by Anne Stevens
Will sticks to the story that Isaac is dead at the hands of a robber, and spirits himself away to Cromwell’s study. He is just unfolding the sheets of Henry’s recently penned evidence, when Moshe comes in with Rafe. Cromwell’s principal secretary closes the door behind them and bids Moshe take a chair.
“I’m sorry, Will, but Moshe is not convinced by your story,” Rafe says. “He will not have it that his grandfather has been so careless. He also knows where the old man was going this morning.”
Will does not have time to prevaricate. Besides, the young man is wise beyond his years, and deserves the truth. He tells it plain. Your grandfather is dead, murdered in York Place, and I must run down his killer. There are the bare bones of it. Moshe shakes his head.
“No, my brother. We must find this man. What can I do?”
“I am about to go over Henry’s notes,” Will says. “I am hoping to find a key to Isaac’s murder within.”
“And Henry?”
“Innocent.” Will is certain. He does not want Moshe seeking vengeance on the King of England. “The King wanted your grandfather alive. He was arranging a large loan for the crown.”
“Not so,” Moshe replies. “He was worried because he was about to refuse the King.”
“Are you sure?” Will is surprised. Henry seemed sure, but this casts doubt on him once more. “Henry seemed so sure.”
“Our people in Paris wrote to us,” Moshe says. “The great Lombard families are financing the Emperor’s new war. He intends driving the infidel back to where they came from. They offered us a fifth part of the loan, providing we do not support Henry.”
“That would infuriate the King,” Rafe says, “but he did not know he was to be refused. Surely Isaac died before he could tell him?”
“Who knows.” Will is suddenly suspicious. Rafe’s face betrays a secret he does not wish to share. “Master Cromwell was doing a lot for your family, Moshe. Though I love him like a father, I must wonder what his motives were.”
“Thomas Cromwell is a fine man.”
“I agree,” Will says, “but even an honest man must turn a profit. What say you, Rafe?”
“This is not your business, Will,” Rafe says.
“No, murder is my current business. Must I return to York Place and ask Master Cromwell in front of Henry?”
“For God’s sake, no!” Rafe is upset, and wishes his master were here to answer. “Our master did it for us all. He did it so Miriam was not a heathen Christ killer any more, and you could wed her. He did it because he wanted to train Moshe in the art of law. And he did it, because he could not help himself. Master Cromwell is a consummate man of business.”
“Tell me.” Will is almost there. Cromwell can never turn away from a good deal, and sought out Isaac for a reason. Moshe spills out the truth, to save Rafe’s blushes.
“Your master came to an arrangement with the Mordecai bank,” he says. “We were to refuse the loan this morning. Then Henry would be at his wits end. Where to go? Ah, my dear friend, Cromwell! Master Cromwell has already arranged to borrow the money from us, using himself as guarantee. He will sooth your King, offering to lend to him at five percent. We will charge four percent. Henry is overjoyed with Cromwell, and Cromwell is four thousand pounds a year richer.”
“I see. Then I can cross both he and Henry off my list of suspects,” Will says. “Cromwell needed Isaac very much alive.”
“No one would wish my grandfather dead,” Moshe tells them. “It makes no sense.”
Will agrees. He begins to read Henry’s recollections of the morning. He remembers a boy bringing in a bowl of fresh water, and another sweeping out the old rushes. Both jobs would normally have been done before Henry wakes, but this morning is different. He has a visitor. Outside his door, Sir John Chappell loiters, in case he is needed, and in the outer chamber Charles Brandon, Earl of Suffolk has arrived early, accompanied by the gristly Norfolk.
The king’s memory is good, and he recalls seeing Sir Edward Francis chatting with Master Jolly, the dance master, George Boleyn, and Sir Edmund Prosser, an old bowls companion. Then there are the young men who inhabit every court. Cromwell has his, and Henry is not deficient. There is the musician fellow, who Lady Anne likes, and whose name he does not know, and a useful chap, recommended by Cromwell.
