My men are outside.' I glanced at Cornelius and he threw me a look. Isn't it strange how in a few seconds you can learn something? I did then, in that one glance! Firstly, Cornelius was innocent of any crime. Secondly, and rather surprisingly, he hated Egremont. Cornelius got up, took out his sword and laid it on the table with its point towards Egremont. He shouted something in German. Egremont replied, his face now suffused with rage yet he was fearful. This shouting match went on for a few minutes until Cornelius dipped inside his cloak and brought out a small, purple wax seal. He held this up and jabbed a finger at Egremont who sullenly sat down. He knew he was trapped but, even at that moment, did not realise what great danger he was in.
