CHAPTER X
PLACENTIA
The river-front of Greenwich House was a magnificent sight as the fourmen came up to it one morning nearly three weeks later. The longtwo-storied row of brick buildings which Henry had named Placentia, withtheir lines of windows broken by the two clusters of slender towers, andporticos beneath, were fronted by broad platforms and a strip of turfwith steps leading down to the water, and at each of these entrancesthere continually moved brilliant figures, sentries with the sunlightflashing on their steel caps and pike-points, servants in the royallivery, watermen in their blue and badges.
Here and there at the foot of the steps rocked gaudy barges, a mass ofgilding and colour, with broad low canopies at the stern, and flagsdrooping at the prow; wherries moved to and fro, like water-beetles,shooting across from bank to bank with passengers, above and below thepalace, or pausing with uplifted oars as the stream swept them down, forthe visitors to stare and marvel at the great buildings. Behind rose upthe green masses of trees against the sloping park. And over all lay theJuly sky, solemn flakes of cloud drifting across a field of intenseblue.
There had been a delay in the fulfilment of the Archbishop's promise; atone time he himself was away in the country on affairs, at another timethe King was too much pressed, Cranmer reported, to have such a matterbrought before him; and then suddenly a messenger had come across fromLambeth with a letter, bidding them present themselves at Greenwich onthe following morning; for the day following that had been fixed forCromwell's execution, and the Archbishop hoped that the King would beready to hear a word on behalf of the agent whose loyalty had failed tosave his master.
* * * * *
The boatman suddenly backed water with his left-hand oar, took a strokeor two with his right, glancing over his shoulder; and the boat slid upto the foot of the steps.
A couple of watermen were already waiting there, in the Archbishop'slivery, and steadied the boat for the four gentlemen to step out; and amoment later the four were standing on the platform, looking about them.
They were at one of the smaller entrances to the palace, up-stream. Ahundred yards further down was the royal entrance, canopied andcarpeted, with the King's barge rocking at the foot, a number ofservants coming and going on the platform, and the great state windowsoverlooking all; but here they were in comparative quiet. A smalldoorway with its buff and steel-clad sentry before it opened on theirright into the interior of the palace.
One of the watermen saluted the party.
"Master Torridon?" he said.
Chris assented.
"My Lord bade me take you through to him, sir, as soon as you arrived."
He went before them to the door, said a word to the guard, and then theparty passed on through the little entrance-hall into the interior. Thecorridor was plainly and severely furnished with matting under-foot,chairs here and there set along the wainscot, pieces of stuff withcrossed pikes between hanging on the walls; through the bow windowsthey caught a glimpse now and again of a little court or two, ashrubbery and a piece of lawn, and once a vista of the park where Henryin his younger days used to hold his May-revels, a gallant and princelyfigure all in green from cap to shoes, breakfasting beneath the trees.
Continually, as they went, first in the corridor and then through thewaiting rooms at the end, they passed others going to and fro, servantshurrying on messages, leisurely and magnificent persons with their hatson, pages standing outside closed doors; and twice they were asked theirbusiness.
"For my Lord of Canterbury," answered the waterman each time.
It seemed to Chris that they must have gone an immense distance beforethe waterman at last stopped, motioning them to go on, and a page inpurple livery stepped forward from a door.
"For my Lord of Canterbury," said the waterman for the last time.
The page bowed, turned, and threw open the door.
They found themselves in a square parlour, carpeted and hung withtapestries from floor to ceiling. A second door opened beyond, in thewindow side, into another room. A round table stood in the centre, withbrocaded chairs about it, and a long couch by the fireplace. Oppositerose up the tall windows through which shone the bright river with thetrees and buildings on the north bank beyond.
They had hardly spoken a word to one another since they had leftCharing, for all that was possible had been said during the weeks ofwaiting for the Archbishop's summons.
Cranmer had received them kindly, though he had not committed himselfbeyond promising to introduce them to the King, and had expressed noopinion on the case.
