The Bishop nodded. “For the time, Doctor, let us keep to the herd. We will shoot at the head deer later.”
The Doctor’s eyes gleamed. He understood. Great things lay ahead of him. This was but a beginning. He would perform the task required of him, and another and greater would come his way. That was what the good Bishop, the mighty Bishop, was telling him.
“How many heretics would my lord Bishop require?”
“Not too many. We might say… four. They should be humble men. The court is to be left alone. Start with this priest Pearson and see whither that leads.”
The Doctor bowed himself out of the Bishop’s presence and at once went to his task.
AS HE LEFT THE Castle of Windsor, John Marbeck was singing softly. It had been a successful evening, a wonderful evening indeed when the King had singled him out to express his pleasure.
John Marbeck was a simple man, a deeply religious man, a man of ideals. His greatest desire was not that he might win fame and fortune at court, but that he might help to give the Bible to the people of England.
He had many friends in Windsor, men with ideals similar to his own; he met them in the course of his duties at church and he sometimes joined gatherings at their homes and, on occasions, they visited his. During these meetings there was one subject which they discussed with passion: religion.
Each of these men wished to do some work which would aid others to reach the great Truth which they believed they had discovered.
Pearson did it by his preaching, as did Henry Filmer, a friar, who, being turned from his monastery, had become interested in the new learning and was now a vicar in Windsor.
Marbeck’s friend Robert Testwood, a fine musician and the head of the choir to which Marbeck belonged, had introduced him to these men; and how happy Marbeck had been to show them the great work which he was doing!
“I shall go on working at my Concordance,” he told them, “until I have made possible a greater understanding of the Bible.”
“Then keep it secret,” Pearson had warned him.
It was strange, thought Marbeck, looking back at the gray walls of the castle, how simple men such as himself and his friends, knowing the risks they ran, should continue to run them.
Robert Testwood had said: “This is more than a religious issue, my friends. We do these things because within us we feel that a man should have freedom to
Marbeck was not sure of that. The religious issue, to him, was all-important. And on this night he wished merely to be happy. The King had complimented him on his voice; the Queen had smiled graciously upon him—the Queen, who, some said, was one of them.
He smiled, thinking of the future. Perhaps he would dedicate his Concordance to that gracious lady.
He was singing the song he had sung before the King, as he let himself into his house.
He stood at the door listening. He heard noises within. Strangers were in his house.
His heart was beating fast as he opened the door and went into that room in which he did his work. There stood two men; he noticed that his cupboard had been turned out, as had the drawers of his table. In the hands of one were several sheets of his Concordance. These men had forced the lock; they had discovered his secret.
“What… what do you here?” he stammered.
“John Marbeck,” said one of the men, “we come on the King’s business. You are our prisoner. There will be questions for you to answer.
“Questions… questions? I beg of you, give me those papers…. They are mine….”
“Not so,” said the man. “These papers are our prisoners also. Come, master chorister. There is no time to waste.”
“Whither do you take me?”
“To London. To the Marshalsea.”
Marbeck was trembling, remembering tales he had heard and had bravely not heeded. Now they were close to him and he would have to heed them. He thought of torture and death; and as he left Windsor for London in the company of his captors he thought of the smell of crackling wood and burning flesh; he thought of the martyr’s death.
ANNE, LADY HERBERT, came to the Queen and begged a secret audience with her. Katharine forthwith dismissed all her attendants.
“What ails you, sister?” asked the Queen. “I declare you look as if you have seen a ghost.”
Ah! thought Anne Herbert. Mayhap I have. The ghosts of Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard warn me.
“Gardiner is moving against you. He, with his friend Wriothesley, has ordered a search of the houses in this town.”
“A search!”
“There have already been arrests.”
“Whom have they arrested?”
“Four men of Windsor. Two priests and two musicians. Pearson is one of them, Marbeck another.”
“God help us!” cried the Queen. “I know why these men have been taken.”
“It is a blow at you, dearest sister. They dare not attack you now because you have the King’s favor. But this is a warning. As soon as they consider they have a chance to work against you, they will do so. Dearest Majesty, you must give up your reading, give up those little gatherings of our friends. It was unsafe when you were Lady Latimer; but now that you are the Queen it is desperately dangerous.”
