ather's house was burnt last month; my cousin Culpepper is in the
courts below. Dear Nick Ardham, with his lute, is dead an outlaw
beyond sea, and Sir Ferris was hanged at Doncaster--both after last
year's rising, pray all good men that God assail them!'

Udal muttered:

'Hush, for God's dear sake. That is treason here. There is a listener
behind the hangings.'

He began to scrawl hastily with a dry pen that he had not time to dip
in the well of ink. The shadow of the Lord Cromwell's silent return
was cast upon them both, and Katharine shivered.

He said harshly to the magister:

'I will that you write me an interlude in the vulgar tongue in three
days' time. Such a piece as being spoken by skilful players may make a
sad man laugh.'

Udal said: 'Well-a-day!'

'It shall get you advancement. I am minded the piece shall be given at
my house before his Highness and the new Queen in a week.'

Udal remained silent, dejected, his head resting upon his breast.

'For,' Cromwell spoke with a raised voice, 'it is well that the King
be distracted of his griefs.' He went on as if he were uttering an
admonition that he meant should be heeded and repeated. The times were
very evil with risings, mutinies in close fortresses, schism, and the
bad hearts of men. Here, therefore, he would that the King should find
distraction. Such of them as had gifts should display those talents
for his beguiling; such of them as had beauty should make valuable
that beauty; others whose wealth could provide them with rich garments
and pleasant displays should work, each man and each woman, after his
sort or hers. 'And I will that you report my words where either of you
have resort. Who loves me shall hear it; who fears me shall take
warning.'

He surveyed both Katharine and the master with a heavy and encouraging
glance, having the air of offering great things if they aided him and
avoided dealing with his enemies.

The Lady Mary was gliding towards them like a cold shadow casting
itself upon his warm words; she would have ignored him altogether,
knowing that contempt is harder to bear than bitter speeches. But the
fascination of hatred made it hard to keep aloof from her father's
instrument. He looked negligently over his shoulder and was gone
before she could speak. He did not care to hear more bitter words that
could make the breach between them only wider, since words once spoken
are so hard to wash away, and the bringing of this bitter