‘God help the pair of you,’ Katharine said. ‘Have ye descended to cellar work now?’
‘Madam Howard,’ the voice came, ‘for what manner of man do you take me? I am a very proper man that do love virtue. There are few such philosophers as I since I came out of Italy.’
It was certain to her now that Privy Seal, having seen her thick with the Bishop of Winchester, had delivered her into the hands of this vulture. ‘If you have a knife,’ she said, ‘put it into me soon. God will look kindly on you and I would pardon you half the crime.’ She closed her eyes and began to pray.
‘Madam Howard,’ he answered, in a lofty tone of aggrievement, ‘the door is on the latch: the latch is at your hand to be found for a little fumbling: get you gone if you will not trust me.’
‘Aye: you have cut-throats without,’ Katharine said. She prayed in silence to Mary and the saints to take her into the kingdom of heaven with a short agony here below. Nevertheless, she could not believe that she was to die: for being still young, though death was always round her, she believed herself born to be immortal.
The sweat was cold upon her face; but Throckmorton was upbraiding her in a lofty nasal voice.
‘I am an honourable knight,’ he cried, in his affected and shocked tones. ‘If I have undone men, it was for love of the republic. I have nipped many treasons in the bud. The land is safe for a true man, because of my work.’
‘You are a werewolf,’ she shuddered; ‘you eat your brother.’
‘Why, enough of this talk,’ he answered. ‘I offer you a service, will you take it? I am the son of a gentleman: I love wisdom for that she alone is good. Virtue I love for virtue’s sake, and I serve my King. What more goeth to the making of a proper man? You cannot tell me.’
His voice changed suddenly:
‘If you do hate a villain, now is the time to prove it. Would you have him down? Then tell your gossip Winchester that the time approaches to strike, and that I am ready to serve him. I have done some good work for the King’s Highness through Privy Seal. But my nose is a good one. I begin to smell out that Privy Seal worketh treasonably.’
‘You are a mad fool to think to trick me,’ Katharine said. ‘Neither you nor I, nor any man, believes that Privy Seal would work a treason. You would trick me into some foolish utterances. It needed not a cellar in a cut-throat’s gully for that.’
‘Madam Spitfire,’ his voice answered, ‘you are a true woman; I a true man. We may walk well together. Before the Most High God I wish you no ill.’
‘Then let me go,’ she cried. ‘Tell me your lies some other where.’
‘The latch is near your hand still,’ he said. ‘But I will speak to you no other where. It is only here in the abode of murder and evil men that in these evil times a man may speak his mind and fear no listener.’
She felt tremulously for the latch; it gave, and its rattling set her heart on the jump. When she pulled the door ajar she heard voices in the distant street. It rushed through her mind that he was set neither on murder nor unspeakable things. Or, indeed, he had cut-throats waiting to brain her on the top step. She said tremulously:
‘Tell me what you will with me in haste!’
‘Why, I have bidden your barge fellows wait for you,’ he answered. ‘Till cock-crow if need were. They shall not leave you. They fear me too much. Shut the door again, for you dread me no more.’
Her knees felt suddenly limp and she clung to the latch for support; she believed that Mary had turned the heart of this villain. He repeated that he smelt treason working in the mind of an evil man, and that he would have her tell the Bishop of Winchester.
‘I did bring you here, for it is the quickest way. I came to you for I saw that you were neither craven nor fool: nor high placed so that it would be dangerous to be seen talking with you later, when you understood my good will. And I am drawn towards you since you come from near my home.’
Katharine said hurriedly, between her prayers:
‘What will you of me? No man cometh to a woman without seeking something from her.’
‘Why, I would have you look favourably upon me,’ he answered. ‘I am a goodly man.’
‘I am meat for your masters,’ she answered with bitter contempt. ‘You have the blood of my kin on your hands.’
He sighed, half mockingly.
‘If you will not give me your favours,’ he said in a low, laughing voice, ‘I would have you remember me according as my aid is of advantage to you.’
