The Traitor’s Mark

by D. K. Wilson

  ‘Carl and Henry need love. They think of you as their mother. Boys don’t stop needing mothers as they become men.’

  ‘Raffy has no mother.’

  The words were spoken softly but they still stung. ‘I think he also is coming to think of you as a mother.’

  ‘Did he know his real mother?’

  ‘No, she died when he was born.’

  ‘Lizzie told me you were deeply upset by that.’

  ‘Lizzie says many things she shouldn’t. But, yes, I thought my world had come to an end. I convinced myself I would never know happiness again. That, of course, was foolish.’

  Adie made no reply and for a while the only sound was the angry hiss of the surging water beneath us. At last she said, staring down into the water, ‘They’ll all three be grown up one day.’

  ‘Of course, and by then you’ll be married and have boys of your own to look after – and probably girls, too.’

  At that moment her whole body heaved and sobs broke forth from deep inside her. She sagged against the parapet. I grabbed her arm to pull her away but she shook me off. ‘Go, go, go,’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone!’

  I ran back to the house and found Lizzie. ‘For God’s sake, go to Adie!’ I shouted. ‘She’s down by the bridge. I’m worried that—’ But Lizzie had already rushed from the room.

  I followed as far as the stable yard gate. There I loitered for several minutes looking anxiously towards the trees that lined the stream. At last, to my intense relief, I saw the women coming back, Lizzie supporting Adie with an arm round her waist. Adie was brought indoors and taken to her bed. Ned went to her and later he and Lizzie came to find me in the parlour.

  In answer to my enquiry, Ned said, ‘I have given her a tiny dose of tincture of opium. Generally I have little liking for it. It has come only recently into England and its efficacy is not proven. However, ’tis something I carry to relieve pain and induce sleep. I find it helps to calm sufferers and makes it easier to examine them in order to get to the root of their problems.’

  ‘And have you determined the root of Adie’s problem?’ I asked.

  Lizzie scowled. ‘She fancies herself to be with child.’

  ‘And is she?’

  ‘’Tis too early to be certain but I don’t think so. In the whorehouse, it was always something the younger, inexperienced girls feared. That fear sometimes fired their imaginations.’

  ‘What matters at the moment,’ Ned said, ‘is what she believes, rather than what is the reality. I can apply all the usual tests and do my best to reassure her, but if she is convinced, nothing will dispel the fear until she fails to produce a baby. That, of course, will take several months.’

  ‘A curse on Black Harry and his lecherous rakehells! God grant we come face to face again!’

  ‘I’m almost inclined to say “Amen” to that,’ Ned responded,‘but, for now, we have Adie to think of.’

  ‘Can your nostrums keep her calm?’

  Ned shook his head. ‘A long stupor can be very injurious and, in any case, it will not dispel her fears. Adie will have no peace until she faces her worries and conquers them. The Bible tells us fear is a demon that can only be cast out by love. The best cure we can administer is to show that we love and appreciate her.’

  Lizzie agreed. ‘She is convinced that she is worthless. The children adore her and everyone else likes her but she cannot or will not see it.’

  I said, ‘We must all keep a close watch on her. Meanwhile, I think it is time I wrote to her brother. I’ll see if he will come down to visit her. Perhaps we can discover things about her past that may help us to understand her better.’

  The next morning it was almost with relief that I set out for Hadbourne to assist with the archbishop’s commission.