Here, in brackets, Cromwell has scratched the name (Harry Cork). Young Harry from Leicester, who first pointed him at Master Cromwell. Will smiles at this. Cromwell places people everywhere. He has eyes and ears throughout the realm. Then Henry names Harry Percy, Duke of Northumberland, in court with Sir Andrew Jennings.
Henry’s courtiers are, on the whole, not early risers, so the list is fairly short. Thomas Cromwell’s hand has written, hurriedly, the last half page. He says:
There are sundry guards and servants, whose names are unknown. A word with the Master of the Halls will reveal who they are. I must suggest another name. One which Henry has not recalled. My information leads me to believe that Lady Mary Boleyn might have been about. Her presence close to the King is sensitive. Have a care.
Will curses under his breath. Lady Anne plays the virgin, and her sister Mary plays the whore. Henry is keeping it in the family. The Duke of Norfolk’s nieces are doing his clan proud.
“Did Isaac know the Duke of Norfolk?” Will asks. Moshe is not comfortable with such direct questions. He has been taught to preserve his family’s secrets.
“They had business,” he confesses. “Norfolk wants to live like a great lord, but has not the gold. Grandfather arranged a loan of ten thousand, using his holdings in East Anglia as security. He was late with his payments.”
“What about Charles Brandon?”
“Suffolk?” Moshe almost chokes laughing. “We lent him two thousand, against several farms near Ipswich. He gambled it away at cards, and defaulted. The farms were already mortgaged with a local wool merchant. Master Cromwell is handling the legal work for us. As you know, Jews have no legal rights. Becoming English means we can now chase defaulters through the courts, until they pay.”
“So, Suffolk would be unhappy with Isaac’s new status?” Will has his first real suspect. What might a man do to save two thousand pounds? It was enough to buy Southwark, with change left over. But would the man soil his own hands?
“You think Suffolk did it?” Moshe asks.
“Let’s not run before learning to walk, Master Moshe,” Will tells him. “What else do we know about Charles Brandon, Rafe?”
“He owes money to the Lombard bankers too. His marriage to the king’s sister is all that keeps the wolves at bay,” Rafe says. “He is a poor gambler, and an insatiable womaniser. It is rumoured that he keeps a young mistress away from court.”
“Is he the sort who could kill?”
“Three years ago, a man in Norwich accused him of bribing a tax collector. Suffolk wanted his neighbours sheep pasture, so had the tax gatherer recalculate the farmer’s indebtedness. It was clumsily done, and the man complained. Before it went to law, the man was waylaid and stabbed to death. Suffolk was drinking in a nearby inn when it happened, surrounded by witnesses.”
“This morning, he made sure he was with Norfolk,” Will says. “He sticks to the man like a fly in a web.”
“Norfolk is old blood,” Rafe explains. “Brandon was nothing, until he married Henry’s sister, without his blessing. The King would have taken his head, save for their friendship. Even so, he had to leave the court and hide away in Suffolk. He uses Norfolk as a shield.”
“Would Norfolk kill to avoid paying a debt?”
“Why?” Moshe asks. “He is the greatest man in England, save for Henry. He can raise ten thousand armed men within a month, and keeps Henry’s peace for him. Then there is his niece. Once she marry’s Henry, the Duke of Norfolk will be the King’s closest blood.”
“What if Henry tires of Lady Anne?” Will asks. Moshe shrugs, but Rafe grins. He blows an airy kiss into the room.
“The King cannot leave an unknown
fruit uneaten. He is curious, like most men, as to what a woman is like. Lady Anne is the forbidden fruit. Henry will move the heavens themselves to have her. She will not consent, until the ring is on her finger.”
“And what about Lady Mary?”
“Rumour has it,” Rafe says, “that her child is Henry’s, and that she still holds his interest.”
“Be careful not to misconstrue things,” Moshe says. He is new to Austin Friars, but already his devotion to facts, and evidence is firmly in place. “The King might just be being kind to the lady.”
Rafe and Will exchange smiles. It is easy to be kind to a beautiful woman. She must be spoken to. Will makes a note. It is for him to do, as soon as possible, and without upsetting the King.
