She realized with dismay that she looked slovenly, her coat unflattering and her hair tied up in a rag. Fortunately, Ned did not appear to care. He stood there as if he would be happy to smile at her for ever.
‘You have a sword, now,’ she said.
Ned shrugged. ‘Courtiers wear swords,’ he said. ‘I’ve even had fencing lessons, just so that I know what to do with it.’
Getting over her surprise, she began to think logically. Clearly this was a chance to use the secret. If people noticed her talking to Ned, they would nod sagely and tell each other that she had never really got over him; and her family would think the same if they got to hear of it.
She was not sure how much to tell him. ‘There’s going to be a fight at the consecration,’ she began. ‘Dan Cobley is going to seize the bones of the saint.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Donal Gloster told Rollo.’
Ned raised his eyebrows. Of course he had not known that Dan Cobley’s right-hand man was a spy for the Catholics. But he made no comment, seeming to tuck the revelation away for future consideration.
Margery went on: ‘Rollo told Swithin, and Swithin is going to use it as an excuse to start a fight and kill Dan.’
‘In the church?’
‘Yes. He thinks he’ll get away with it because he will be protecting the clergy and the relics.’
‘Swithin’s not smart enough to think of that.’
‘No, it was Rollo’s idea.’
‘The devil.’
‘I’ve been trying to figure out how to warn the Puritans so that they can come armed. But now you can do it.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me.’
She resisted the temptation to throw her arms around him and kiss him.
*
‘WE MUST CALLoff the ceremony,’ Dean Luke said when Ned told him what was going to happen.
‘But when would you reschedule it?’
‘I don’t know.’
They were in the chancel, standing next to one of the mighty pillars that held up the tower. Looking up, Ned recalled that this was Merthin’s tower, rebuilt by him after the old one caused a collapse, according to the history of Kingsbridge known as Timothy’s Book. Merthin must have built well, for that had been two hundred years ago.
Ned turned his gaze to Luke’s anxious face and mild blue eyes. He was a priest who would avoid conflict at all costs. ‘We can’t postpone the consecration,’ Ned said. ‘It would be a political blow to Queen Elizabeth. People would say that the Kingsbridge Puritans had prevented her from appointing the bishop of her choice. Ultra-Protestants in other cities would think they had the right to say who should be their bishop, and they might start copycat riots. The queen would crucify you and me for letting it happen.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Luke. ‘Then we’ll have to leave the saint inside his railings.’
Ned glanced across at the tomb of St Adolphus. The monument was closed off by locked iron railings. A little group of pilgrims were on their knees, staring through the grille at the reliquary. It was a gold casket in the shape of a church, with archways and turrets and a spire. Set into the gold were pearls, rubies and sapphires, glittering in the watery sunlight that came through the great east window.
‘I’m not sure that will be enough,’ Ned said. ‘Now that they’ve planned this, they may break down the railings.’
Luke looked panicky. ‘I can’t have a riot during my consecration!’
‘No, indeed. That would be almost as bad as cancellation, from the point of view of the queen.’
‘What, then?’
Ned knew what he wanted to do, but he hesitated. There was something Margery was not telling him. She had wanted him to arm the Puritans, not avoid the brawl altogether. It was surprising that she had taken that line, for she was strongly against religious violence of any kind. This thought had occurred to him vaguely while talking to her, but he saw it more clearly now in retrospect. Something else was going on, but he did not know what.
