The Sixth Wife_ The Story of Katherine P - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,36

a man who needed to show the Bishop his loyalty. As he had once been Cromwell’s man, he could not easily become Gardiner’s. In these dangerous times a man must take sides; and Dr. London had shown the Bishop that he wished to establish himself as a good Catholic.

The man had wisdom. He looked into the future. The present King was ailing; his son was weak; and there was Catholic Mary waiting to take the throne. Dr. London—like Gardiner—saw a return to Rome not far distant. He had no wish to feed the flames of Smithfield.

Such a man, the Bishop was sure, would work with zeal.

“Dr. London, I have work for you. You have shown me that you wish for preferment. You have sworn loyalty to me and the true religion. Now is the time to prove it.”

“I am at your service, my lord Bishop.”

“The task to which I am appointing you, good Dr. London, is the smellingout of heretics in Windsor.”

“Ah. They abound in this town, sir. They abound.”

“Alas, ’tis true. I have the King’s order to bring them to justice. Whom do you suspect of heresy?”

“There is a priest, Anthony Pearson. I have made notes of his sermons, your lordship. He has said enough to send him to the stake.”

“Mayhap examination of his house will lead you to others.”

“I doubt it not.”

“Go to it, good Doctor. I doubt not that you will find evidence against these rogues.”

“My lord Bishop, it is said that these people are given aid by some at court.”

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 think as he wishes.”

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