“Do we know why Percy is at court?” Will asks. Rafe raises an eyebrow at this news. Harry Percy is the guardian of the northern border with the Scots, and should not be in the south.
“You must ask him,” Rafe tells his friend. “The King is still angry with Northumberland over Cardinal Wolsey’s death. He blames him for being too heavy handed over his arrest.”
“How do you arrest someone in a light handed way?” Will Draper wants to know.
“The King misses Wolsey,” Moshe puts in. “It is why he loves Cromwell so much. He thinks our master is a sorcerer too.”
“That’s enough of that talk,” Will Draper tells the young man. “The King is already half convinced that black arts are involved in your grandfather’s murder. He thinks a spirit slipped under the door with a dagger.”
“How long was Henry out of the room?”
“I thought of that, Rafe. He has a suite of rooms along the west corridor. Two adjoining rooms on one side, and two more directly across the way, Henry closed the door behind him and crossed to the opposite room. His seal was in a cabinet there, you see. He left this door ajar, and could see the door to where Isaac was waiting. No one came near it. He retrieved the seal, and went back.”
“To find my grandfather dead.” Moshe made a sucking noise with his teeth. “If Henry was not your King, the hangman’s noose would already be about his neck, Master Will.”
“The King has nothing to gain with Isaac’s death,” Rafe says, again. They go around in circles for a little while longer, then Will Draper decides to return to York Place. There are difficult questions waiting to be asked.
“Here,” Thomas Cromwell hands Will a folded parchment. It has Henry’s seal on it. “A warrant from the King. It commands any and all of his subjects to put themselves at your disposal. You may ask what you like, of whom ever you like.”
“Anyone?”
“The King understands that you will be discreet over the matter of Lady Mary’s presence last night.” Thomas Cromwell understands discretion. There are things in his memory that no man should know, and live. “She is in the next room to where the murder was done. I suggest you speak to her now, and get her back to Esher, before Lady Anne begins to suspect.”
“To suspect what, master?” Will asks, open faced. Cromwell cannot help but grin. Will Draper will go far in his employ.
“She is unchaperoned,” he says. “Keep the table between you at all times, Will!”
Lady Mary Boleyn is bored. She expects Henry to arrive at any moment, with a suitable thank you for the night before. Instead, the door opens, and Captain Draper slides in.
“My lady.” He bows.
“Have you come from the King?”
“I have, Lady Mary. He commands me to ask you questions about the events of this morning.”
“Has he lost his tongue?” Mary Boleyn says. “He put it to a fine enough use last night.”
“What time did His Majesty leave you this morning?”
“They teach impertinence in Ireland these days, do they?”
“Forgive me, but I must have answers.” He shows the letter from Henry, and she cannot hide her surprise. The King has given Captain Draper a powerful weapon.
“He rose about seven, and left my chamber. I dressed, and followed about eight thirty.”
“Are you sure of the time?”
The odd half hour was of little importance around the court, with only a few rooms furnished with candle clocks or hourglasses, but Henry’s suite is furnished better than any other part of the palace, thanks to Wolsey.
“The clock in this room was lit. It showed the time well enough.”
“It was lit?” Will is confused, but cannot put his finger on that which causes it.
“Of course. What is this all about, Will?” She moves closer, and the young man sidles away, keeping a respectable distance between them.
“Did you hear any noises from next door?”
“The King’s office?” She frowns. “Not that I recall. I was in here until just shy of nine, then left to walk in the garden. It is cold, but dry enough.”
“And you saw no one?”
“No. Unless you mean that funny old man.”
“Describe him.” Mary describes Isaac to the inch.
“He passed me as I went out. I thought it odd that Henry had no guard on his door.”
“Did you pass anyone else?”
“Only in the outer court. I had the misfortune to meet with Uncle Norfolk. He was unpleasant to me, as usual.”
“Will he tell your sister?”
“Never. He wants her and Henry bedded and wedded as soon as possible. It does not serve his purpose to upset her. Besides, I know where all the Howard family skeletons are buried.”
