monarch

The court arrived in London at the end of March.Unlike the grand farewell ceremony upon departure, the return of the king appeared silent, without a procession, and without a welcome from City Hall officials, His Majesty just returned quietly to his suite at Whitehall Palace, as if he had carried out a visit from the outskirts. Just like returning from a short hunting trip.However, anyone with a discerning eye can see that a huge storm is brewing, and the present calm is just the receding tide before the tsunami, which will soon sweep everything in a violent way.

Spring Japan should be the happiest day in the palace. In previous years, there would be hunting activities, grand knightly contests and palace parades, but all of these have been canceled this year.No one dared to mention these activities in front of the king who was already paralyzed in bed.

On a sunny noon in May, Bishop Gardiner arrived at York Square in Whitehall Palace in a carriage.The king's bedroom used to be like a beehive at this time, full of nobles trying to attract the king's attention, but now they are as far away as the plague broke out here, after all, at this time, attracting the king's attention is not as important as It is better to say that it is a ladder to the sky than a talisman - His Majesty's moodiness has reached a frightening level.

Bishop Gardner walked into the hall, and there was no sound in the hall. The attendants and servants stood in their seats like statues, not daring to make a sound.At the door of the king's reception room, an attendant bowed to the bishop and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear: "Your Majesty is receiving the Spanish ambassador, please wait a moment."

Bishop Gardiner sat in an armchair by the door, contemplating the red roses blooming in a vase opposite him, and trying to distinguish the muffled voices of conversation in the room.

After about 10 minutes, the door finally opened. The Spanish ambassador walked out of the room and saw Bishop Gardner at the door. He greeted with a smile, and the bishop bowed slightly in return.

The attendant who stopped the bishop came forward, "Your Majesty, please come in." He said softly.

The bishop stood up, adjusted his robe, and walked into the door.

There was a faint stench in the room, which was the smell of rotting flesh from the king's old wounds, and Bishop Gardner, as an important minister who often had contact with the king, was already familiar with this smell.And of late, to the stench of the past had been added a smell of decay, a familiar smell to Bishop Gardiner, which is often found in the terminally ill.

"Your Majesty." The bishop bowed deeply, and he could not be too cautious in front of a wounded lion.

The king sat slumped on the recliner, holding reading glasses in one hand, and flipping through the documents on the table with the other,

"How did he feel when he went out?" asked the king coldly, without looking up at the bishop.

"The ambassador seems to be in a good mood." The bishop said with a low eyebrow. "I think our friendship will be very appetizing to him and his master."

"I guess so." The king sneered.

"The Spaniards and the French have been fighting in Italy for 30 years, and they are eager to break the deadlock, which is beneficial to His Majesty - you can get more favorable terms from the Spaniards."

"Emperor Charles V agreed to my claim to the French throne." The king seemed to be in a good mood, "We have reached an agreement-France belongs to me, Italy, the Lowlands and Germany belong to him, and if the Portuguese royal family dies, then Portugal also to him."

The bishop seemed hesitant, "But Portugal is our traditional ally after all, should we..."

"I don't care what happens to the Portuguese!" the king suddenly became angry. "I want to concentrate on the French, do you understand? King François wants to murder me, the damned villain. I will take ten Portuguese Give it to the Emperor, if he can help me drag King François out of the Louvre!"

"Yes, yes, Your Majesty, you are quite right!" The bishop quickly echoed, his voice trembling, and beads of sweat covered his pale face.

The king seemed to have calmed down, and he reached out for the wine glass on the table next to him. The bishop hurried forward and held the glass to the king.

His Majesty took a sip of wine, "What do you want?"

"It's about the Anne Asker case."

"The Protestant fanatic? I remember her brother bailed her out."

"However, some new allegations have been brought up now... I would like to ask His Majesty whether to continue to pursue this woman."

"Do you want to ask me such a small thing?"

"I didn't want to disturb Your Majesty, but this woman's identity is a little special." The bishop raised his head and glanced at the king's expression. "This woman is said to be in contact with...the queen."

"Really?" The king was noncommittal.

"The Queen is currently writing a book and intends to publish it."

"Writing a book? About what?" The king's voice sounded dark.

"As to her religious views...Her Majesty is trying to propagate them," said the bishop, "and it is treason by law to propagate ideas which are not the official views of the Church of England as prescribed by Her Majesty."

"So you're accusing the queen?" The king smiled, but the twitching of the fat on his face made the smile seem rather strange.

"I dare not," said the bishop, "but this Anne Asker seems to be acquainted with the Queen's sister, and some people suspect that she seems to have passed some of her religious views to Her Majesty through the Queen's sister, so Your Majesty It may be influenced by some heretical ideas."

"So what do you want to do?" asked the king coldly.

"Can you give me the authority to investigate the queen's maid?" The bishop asked tentatively, "I think this can send a signal to the outside world—we will never tolerate heresy, which will also help you improve your relationship with Spain. It would even be helpful if...if you wanted to improve your relationship with the Pope."

"The Pope? Who said I was going to make peace with the Pope?"

"I think if you're going to concentrate on the French, you've got to have as many friends as possible."

The king held up his reading glasses and looked at the bishop in front of him carefully, without saying a word.

"If I have made a mistake, please forgive me, Your Majesty." The bishop's waist was bent a few degrees more than before.

"Go and try that Anne Asker." The king finally said, "Show me her confession, and then I will decide whether to give you the authority you want." He lay on the back of the recliner Going up, he closed his eyes slightly, ignoring the bishop in front of him.

