Page 284 of A Column of Fire

Perhaps she would have seen through Rollo if she had been able to talk to him. But for years now she had only waved to him across the beach when he brought a new group of priests from the English College. The lack of contact had made it easier for him to fool her.

She felt certain of one thing: she would no longer smuggle priests from Rollo’s college into England. She had done so in ignorance of their double role, but now that she knew the truth she would have nothing more to do with the business, nor with anything else her brother wanted. She would send him a coded message to that effect at the first opportunity. He would be furious, and that would give her some small satisfaction.

She lay awake that night and several succeeding nights, then she decided to stop reproaching herself and do something. She was under no obligation to keep Rollo’s secrets, nor Bart’s. Was there anything she could do to prevent bloodshed and keep her sons safe?

She resolved to speak to Ned Willard.

Easter was a few days away, and as usual she would go to Kingsbridge with Bart and the boys for the Easter Fair. They would all attend the special services in the cathedral. Bart could no longer avoid attending Protestant services: it was too dangerous and too expensive – the fine for not going to church was now £20.

She suffered a twinge of conscience as the family group approached Kingsbridge and the cathedral tower came into view over the treetops. Should she not be supporting this Spanish invasion and the associated Catholic rebellion? After all, the result might be that England would be Catholic again, and that had to be God’s will.

Easter had become a dull affair under the Protestants. No longer were the bones of St Adolphus carried through the streets of Kingsbridge in a colourful procession. There was no mystery play in the cathedral. Instead, there was a troupe of actors in the courtyard of the Bell Inn every afternoon, performing a play calledEveryman. The Protestants did not understand people’s need for colour and drama in church.

But Margery at forty-five no longer believed that Protestantism was evil and Catholicism perfect. For her the important divide was between tyranny and tolerance; between people who tried to force their views on everyone else, and people who respected the faith of those who disagreed with them. Rollo and Bart belonged to the authoritarian group she despised. Ned was one of the rare people who believed in religious freedom. She would trust him.

She did not run into Ned on her first day in Kingsbridge, nor the second. Perhaps he would not come this Easter. She saw his nephew, Alfo, now proudly married to Valerie Forneron. She also saw Ned’s German sister-in-law, Helga, but not Barney, who had returned from Cádiz with another small fortune in plunder and had gone back to sea after a short furlough. Margery was reluctant to question the family about Ned’s plans. She did not want to give them the impression that she was desperate to talk to him. She was, though.

On Easter Saturday she was at the market in the old cloisters, now roofed over. She fingered a length of cloth in a dark wine-red colour that she thought might suit her now that she was, well, no longer a girl. Then she glanced across the quadrangle and saw the sturdy short figure of Ned’s wife, Sylvie.

Sylvie was like Margery, and both women knew it. Margery did not have to be modest with herself, and she could see that both she and Sylvie were attractive women who were also intelligent and determined – in fact, rather similar to Ned’s formidable mother. Sylvie was a Protestant, of course, and a crusading one; but even there Margery could see a similarity, for they both took terrible risks for the sake of their faith.

Margery wanted to speak to Ned, not Sylvie; but now Sylvie caught her eye, smiled, and came towards her.

It occurred to Margery that she could give Sylvie a message for Ned. In fact, that might even be better, for then no one could cast suspicion on Margery by reporting to Bart that she had been talking to Ned.

‘What a pretty hat,’ Sylvie said in her soft French accent.

‘Thank you.’ Margery was wearing a sky-blue velvet cap. She showed Sylvie the cloth she was contemplating. ‘Do you like this colour?’

‘You’re too young to wear burgundy,’ Sylvie said with a smile.

‘That’s kind.’

‘I saw your two sons. Roger has a beard now!’

‘They grow up too fast.’

‘I envy you. I have never conceived. I know Ned is disappointed, though he doesn’t complain.’

Sylvie’s intimacy with Ned’s unspoken feelings, so casually revealed, caused Margery to feel a hot wave of jealousy. You have no children, she thought, but you’ve got him.

She said: ‘I’m worried about my boys. If the Spanish invade us, they will have to fight.’

‘Ned says the queen’s ships will try to prevent the Spanish soldiers landing.’

‘I’m not sure we have enough ships.’

‘Perhaps God will be on our side.’

‘I’m not as sure as I used to be about whose side God is on.’

Sylvie smiled ruefully. ‘Nor am I.’

Out of the corner of her eye Margery saw Bart enter the indoor market. She was forced to make a quick decision. ‘Will you give Ned a message from me?’

‘Of course. But he’s here somewhere—’

‘I’m sorry, there’s no time. Ask him to raid New Castle and arrest Bart, Bartlet and Roger. He will find weapons stockpiled in the old oven – they’re to support the invaders.’ Her plan was risky, she knew, but she trusted Ned.