A BROAD HEATH by the river had been chosen as the site for the ceremony. When I arrived almost everyone was there. Near a thousand yeomen had been commandeered for the day, dressed in brand new livery with the King’s colours. City officials and we representatives from the Inns were again shepherded to places in the front rank, facing the roadway. A little way off, with a guard of soldiers, the great men of the realm waited on their horses. All those I had seen at the Privy Council were present: Gardiner, his solid frame settled on a broad-backed horse; Rich and Wriothesley side by side; Paget stroking his long forked beard, a little colour in those flat cheeks today, surveying those around him with his usual cool eye. The Earl of Hertford looked stern and solemn, while beside him Thomas Seymour, with his coppery beard combed and no doubt perfumed, wore a happy smile on his handsome face. Others too: Lord Lisle, who had proved a better commander than d’Annebault at Portsmouth last year, and other lords in their finery, the feathers in their caps stirring in the river breeze. The water was blue and sparkling, reflecting the bright sky.
And at their head, on a smaller horse, sat the boy, not yet nine, who was King Henry’s heir, the control of whom after the King died was the focus of all the plotting by the men behind him. In a broad-shouldered crimson doublet with slashed sleeves, a black cap set with diamonds on his head, Prince Edward was a tiny figure beside the adults. He sat firmly upright on his horse, though. He was tall for his age, his thin little face stiffly composed. His serious expression and small chin reminded me of his long-dead mother, Jane Seymour, whose likeness I had seen in the great wall painting at Whitehall. I pitied him for the weight that must soon fall on him. Then I thought of Timothy: I had been too hard with him; one should not hold a grudge against children. I would speak to him when I returned.
Once again my allotted place was next to Blower. The big Serjeant nodded to me but said little; he kept leaning forward, looking towards the party behind Prince Edward, trying to catch the eye of Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, who might give him his coveted judgeship. Wriothesley did see him, but in answer to his nod and smile gave only a little frown as though to say, ‘Not here.’ I remembered the old saying, big fleas have little fleas to bite them.
At length we saw d’Annebault’s party approach slowly along the riverbank. There must have been three hundred of them; I knew d’Annebault had brought two hundred men over from France. From the English party heralds stepped forward, blowing trumpets. The admiral, accompanied again by the Earl of Essex, rode up to Prince Edward and bowed to the little boy from the saddle. The Prince began delivering, in a high childish voice, an address of welcome; he spoke without pause, in perfect French. At the end the admiral’s horse was led forward and he and Prince Edward embraced.
THE ADDRESS OVER, the French party and the bulk of the English lords rode away to Hampton Court, the Prince and the admiral leading the way, a tall soldier holding the reins of Prince Edward’s horse. Those of us left behind, as usual on such occasions, relaxed immediately, everyone swinging their shoulders and drawing deep breaths, pausing to talk with friends before riding back to London. I supposed that for civility’s sake I would have to ride back with the disgruntled-looking Blower, but as I was about to speak to him I felt a touch at my arm. I turned to see Lord Parr standing at my elbow, accompanied by two serving men, one holding his horse.
‘My Lord,’ I said. ‘I did not see you with the Prince’s party.’
‘No, the Queen’s household is not involved in this. But I came, and would speak with you.’
‘Of course.’ I looked at the old man; in his note he had said he had been ill, and indeed he looked frail, leaning hard on his stick. He nodded to his men and one helped me dismount while the other took Genesis’s reins. Blower looked at Lord Parr with surprise, not knowing that I had acquaintance with such a senior figure. He bowed to Lord Parr and rode off, looking more put out than ever.
Lord Parr led me away a little, to stand beside the river. ‘You had my letter?’
‘I did. I have spoken to my steward Brocket and he stands ready, though very reluctantly.’
‘I am still trying to discover who put that item on the council agenda. But I make no progress, and Paget is as close-mouthed as any man can be.’
‘He was fair at the council,’ I observed. ‘He seemed genuinely concerned to find the truth or otherwise of the allegations.’
‘Ay, perhaps.’ Lord Parr sighed deeply. ‘I am getting too tired for all this. After the admiral leaves next week the King and Queen are going on a short Progress to Guildford, so I must move these old bones yet again.’ He looked out over the river for a moment, then spoke quietly. ‘The King is taking none of the traditionalist councillors with him, not Gardiner, nor Wriothesley, nor Norfolk. Lord Hertford and Lord Lisle, though, will be accompanying him.’ He looked at me, a keenness now in his bloodshot eyes. ‘The tide is shifting fast in our favour. The King has not seen Bertano again; he is cooling his heels somewhere in London. Rumours are beginning to spread of a papal emissary here. And if I can prove that Rich has been playing some double game, perhaps seeking to damage the Queen through you, it will anger the King, and help the Queen. And the Parr family,’ he added. ‘But before I do anything with that man Stice, I must know more. No sign of those others, I take it, the men who killed Greening?’
‘Daniels and Cardmaker? No, the printer Okedene saw them about the town, but I have not.’
‘Who did they take the Queen’s book for? Not Rich, I am sure, he would have used the Lamentation at once.’
‘Could its release still harm the Queen?’
‘I think so.’ He paused, then made a fist with his bony hand. He shook his head. ‘It is her hiding the book from him that would anger him most, I know.’