A Column of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

in fact, he seemed proud of his wound.
    Rollo’s father, Sir Reginald, sat next to Swithin, lean and freckled, a leopard beside a bear.
    Bart Shiring was there, too, and to Rollo’s consternation so were Alice and Ned Willard.
    William Cecil was on a low stool in front of the six local people but, despite the symbolism of the seating, it looked to Rollo as if Cecil was in charge of the meeting.
    Reginald said to Cecil: ‘You won’t mind my son joining us? He has been to Oxford University, and studied law at the Inns of Court in London.’
    ‘I’m glad to have the younger generation here,’ Cecil said amiably. ‘I include my own son in meetings, even though he’s only sixteen – the earlier they begin, the faster they learn.’
    Studying Cecil, Rollo noticed that there were three warts on his right cheek, and his brown beard was beginning to turn grey. He had been a powerful courtier during the reign of Edward VI, while still in his twenties, and although he was not yet forty years old he had an air of confident wisdom that might have belonged to a much older man.
    Earl Swithin shifted impatiently. ‘I have a hundred guests in the hall, Sir William. You’d better tell me what you have to say that is important enough to take me away from my own party.’
    ‘At once, my lord,’ Cecil said. ‘The queen is not pregnant.’
    Rollo let out a grunt of surprise and dismay.
    Queen Mary and King Felipe were desperate for heirs to their two crowns, England and Spain. But they spent hardly any time together, being so busy ruling their widely separated kingdoms. So there had been rejoicing in both countries when Mary had announced that she was expecting a baby next March. Obviously something had gone wrong.
    Rollo’s father, Sir Reginald, said grimly: ‘This has happened before.’
    Cecil nodded. ‘It is her second false pregnancy.’
    Swithin looked bewildered. ‘False?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘There has been no miscarriage,’ Cecil said solemnly.
    Reginald explained: ‘She wants a baby so badly, she convinces herself that she’s expecting when she’s not.’
    ‘I see,’ said Swithin. ‘Female stupidity.’
    Alice Willard gave a contemptuous snort at this remark, but Swithin was oblivious.
    Cecil said: ‘We must now face the likelihood that our queen will never give birth to a child.’
    Rollo’s mind was awhirl with the consequences. The longed-for child of the ultra-Catholic Queen Mary and the equally devout King of Spain would have been raised strictly Catholic, and could have been relied upon to favour families such as the Fitzgeralds. But if Mary should die without an heir, all bets were off.
    Cecil had figured this out long ago, Rollo assumed. Cecil said: ‘The transition to a new monarch is a time of danger for any country.’
    Rollo had to suppress a feeling of panic. England could return to Protestantism – and everything the Fitzgerald family had achieved in the last five years could be wiped out.
    ‘I want to plan for a smooth succession, with no bloodshed,’ Cecil said in a tone of reasonableness. ‘I’m here to speak to you three powerful provincial leaders – the earl of the county, the mayor of Kingsbridge, and the town’s leading merchant – and to ask you to help me.’
    He sounded deceptively like a diligent servant making careful plans, but Rollo could already see that he was, in fact, a dangerous revolutionary.
    Swithin said: ‘And how would we help you?’
    ‘By pledging support for my mistress, Elizabeth.’
    Swithin said challengingly: ‘You assume that Elizabeth is heir to the throne?’
    ‘Henry the Eighth left three children,’ Cecil said pedantically, stating the obvious. ‘His son, Edward the Sixth, the boy king, died before he could produce an heir, so Henry’s elder daughter, Mary Tudor, became queen. The logic is inescapable. If Queen Mary dies childless, as King Edward did, the next in line to the throne is clearly Henry’s other daughter, Elizabeth