Delphi Works of Ford Madox Ford (Illustrated) (194 page)

‘Before Jupiter!’ he said, ‘I can think of none for crying!’

The big black horse, with its bags before and behind the saddle, stirred, so that, standing upon one foot, he fell away from her. But he swung astride the saddle, his cloak flying, his long legs clasping round the belly. It reared and pawed the twilight mists, but he smote it over one ear with his palm, and it stood trembling.

‘This is a fine beast y’have given me,’ he said, pleasure thrilling his limbs.

‘I have given it a fine rider!’ she cried. He wheeled it near her and stooped right down to kiss her face. He was very sure in his saddle, having learned the trick of the stirrup from old Rowfant, that had taught the King.

‘Wife,’ he said, ‘I have bethought me of this:
Post equitem sedet
— —’ He faltered—’
sedet — Behind the rider sitteth
— But for the life of me I know not whether it be
atra cura
or no.’

And, as he left Paris gates behind him and speeded towards the black hills, bending low to face the cold wind of night, for the life of him he knew not whether black care sat behind him or no. Only, as night came down and he sped forward, he knew that he was speeding for England with the great news that the Duke of Cleves was seeking to make his peace with the Emperor and the Pope through the mediancy of the king of that land and, on the soft road, the hoofs of the horse seemed to beat out the rhythm of the words:

‘Crummock is down: Cromwell is down. Crummock is down: Cromwell is down.’

He rode all through the night thinking of these things, for, because he carried letters from the English ambassador to the King of England, the gates of no small town could stay his passing through.

I
V

Five men talked in the long gallery overlooking the River Thames. It was in the Lord Cromwell’s house, upon which the April showers fell like handsful of peas, with a sifting sound, between showers of sunshine that fell themselves like rain, so that at times all the long empty gallery was gilded with light and at times it was all saddened and frosty. They were talking all, and all with earnestness and concern, as all the Court and the city were talking now, of Katharine Howard whom the King loved.

The Archbishop leant against one side of a window, close beside him his spy Lascelles; the Archbishop’s face was round but worn, his large eyes bore the trace of sleeplessness, his plump hands were a little tremulous within his lawn sleeves.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘we must bow to the breeze. In time to come we may stand straight enow.’ His eyes seemed to plead with Privy Seal, who paced the gallery in short, pursy strides, his plump hands hidden in the furs behind his back. Lascelles, the Archbishop’s spy, nodded his head sagaciously; his yellow hair came from high on his crown and was brushed forward towards his brows. He did not speak, being in such high company, but looking at him, the Archbishop gained confidence from the support of his nod.

‘If we needs must go with the Lady Katharine towards Rome,’ he pleaded again, ‘consider that it is but for a short time.’ Cromwell passed him in his pacing and, unsure of having caught his ear, Cranmer addressed himself to Throckmorton and Wriothesley, the two men of forty who stood gravely, side by side, fingering their long beards. ‘For sure,’ Cranmer appealed to the three silent men, ‘what we must avoid is crossing the King’s Highness. For his Highness, crossed, hath a swift and sudden habit of action.’ Wriothesley nodded, and: ‘Very sudden,’ Lascelles allowed himself utterance, in a low voice. Throckmorton’s eyes alone danced and span; he neither nodded nor spoke, and, because he was thought to have a great say in the councils of Privy Seal, it was to him that Cranmer once more addressed himself urgently:

‘Full-bodied men who are come upon failing years are very prone to women. ‘Tis a condition of the body, a humour, a malady that passeth. But, while it lasteth, it must be bowed to.’

Cromwell, with his deaf face, passed once more before them. He addressed himself in brief, sharp tones to Wriothesley:

‘You say, in Paris an envoy from Cleves was come a week agone?’ and passed on.

‘It must be bowed to,’ Cranmer continued his speech. ‘I do maintain it. There is no way but to divorce the Queen.’ Again Lascelles nodded; it was Wriothesley this time who spoke.

‘It is a lamentable thing!’ and there was a heavy sincerity in his utterance, his pose, with his foot weightily upon the ground, being that of an honest man. ‘But I do think you have the right of it. We, and the new faith with us, are between Scylla and Charybdis. For certain, our two paths do lie between divorcing the Queen and seeing you, great lords, who so well defend us, cast down.’

