IV

Five men talked in the long gallery overlooking the River Thames. It
was in the Lord Cromwell's house, upon which the April showers fell
like handsful of peas, with a sifting sound, between showers of
sunshine that fell themselves like rain, so that at times all the long
empty gallery was gilded with light and at times it was all saddened
and frosty. They were talking all, and all with earnestness and
concern, as all the Court and the city were talking now, of Katharine
Howard whom the King loved.

The Archbishop leant against one side of a window, close beside him
his spy Lascelles; the Archbishop's face was round but worn, his large
eyes bore the trace of sleeplessness, his plump hands were a little
tremulous within his lawn sleeves.

'Sir,' he said, 'we must bow to the breeze. In time to come we may
stand straight enow.' His eyes seemed to plead with Privy Seal, who
paced the gallery in short, pursy strides, his plump hands hidden in
the furs behind his back. Lascelles, the Archbishop's spy, nodded his
head sagaciously; his yellow hair came from high on his crown and was
brushed forward towards his brows. He did not speak, being in such
high company, but looking at him, the Archbishop gained confidence
from the support of his nod.

'If we needs must go with the Lady Katharine towards Rome,' he pleaded
again, 'consider that it is but for a short time.' Cromwell passed him
in his pacing and, unsure of having caught his ear, Cranmer addressed
himself to Throckmorton and Wriothesley, the two men of forty who
stood gravely, side by side, fingering their long beards. 'For sure,'
Cranmer appealed to the three silent men, 'what we must avoid is
crossing the King's Highness. For his Highness, crossed, hath a swift
and sudden habit of action.' Wriothesley nodded, and: 'Very sudden,'
Lascelles allowed himself utterance, in a low voice. Throckmorton's
eyes alone danced and span; he neither nodded nor spoke, and, because
he was thought to have a great say in the councils of Privy Seal, it
was to him that Cranmer once more addressed himself urgently:

'Full-bodied men who are come upon failing years are very prone to
women. 'Tis a condition of the body, a humour, a malady that passeth.
But, while it lasteth, it must be bowed to.'

Cromwell, with his deaf face, passed once more before them. He
addressed himself in brief, sharp tones to Wriothesley:

'You say, in Paris an envoy from Cleves was come a week agone?' and