Page 183 of A Column of Fire

‘I try to give her early warning of burgeoning problems.’

Margery thought this sounded pat, as if Ned had been asked the question many times and always trotted out the same answer.

Stephen gave a twisted grin. ‘Does that mean you spy on people who disagree with her?’

Margery groaned inwardly. Stephen was going to be combative and spoil the atmosphere.

Ned sat back and squared his shoulders. ‘She doesn’t care if people disagree with her, as long as they keep their views to themselves. I would have expected you to know that, Stephen, as Earl Bart regularly pays the fine of one shilling a week for not going to church.’

Bart said grumpily: ‘I go to the big events at Kingsbridge Cathedral.’

‘And very wise you are, if I may say so. But in Elizabeth’s England no one is tortured for their religion, and no one has been burned at the stake – a stark contrast with the reign of her predecessor, Queen Mary.’

Bart spoke again. ‘What about the Northern Rebellion?’

Margery knew what he was talking about. Just before Christmas a group of Catholic earls had taken up arms against Queen Elizabeth in the only rebellion of her reign so far. They had celebrated a Latin Mass in Durham Cathedral, occupied several other towns in the north, and marched towards Tutworth, where Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned, with the evident intention of freeing her and proclaiming her queen of England. But the uprising had gained little support, the queen’s forces had put it down quickly, and Mary Stuart remained a prisoner.

Ned said: ‘It fizzled out.’

‘Five hundred men have been hanged!’ Bart said indignantly. ‘By the queen who complains of Mary Tudor’s cruelty!’

Ned said mildly: ‘Men who try to overthrow the monarch are generally executed, in every country in the world, I believe.’

Bart was a poor listener, like his father, and he responded as if he had not heard Ned. ‘The north is poor enough already, but it has been looted mercilessly, lands confiscated and all the livestock seized and driven south!’

Margery wondered whether this reminded Ned of how his own family had been mercilessly plundered by her father; but if he thought of that he hid his pain. He was not flustered by Bart’s tactless tirade, and Margery supposed that, spending his life among the queen’s advisors, Ned had learned how to remain calm during angry arguments. ‘I can tell you that the queen has not received much booty,’ he said in a reasonable tone of voice. ‘Certainly nothing approaching the cost to her of putting down the insurrection.’

‘The north is part of England – it should not be plundered like a foreign country.’

‘Then its people should behave like Englishmen, and obey their queen.’

Margery decided that this was a good moment to change the subject. ‘Ned, tell Bart about the problem in Wigleigh.’

‘It’s quickly stated, Bart. One of my tenant farmers has encroached on your land, and has cleared a couple of acres of forest on your side of the river.’

‘Then throw him off it,’ Bart said.

‘If you wish, I will simply tell him to stop using that land, of course.’

‘And if he disobeys?’

‘I’ll burn his crop.’

Margery knew that Ned was pretending to be harsh in order to reassure Bart.

Bart did not realize he was being manipulated. ‘It’s what he deserves,’ he said in a tone of satisfaction. ‘These peasants know the boundaries better than anyone: if he has encroached, he’s done so deliberately.’

‘I agree, but there might be a better solution,’ Ned said as if he hardly cared one way or the other. ‘After all, when peasants prosper, their landlords do too. Suppose I give you four acres of woodland somewhere else, in exchange for the two already cleared? That way, we both gain.’

Bart looked reluctant, but clearly could not think of a counterargument. However, he temporized. ‘Let’s pay a visit to Wigleigh together,’ he said. He was not good at abstract thinking, Margery knew: he would much prefer to make a decision while looking at the land in question.

Ned said: ‘Of course, I’d be glad to, especially if we can do so soon – I need to get back to London, now that my mother is buried.’

Margery felt a stab of disappointment, and realized she had been hoping that Ned would stay in Kingsbridge longer.

Bart said: ‘How about next Friday?’

Ned felt impatient, but suppressed the feeling: Margery could tell by his face, though probably no one else noticed. Clearly he would have preferred to settle this trivial matter right away so that he could get back to great affairs of state. He said: ‘Could you make it Monday?’