‘God help you,’ she said; ‘I believe now that you have it in mind to betray your master.’
‘I am a man that can be very helpful,’ he answered, with his laughing assurance that had always in it the ring of a sneer. ‘Tell Bishop Gardiner again, that the hour approaches to strike if these cowards will ever strike.’
Katharine felt her pulses beat more slowly.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I tell you very plainly that I will not work for the advancement of the Bishop of Winchester. He turned me loose upon the street to-night after I had served him, with neither guard to my feet nor bit to my mouth. If my side goes up, he may go with it, but I love him not.’
‘Why, then, devise with the Duke of Norfolk,’ he answered after a pause. ‘Gardiner is a black rogue and your uncle a yellow craven; but bid them join hands till the time comes for them to cut each other’s throats.’
‘You are a foul dog to talk thus of noblemen,’ she said.
He answered:
‘Oh, la! You have little to thank your uncle for. What do you want? Will you play for your own hand? Or will you partner those two against the other?’
‘I will never partner with a spy and a villain,’ she cried hotly.
He cried lightly:
‘Ohé, Goosetherumfoodle! You will say differently before long. If you will fight in a fight you must have tools. Now you have none, and your situation is very parlous.’
‘I stand on my legs, and no man can touch me,’ she said hotly.
‘But two men can hang you to-morrow,’ he answered. ‘One man you know; the other is the Sieur Gardiner. Cromwell hath contrived that you should write a treasonable letter; Gardiner holdeth that letter’s self.’
Katharine braved her own sudden fears with:
‘Men are not such villains.’
‘They are as occasion makes them,’ he answered, with his voice of a philosopher. ‘What manner of men these times breed you should know if you be not a fool. It is very certain that Gardiner will hang you, with that letter, if you work not into his goodly hands. See how you stand in need of a counsellor. Now you wish you had done otherwise.’
She said hotly:
‘Never. So I would act again to-morrow.’
‘Oh fool madam,’ he answered. ‘Your cousin’s province was never to come within a score miles of the cardinal. Being a drunkard and a boaster he was sent to Paris to get drunk and to boast.’
The horror of the blackness, the damp, the foul smell, and all this treachery made her voice faint. She stammered:
‘Shew me a light, or let the door be opened. I am sick.’
‘Neither,’ he answered. ‘I am as much as you in peril. With a light men may see in at the casement; with an open door they may come eavesdropping. When you have been in this world as long as I you will love black night as well.’
Her brain swam for a moment.
‘My cousin was never in this plot against me,’ she uttered faintly.
He answered lightly:
‘You may keep your faith in that toppet. Where you are a fool is to have believed that Privy Seal, who is a wise man, or Viridus, who is a philosopher after my heart, would have sent such a sot and babbler on such a tickle errand.’
‘He was sent!’ protested Katharine.
‘Aye, he was sent to blab about it in every tavern in Paris town. He was sent to frighten the Red Cap out of Paris town. He was suffered to blab to you that you might set your neck in a noose and be driven to be a spy.’
His s
oft chuckle came through the darkness like an obscene applause of a successful villainy; it was as if he were gloating over her folly and the rectitude of her mind.
‘Red Cap was working mischief in Paris—but Red Cap is timorous. He will go post haste back to Rome, either because of your letter or because of your cousin’s boasting. But there are real and secret murderers waiting for him in every town in Italy on the road to Rome. Some are at Brescia, some at Rimini: at Padua there is a man with his neck, like yours, in a noose. It is a goodly contrivance.’
‘You are a vile pack,’ Katharine said, and once more the smooth and unctuous sound came from his invisible throat.
