leman. Some lady, somewhere--some
said a Howard, some a Rochford, some would have it a Spanish
woman--was being hidden up, either by the King, by the Duke of
Norfolk, or by Privy Seal. God knew the truth of these things: but
similar had happened before; and it was certain that the Cleves woman
had been for long kept dangling at Rochester. Perhaps that was the
reason. His Highness had his own ways in these matters: but where
there was smoke, generally fire was to be found. The chaplain brought
this budget back to Bishop Gardiner. Gardiner swore a wild oath that,
by the bones of the Confessor, they had unmasked a new plot of Satan's
Legate, the Privy Seal. But, by the grace of God, he would
counter-plot him.

Udal, who had started all these rumours, had run to get the help of a
Dean of Durham, with whom formerly he had had much converse as to the
position of the Islands of the Blest. He never found him; the palace
was in confusion, with the doors all open and men running from room to
room to ask of each other how far it might be safe to be extravagant
in their demonstrations of joy at the coming of the new Queen.

All night long, from about dusk, the palace rang with salvos of
artillery, loud shouts and the blowing of horns: the windows glowed
duskily now and again with the light of bonfires that leapt up and
subsided. Margot Poins, who was used to rejoicings in the City, set
the heavy wooden bar across the door in Katharine Howard's room,
turned the immense key in the rusty lock, and opened to no knocking
until the day broke. There were shouts and stumblings in the corridor
outside and the magister himself, very intoxicated and shrieking, came
hammering at the door with several others towards one in the morning.

Katharine could walk by noon to the lodging that had at last been
assigned to her by Privy Seal's warrant. The magister, having got
himself soundly beaten the night before, was still sleeping away the
effects of it, so she and Margot stayed for an hour in solitude.
Voices passed the door many times, and at last a Master Viridus
entered stealthily. He was one of the Lord Cromwell's secretaries, and
he bore a purse. His name had been Greene but he had translated it to
give a more worshipful sound. His eyes were furtive and he moved his
lips perpetually in imitation of his master; wore a hooded cap, and
made much use of the Italian language.

'Bounty is the sign of the great, and honourable service ensureth it