was no one but his companion to hear this dangerous conversation.
“Ah, Seymour!” said Wriothesley. “If we could but prove something against those two! His Majesty would be mad with fury and we should bring down two groups of enemies at the same time. The Queen and her heretic friends… and the Seymours. What could be better?”
“We must remember if Seymour returns that it may not be as simple as you assume. Seymour is a very ambitious man. I doubt that he would allow his feeling for any woman to interfere with his ambitions. The King, moreover, is fond of the fellow.”
“Still, the Queen was enamored of him before her marriage with the King. He wished to marry her. And the King must have felt some uneasiness to have dispatched him to Flanders. It may well be that the King will keep him there. Oh yes, his jealousy is aroused—if only slightly—by the fascinating sailor.”
“That’s so; but his love for the Queen is not the whitehot passion it was in the cases of Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard. We might attack through Seymour, I do not doubt; but Seymour is not here. That may come later. In the meantime, we might strike, not at the Queen, but at her friends.”
“Her friends? You mean her sister and the ladies?…”
“Nay, nay. You have something to learn, Wriothesley. We strike first at little deer and wait for the head deer. There are Reformers in most towns, and it is my belief that if we looked we might find them here in this town of Windsor. There is a priest I know of, a certain Anthony Pearson. The people flock to hear his sermons, and the good honest Catholic lawyer, Simons of this town, has already conveyed to me his suspicions of this man. Simons declares him to be a Reformer. There are others. A little inquiry into the life of this man Pearson would doubtless disclose their identities and give us what we desire. We could strike at the Queen through them and, while we await the opportunity to implicate Her Majesty, doubtless these men would help add a little fuel to a Smithfield fire.”
“I applaud your wisdom, my lord.”
The Bishop slipped his arm through that of Wriothesley. “Keep close to me. I will have you informed of the progress of this affair. Let us strike at the little deer before we bend our bows to bring down those at the head of the herd. We will return to the Castle, and I will seek an early opportunity of an audience with the King; and when it is over I will let you know how I have progressed. Watch me, my friend, and you will see how I intend to deal with this delicate affair, and I promise you that in a matter of months—though it may be a year or two—you will see Her Majesty following in the footsteps of other foolish Queens.”
“It would be the block.”
Gardiner nodded. “His Majesty has had two divorces. He does not like them. He prefers… the other method.”
“I doubt not,” said Wriothesley, “that it will be the…‘ other method’ … for Katharine Parr.”
IN ST. GEORGE’S HALL the King had seated himself in that chair of state above which was the ornate canopy of Edward the Third. It was at the head of the banqueting table, and on his righthand sat his Queen. The Lady Mary was present in a place of high honor, and as Gardiner said grace he reflected that his task might not be a difficult one, for Queen Katharine Parr must be a foolish woman so to raise such a staunch Catholic as the Princess Mary to work against her.
Before the King knelt one of his gentlemen with a ewer, another with a basin, yet another with a napkin. The great table seemed as though it must collapse under the weight of heavy flasks of wine and the enormous gilded and silver dishes. Venison, chickens, peacocks, cygnets, salmon, mullet and pies of all sorts were laid out. Gardiner watched the King’s eyes gleam as they studied the food. The King’s love of women was, it was said, being surpassed by his interest in food. The Bishop must speak to the King after the meal
“Ah, Seymour!” said Wriothesley. “If we could but prove something against those two! His Majesty would be mad with fury and we should bring down two groups of enemies at the same time. The Queen and her heretic friends… and the Seymours. What could be better?”
“We must remember if Seymour returns that it may not be as simple as you assume. Seymour is a very ambitious man. I doubt that he would allow his feeling for any woman to interfere with his ambitions. The King, moreover, is fond of the fellow.”
“Still, the Queen was enamored of him before her marriage with the King. He wished to marry her. And the King must have felt some uneasiness to have dispatched him to Flanders. It may well be that the King will keep him there. Oh yes, his jealousy is aroused—if only slightly—by the fascinating sailor.”
“That’s so; but his love for the Queen is not the whitehot passion it was in the cases of Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard. We might attack through Seymour, I do not doubt; but Seymour is not here. That may come later. In the meantime, we might strike, not at the Queen, but at her friends.”
“Her friends? You mean her sister and the ladies?…”
“Nay, nay. You have something to learn, Wriothesley. We strike first at little deer and wait for the head deer. There are Reformers in most towns, and it is my belief that if we looked we might find them here in this town of Windsor. There is a priest I know of, a certain Anthony Pearson. The people flock to hear his sermons, and the good honest Catholic lawyer, Simons of this town, has already conveyed to me his suspicions of this man. Simons declares him to be a Reformer. There are others. A little inquiry into the life of this man Pearson would doubtless disclose their identities and give us what we desire. We could strike at the Queen through them and, while we await the opportunity to implicate Her Majesty, doubtless these men would help add a little fuel to a Smithfield fire.”
“I applaud your wisdom, my lord.”
The Bishop slipped his arm through that of Wriothesley. “Keep close to me. I will have you informed of the progress of this affair. Let us strike at the little deer before we bend our bows to bring down those at the head of the herd. We will return to the Castle, and I will seek an early opportunity of an audience with the King; and when it is over I will let you know how I have progressed. Watch me, my friend, and you will see how I intend to deal with this delicate affair, and I promise you that in a matter of months—though it may be a year or two—you will see Her Majesty following in the footsteps of other foolish Queens.”
“It would be the block.”
Gardiner nodded. “His Majesty has had two divorces. He does not like them. He prefers… the other method.”
“I doubt not,” said Wriothesley, “that it will be the…‘ other method’ … for Katharine Parr.”
IN ST. GEORGE’S HALL the King had seated himself in that chair of state above which was the ornate canopy of Edward the Third. It was at the head of the banqueting table, and on his righthand sat his Queen. The Lady Mary was present in a place of high honor, and as Gardiner said grace he reflected that his task might not be a difficult one, for Queen Katharine Parr must be a foolish woman so to raise such a staunch Catholic as the Princess Mary to work against her.
Before the King knelt one of his gentlemen with a ewer, another with a basin, yet another with a napkin. The great table seemed as though it must collapse under the weight of heavy flasks of wine and the enormous gilded and silver dishes. Venison, chickens, peacocks, cygnets, salmon, mullet and pies of all sorts were laid out. Gardiner watched the King’s eyes gleam as they studied the food. The King’s love of women was, it was said, being surpassed by his interest in food. The Bishop must speak to the King after the meal
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