London - Edward Rutherfurd [313]
“I had not thought I could,” he remarked. And best of all, his conscience was clear.
Thomas Meredith smiled. “I’m glad,” he said.
It had not been so difficult. He had taken the greatest care, made Rowland repeat the words after him so that his lawyer’s mind could precisely understand their significance; and then, satisfied that his religion was not compromised, Rowland had sworn the oath.
Thomas had simply administered the wrong oath.
Or, to be precise, he had doctored it. The oath he had administered to his brother-in-law was hardly different from the one he had been prepared to swear about the succession the previous year. Above all, after a brief mention of Henry’s supremacy, he had added a crucial saving clause: “As far as the Word of God allows.” It was an old stand-by of the Church, this little clause, and they both knew it. With this qualifier, good Catholics could, if necessary, disclaim any improper interpretation the king might place upon the oath in the future. With it, Henry’s claim to supremacy became virtually meaningless. Had even the Charterhouse monks been allowed this saver, they too could have sworn in good conscience.
“I am surprised the king allowed the disclaimer,” Rowland remarked.
“It’s a special dispensation,” Thomas lied. “Those who opposed him publicly are being given a tougher oath. But nobody wants to embarrass loyal men like yourself. You mustn’t discuss it though. If anyone asks, just say you’ve taken the oath. You know what you’ve sworn to: that’s enough.” And though Rowland frowned a little, he agreed to abide by this.
Let’s just pray, Thomas thought, that it works.
“I must go now,” he said aloud. “I have to report to the king.” And then turned in surprise, as he saw Susan, with a look of horror on her face, staring out of the window.
Cromwell did not trouble to knock on the door. He stepped straight in. Two assistants hovered just outside while two men-at-arms waited by his barge.
“I have administered the oath,” Thomas began, but Cromwell cut him short.
“Rowland Bull,” the secretary’s face was turned to the lawyer. The small, deadly eyes seemed to see no one else. “Do you accept the king’s supremacy in all matters temporal and spiritual?”
Rowland was very pale now. He glanced at Thomas for guidance, then at Susan. “Yes,” he replied hesitantly. “As far as the Word of God allows.”
“Word of God?” Cromwell shot a glance at Thomas then stared at Rowland. “Never mind the Word of God, Master Bull. Do you or do you not, without any disclaimer, acknowledge King Henry as Supreme Head in matters spiritual? Yes or no?”
There was an agonizing pause.
“I cannot.”
“As I thought. Treason. Open and shut case. Say goodbye to your wife.” He called outside to his assistants. “Bring the guards.”
And only then did he turn to Thomas. “You fool,” he muttered. “Thought you’d save him with a let-out clause, then tell the king he’d taken the oath?” Thomas was too shocked even to answer. “Don’t you realize,” Cromwell growled, “the king wasn’t interested in this fellow. He was testing you. Wanted to see what you’d do. He was going to send someone else to give him the oath afterwards, to check up on you.” He grunted. “I’ve just saved your life.” Then, turning back to Rowland: “Your life, I’m afraid, you have just lost.” He nodded curtly to Susan. “You can give him some clothes. He’s going with us now, to the Tower.”
Father Peter Meredith received two visitors at the Charterhouse that day. He was a little unwell, so he remained seated in his cell while old Will Dogget brought them to him. The first was Susan. She was very quiet as she stood before him, yet he thought he detected a faint note of reproach as well as desperation in her