Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [459]
He looked at her suspiciously, surprised that she seemed so self-possessed. Then he decided to say no more, and went heavily down the stairs again.
He would unravel the mystery in due course, but one thought in particular occupied his mind: whatever was going on – and he could hardly believe she was unfaithful – in all their years of married life, it had never occurred to him that she could lie.
There were other important matters to occupy his mind though. For the long-awaited council meeting was held two days later.
It was a source of frustration to him, which sometimes almost bordered upon rage, that although in certain matters he could usually command support among the seniors, on this, which was closest to his heart, he could get none.
He pleaded. He thundered. The message was as simple as it was obvious:
“We must prepare for war with Spain. We must set aside funds and vote supplies.” And most recently he had sometimes added menacingly: “It will look ill if we do not support the queen and her Church.”
Each month the situation became more serious. There was an air of unrest in several parts of the country.
For once, under the threat of Spanish-inspired insurgency, Elizabeth had been forced to take stern religious measures, subjecting Catholics who refused to conform outwardly to enormous fines; and the secret agents of her servant Walsingham were everywhere.
And in Sarum, no one would listen.
He made a powerful speech that day. He saw nods of approval, and believed that, for once, he had got through.
Until a stout burgess rose.
“Wars are expensive, Edward Shockley. Let us hear no more about them here.”
“But if the Spanish come . . .” he protested.
“There is an arms store.”
A collection of pikes and antiquated swords.
He had failed again.
But in another sense, his words had struck home more than he knew, and in unexpected ways. For it was only three days later that a small deputation from Wilton came to see him. They greeted him respectfully, then came straight to their point.
“Edward Shockley, we are the neighbours of John Moody. You must tell him to leave your business. We no longer want him and his family amongst us.”
“Why?”
“They are Catholics.”
“But they conform,” he protested.
It had been a struggle. Though the Moodys were deeply concerned by the messages the Jesuits brought – that the comfortable assumption that Catholics might attend the Church of England services was false – he had after many hours persuaded John Moody to sacrifice his conscience, at least for the time being.
“Catholics are traitors. They think treacherous thoughts.”
He glared at them. Treachery was one thing: religious faith another. This was the whole point of the Elizabethan settlement.
“Moody will work for me as long as he pleases,” he stormed. The next day he told Moody about it, so that he should be on his guard. “But they’ll have to prove treason against you,” he assured him, “before I cease to be your friend.”
It was with an unquiet mind that he faced the winter.
There was one unexpected interlude of pure pleasure however, that took place shortly afterwards.
For as part of his plan – whatever it was – young Giles Forest invited him to accompany him, one fine day, to the great house at Wilton.
It was a large party, gathered to watch one of the companies of actors who came frequently to Lord Pembroke’s splendid estate, and though he knew there must be an ulterior motive, Edward was delighted to go.
He had never been inside Wilton House before.
It proved to be a noble building.
“Though it is smaller, it has features like the queen’s great palace of Nonesuch,” Giles told him. “They say that Holbein himself designed it for Lord Pembroke,” he added.
It had a long, grey façade with a splendid square tower at its centre, an elaborate formal garden at one side and a peaceful view over the river Nadder that flowed softly just a few hundred yards from its door. It was, Shockley thought appreciatively,