Coming up behind him, Cromwell placed a hand upon his shoulder.

‘Goodly knight,’ he said, ‘let us hear thy thoughts. His Grace’s of Canterbury we do know very well. He is for keeping a whole skin!’

Cranmer threw up his hands, and Lascelles looked at the ground. Throckmorton’s eyes were filled with admiration of this master of his that he was betraying now. He muttered in his long, golden beard.

‘Pity we must have thy head.’

Wriothesley cleared his throat, and having considered, spoke earnestly.

‘It is before all things expedient and necessary,’ he said, ‘that we do keep you, my Lord Privy Seal, and you, my Lord of Canterbury, at the head of the State.’ That was above all necessary. For assuredly this land, though these two had brought it to a great pitch of wealth, clean living, true faith and prosperity, this land needed my Lord Privy Seal before all men to shield it from the treason of the old faith. There were many lands now, bringing wealth and commodity to the republic, that should soon again revert towards and pay all their fruits to Rome; there were many cleaned and whitened churches that should again hear the old nasty songs and again be tricked with gewgaws of the idolaters. Therefore, before all things, my Lord Privy Seal must retain the love of the King’s Highness —— Cromwell, who had resumed his pacing, stayed for a moment to listen.

‘Wherefore brought ye not news of why Cleves’ envoy came to Paris town?’ he said pleasantly. ‘All the door turneth upon that hinge.’

Wriothesley stuttered and reddened.

‘What gold could purchase, I purchased of news,’ he said. ‘But this envoy would not speak; his knaves took my gold and had no news. The King of France’s men — —’

‘Oh aye,’ Cromwell continued; ‘speak on about the other matter.’

Wriothesley turned his slow mind from his vexation in Paris, whence he had come a special journey to report of the envoy from Cleves. He spoke again swiftly, turning right round to Cromwell.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘study above all to please the King. For unless you guide us we are lost indeed.’

Cromwell worked his lips one upon another and moved a hand.

‘Aye,’ Wriothesley continued; ‘it can be done only by bringing the King’s Highness and the Lady Katharine to a marriage.’

‘Only by that?’ Cromwell asked enigmatically.

Throckmorton spoke at last:

‘Your lordship jests,’ he said; ‘since the King is not a man, but a high and beneficent prince with a noble stomach.’

Cromwell tapped him upon the cheek.

‘That you do see through a millstone I know,’ he said. ‘But I was minded to hear how these men do think. You and I do think alike.’

‘Aye, my lord,’ Throckmorton answered boldly. ‘But in ten minutes I must be with the Lady Katharine, and I am minded to hear the upshot of this conference.’

Cromwell laughed at him sunnily:

‘Go and do your message with the lady. An you hasten, you may return ere ever this conference ends, since slow wits like ours need a store of words to speak their minds with.’

Lascelles, the silent spy of the archbishop, devoured with envious eyes Throckmorton’s great back and golden beard. For his life he dared not speak three words unbidden in this company. But Throckmorton being gone the discussion renewed itself, Wriothesley speaking again.

He voiced always the same ideas, for the same motives: Cromwell must maintain his place at the cost of all things, for the sake of all these men who leaned upon him. And it was certain that the King loved this lady. If he had sent her few gifts and given her no titles nor farms, it was because — either of nature or to enhance the King’s appetite — she shewed a prudish disposition. But day by day and week in week out the King went with his little son in his times of ease to the rooms of the Lady Mary. And there he went, assuredly, not to see the glum face of the daughter that hated him, but to converse in Latin with his daughter’s waiting-maid of honour. All the Court knew this. Who there had not seen how the King smiled when he came new from the Lady Mary’s rooms? He was heavy enow at all other times. This fair woman that hated alike the new faith and all its ways had utterly bewitched and enslaved the King’s eyes, ears and understanding. If the King would have Katharine Howard his wife the King must have her. Anne of Cleves must be sent back to Germany; Cromwell must sue for peace with the Howard wench; a way must be found to bribe her till the King tired of her; then Katharine must go in her turn, once more Cromwell would have his own, and the Protestants be reinstated. Cromwell retained his silence; at the last he uttered his unfailing words with which he closed all these discussions:

‘Well, it is a great matter.’