He had listened to them courteously, had nodded quietly as Chrisexplained what it was that Ralph had done, and then almost withoutcomment had given his promise. It seemed as if the Archbishop could noteven form an opinion, and still less express one, until he had heardwhat his Highness had to say.
* * * * *
Chris walked to the window and the lawyer followed him.
"Placentia!" said Mr. Herries, "I do not wonder at it. It is even morepleasing from within."
He stood, a prim, black figure, looking out at the glorious view, theshining waterway studded with spots of colour, the long bank of theriver opposite, and the spires of London city lying in a blue heat-hazefar away to the left.
Chris stared at it too, but with unseeing eyes. It seemed as if allpower of sensation had left him. The suspense of the last weeks hadcorroded the surfaces of his soul, and the intensity to which it was nowrising seemed to have paralysed what was left. He found himselfpicturing the little house at Charing where Beatrice was waiting, and,he knew, praying; and he reminded himself that the next time he saw herhe would know all, whether death or life was to be Ralph's sentence. Thesolemn quiet and the air of rich and comfortable tranquillity which thepalace wore, and which had impressed itself on his mind even in thehundred yards he had walked in it, gave him an added sense of what itwas that lay over his brother, the huge passionless forces with which hehad become entangled.
Then he turned round. His father was sitting at the table, his head onhis hand; and Nicholas was staring round the grave room with thesolemnity of a child, looking strangely rustic and out of place in thesesurroundings.
It was very quiet as Chris leaned against the window-shutter, in hissecular habit, with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked. Oncea footstep passed in the corridor outside, and the floor vibratedslightly to the tread; once a horn blew somewhere far away; and from theriver now and again came the cry of a waterman, or the throb of oars inrowlocks.
Sir James looked up once, opened his lips as if to speak; and thendropped his head on to his hand again.
The waiting seemed interminable.
Chris turned round to the window once more, slipped his breviary out ofhis pocket, and opened it. He made the sign of the cross and began--
_"In nomine Patris et Filii...."_
Then the second door opened; he turned back abruptly; there was a rustleof silk, and the Archbishop came through in his habit and gown.
Chris bowed slightly as the prelate went past him briskly towards thetable where Sir James was now standing up, and searched his featureseagerly for an omen. There was nothing to be read there; his smoothlarge-eyed face was smiling quietly as its manner was, and his wide lipswere slightly parted.
"Good-day, Master Torridon; you are in good time. I am just come fromHis Highness, and will take you to him directly."
Chris saw his father's face blanch a little as he bowed in return.Nicholas merely stared.
"But we have a few minutes," went on the Archbishop. "Sir ThomasWriothesly is with him. Tell me again sir, what you wish me to say."
Sir James looked hesitatingly to the lawyer.
"Mr. Herries," he said.
Cranmer turned round, and again made that little half-deprecating bow tothe priest and the lawyer. Mr. Herries stepped forward as Cranmer satdown, clasping his hands so that the great amethyst showed on hissl
ender finger.
"It is this, my Lord," he said, "it is as we told your Lordship atLambeth. This gentleman desires the King's clemency towards Mr. RalphTorridon, now in the Tower. Mr. Torridon has served--er--Mr. Cromwellvery faithfully. We wish to make no secret of that. He destroyed certainprivate papers--though that cannot be proved against him, and you willremember that we were doubtful whether his Highness should be informedof that--"
Sir James broke in suddenly.
"I have been thinking of that, my Lord. I would sooner that the King'sGrace knew everything. I have no wish that that should be kept fromhim."
The Archbishop who had been looking with smiling attention from one tothe other, now himself broke in.
"I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot beproved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. IndeedI think I should have told him in any case."
"Then, my Lord, if you think well," went on Mr. Herries, "you might laybefore his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridondid burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have servedanything. Master Cromwell was cast without them."
"But Mr. Torridon did not know that?" questioned the Archbishop blandly.
"Yes, my Lord," cried Sir James, "he must have known--that my LordCromwell--"
The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately.
"Master Cromwell," he corrected.
"Master Cromwell," went on the old man, "he must have known that Mr.Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found andused against him."
"Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish toknow what I have to say to his Grace."
