1.
Robert may have been a member of a secret band who called themselves ‘Christian Brothers’ and used their trading connections to smuggle into England banned books by William Tyndale and, in all likelihood, other inflammatory material by men such as the German, Martin Luther, condemned by the pope as a heretic.
2.
Robert had been in direct contact with William Tyndale in Antwerp during his business trips and was there when the translator was arrested and executed. According to Robert’s last letter, he had information about that event that he could not put in writing.
3.
He had almost certainly fallen under suspicion and was a marked man by the bishop and his cronies but they were hesitant about bringing such a prominent and highly respected citizen before the Church courts, particularly as he was known to be in favour with Thomas Cromwell, the most powerful man in England, under the king.
4.
But in recent months the mood of the country had changed. With all northern England in revolt against the New Learning, traditionalists in the capital had grown bolder — bold enough to use any methods to force a change of government policy. It was against this background that Il Ombra, a professional assassin, had been brought into England to rid the Church of Packington the ‘troublemaker’ in such a way that his death could not be traced back to the religious hierarchy.
5.
Il Ombra was now under the protection of John Doggett who, it seemed, intended to hire out the Italian to anyone prepared to pay a high price for murder. That meant there was no way that I could get to the assassin and force him to tell me who had paid him to kill Robert.
6.
My enquiries into the circumstances of Robert’s death had attracted the attention of those responsible, as Ned had warned that it would. Was that why an attempt had been made on my life and, failing that attempt, why I had been arrested?
7.
Not necessarily. I had other enemies who wanted me out of the way. Simon Leyland was a ruthless competitor who would probably stop at nothing to force Treviot’s out of business. Then there was Nathaniel Seagrave’s father. His mind might be so deep- wounded by grief that only my death could salve it. Either of these might have been responsible for the Hampstead Heath attack. They might even have been acting in concert.
8.
Whoever it was had made a clumsy attempt to copy Il Ombra’s technique. That suggested an opportunistic crime that had not been well thought out. The instigator would be more careful next time.
9.
So, what was his plan? He had laid evidence against me, believing that, in the current atmosphere of religious ferment, the bishop’s officers would be bold enough to put me on trial. But that in itself would achieve little. In all likelihood I would be examined and released with a caution. Unless false evidence was presented to the court. Perjury was an all too common resort of people who wanted to make trouble for their neighbours. This was what I had to be prepared to face. My adversary would pay someone to accuse me of denouncing the Church’s leaders or denying some basic doctrine. My denial would achieve nothing and I would be quite unable to disprove the charges. My only chance of escaping the fires of Smithfield would, then, be to recant my supposed heresies and perform some public penance, such as being paraded through the streets bearing a faggot and with a placard pinned to my back declaring my detestable errors. That disgrace would be enough to put an end to my career. The Goldsmiths’ Company would disown me. Such ruin would, in all likelihood, be as satisfactory to the perpetrator as my death.
I went through my notes over and over again, my spirits sinking lower with every reading. My adversary seemed to have forced me into a corner in which I was trapped. And yet there was something here, something I had written that, I sensed, offered a way of escape. There was a detail the enemy had overlooked and, try as I might, I was overlooking it, too. When the light faded and I was obliged to use a candle I set aside the papers and lay on the bed, hoping that rest might clear my head.
Minutes later the door was unlocked and Young Henry entered. ‘Visitor,’ he muttered, and stood aside.
Ben Walling strode in. It was a pleasant surprise but one I could not be completely happy with.
‘Ben,’ I said as he warmly clasped my hand, ‘this is very good of you but you really should not be here. The jailer will report anyone who makes contact with me. You could find yourself in a place like this.’
He looked around the cell. ‘Not too bad.’ He grinned. ‘You should see my lodging.’
‘I assume the news is all over town,’ I said.
Ben seated himself on the bench. ‘Yes, you’re quite famous today.’
‘What are people saying?’
‘What you might expect. Some are cock on the hoop. They say the bishop’s men have flushed out another heretic. But I think more people are angry about the power of the clergy.
‘Steeth! The whole City’s gone mad. Neighbour denounces neighbour as “Lutheran heretic” or “papist traitor”. Cromwell has bills posted forbidding preaching of “disputed doctrines” but that doesn’t do any good. It doesn’t stop the hotheads who think they’re speaking in the name of God. Not only in the pulpits; you find them in every marketplace and they pluck you by the sleeve in the inns and ale houses.’ He stood up, stretching his legs. ‘Saints in heaven know how it’ll all end. It’s like a summer storm a-brewing out there. You can feel it in the air. Now, do you want to hear the latest rumours about Master Packington’s death?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s being put about by the cathedral priests that the murder was ordered by one of the late queen’s chaplains, Robert Singleton.’
‘Singleton? Wasn’t it him who caused a stir a couple of months back for preaching against purgatory at Paul’s Cross?’
Ben nodded. ‘That’s right. He’s a dyed-in-the-grain New Learning man. It’s no wonder the dean and his arsewipe fellows want to make trouble for him.’
‘And to divert suspicion from themselves.’
‘Yes, most people think the cathedral chapter were behind your friend’s death and they’re desperate to cover it up.’
‘And particularly John Incent?’
‘That name is certainly being bandied about.’
‘He’s had his brother stir up trouble in Kent. Now, why would he do that if he wasn’t worried?’
We stared gloomily at each other for several seconds. At last I said, ‘I should have listened to a good friend of mine. He warned me that if I didn’t leave well alone, things would be bad not only for me, but for my family and friends, too. How are they coping at my house?’
‘They’re all terribly shocked, of course. Shocked and frightened. That journeyman of yours… What’s his name? Finch?’
‘Fink,’ I corrected. ‘John Fink.’
‘Yes, well, he seems to have collapsed completely. When I called, I found him in a corner, sobbing. He obviously holds you in high regard. If my craftmaster were carted off to jail I’d go out and celebrate.’
‘Then I’m glad I don’t have you for a journeyman. Strange, though.’ I pondered. ‘John has always been level-headed. He usually copes well in a crisis. Perhaps I’ve grown too accustomed to pushing responsibility on to him.’
‘Now, then.’ Ben abruptly changed the mood. ‘We have to get you out of here. What can I do to help?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ I said. ‘You’re a good fellow, Ben, but this time I have to face things on my own. Do you know how heresy cases work?’
‘Well enough.’
‘Then you know the accused is completely on his own. No witnesses allowed for his defence. Not even a clear indictment. Just hostile interrogation.’
‘Aye, and at the end of it all, just one choice: “repent or burn”.’