  Chapter 22

  The hall had been cleared for the inquiry. A table stood on a raised dais at one end. It was covered by a Turkey carpet and a row of chairs was set behind it. High on the wall above and behind them two large images dominated the room. One was Archbishop Cranmer’s coat of arms. The other was a lifelike portrait of King Henry, who seemed to survey the proceedings with a fierce gaze. A bench set crosswise halfway down the hall marked off the area where those being .examined were to stand. It seemed that Legh had modelled his commission chamber on the royal courts at Westminster Hall, where only men of the law, called ‘benchers’, were permitted within the hallowed enclosure before the judge’s seat. Apart from these, all furniture had been removed. Guards in the archbishop’s livery stood at the doors and two more were stationed at either end of the commissioners’ table. Several men were already present when I entered, standing in small clusters. It was evident that they were going to have to remain standing until Legh dismissed them. A secretary was arranging papers on the table and indicated the place at one end where I was to sit. Minutes later Legh and his entourage entered and took their places. James was seated next to me and beside the chairman. The other half of the table was occupied by Ralph Morice, two other local JPs and the commission secretary.

  Legh began the proceedings with a speech. ‘This is an archiepiscopal commission convened under royal charter for the examination of alleged irregularities concerning the preaching and teaching of certain parish clergy within the dioceses of Canterbury and Rochester. When your names are called you will be sworn to give true testimony. You will answer all questions put to you by members of the commission. Anyone we deem to be guilty of holding opinions contrary to those established by the laws of this realm will be sent to Canterbury for further examination by the archbishop’s court. The same will apply to anyone perjuring himself or attempting to conceal information from the commission. Those of you who preach or cause to be preached the true doctrine of the English Church by law established and who answer truthfully all questions put to them have absolutely nothing to fear from today’s proceedings.’

  It immediately became obvious that Legh had skilfully arranged the order of business for maximum effect. The first to face the flight of verbal arrows was Peter Perks, vicar of Sandling Parva, a slight, elderly priest who was already sweating.

  The chairman demanded sharply, ‘You were for many years sub-prior of the Benedictine house at Laxford, were you not?’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘Speak up, man! Don’t mumble!’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘You must have been pleased to be offered a benefice after the surrender of your house.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘And you were presented to that benefice by Prebendary Cooke of Canterbury Cathedral.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At that time yon swore an oath of loyalty to your diocesan bishop, did you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you aware that Prebendary Cooke is under investigation for spreading slanderous rumours about the archbishop?’

  ‘Well ... I had heard ...’

  ‘Yes or no!’ Legh thundered. ‘Do you know that your patron is a sworn and open enemy of his grace?’

  ‘I ... er ... think ...’

  ‘Think? I don’t want to know what you think! This is your last warning: if you don’t give me clear and simple answers to my questions, you’ll be in contempt. Do you know your patron is an enemy of the archbishop?’

  ‘Well ... yes.’

  Legh addressed himself to the room at large. ‘If I had to prise answers from the rest of you in the same way we would be here for days. Well, I won’t do it. Any sign of prevarication and you’ll be detained, awaiting trial by a higher court. Now, Master Perks, how many times in the last year have you been summoned to Canterbury by your patron?’

  The old man was now quivering and dabbing his brow with a kerchief. ‘Three, I think ... no, four.’

  ‘And what did you discuss?’

  ‘Well ... er ... many things ...’

  ‘Master Perks!’

  ‘Well ... Prebendary Cooke was interested in clergy his grace had licensed to preach in the area.’

>   ‘Did he not ask you whether, in your opinion, any of his grace’s appointees were guilty of heresy?’

  ‘He was concerned about that, certainly.’

  ‘And what did you tell him?’

  ‘I ... er ... mentioned that John Lanks might, perhaps, be not orthodox on all points of doctrine.’

  ‘And was John Lanks subsequently arrested and taken before the archbishop’s court?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what was the verdict of that court?’

  ‘Not guilty.’

  ‘Louder, please, Master Perks. I want everyone to hear you.’

  ‘Not guilty.’

  ‘Indeed, not guilty of any heretical teaching whatsoever. And why would he be? Do you suppose a man in whom his grace reposed confidence would be a disseminator of damnable heresy?’

  ‘I suppose ... er ... no. Certainly not.’

  ‘So what it comes to is this: you and your generous patron worked together to indict an innocent man of preaching false doctrine. And this was part of a plot to discredit the Archbishop of Canterbury, a godly scholar and pastor who has the love and trust of his majesty.’