Bishop Gardner knew that it was time for him to leave, he bowed deeply, and backed out of the room.

……

Bishop Gardner shudders every time he comes to the Tower of London. I am afraid that this castle has appeared more than once in every dignitary's nightmare.Countless former dignitaries entered through the Traitor's Gate on barges and never came out, as if swallowed by a mythical cyclops.

The Bishop was greeted at the entrance to the courtyard by Sir John Judge, Director of the Tower of London.An absurd idea suddenly appeared in the bishop's mind—this knight probably greeted those nobles who were going to the end of their lives in the same way before.He shook his head, trying to get the nonsense out of his mind.

"Monsieur Bishop," came Sir John Judge, "everything is ready as you have ordered."

The bishop nodded, "Very well, thank you for your cooperation."

"I am very honored."

The two walked through the courtyard, walked into a tower, and then went down the stairs into a deep passage.This tunnel is very close to the Thames, and the stone walls are constantly seeping water, making the entire corridor appear damp.On both sides of the corridor are cells sealed with iron doors, most of which are empty, but still look creepy.

Sir John Judge led the bishop to an iron door at the end of the corridor. He knocked on the door, and the black iron door opened a crack, and Sir John led the bishop in.

There are several pots of charcoal fire burning in the room, but it still looks a little dim. On the wooden frame in the center of the room, a woman is fixed on it by ropes. She is wearing a dirty skirt, and the original color of the cloth can no longer be recognized. .Her hair was tied around her head like dry grass, and her face was still stained with blood.Her eyes were half-closed and she looked exhausted.

"Anne Asker." Bishop Gardner walked up to the woman and looked down at her, "Can you hear me?"

Anne Asker opened her eyes, looked at Bishop Gardiner, and spat on his purple bishop's robes. "Devil!" Her eyes seemed to be on fire. "You are Satan's servant!"

Bishop Gardiner took a step back, but he was not angry. "You are charged with heresy," he said grimly. "You have been accused of publicly perverting the Holy Scriptures, and by law it is treason to propagate any religious thought which is not in conformity with that prescribed by Parliament. Sentenced to the stake."

"I am spreading the truth, you are the heretics!" the fanatical woman shouted, "I know who you are, you are a lackey of Rome! You and your master, the Pope, will go to hell!"

"You seem to have misunderstood me. My allegiance is to His Majesty the King, not to Rome." Bishop Gardner decided to end this somewhat dangerous topic, "Come back to business, if you don't want to be burned alive, you have to tell I list your accomplices."

"I have no accomplices."

"Who has the same thoughts as you? Who have you shared your heresy with?" The bishop's voice began to become a little sharp.

Anne Asker said nothing.

"I'm sorry." Bishop Gardner winked at the jailer.

Anne Asker screamed in pain, and the torture rack tore her limbs in four directions.

"Tell me, who are you connected with in the court?" The bishop leaned into her ear and said, "Is there anyone who has the same views as you? Is it the queen's sister? Or the queen herself? Answer me!"

The only answer to him was the scream of the other party.

"Have you ever said that the Holy Spirit is in your body? Do you act according to the instructions of the Holy Spirit? This is heresy, and it is a treasonous statement that the parliament expressly prohibits!" The bishop insisted.

Anne Asker raised her head in pain, her face was pale, and the corner of her mouth was bleeding—she bit her own lip.She looked up, glaring at Bishop Gardner. "The Holy Spirit is in every human body, and if a person does not receive the direction of the Holy Spirit, then he is either a fallen man or a forsaken God. Which one are you, Bishop?" She laughed hysterically.

"It's really treason." The bishop looked at the jailer who was operating the torture rack, and the other party quickly turned the turntable that controlled the torture rack a few more times.Suddenly, some weird sounds came from the woman's limbs. She screamed and passed out. The yellow water with the smell of urine dripped from the torture rack and landed on the dirty ground.

Sir John Judge walked up to her and held her eyelids open with his fingers. "She's fainted," said the Castle Master, turning to the Bishop.The jailer turned the turntable to release the tension on her limbs, which seemed to hang limply like rubber.

Bishop Gardner looked at the woman coldly, as if she was already a corpse, "Do you think she will speak?" His voice was very gloomy.

"I don't hold out much hope." Sir John Judge shrugged his shoulders. "These fanatics have a hard mouth. You can't imagine how crazy they can be sometimes." He took out a handkerchief and wiped it. Hand, "No matter what you hope to get from her, I suggest you find another way. From my experience, interrogating her is just a waste of time."

The bishop didn't answer the overseer's words, he turned to the jailer next to him, "Wake her up."

The jailer put boiling vinegar under the prisoner's nose.

Anne Asker woke up, coughing violently. "Then let's go on," said the bishop, "I just need the answer to one question—are you in touch with the queen?" He reached out and caressed the woman's face, and Anne Asker tried to avoid it in disgust, but she His body couldn't move. "Tell me, you can rest. Not only that, I will ask His Majesty to give you a pardon, you don't want to be burned to death, right?" the bishop smiled maliciously, "You know what it feels like to be burned to death ... that kind of pain, starting from the soles of your feet and extending upwards, you will see your skin turn into charcoal, the surrounding air is hot, you want to scream, but you can't; you want to To pass out, but the scorching air makes it impossible for you to pass out...you don't want to experience that pain."

"Now let me ask again, do you have any contact with the queen?"

His answer was still silence.

Bishop Gardner looked at the jailer in disappointment, and the jailer quickly turned the turntable.

There were piercing screams again from the cell.