“Amen!” said Gardiner, as he repeated with solemn earnestness the king’s words.
“Send us the thunderbolt of Thy wrath,” prayed Wriothesley, “that we may teach the world to recognize Thy power and glory!”
Earl Douglas took care not to pray aloud. What he had to request of God was not allowed to reach the ear of the king.
“Grant, O God,” prayed he in his heart, “grant that my work may prosper, and that this dangerous queen may ascend the scaffold, to make room for my daughter, who is destined to bring back into the arms of our holy mother, the Church—guilty and faithless king.”
“Now my lords,” said the king, fetching a long breath, “now tell me how stand matters in my kingdom, and at my court?”
“Badly,” said Gardiner. “Unbelief again lifts up its head. It is a hydra. If you strike off one of its heads, two others immediately spring up in its place. This cursed sect of reformists and atheists multiplies day by day, and our prisons are no longer sufficient to contain them; and when we drag them to the stake, their joyful and courageous death always makes fresh proselytes and fresh apostates.”
“Yes, matters are bad,” said the Lord Chancellor Wriothesley; “in vain have we promised pardon and forgiveness to all those who would return penitent and contrite; they laugh to scorn our offers of pardon, and prefer a death of torture to the royal clemency. What avails it that we have burnt to death Miles Coverdale, who had the hardihood to translate the Bible? His death appears to have been only the tocsin that aroused other fanatics, and, without our being able to divine or suspect where all these books come from, they have overflowed and deluged the whole land; and we now already have more than four translations of the Bible. The people read them with eagerness; and the corrupt seek of mental illumination and free-thinking waxes daily more powerful and more pernicious.”
“And now you, Earl Douglas?” asked the king, when the lord chancellor ceased. “These noble lords have told me how matters stand in my kingdom. You will advise me what is the aspect of things at my court.”
“Sire,” said Earl Douglas, slowly and solemnly—for he wished each word to sink into the king’s breast like a poisoned arrow—“sire, the people but follow the example which the court sets them. How can you require faith of the people, when under their own eyes the court turns faith to ridicule, and when infidels find at court aid and protection?”
“You accuse, but give no names,” said the king, impatiently. “Who dares at my court be a protector of heretics?”