The Relic Murders

courtyard. The Noctales were bustling about; Egremont's retainers already had the bloody corpse wrapped in a roll of blankets. One groom was taking away the log whilst another was bringing buckets of water to wash away the pool of blood congealing there. Kempe, Agrippa and others of their party had now gathered under the gateway. 'You wished to have words with me, Master Cornelius?' The Noctale led me along the side of the house.
    'You remind me of my brother, Roger.' He stopped and faced me squarely. 'Though you have more than his luck. You and your master unmasked a traitor. The Emperor will be well pleased.* He poked me playfully in the chest. 'You will always be welcome in the Empire.' His face grew serious. ‘I will also give you a warning. Your king is planning to divorce Catherine of Aragon, my master's aunt. Whatever Henry tries to bribe him with, the Emperor will not agree to this. Imperial troops will soon be in Rome: the Pope will not grant that divorce. Cardinal Thomas Wolsey will bear the brunt of your king's fury and, when that happens, remember the German proverb, "If lightning strikes, don't shelter under the tallest tree".' He clasped my hand. 'And as for relics,' he whispered, 'Roger, who really gives a fig?' The Noctale grinned. 'I know there's a great deal about this Orb which you, Master Benjamin and Sir Thomas have not told us. Why was Henley really killed, and Sir Hubert? What is the real secret of the Orb?' He shrugged. 'But, in the end, what does it really matter? True religion is a matter of the heart, not the pocket.' And then that strange man walked away, shouting for his retainers.
    Oh, I have met the Noctales since but that's another story. Suffice to say they discovered Boscombe's corpse and, within the day, it was gibbeted at Tyburn for all to see. A short while later the Imperial envoys left the English court. Benjamin and I took lodgings in a different tavern until the Great Beast summoned us to call on him. Oh, he was in his most generous of moods! It was 'dearest Benjamin' and 'most beloved Roger'. He pawed and he kissed me. I could understand why: in his eyes, everything had gone according to plan and Henry was now a richer man: all Berkeley's goods and wealth came to him for the man had been a bachelor; Lord Charon's treasure was now in the Exchequer and, of course, the Flickering Lamp tavern, another source of wealth, also fell forfeit to the Crown. The Great Bastard loved treason: it meant forfeiture of all the traitor's goods and made him richer. Benjamin and I were given purses of gold and assurances of friendship.
    'And don't worry, Roger,' the King shouted down to us at a banquet. "There'll be no sea voyages for you on the Peppercorn. Go back, my faithful dogs!' he intoned dramatically. 'Go back and enjoy your well-earned rest!'
    Beside him Tom Wolsey was not so happy. Oh, he forced a smile but I could see he was worried and I recalled Cornelius's warning.
    Just before we left London, Wolsey called me to his private chamber. This was not so proud Tom, the great Cardinal: his purple robes were doffed and he sat in black hose and open-neck shirt, fanning himself on a window seat. He looked like some prosperous merchant rather than a Prince of the Church.
    'Come in, dear Roger.' He waved me to the cushioned seat beside him and offered me a bowl of cherries. 'They are ripe and fresh,' he explained. 'They clean the mouth and are good for the digestive system.' He stared out through the half-open window, breathing in the fragrance from the rose garden. 'You know, Roger,' he began, 'there's a point in time in every man's fortunes when there is a subtle change, like a ship at sea as the wind shifts and blows from another direction.' He leaned over and patted my hand. "That is what is happening to me, Roger. The King wants a divorce. When he doesn't get it the King will blame me.'
    He took back the bowl of cherries and started popping them into his mouth.
    'Isn't life strange?' he murmured as he chewed slowly. Do you remember when you first came to court, Roger, and I sent you to Scotland over that business of the White Rose? The court laughed at you then but now the King trusts and likes you. Anne Boleyn trusts and likes you. Catherine of Aragon trusts and likes you. Cardinal de Medici trusts and likes you. Benjamin Daunbey trusts and likes you. Tom Wolsey trusts and likes you.' He laughed.
    'Don't you think it amusing? Shallot the villain trusted by all these great ones?'