“Now we shall hear one of Crummock’s henchmen swinged,” he whispered. He raised a finger for them to lend ear and gazed through the crack of the door. They heard a harsh voice, like a dog’s bay, utter clearly:
“Now goodly goodman Doctor, thou hast spoken certain words at Paul’s Cross. They touched on Justification; thou shalt justify them to me now.” There came a sound of a man who cleared his throat—and then again the heavy voice:
“Why, be not cast down; we spoke as doctor to doctor. Without a doubt thou art learned. Show then thy learning. Wast brave at Paul’s Cross. Justify now!”
Gardiner, turning from gazing through the door-crack, grinned at the three women.
“He rated me at Paul’s Cross!” he said. “He thumped me as I had been a thrashing floor.” They missed the Doctor’s voice—but the King’s came again.
“Why, this is a folly. I am Supreme Head, but I bid thee to speak.”
There was a long pause till they caught the words.
“Your Highness, I do surrender my learning to your Highness’.” Then, indeed, there was a great roar:
“Unworthy knave; surrender thyself to none but God. He is above me as above thee. To none but God.”
There was another long silence, and then the King’s voice again:
“Why, get thee gone. Shalt to gaol for a craven. …” And then came a hissing sound of vexation, a dull thud, and other noises.
The King’s bonnet lay on the floor, and the King himself alone was padding down the room when they opened their door. His face was red with rage.
“Why, what a clever fiend is this Cromwell!” the Lady Mary said; but the Bishop of Winchester was laughing. He pushed Margot Poins from the closet, but caught Katharine Howard tightly by the arm.
“Thou shalt write what thy uncle asked of thee!” he commanded in a low voice, “an thou do it not, thy cousin shall to gaol! I have a letter thou didst write me.”
A black despair settled for a moment upon Katharine, but the King was standing before her. He had walked with inaudible swiftness up from the other end of the room.
“Didst not hear me argue!” he said, with the vexation of a great child. “That poxy knave outmarched me!”
“Why,” the Lady Mary sniggered at him, “thy brewer’s son is too many for your Highness.”
Henry snarled round at her; but she folded her hands before her and uttered:
“The brewer’s son made your Highness Supreme Head of the Church. Therefore, the brewer’s son hath tied your Highness’ tongue. For who may argue with your Highness?”
He looked at her for a moment with a bemused face.
“Very well,” he said.
“The brewer’s son should have made your Highness the lowest suppliant at the Church doors. Then, if, for the astounding of certain beholders, your Highness were minded to argue, your Highness should find adversaries.”
The bitter irony of her words made Katharine Howard angry. This poor, heavy man had other matters for misgiving than to be badgered by a woman. But the irony was lost upon the King. He said very simply:
“Why, that is true. If I be the Head, the Tail shall fear to bandy words with me.” He addressed himself again to Katharine: “I am sorry that you did not hear me argue. I am main good at these arguments.” He looked reflectively at Gardiner and said: “Friend Winchester, one day I will cast a main at arguments with thee, and Kat Howard shall hear. But I doubt thou art little skilled with thy tongue.”
“Why, I will make a better shift with my tongue than Privy Seal’s men dare,” the bishop said. He glanced under his brows at Henry, as if he were measuring the ground for a leap.
“The Lady Mary is in the right,” he ventured.
The King, who was thinking out a speech to Katharine, said, “Anan?” and Gardiner ventured further:
“I hold it for true that this man held his peace, because Cromwell so commanded it. He is Cromwell’s creature, and Cromwell is minded to escape from the business with a whole skin.”
The King bent him an attentive ear.
“It is to me, in the end, that Privy Seal owes amends,” Gardiner said rancorously. “Since it was at me that this man, by Cromwell’s orders, did hurl his foul words at Paul’s Cross.”
The King said:
“Why, it is true that thou art more sound in doctrine than is Privy Seal. What wouldst thou have?”
Gardiner made an immense gesture, as if he would have embraced the whole world.
Katharine Howard trembled. Here they were, all the three of them Cromwell’s enemies. They were all alone with the King in a favouring mood, and she was on the point of crying out:
“Give us Privy Seal’s head.”
But, in this very moment of his opportunity, Gardiner faltered. Even the blackness of his hatred could not make him bold.
“That he should make me amends in public for the foul words that knave uttered. That they should both sue to me for pardon: that it should be showed to the world what manner of man it is that they have dared to flout.”
“Why, goodman Bishop, it shall be done,” the King said, and Katharine groaned aloud. A clock with two quarter boys beside the large fireplace chimed the hour of four.
“Aye!” the King commented to Katharine. “I thought to have had a pleasanter hour of it. Now you see what manner of life is mine: I must go to a plaguing council!”
“An I were your Highness,” Katharine cried, “I would be avenged on them that marred my pleasures.”
He touched her benevolently upon the cheek.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “an thou wert me thou’dst do great
