Had I as many souls as there be stars, chapter 3.3
The next morning, thunderous knocking on the front door disturbed Heneage at his breakfast. He sent his manservant to answer the door, and after a few moments the man returned with a sealed letter, saying it had been delivered by one of Sir Robert Cecil’s men.
Heneage frowned. Cecil was his immediate superior in the secret service, and a fellow Privy Councillor. Sending a messenger around this early in the morning suggested something serious was afoot. Pushing away his plate, he broke the seal and read the letter. It was an urgent summons to Cecil’s house.
Less than an hour later, Heneage presented himself at Cecil’s front door, and was let in. Judging by his rumpled appearance, Cecil had been up all night. He waved Heneage to a chair, and held a document out to him. “Read this,” he said, his voice curt with worry.
Heneage read. A poem, of sorts, addressed to the immigrants from France and the Low Countries now living in London - clumsy verse, full of vicious accusations and threats of violence, signed with the name ‘Tamburlaine’.
“Nothing but mindless slander - the sort of bleating you hear from the ignorant rabble.” Heneage’s tone made his opinion plain as he read from the text: “‘Your usury doth leave us all for dead - Every merchant hath three trades at least - Cutthroat-like in selling you undo us all - Twenty in one house will lurk, living far better than at native home -’”
“A copy of this was nailed to the door of the Dutch Church in Broad Street late last night,” said Cecil. “Other copies appeared in a number of other locations at about the same time.”
“Who’s responsible?”
“Whoever did it was not seen - but because the document is written in verse and contains reference to his plays, a number of our fellow Privy Councillors have drawn the conclusion that the author of this libel is Christopher Marlowe.”
Heneage glanced over the document again, and shook his head. “I think it’s unlikely this is Marlowe’s work,” he said gravely. “He’s known to be outspoken, and much of what he says is ill-advised - but nailing up inflammatory tracts hardly seems his style. Besides, the poetry is bad. Marlowe writes better than this.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cecil replied. “Now think, Sir Thomas. Why would anyone make a false accusation of this kind? Most likely the true target is not Marlowe. He’s only a pawn in the game. This has been done to discredit us, Heneage. There are those who want us out of the way because they would like to take over responsibility for the security of the Realm, and climb higher in the Queen’s favour. Discrediting one of your men is the thin end of the wedge - the first shot in a battle that might bring both of us down.”
Heneage could not sit for a moment longer. He began to pace back and forth across the room. “The trouble is, Marlowe is an easy target. He has gained a reputation as an atheist. He has made enemies. The Archbishop of Canterbury has been complaining about his writings for a long time. It’s only the Queen’s fondness for the theatre that has stayed his hand - if it were not for fear of offending her, the Archbishop would have had Marlowe arrested long ago.”
“Exactly: an easy target, and one they can be fairly certain of convicting. Marlowe may not be guilty of this, but will most likely be found guilty of something. If we let them go ahead and make an example of him, our enemies will use him as a weapon against us, to shake the Queen’s faith in our judgement.” Cecil paused for a moment, watching Heneage’s agitated pacing, wondering how the man would react to his next words. “He’s become a liability, Heneage. He needs to be removed.”
Heneage stopped pacing and looked at Cecil, shocked. “That’s extreme, Sir Robert. He can still be useful to us. He’s skilled; he has contacts.”
Cecil shook his head. “We can’t risk keeping him.”
“Sir Robert, I beg to differ -“
“If he’s arrested, he will almost certainly be tortured. Marlowe knows too much to abandon him to the torturer. God alone knows what he might reveal under duress. Years of careful work in defence of the Realm could be put in jeopardy.”
Heneage ran his hands through his hair distractedly. He had invested a good deal of energy into getting Marlowe back under control with a view to using him in Scotland. “Look, Sir Robert, I would agree that he has been troublesome to work with, but I am confident I have him back in hand. I was going to send him to Scotland - his particular skills will be invaluable at the court of the Scottish king -”
“He can’t be sent away on official business, man. He’s under suspicion of heresy, and heresy is treason. The man can be of no further use to us.” Sir Robert’s stony expression suggested his mind was made up.
Heneage tried again. “Then he needs to disappear. If he goes missing, they can’t continue with the prosecution - and they can’t forge a weapon to use against us. A year or two in the Italian states, until present concerns are forgotten, and he may once again prove useful.”
Cecil did not reply. He was not going to waste time trying to change his colleague’s mind. Let Heneage believe he could reform Marlowe. Let him put his plan into action. A more permanent solution could be set in motion without Heneage’s knowledge.
Taking Cecil’s silence for assent, Heneage smiled grimly. “When the Privy Council meets today, we must prevent them from throwing him in prison. Somehow, he must remain at large until we can arrange his safe passage out of the country. Not everyone is a convinced supporter of the Archbishop, so we should be able to create enough doubt in the minds of our fellow Councillors to ensure we have some breathing time.”
After long and bitter argument in the Privy Council, it was decided that Christopher Marlowe should be brought before the Council for questioning. Some wanted to see him arrested straight away, but it was decided there was insufficient evidence and that more information should be sought. As the man was known to be a troublemaker, the Council would require him to report to them daily while the investigation was carried out.
This outcome satisfied Heneage: he could put the next stage of his plan into action. However, he recognised that further examination of Marlowe’s views would implicate others. He was thinking of Sir Walter Raleigh, who had lately been of assistance to him. In courtesy, he thought he should warn him.
That evening, Heneage called at Raleigh’s house. When he arrived, he found Raleigh with the Earl of Gloria, the two of them bent over a collection of maps and navigational charts spread out on the large table in Raleigh’s drawing room. Heneage had heard that the two had entered into a business agreement.
“Sir Thomas! How good of you to call. Will you take a cup of wine? Lord Gloria and I are just going over some plans for our expedition to the New World.”
“Forgive me, Sir Walter, but I must decline. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, and then I fear I must be on my way.”
“Of course. Will you excuse us, Lord Gloria?” Raleigh led Heneage through into his library and closed the door behind them.
Benedict watched them go, struck by Heneage’s grave expression. Curious, he walked quietly over to the door to listen. The solid wood muffled the voices, but Benedict’s keen hearing could pick up some of what they were saying.
“- The Privy Council - Dutch Church in Broad Street - Christopher Marlowe -”
At the sound of that name, Benedict pressed closer to the door, trying to hear more clearly.
Heneage was speaking forcefully. “Sir Walter, I am telling you this off the record. The faction within the Privy Council that’s behind this move to arrest Marlowe is doing so to increase their power and influence. Marlowe is of little importance to them, he is merely a means to an end. But you should beware: all who associate with Marlowe and share his unorthodox views will come under scrutiny. You no longer enjoy the Queen’s protection as you once did. You may be next.”
Raleigh’s reply was harder to hear. “-would be ill-advised to assume that I or any other of my associates share Marlowe’s views in their entirety. None the less, there has been no treason spoken under my roof, by Marlowe or any other.”
“I would not assume there was.”
“What is the Council proposing to do?”
“Marlowe is to be brought before them for a hearing. Some were in favour of imprisoning him straight away, but cooler heads prevailed. He will be ordered to report daily to the Council for the time being, while further evidence is sought.”
Benedict stepped back from the door. Marlowe’s charmed life seems to be coming to an end, he thought. Not formally under arrest yet - but that may follow. A smile of dark satisfaction played on his lips as he went back to the maps and charts on the table.