The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [180]
“For maliciously misusing the King’s affection for his own worldly gain: guilty or no?”
A mumbled response. “Guilty.”
“For masquerading as a saint: guilty or no?”
“Guilty.”
“For gross ingratitude to his sovereign: guilty or no?”
“Guilty!” Theirow Ied, guilty on all counts as charged. Guilty as an errant traitor to your divinely appointed sovereign lord. Guilty in that your death was untruly called martyrdom, being canonized by the Bishop of Rome, because you had been a champion to the usurped authority and a bearer of the iniquity of the clergy. There appears nothing in your life and exterior behaviour whereby you should be called a saint, but rather esteemed to have been a rebel and traitor to your prince.”
I took a deep breath in the rarefied air of the opened shrine, before continuing.
“The sentence is this: in future you are to be called only Bishop Becket, and all mention of you in books of Common Prayer, lists of saints, and so forth, are to be stricken out.
“And we hereby condemn you to be burnt as a traitor, and your ashes scattered.”
I nodded to my unquestioning, obedient guards, who came forward, bent over the coffin, and began enfolding the bones within their robes of office. While we watched, they transferred the lumpy bundle—with a corner of the mitre protruding—to a new wooden chest, which they carried away.
A heavy feeling came upon the company, far heavier than when Becket’s remains were physically present. We could all hear the neat clicks of the guardsmen’s heels as they marched down the long length of the nave with their casket.
“There were, as I said, twenty-six cartloads of gold festooning the abomination that housed Becket’s miserable remains. I think an eighth-cartload for each of you who helped examine the justice of the matter would be most appropriate,” I said.
Thus I dismissed them. Even enriched as they were, there was no buoyancy in them as they took their leave and melted away into the gloom of the cathedral.
Only Cromwell remained, directly across from the emptied sarcophagus.
“Old bones smell ugly,” I finally said. “I would expect a fresh corpse to stink, or a waterlogged body. But this was clean, and dry.” I shook my head, wonderingly. The peculiar odour—of centuries of packaged, brooding death —was stronger than ever.
“It is done,” I said cheerfully, waving my hand—the one with the Becket ring on it.
Speak, Crum. Say something to banish the odd feeling I have inside ... a feeling I have not felt since ... I know not....
“Your Grace, this must end,” Cromwell said soberly. The taper lit only part of his face, but his words were chiselled and clear.
They said what I knew already.
“I understand that this was but a political gesture, made to give a little sport to the dull proceedings of dismantling and inventorying the vulgar, Papalist shrines,” he continued, putting the most flattering interpretation on it. “I understand it, but I fear it will be misunderstood by the people and exploited by your enemies. You are aware, Your Grace, that many already question your sanity? Your actions of late have played directly into the hands of your sworn enemies. It is you who are a traitor to yourself. For the law defines treason as ‘giving aid and comfort to the enemy’ and that is what you have been doing —by your lack of self-control, by your actions that are open to unkind, even malicious interpretations. Forgive me, Your Grace—” The boldness of his words now frightened him.
He had no way of knowing that it had all gone flat, that I was weary of my rebellion and bored with my schoolboyish howl against God, Who seemed—most humiliating of all—not to have taken much notice of it. Certainly He had not responded in any observable way.
LXXXIII
What had the past year of unthinking, pain-filled rampage gained me? I was forced to take a fearless look and confront the results.
I was certainly richer, from the plunder and seizure of the monastic property and shrines. Abbey plate and jewels and manuscripts and vestments now adorned my palaces, and I was buying the loyalty and support