The Relic Murders

mummery!' Kempe waved his hands. 'Sending Agrippa's men round the house…' 'That wasn't mummery,' Benjamin intervened. 'I have just established proof, at least in my own mind, of how the massacre here took place. Now, Sir Thomas, either you tell me the truth and I'll prove who stole the Orb, or I'll take the swiftest horse and ride direct to my Dearest Uncle.' Benjamin leaned on the table, narrowing his eyes. 'He doesn't know anything about this, does he? He'll reproach the King for not taking him into his confidence. I will have to tell His Grace what a marvellous opportunity was missed, all frustrated by Sir Thomas Kempe. Who knows, Sir Thomas,' Benjamin added. 'Could you prove to the King that you acted wisely in these matters? Suspicion might fall on you. You know I am speaking the truth. You have Sir Hubert Berkeley's accounts, which show how long Sir Hubert was working on this matter. At court there are many suspicious minds, and the King himself, in certain moods, will suspect anyone. He might ask how many orbs were really made, and whether Sir Thomas Kempe was engaged in a little private profit?' 'How dare you?' Kempe sprang to his feet
    'Oh, quite easily, and sit down!' Benjamin snapped. 'I'm not accusing you but others might.'
    Kempe was no fool. He would have liked to have swept out of the room. However, such dramatic gestures might look fitting in certain circumstances but Benjamin's words must have chilled his sly heart. The Great Beast trusted no one and, once suspicion was sown in his wicked brain, it always came to full flower! Kempe sat down and breathed in deeply.
    'What I tell you,' he began, 'is the King's own secret. Henry does not want Imperial ships. Oh, he'll take the gold but you won't see English troops in France.' He licked his lips. 'Henry is more concerned that he has no heir. The Queen, how can I put it, is past child-bearing. There is only the Princess Mary.'
    (So, in that dusty, shabby room at Malevel I heard the first rumble of the storm that was about to break. And what a storm! Slowly, surely, Henry was about to take those steps which would deluge the kingdom in blood; send men like More and Fisher to the block; tear England from the Church of Rome; cause the north to rise in bloody revolt; and queens to be accused of treason and barbarously hacked to death. Merlin's prophecy was about to be fulfilled.)
    Kempe appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, perhaps even he was fearful. 'Continue,' Agrippa said quietly.
    'Henry cannot understand why God has not given him a male heir,' Kempe continued in a rush. 'He has studied the Bible. He believes his marriage is cursed because Catherine was once married to his elder brother Arthur.'
    'But the marriage was never consummated,' Benjamin declared. 'Arthur was a mere stripling. A weak, sickly child.'
    'Who told you that?' Kempe retorted. 'Has Dearest Uncle confided in you?' Kempe pointed a finger. 'Master Daunbey, you should be very careful. The King believes otherwise. He believes the marriage was consummated: accordingly, he should never have married Catherine of Aragon and that's why his marriage has been cursed and is without a male heir.'
    So, there it was. Henry had tired of Catherine. He had consulted with God and realised that he should not have married her in the first place. Now Henry's brain was a box of teeming worms. He often found it very difficult to draw a distinction between his will and that of God. Once he had got it into his fat head that God was displeased with him, or that God wanted him to do something, then nothing on earth would stop it, as thousands found to their cost.
    'Is that why His Excellency the Cardinal has not been informed of these matters?' Agrippa asked.
    'Yes, yes it is,' Kempe retorted. 'The King-' He paused. 'His Grace believes he should marry again.'
    'And who's the lucky girl?' I quipped before I could stop myself.
    'Haven't you learned your lesson, Shallot? Are you so clodwitted? Don't you remember the banquet where the King gave you a present, a German hunting dog that was supposed to rip your balls off? It wasn't because you won a riddle – the King caught you making eyes at his beloved!'
    I recalled Anne Boleyn. Kempe was right. Henry was jealous and I had paid the price for my little flirtation. 'Boleyn?' Benjamin exclaimed.
    'Anne Boleyn. The King is smitten with her,' Kempe replied. 'You know some of the game, Master Daunbey, but not all of it. Of course, the King would like to make a