‘How shall you decide what is vileness, or where will you find a virtuous man?’ he asked. ‘Maybe you will find some among the bones of your old Romans. Yet your Seneca, in his day, did play the villain. Or maybe some at the Court of Mahound. I know not, for I was never there. But here is a goodly world, with prizes for them that can take them. Yet virtue may still flourish, for I have done middling well by serving my country. Now I am minded to retire into my lands, to cultivate good letters and to pursue virtue. For here about the Courts there are many distractions. The times are evil times. Yet will I do one good stroke more before I go.’
Katharine said hotly:
‘If you go down into Lincolnshire, I will call upon every man there to fall upon you and hang you.’
‘Why,’ he said, ‘that is why I did come to you, since you are from where my lands are. If I serve you, I would have you to smooth my path there. I ask no more, for now I crave rest and a private life. It is very assured that I should never find that here or in few parts of the land—so well I have served my King. Therefore, if I serve you, you and yours shall cast above my retired farms and my honourable leisure the shadow of your protection. I ask no more.’ He chuckled almost inaudibly. ‘I am set to watch you,’ he said. ‘Viridus will go to Paris to catch another traitor called Brancetor, for the world is full of traitors. Therefore, in a way, it rests with me to hang you.’
He seemed to be seated upon a cask, for there was a creaking of old wood, and he spoke very leisurely.
Katharine said, ‘Good night, and God send you better thoughts.’
‘Why, stay, and I will be brief,’ he pleaded. ‘I dally because it is sweet talking to a fair woman in a black place.’
‘You are easily content, for all the sweet words you get from me,’ she scorned him.
‘See you,’ he said earnestly. ‘It is true that I am set to watch you. I love you because you are fair; I might bend you, since I hold you in the hollow of my hand. But I am a continent man, and there is here a greater stake to be had than any amorous satisfaction. I would save my country from a man who has been a friend, but is grown a villain. Listen.’
He appeared to pause to collect his words together.
‘Baumbach, the Saxish ambassador, is here seeking to tack us to the Schmalkaldner heresies. Yesterday he was with Privy Seal, who loveth the Lutheran alliance. So Privy Seal takes him to his house, and shows him his marvellous armoury, which is such that no prince nor emperor hath elsewhere. So says Privy Seal to Baumbach: “I love your alliance; but his Highness will naught of it.” And he fetched a heavy sigh.’
Katharine said:
‘What is this hearsay to me?’
‘He fetched a heavy sigh,’ Throckmorton continued. ‘An your uncle or Gardiner knew how heavy a sigh it was their hearts would be very glad.’
‘This means that the King’s Highness is very far from Privy Seal?’ Katharine asked.
‘His Highness hateth to do business with small princelings.’ Throckmorton seemed to laugh at the King’s name. ‘His high and princely stomach loveth only to deal with his equals, who are great kings. I have seen the letters that have passed about this Cleves wedding. Not one of them is from his Highness’ hand. It is Privy Seal alone that shall bear the weight of the blow when rupture cometh.’
‘Well, she is a foul slut,’ Katharine said, and her heart was full of sympathy for the heavy King.
‘Nay, she is none such,’ Throckmorton answered. ‘If you look upon her with an unjaundiced eye, she will pass for a Christian to be kissed. It is not her body that his Highness hateth, but her fathering. This is a very old quarrel betwixt him and Privy Seal. His Highness hath been wont to see himself the arbiter of the Christian world. Now Privy Seal hath made of him an ally of German princelings. His Highness loveth the Old Faith and the old royal ways. Now Privy Seal doth seek to make him take up the faith of Schmalkaldners, who are a league of bakers and unfrocked monks. Madam Howard, I tell you that if there were but one man that could strike after the new Parliament is called together …’
Katharine cried:
‘The very stones that Cromwell hath soaked with blood will rise to fall upon him when the King’s feet no longer press them down.’
Throckmorton laughed almost inaudibly.
‘Norfolk feareth Gardiner for a spy; Gardiner feareth the ambition of Norfolk; Bonner would sell them both to Privy Seal for the price of an archbishopric. The King himself is loth to strike, since no man in the land could get him together such another truckling Parliament as can Privy Seal.’