"He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand shouldbe lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!"
The Archbishop nodded quietly three or four times.
"And you desire that his Grace will take order to have Mr. Torridonreleased?"
"That is it, my Lord," said the lawyer.
"Yes, I understand. And can you give any pledge for Mr. Torridon's goodbehaviour?"
"He has served Mr. Cromwell," answered the lawyer, "very well for manyyears. He has been with him in the matter of the Religious Houses; hewas one of the King's Visitors, and assisted in the--the destruction ofLewes priory; and that, my Lord, is a sufficient--"
Sir James gave a sudden sob.
"Mr. Herries, Mr. Herries--"
Cranmer turned to him smiling.
"I know what you feel, sir," he said. "But if this is true--"
"Why, it is true! God help him," cried the old man.
"Then that is what we need, sir; as you said just now. Yes, Mr.Herries?"
The lawyer glanced at the old man again.
"That is sufficient guarantee, my Lord, that Mr. Ralph Torridon is noenemy of his Grace's projects."
"I cannot bear that!" cried Sir James.
Nicholas, who had been looking awed and open-mouthed from one to theother, took him by the arm.
"You must, father," he said. "It--it is devilish; but it is true. Chris,have you nothing?"
The monk came forward a step.
"It is true, my Lord," he said. "I was a monk of Lewes myself."
"And you have conformed," put in the Archbishop swiftly.
"I am living at home peaceably," said Chris; "it is true that my brotherdid all this, but--but my father wishes that it should not be used inhis cause."
"If it is true," said the Archbishop, "it is best to say it. We wantnothing but the bare truth."
"But I cannot bear it," cried the old man again.
Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father.
"Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understandswhat we think."
Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered.
"God help us! Do you think so, Chris."
"I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?"
The Archbishop bowed again slightly.
"Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands."
There was a tap at the door.
The Archbishop rose.
"That is our signal," he said. "Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be readyimmediately."
Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishopwent through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followedafter.
* * * * *
There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk's heart as he wentthrough. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, andyet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, notsharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King'spresence, almost without a tremor.
The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened itas the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors allround, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishopmade a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirtsabout him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of thesentry that stood in the lobby.
At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor throughwhich they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went itwas apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thickleather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificentpieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them,suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the doorof every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry ora servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop.He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once ortwice.
There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as of mingledstuffs and musk, which even the wide windows set open towards the gardenon the right hand did not wholly obliterate.
For the first time since leaving Charing, Chris's heart quickened. Theslow stages of approach to the formidable presence had begun to do theirwork; if he had seen the King at once he would not have been moved; ifhe had had an hour longer, he would have recovered from his emotion; butthis swift ordered approach, the suggestiveness of the thick carpetsand furniture, the sight of the silent figures waiting, the musky smellin the air, all combined now to work upon him; he began to fancy that hewas drawing nearer the presence of some great carrion-beast that hadmade its den here, that was guarded by these discreet servitors, and towhich this smooth prelate, in the r?le of the principal keeper, wasguiding him. Any of these before him might mark the sanctuary of thelabyrinth, where the creature lurked; one might open, and a savage facelook out, dripping blood and slaver.
A page threw back a door at last, and they passed through; but againthere was a check. It was but one more waiting room. The dozen persons,folks of all sorts, a lawyer, a soldier, and others stood up and bowedto the prelate.
Then the party sat down near the further door in dead silence, and theminutes began to pass.
There were cries from the river once or twice as they waited; once afootstep vibrated through the door, and twice a murmur of voices soundedand died again.
Then suddenly a hand was laid on the handle from the other side, and theArchbishop rose, with Sir James beside him.
There was still a pause. Then a voice sounded loud and near, and therewas a general movement in the room as all rose to their feet. The doorswung open and the Garter King-at-Arms came through, bland and smiling,his puffed silk sleeves brushing against the doorpost as he passed. Aface like a mask, smooth and expressionless, followed him, and nodded tothe Archbishop.
Cranmer turned slightly to his party, again made that little movement,and went straight through.
Chris followed with Mr. Herries.