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XCI

“I know not how, precisely. But it disturbs my conscience.” What disturbed my conscience, truly, was the putting away of a good woman for no other fault than not exciting me.

“It need not be done at all!” he said merrily. “Perhaps these pricklings of conscience are showing you another way, the most righteous way!”

Any chance that his handiwork would survive elated him. But it could not be.

“Nay, it must be done. It is necessary for the realm that I have a true Queen and perhaps other heirs. It would give Edward comfort, too, not to carry the burden alone.”

Cromwell nodded, as he had to; wondering if a new Queen on the throne would represent all manner of connections he had sought to quash.

I turned quickly and swung round to glance at the parchments spread out on his work-surface. They were innocent enough, or seemed to be. One never knew. They might contain codes; I knew he had devised some. To disguise his plans?

I then let my eyes search his chamber. The light was so poor it was difficult to see into the far corners. I thought I saw a shelf laden with odd-shaped vessels. Abruptly I made my way to it, taking one of the candles with me. Behind me I could hear Cromwell following anxiously.

Yes, it was a row of jars and bottles and little boxes. Some were evidently quite ancient; I could tell by the worm-eaten wood.

“What are these things?” I asked. I reached out and took one, a rounded container with a hinged lid. Inside was some sort of ointment. I took a smear of it. It smelt vile, like a decaying animal.

“I said, what is in these containers?” I repeated. How dare he not answer forthwith?

“I—it is—medicines seized from the monastic infirmaries,” he finally said. “That one you hold—it was used to help failing hearts... you remember ... as Carew had, that time in the cave—”

Carew. Yes. Unfortunately, his heart had finally ceased to beat due to his treason, not to his disease. But for others who had the same affliction... ?

“Is it efficacious?”

“Indeed! It saved many lives; the monks of that abbey were noted for that particular cure.”

“Why, then, have you not made it available to our own physicians?”

“The monks—it would reflect well on them if it were known that they had devised such cures. No, I prefer—”

“You prefer to hoard these medicines here! You prefer men to die rather than think well of the monks!”

“It is necessary to discredit the monks!” he insisted.

“Necessary for whom, Cromwell?” I murmured.

The clock outside struck the half hour. I used listening to the clock as a pretext to approach the window-seat laden with the mysterious books.

“Ah, yes,” I mumbled, opening the casement. I stuck my head out and rested my left hand on the sill, quite nds were raw. There, now they should be clean! I held them out to receive a coat of perfumed lotion.

I called for a Privy Council meeting in mid-morning. I wanted to give them their assignments, make my humiliating “confession,” and have done with it. By this time tomorrow, I kept reminding myself, it would all be over.

I sat alone in the chamber, awaiting them. I was all attired in sombre garments, befitting a less than joyous occasion. Brandon and Wyatt would carry the message to Anne, I had decided. As for the horrible acknowledgment—the entire Privy Council would have to hear it, to make it both official and binding.

The first man into the chamber was William Paget. Stolid and utterly colourless and reliable, he was Secretary of the Council. He coughed and bowed deeply to me, then quietly took his place and awaited the others.

Within three minutes William Petre arrived, clad likewise in colourless, drab attire. On his heels came Audley and Sadler. As they took their places, I could not help but think of wrens and poor winter birds sitting in dreary tiers on bare December branches.

Then came the Old Men, all resplendent in luscious colours and sumptuous fabrics. Norfolk, of course, as ranking peer of England, draped in velvet; Suffolk, in cloth-of-gold;