'For two things: firstly, because this letter and its sending are put
off. And secondly, because the Queen is--patently and to all
people--proved lewd.'
The Archbishop swung his head round upon his shoulders.
'You dare not say it!' he said.
'Why, the late Queen Katharine from Aragon was accounted a model of
piety, yet all men know she was over fond with her confessor,' Lascelles
smiled.
'It is an approved lie and slander,' the Archbishop said.
'It served mightily well in pulling down that Katharine,' his confidant
answered.
'One day'--the Archbishop shivered within his robes--'the account and
retribution for these lies shall be to be paid. For well we know, you,
I, and all of us, that these be falsities and cozenings.'
'Marry,' Lascelles said, 'of this Queen it is now sufficiently proved
true.'
The Archbishop made as if he washed his hands.
'Why,' Lascelles said, 'what man shall believe it was by chance and
accident that she met her cousin on these moors? She is not a compass
that pointeth, of miraculous power, true North.'
'No good man shall believe what you do say,' the Archbishop cried out.
'But a multitude of indifferent will,' Lascelles answered.
'God help me,' the Archbishop said, 'what a devil you are that thus hold
out and hold out for ever hopes.'
'Why,' Lascelles said, 'I think you were well helped that day that I
came into your service. It was the Great Privy Seal that bade me serve
you and commended me.'
The Archbishop shivered at that name.
'What an end had Thomas Cromwell!' he said.
'Why, such an end shall not be yours whilst this King lives, so well he
loves you,' Lascelles answered.
The Archbishop stood upon his feet; he raised his hands above his head.
'Begone! Begone!' he cried. 'I will not be of your evil schemes.'
'Your Grace shall not,' Lascelles said very softly, 'if they miscarry.
But when it is proven to the hilt that this Queen is a very lewd
woman--and proven it shall be--your Grace may carry an accusation to the
King----'