The gusts of rain and showers of sun pursued each other down the river; the lights and shadows succeeded upon the cloaked and capped shapes of the men who huddled their figures together in the tall window. At last the Archbishop lost his patience and cried out:

‘What will you
do
? What will you
do
?’

Cromwell swung his figure round before him.

‘I will discover what Cleves will do in this matter,’ he said. ‘All dependeth therefrom.’

‘Nay; make a peace with Rome,’ Cranmer uttered suddenly. ‘I am weary of these strivings.’

But Wriothesley clenched his fist.

‘Before ye shall do that I will die, and twenty thousand others!’

Cranmer quailed.

‘Sir,’ he temporised. ‘We will give back to the Bishop of Rome nothing that we have taken of property. But the Bishop of Rome may have Peter’s Pence and the deciding of doctrines.’

‘Canterbury,’ Wriothesley said, ‘I had rather Antichrist had his old goods and gear in this realm than the handling of our faith.’

Cromwell drew in the air through his nostrils, and still smiled.

‘Be sure the Bishop of Rome shall have no more gear and no more guidance of this realm than his Highness and I need give,’ he said. ‘No stranger shall have any say in the councils of this realm.’ He smiled noiselessly again. ‘Still and still, all turneth upon Cleves.’

For the first time Lascelles spoke:

‘All turneth upon Cleves,’ he said.

Cromwell surveyed him, narrowing his eyes.

‘Speak you now of your wisdom,’ he uttered with neither friendliness nor contempt. Lascelles caressed his shaven chin and spoke:

‘The King’s Highness I have observed to be a man for women — a man who will give all his goods and all his gear to a woman. Assuredly he will not take this woman to his leman; his princely stomach revolteth against an easy won mastership. He will pay dear, he will pay his crown to win her. Yet the King would not give his policies. Neither would he retrace his steps for a woman’s sake unless Fate too cried out that he must.’

Cromwell nodded his head. It pleased him that this young man set a virtue sufficiently high upon his prince.

‘Sirs,’ he said, ‘daily have I seen this King in ten years, and I do tell ye no man knoweth how the King loves kingcraft as I know.’ He nodded again to Lascelles, whose small stature seemed to gain bulk, whose thin voice seemed to gain volume from this approval and from his ‘Speak on. About Cleves.’

‘Sirs,’ Lascelles spoke again, ‘whiles there remains the shade of a chance that Cleves’ Duke shall lead the princes of Germany against the Emperor and France, assuredly the King shall stay his longing for the Lady Katharine. He shall stay firm in his marriage with the Queen.’ Again Cromwell nodded. ‘Till then it booteth little to move towards a divorce; but if that day should come, then our Lord Privy Seal must bethink himself. That is in our lord’s mind.’

‘By Bacchus!’ Cromwell said, ‘your Grace of Canterbury hath a jewel in your crony and helper. And again I say, we must wait upon Cleves.’ He seemed to pursue the sunbeams along the gallery, then returned to say:

‘I know ye know I love little to speak my mind. What I think or how I will act I keep to myself. But this I will tell you:’ Cleves might have two minds in sending to France an envoy. On the one hand, he might be minded to abandon Henry and make submission to the Emperor and to Rome. For, in the end, was not the Duke of Cleves a vassal of the Emperor? It might be that. Or it might be that he was sending merely to ask the King of France to intercede betwixt him and his offended lord. The Emperor was preparing to wage war upon Cleves. That was known. And doubtless Cleves, desiring to retain his friendship with Henry, might have it in mind to keep friends with both. There the matter hinged, Cromwell repeated. For, if Cleves remained loyal to the King of England, Henry would hear nothing of divorcing Cleves’ sister, and would master his desire for Katharine.

‘Believe me when I speak,’ Cromwell added earnestly. ‘Ye do wrong to think of this King as a lecher after the common report. He is a man very continent for a king. His kingcraft cometh before all women. If the Duke of Cleves be firm friend to him, firm friend he will be to the Duke’s sister. The Lady Howard will be his friend, but the Lady Howard will be neither his leman nor his guide to Rome. He will please her if he may. But his kingcraft. Never!’ He broke off and laughed noiselessly at the Archbishop’s face of dismay. ‘Your Grace would make a pact with Rome?’ he asked.