He stopped speaking and let his words soak into her in the darkness, and after a long pause her voice came back to her.
‘It is true that I have heard no man speak as you do.… I can see that his dear Highness must be hatefully inclined to this filthy alliance.’
‘Why, you are minded to come into my hut with me,’ he chuckled. ‘There are few men so clear in the head as I am. So listen again to me. If you would strike at this man, it is of no avail to meddle with him at home. It shall in no way help you to clamour of good monks done to death, of honest men ruined, of virgins thrown on to dung-heaps. The King hath had the pence of these good monks, the lands of these honest men, and the golden neck-collars off these virgins.’
She called out, ‘Keep thy tongue off this sacred King’s name. I will listen to no more lewdness.’
A torch passing outside sent a moving square of light through the high grating across the floor of the cellar. The damp walls became dimly visible with shining snail-tracks on them, and his great form leaning negligently upon a cask, his hand arrested in the pulling of his long beard, his eyes gleaming upon her, sardonic and amused. The light twisted round abruptly and was gone.
‘You are monstrous fair,’ he said, and sighed. She shuddered.
‘No,’ his mocking voice came again, ‘speak not to the King—not to whomsoever you shall elect to speak to the King—of this man’s work at home. The King shall let him go very unwillingly, since no man can so pack a Parliament to do the King’s pleasure. And he hath a nose for treasons that his Highness would give his own nose to possess.’
‘Keep thy tongue off the King’s name,’ she said again.
He laughed, and continued pensively: ‘A very pretty treason might be made up of his speech before his armoury to Baumbach. Mark again how it went. Says he: “Here are such weaponings as no king, nor prince, nor emperor hath in Christendom. And in this country of ours are twenty gentlemen, my friends, have armouries as great or greater.” Then he sighs heavily, and saith: “But our King will never join with your Schmalkaldners. Yet I would give my head that he should.” … Your madamship marks that this was said to the ambassador from the Lutheran league?’
‘You cannot twist that into a treason,’ Katharine whispered.
‘No doubt,’ he said reasonably, ‘such words from a minister to an envoy are but a courtesy, as one would say, “I fain would help you, but my master wills it not.” ’
The voice suddenly grew crafty. ‘But these words, spoken before an armoury and the matter of twenty gentlemen with armouries greater. Say that these twenty are creatures of my Lord Cromwell, implicitur, for the Lutheran cause. And again, the matter, “No king hath such an armoury.” … No king, I would have you observe.’
‘Why, this is monstrous foolish pettifogging,
’ Katharine said. ‘No king would believe a treason in such words.’
‘I call to mind Gilmaw of Hurstleas, near our homes,’ the voice came, reflectively.
‘I did know him,’ said Katharine. ‘You had his head.’
‘You never heard how Privy Seal did that,’ the voice came back mockingly. ‘Goodman Gilmaw had many sheep died of the rot because it rained seven weeks on end. So, coming back from a market-day, with too much ale for prudence and too little for silence, he cried, “Curse on this rain! The weather was never good since knaves ruled about the King.” So that came to the ears of Privy Seal, who made a treason of it, and had his sheep, and his house, and his lands, and his head. He was but one in ten thousand that have gone the same road home from market and made speeches as treasonable.’
‘Thus poor Gilmaw died?’ Katharine asked. ‘What a foul world this is!’
‘Time it was cleansed,’ he answered.
He let his words rankle for a time, then he said softly: ‘Privy Seal’s words before his armoury were as treasonable as Gilmaw’s on the market road.’
Again he paused.
‘Privy Seal may call thee to account for such a treason,’ he said afterwards. ‘He holdeth thee in a hollow of his hand.’ She did not speak.
He said softly: ‘It is a folly to be too proud to fight the world with the world’s weapons.’
The heavy darkness seemed to thrill with her silence. He could tell neither whether she were pondering his words nor whether she still scorned him. He could not even hear her breathing.