“Such knowledge is a two edged sword,” Will tells her. “Who else did you see?”
“Charles Brandon was lounging about. He was hoping to trap Henry into a game of cards. The silly man is out of funds again. I asked him what game he would play, and he said ‘Milk the Jew’. Do you know it, Will?”
“A sad little game, my lady,” Will says. “Did you see anyone further? Think hard, Mary.”
“I shall, for you, Will.” She closes in again. “Henry is not the vigorous man he used to be. I do my duty, but I long for a more… robust lover during these long, cold nights.”
“I am to be married.”
“His Majesty is still married,” Mary says, laughing. “Your little Spanish bride cannot satisfy you every night of the week. Come to me at Esher, and I will broaden your outlook on life.”
“My lady… the others you saw?”
“None of any import. A couple of servants, a guard at the outer court door, and that handsome friend of yours.”
“My friend?”
“Percy’s fellow. Though he claims he is in Henry’s service now, because of your influence with Cromwell.”
“Harry Cork. Yes, he is a good sort. What was he about?”
“Loitering, like all of Thomas Cromwell’s young men. They lean on walls and listen to idle chatter. Then they pass it on to your master, and he weaves it into useful fact. So, he was listening in to Norfolk shouting at me, and to Suffolk talking about hunting with Percy’s shadow.”
“Sir Andrew Jennings, you mean?”
“Yes, he was attached to Charles Brandon like a barnacle to a ship’s keel.”
“Your seafaring knowledge impresses me.” Will is making mental notes. “And what was Percy doing?”
“Percy? Why, now I come to think of it, I did not see him.”
“Thank you, Lady Mary,” Will Draper says. “ You have been of great service. Master Cromwell has a couple of men about court, and they can escort you back to Esher, if you wish.”
“Thank you, but no. Henry has gentlemen with tight lips who will take me. My sister Anne believes Cromwell is her man, and it will not do to disabuse her.” Then she kisses him. Before he can avoid it, her lips brush his. He is tempted to enfold her in his arms, but knows it might cost him his head. Instead, he pretends not to have noticed, and takes his leave, bowing low.
There is sweat on his brow. He considers what she has told him, and decides to confirm her story with her volatile uncle. The Duke of Norfolk is not a pleasan
t man, and he dislikes Thomas Cromwell. Then again, Will recalls, he dislikes everyone.
10 The Aristocrats
Norfolk is occupying a window seat in the outer court. He recognises Will, and beckons him to come over. Draper places his left hand on his sword hilt, removes his cap, and executes a smart bow.
“By God’s holy virgin bride,” Norfolk declares, “but I do like a man with military style. Come here Captain, and tell me what in Christ’s bloody name is going on?”
“I have here, a warrant from the King,” Will says, and Norfolk blanches, and takes a small, backward step. Great men can have great falls, and he wonders what he has done to deserve this. Draper realises at once that the Duke of Norfolk has misunderstood. He holds the paper out for examination.
“Pray be at your ease, my Lord,” he says. “It is not that kind of warrant. God spare me from ever having to serve such a thing on your grace!” He has hit the right note. Norfolk likes to be adored as a great man, and believes that common folk love him for his good breeding.
“I wonder what Thomas Cromwell would do if he ever had to arrest me,” he says. “Shit himself?”
“No sir. He would obey the King,” Will says. “First, he would make sure the warrant was legally drawn up, then he would send a messenger, asking when he might call to arrest you. Your Lordship would be well advised to reply from France, or the Netherlands.”
Norfolk smiles at this. The soldier has some brains as well as military skills. Reply from France indeed! He laughs, loud enough for everyone in the great hall to turn and stare.
“I don’t much care for the life of a pauper in a foreign land,” he says, once his laughter subsides.
“Talk to Master Cromwell, my Lord,” Will replies. “Let him lodge part of your wealth with our contacts in Paris, or Florence. They say both cities are beautiful places to live.”
“I shall do as you suggest, young man.” Norfolk is in a good mood now, ready to be spoken to. Will clears his throat.
