Then the party sat down near the further door in dead silence, and the minutes began to pass.
There were cries from the river once or twice as they waited; once a footstep vibrated through the door, and twice a murmur of voices sounded and died again.
Then suddenly a hand was laid on the handle from the other side, and the Archbishop rose, with Sir James beside him.
There was still a pause. Then a voice sounded loud and near, and there was a general movement in the room as all rose to their feet. The door swung open and the Garter King-at-Arms came through, bland and smiling, his puffed silk sleeves brushing against the doorpost as he passed. A face like a mask, smooth and expressionless, followed him, and nodded to the Archbishop.
Cranmer turned slightly to his party, again made that little movement, and went straight through.
Chris followed with Mr. Herries.
CHAPTER XI
THE KING’S HIGHNESS
As Chris knelt with the others, and the door closed behind him, he was aware of a great room with a tall window looking on to the river on his left, tapestry-hung walls, a broad table heaped with papers in the centre, a high beamed ceiling, and the thick carpet under his knees.
For a moment he did not see the King. The page who had beckoned them in had passed across the room, and Chris’s eyes followed him out through an inner door in the corner.
Then, still on his knees, he turned his eyes to see the Archbishop going towards the window, and up the step that led on to the dais that occupied the floor of the oriel.