London at the period of which we treat was singularly picturesque and beautiful. The walls encircling it were well fortified and in good repair, and most of its oldest and most remarkable edifices were still standing, no terrible conflagration having as yet touched them. Numberless towers, churches, and picturesque habitations, with high roofs and quaint gables, excited the admiration of those who stood that morn on the gateway of Lambeth Palace; but perhaps the object that pleased them best was London-bridge, which, with its gates, its drawbridges, its church, and lofty habitations, proudly bestrode the Thames. Having gazed their fill at this wondrous structure, or rather collection of structures, they turned towards the Surrey side of the river, and noted Saint Mary Overy’s fine old church, the palace of the Bishop of Winchester, the Ring, at that time much frequented, in which bulls and bears were baited, and the adjacent theatre, wherein, at a later date, many of the plays of our immortal bard were represented. Content with this distant survey, they then looked nearer home, and allowed their gaze to wander over the park and gardens of the palace, and finally to settle upon the various courts, towers, and buildings composing the pile.
“By my faith, ’tis a stately edifice, this palace of Lambeth!” exclaimed Rodomont. “Our lord and master the Cardinal is as well lodged as the King and Queen at Whitehall.”
“Were it not for yonder ague-bringing marshes the palace would be a marvellous pleasant residence,” observed Nick Simnel.
“Why should a sturdy fellow like you, Nick, fear ague?” cried Rodomont. “Lord Priuli tells me that his Eminence enjoys better health here than he has done since he left the Lago di Garda—a plain proof that the place cannot be insalubrious, as you would have it.”
“Follow my example, Nick, and fortify yourself against the morning mists with a thimbleful of aqua vitæ,” remarked Jack Holiday, with a laugh. “’Tis a sovereign remedy against ague. But see! yonder are the Cardinal and the Lord Priuli, taking an early walk in the garden. They seem engaged in earnest discourse.”
“I warrant their discourse relates to the recusant Protestant divines, who have just been excommunicated by the ecclesiastical commissioners, and are to be burnt,” observed Rodomont. “There will be rare doings at Smithfield ere long, if Gardiner and Bonner have their way. But our good lord the Cardinal is averse to persecution, and may succeed in checking it.”
“Heaven grant he may!” exclaimed Jack Holiday. “If once the fires are lighted at Smithfield, there’s no saying when they may be extinguished, or who may perish by them. ’Tis a marvel to me that the late occupant of this palace, Cranmer, has so long been spared. If the ecclesiastical commissioners desire to deal a heavy blow against the Reformers, why not strike their leader now they have him in their power?”
“I will tell you why,” rejoined Rodomont. “In this high place none can overhear us, so we may talk freely. Gardiner would fain be Archbishop of Canterbury, but he knows that if Cranmer be burnt, our lord the Cardinal will at once be appointed to the archiepiscopal see. Therefore Cranmer is allowed to live, in the hope that Pole may be recalled to Rome by his Holiness. But the crafty Bishop of Winchester will be disappointed, for the Cardinal is not likely to leave his native country again.”
“I am rejoiced to hear it,” said Simnel. “We could ill spare him. The Cardinal is the pillar of the Romish church in England.”
“By our Lady, he is a pattern to all,” cried Rodomont. “There lives not a better man than his Eminence. Even the Queen, they say, is governed by his advice. He has more influence with her than the King himself.”