‘What you have guessed,’ James corrected.
‘Very well, but I’m sure I’m right. Will you come with me and take him into custody, pending His Lordship’s pleasure?’
‘Not so fast, Thomas.’ James frowned. ‘I have to keep order around here. That means, among other things, staying on good terms with powerful families like the Everards. If I arrest their chaplain without very good reason…’
‘James, James,’ I pleaded, ‘you’re my only hope… and I’m sure you’d like to be rid of a troublemaker like Incent.’
My friend stared silently into the fire. I waited anxiously for his reply. When, at last, he spoke it was in a half-musing way, as though he were trying to persuade himself. ‘He is already a marked man because of the Elizabeth Barton business and I would certainly be glad to see an end to his heresy-hunting crusade.’
‘So you will come with me, then,’ I urged. He nodded slightly.
‘Let us see what effect your threats have. Perhaps they will be enough to make him crumble.’
With that I had to be content.
I returned to the demoralised household at Hemmings and brought everyone news that I hoped would raise their spirits. I announced that the house was to be shut up for the winter and that family and staff would be moving to Goldsmith’s Row. The sense of relief was almost tangible and the servants began with a will the business of packing everything that had to be transferred to our other home. For the next thirty-six hours all was bustle and clamour and, as the time of our departure drew nearer, the atmosphere became almost cheerful. I sent a messenger ahead with a letter for Cromwell, announcing my return and telling him that I would be in Goldsmith’s Row, awaiting his summons.
Chapter 31
I had arranged with James to visit Hugh Incent on Friday 16 December and on that morning I rendezvoused with him and two of his armed retainers at the Everard estate. We rode on to the chaplain’s cottage close to the small chapel-of-ease which served the lord of the manor and his household. James approached the door and one of his men dismounted to knock. The door was opened by Incent’s housekeeper, who, I could scarcely help noticing, was young and pretty. She reported our arrival and, moments later, her master appeared.
Hugh Incent was a small man whose paunch indicated that he was well fed. However, his most striking feature was his head of thick russet hair. Seeing James, he smiled and raised both hands in a gesture of welcome. ‘Your Honour, this is a pl — ’ Then he saw me. For several seconds he stood, flustered and at a loss for words.
James dismounted. ‘Good day to you, Sir Hugh. I have one or two questions to ask. May we come in?’
The priest tried to hide his reluctance as he ushered us inside.
When we were seated in the small main room of the simple dwelling, James began. ‘I am here at His Majesty’s express command. As you will appreciate, he is sore troubled by the rebels in the North, many of whom are clergy. Sadly, some of their brothers in other parts of the country have expressed sympathy for them. His Majesty has charged all justices of the peace to search out any mischievous people who are well disposed towards his enemies. Now, Sir Hugh, do you know of anyone, priest or layman, whom I should be investigating about this?’
Incent surveyed us warily but replied in a firm voice. ‘No, Your Honour. I believe all hereabouts are loyal servants of His Majesty.’
‘You are sure?’ James pressed. ‘There is no person you suspect of grumbling about the Royal Supremacy? No one who would like to see the Bishop of Rome reinstated as head of the English church?’
The priest shook his head firmly. ‘No, indeed.’ His brow was beginning to moisten with sweat.
‘Hmm.’ James stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘I am pleased to hear that. However, I’m sure you will appreciate that I may be obliged to detain some people for close examination. I must be thorough. His Majesty expressly desires above all things that his subjects should live at peace with each other. No more talk of “papists” and “heretics”. The king remembers only too well the support in this area for the so-called Nun of Kent. He fears that disaffection may linger. Any such… treason’ — James emphasised the word — ‘must be rooted out. As I recall, you, yourself…’
Incent jumped to his feet. ‘I denounced that fraudulent strumpet! I have taken the Oath of Supremacy! What lies have people been spreading about me?’
‘No need to distress yourself, Sir Hugh. Please sit down.’ James’ manner was calm but certainly not reassuring. ‘Since you ask, it has been noised abroad that your sermons don’t seem to stress His Majesty’s headship.’
Incent sank on to his stool. ‘I… well… there have been other important issues to preach about.’
‘More important than our Christian duty to support God’s anointed king?’
The priest’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He turned his face from the fire and dabbed at it with a kerchief.
James continued calmly, with no outward sign that he recognised Incent’s obvious distress. ‘So that I may be able to report to His Majesty with complete confidence, I would like you to preach on the Supremacy every time you enter the pulpit for the next month. I take it you have no objection to that?’
‘No, no, no, not at all, Your Honour.’ The fat priest subsided with obvious relief.
James nodded and smiled. ‘Well, I think that concludes my business here — for the moment. I’m sure His Majesty can rely on your complete support. Now Master Treviot has another matter he would like to bring up.’
Incent turned to me, instantly wary.
‘My mission,’ I began, ‘is not totally unrelated to what Sir James has been saying. I have been charged by Lord Cromwell to investigate the scandalous murder of a prominent merchant shot dead on the streets of London last month. We have made various enquiries as a result of which we need to identify and interview a red-headed priest who appears to have some connection with the case.’
Incent was visibly shaken but tried hard not to show it. He had been deferential towards James but obviously did not know how to react to someone he had only recently denounced as a heretic. He tried humour. ‘Is His Lordship proposing to round up every red-headed priest in England?’ Incent laughed nervously.
‘If necessary,’ I replied solemnly. ‘The victim of this atrocity was a personal friend of Lord Cromwell and he will not rest until the truth is discovered. I will need to establish your whereabouts on 20 November.’
Suddenly Incent lost control. ‘This is all because I drew Sir James’ attention to those two buggers you are defending, isn’t it?’ he cried in a shrill voice.
‘Just tell me where you were on 20 November,’ I replied calmly.
‘I was here, of course,’ he shouted. ‘Here! Here! Here!’
‘And you can prove that?’
‘I need prove nothing to you. I am a holy, anointed priest. I answer only to my bishop.’
James intervened, raising his voice very slightly. ‘The Vicegerent in Spirituals outranks all bishops, and Master Treviot is his representative. You will answer the question.’
Incent glowered. ‘I can’t remember exactly what I was doing a month ago.’
‘Then you cannot prove that you were here and not in London,’ I said.
‘Of course I was not in London. I hardly ever go to London.’
‘I see. In that case do you know any other red-headed priests we ought to question?’ I asked.
He shook his head firmly. ‘No, none.’
‘Strange,’ I said. ‘Is not your brother of the same colouring?’
Incent’s belligerence collapsed, like a fire when water is thrown on it. He covered his face with his hands. ‘Someone has lied to you. This is all wrong,’ he gasped.
On the contrary, I thought. Thank you for confirming my suspicion. I pressed home my advantage. ‘And you yourself lied to us a moment ago?’ To James I said, ‘I see now how difficult a magistrate’s job is. Lies, false accusations. Sometimes it must be almost impossible to come by the truth.’