  ‘No!’ the poor man screamed. ‘That was never my intent—’

  ‘Then, pray what was your intention? Have I misunderstood?’ Legh glanced to left and right along the table. ‘Perhaps my colleagues can fathom how a different conclusion can be drawn from what you have told us.’ He paused momentarily. ‘No? I thought not. Captain!’ he called, ‘take this fellow away.’

  Peter Perks was hustled, blubbering and protesting, from the room.

  After that opening, none of the men being examined was disposed to stand up against such verbal bullying. The commission dealt in brusque and rapid succession with all the other suspects. Rather more than half were dismissed with a stern caution but the remainder were handed over to the guards for transportation to Canterbury. Legh left the rest of us little to do. It was when Simon Belleville was set before us that my interest was particularly aroused. He was a stocky, bristle-haired farmer of yeoman birth whose rise in the first years of the Dissolution had been wing-footed even by the standards of the day. I remember my father telling me that Belleville was one of the first speculators in monastic property to approach him for a loan and that he had doubled his capital many times over in the ensuing years. My father disliked him, often referring to him as ‘the man with two popes’; someone who paraded his devotion to traditional religion and had a reputation for generous support of altar gilds and chantries, but who did not allow this to stand in the way of his profiteering from the dismantling of monasticism. Now he was one of the richest men in Kent and one who loved to display his wealth in ambitious building projects. His house at King’s Branfield rivalled the mansions of the older shire families – in size, if not in taste, and he had created scarcely less impressive edifices for his two sons. Indeed, their corner of Kent was often jokingly referred to as ‘Bellevilleshire’, an enclave where the king’s writ ran second to their own. He stood before the commission today accused of ‘proud words’ spoken against the archbishop.

  ‘According to our information,’ Legh said, ‘you have been heard to boast on more than one occasion, “I decide what is preached in my churches”. Is that correct?’

  Belleville made a gesture as though waving the accusation aside. ‘If I said that I meant only that I would not tolerate any teaching contrary to that approved by his majesty.’

  ‘Even if that teaching had the endorsement of his majesty’s archbishop?’

  ‘Is there any difference between what the king believes and what his grace believes?’

  ‘I will ask the questions,’ Legh snapped. ‘Confine yourself to simple answers. Have you or have you not challenged the instruction given by priests appointed by his grace of Canterbury?’

  ‘I may have debated one or two points of doctrine ...’

  ‘Indeed?’ The chairman smiled. ‘Would you be good enough to remind the commission at which university you studied theology?’

  Laughter drifted round the hall as the unpopular landowner stood abashed.

  ‘I take it from your silence that you are not qualified to “debate” holy mysteries.’ Legh smirked at the man’s discomfort. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘one of the clergy to whom you have given the benefit of your extensive doctrinal knowledge is John Horton, is it not?’

  Suddenly, I saw where this line of questioning was leading. I scribbled a note and passed it along to the chairman. He read it, nodded and announced, ‘Before we proceed any further with Master Belleville we will take our dinner adjournment. We will resume in one hour.’ He led the way from the hall.

  In James’s parlour the commissioners sat to enjoy the ample meal provided by our host.

  Legh said, ‘I had intended to adjourn after we had bundled that pompous little demi-king off to jail, but Master Treviot here seems to have other ideas.’

  ‘I’m sorry for disturbing your schedule, Dr Legh,’ I said, ‘but it may be that there is more at stake here than an argument between Belleville and Horton. You are aware, I’m sure, that Horton is the curate at Branfield Abbots.’

  ‘Of course. The poor man’s disappeared. If any ill has befallen him I intend to make Belleville swing for it.’

  ‘Well, the fact is that Horton is not the only one of the archbishop’s appointees to go missing.’

  ‘You mean Garrow at Stepton? Yes, we know about him. What’s your point?’

