The Traitor’s Mark by D. K. Wilson

but recently returned from acting as viceroy in Ireland. I joined his group.
    â€˜How does Gardiner intend to achieve that, do you think?’ I asked.
    â€˜Oh, I keep clear of religious infighting,’ St Leger replied. ‘I leave that sort of thing to my brother, Arthur. He’s a prebendary at Canterbury.’
    Someone else said, ‘I gather all the prebendaries and senior clergy at Canterbury heartily wish to be rid of Cranmer.’
    â€˜But again I ask, how are they going to do it?’ I persisted. ‘Brave talk is easy but I understand that Cranmer stands very high in his majesty’s affections.’
    â€˜I agree with Thomas.’ Peter Flett, from Hadstead, near Tonbridge, like me, was one of the younger members of the gathering. ‘When there was all that trouble at Windsor, a few weeks back, everyone was saying that the archbishop would be caught up in it, but nothing has happened.’
    â€˜As far as you know,’ St Leger suggested. ‘It matters not what “everyone” is saying; ’tis what is being said and plotted in secret that is important. When Cromwell was brought down who could have foretold it? For all the world knew, he stood high in his majesty’s affections. Yet, within a few hours, the upstart’s reign was over. My guess is that it will be the same with Cranmer. He is much unloved by people who matter. They will not suffer him to remain at the king’s right hand much longer. Anyone who is wise will be careful not to get too close to our dear archbishop. When ships sink, little boats can get caught in their wake and founder also.’
    At that moment, a bell sounded and we were called to dinner. This had been laid out on a long table in the upper part of the hall. As the company took their seats, I had the distinct impression that they were dividing into two sections. St Leger, Thwaites and others of a similar disposition seemed to be settling around the right end of the table. Those who might be considered to be well disposed toCranmer occupied the other end. Moyle, of course, took his place in the centre, facing down the hall. He was backed by a huge tapestry of some allegorical scene. On his right was a man wearing a clerk’s gown. I was careful to fill one of the gaps almost opposite our host. If he wanted to gauge my allegiance I would not make it easy for him.
    The dinner was impressive – at least seven messes – and Moyle seemed in no hurry to conclude it and bring us to our business. When at length he did so, he spoke in the confident tones of a man well versed in chairing meetings.
    â€˜Gentlemen, I thank you for coming. As you know, we are gathered to consider the best ways we can assist the archbishop in putting an end to religious discord. I have asked his grace’s secretary, Ralph Morice’ – he indicated his neighbour – ‘to be present in order to report on our deliberations to the archbishop in person.’
    â€˜This is a religious matter,’ someone to my right said. ‘Surely the clergy should be dealing with it.’
    â€˜By your leave, Sir Thomas, I’ll answer that.’ Morice, a fair-complexioned man of middle years, directed his gaze up and down the table. ‘This body carries his majesty’s commission as head of the Church. Doctrine, as defined by the king in council with his bishops and parliament, is now enshrined in statute law. The king – and the archbishop – simply require that you enforce the law.’
    There were murmurings to my right and left but no one spoke. Moyle resumed control. ‘His majesty has set forthtrue Christian doctrine in the manual published last May and commonly called the King’s Book.’
    â€˜Are we supposed to commit it all to memory and examine our parish priests on every detail?’ another man wanted to know.
    â€˜Certainly not,’ Moyle assured him. ‘We simply have to make sure the clergy