The poisoned chalice

wedding night he shouted for a glass of wine, saying it was hot work being in Spain all night, but that was just boasting. He was incapable of the sexual act. Catherine always maintained she was a virgin, and her second husband,' Benjamin waved the book in front of my nose, 'has corroborated this. So now…'
    'Now,' I continued, 'our royal liar has changed his mind. He is going to obtain a divorce and, naturally, he wants that book back.'
    Benjamin pulled a face. 'Exactly. This is the only proof that Henry knew his wife was a virgin. Destroy this and he can push his case at Rome for an annulment.' 'And what about Spain?'
    'Catherine's parents are dead and Henry wants to desert the Spanish alliance.' 'And the good cardinal?' I asked. Benjamin looked at the floor. 'He opposes the divorce.'
    I stared at my master carefully. 'Why?' I asked. 'Wolsey couldn't give a damn about anyone.'
    Benjamin cleared his throat. 'My uncle has always believed that he will lose power and control over the king due to a woman. He quotes the ancient prophecy: "When the cow rideth the bull, then priest beware thy skull", but he has to acquiesce.' 'Is there anyone else?' 'What do you mean?' 'Has our royal bull met his cow?' 'No, not yet.'
    Benjamin was speaking the truth. Henry had a string of mistresses: Bessie Blount, Mary Boleyn, and the occasional court wench who caught his eye. However, by the time they lowered Fat Henry's rotting corpse into a special, lead-lined coffin (you see, his body had burst and they had almost to pour it in), he had murdered three of his six wives and was intent on killing the last when death claimed him. In that musty chamber at Maubisson, so many years ago, the first few scenes of that dreadful play were about to begin.
    Benjamin took the book and hid it under the wooden lavarium.
    'Now we know why the king wanted that book back. And the French, of course, would love to hold it. They suspect our king's intentions: can you imagine Henry protesting the invalidity of his marriage when his opponents could produce such irrefutable proof written in Henry's own hand that Catherine was "virgo intacta" We both started at a loud rap on the door. 'Come in! Come in!' I snapped.
    I expected a servant or Dacourt but the benevolent Doctor Agrippa waddled into the room, swathed in his usual black cloak, his fat face smiling like some friendly friar.
    'Good morrow, gentlemen. I come from Calais to find the chateau like the Valley of the Dead.'
    He unclasped his cloak and sat down beside me, relishing our dumbstruck looks. He stretched out his short, fat legs. His leather riding boots were covered in a fine dust.
    'Well,' he announced, 'aren't you pleased to see me?' Of course we weren't but we didn't say that.
    'For heaven's sake!' he shouted good-naturedly. 'Don't I get a cup of wine?'
    I hastened to obey whilst Benjamin, regaining his wits, leaned over and clasped the doctor's hand. 'Why are you here?' Benjamin asked. ‘I was sent by the cardinal.' Agrippa took the brimming cup and smiled his acceptance. 'So, what progress has been made?' 'None.' 'Do you know who Raphael is?' 'No.' 'And the murderer of Falconer and others?' Benjamin smiled wearily. 'Yes and no.' 'Which means?'
    'The good news is that we are sure the murderer is Raphael.'
    'And the bad news.' Agrippa finished, the smile fading from his face, 'is that you do not know who Raphael is.' He sipped from the wine goblet. "And the ring?' 'I am afraid not.' 'And the king's book? His gift to the Abbe Gerard?* 'No,' Benjamin lied, with a warning glance at me. Agrippa stirred restlessly; his eyes changed to the colour of small, black pebbles and his fragrant perfume of musk and ambergris was masked by that hot. molten smell you sometimes catch in a kitchen when an empty pan is left over the flames too long. The good doctor's body tensed with fury.
    'This is not pleasing,' he grated. 'His Eminence the Cardinal is most perturbed, and someone,' he glanced sideways at me, 'will feel the royal wrath.' He smiled as if trying to shake off his irritation. 'The cardinal is most anxious,' he continued wearily. 'The king cannot fart without the French knowing about it. God knows what might happen!' 'Such as?' Benjamin asked.
    Agrippa shrugged. 'Let us speak candidly. We all know our royal master. He will not be brooked in any matter. If he thinks the spy is here he will send troops from Calais. Everyone will be arrested, accused of treason, and face summary execution.' "But we