  ‘There’s also the death of Padman in the mysterious fire at Radlow.’ I hurried on before Legh could tell me that he also knew everything about that. ‘These events have all taken place in the area dominated by Belleville.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Legh said. ‘So the sooner we call him to account, the better.’

  ‘Certainly, Doctor. But should we not also be trying to apprehend the gallowsbird directly responsible for these atrocities?’

  ‘Do you know who that is?’

  ‘I have a very strong suspicion and, if I’m right, he has links to those at the very top of the papist conspiracy against the archbishop.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Legh pushed his trencher to one side. ‘Tell me about your suspicion.’

  Briefly, I explained the picture Ralph and I were building up of the connection between Black Harry, Ferdinand Brooke and the leaders of the conspiracy at court. ‘If Belleville is another link in the chain,’ I concluded, ‘he may well be harbouring the gang. He may even know the whereabouts of the missing priests.’

  ‘Well, Master Treviot, I’ll have the truth out of him, never fear.’

  ‘With respect, Doctor,’ I ventured, ‘might it not be wiser to proceed more circumspectly? If we arrest Belleville, his associates will immediately know of it and take fright. They will find some other haven, probably taking their captives with them. We might lose our only chance of running to earth a band of dangerous, fanatical, papist ruffians.’

  Legh looked thoughtful. I hurried on. ‘But if we can track them down we will earn his majesty’s thanks for exposing treachery among his own advisers.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’ Legh asked.

  ‘Let Belleville off with a caution. Then allow me a few words with him in private.’

  ‘To say what?’

  ‘That we have identified all the men involved in a major conspiracy and are about to close in on them. They will all, undoubtedly, hang and he will probably share their fate. At the very least his property will be confiscated by the Crown and he will lose everything he has so painstakingly accumulated. His only hope will be to assist the commission by revealing the whereabouts of the criminals he is shielding.’

  ‘And if your suspicions are wrong?’

  ‘The blame will fall on me and not his grace’s commission. Belleville will probably claim that I was pursuing some private grudge against him.’

  That satisfied the wily lawyer. He obviously realised that, if successful, my plan would win him considerable favour with the king and that, if it faile
d, he could deny all involvement. Saints preserve us, I thought, I’m becoming as subtle as these law men.

  After dinner, with James’s help, I made the necessary, very simple arrangements. We chose a hay barn for the interview. Ralph Morice insisted on being present, though we agreed he should remain concealed. I waited in the stable yard accompanied by two members of the archiepiscopal guard.

  When Belleville came out to collect his horse, I accosted him. ‘Please attend on me for a few minutes.’

  He raised his voice to protest but the guards took him, one each arm, and steered him into the barn. I followed, closing the door behind me.

  ‘What do you think—’

  I ignored the bluster. ‘We have a few more questions, which I fancy you would rather answer in private.’

  He turned towards the door, now held by the burly guards. ‘I have said all I intend to say in there.’

  ‘A pity. I rather hoped you would grasp the opportunity to distance yourself from the man who calls himself “Black Harry”, rather than share his gallows. However, if you would prefer to take your chance, you are free to leave.’

  I watched him carefully. Everything hinged on his reaction. First of all, he stared at me, eyes widened in surprise. Then he took a step towards the door. Then he thought better of it and turned again. That was when I knew that I was right.

  ‘You are very wise to reconsider,’ I said. ‘You have got yourself mixed up with a band of traitors. We know about Black Harry, Master Brooke and their connections with foreign agents. You’re in a deep hole and the only way to climb out is to tell me everything you know.’

  There was still a vestige of resistance in him. ‘Who are these people you’re talking about?’ he asked warily but not diverting his gaze.

  I began to doubt whether I would, after all, be able to break him. I had no evidence to connect him with any crime. It was time to try bluff. ‘People who know you well enough,’ I replied. ‘People who burned down John Padman’s house. People ready to swear that you incited them to murder.’