Page 157 of A Column of Fire
However, he could not base his actions on such nebulous notions. He put thoughts of Margery aside. He needed to offer Luke a safe way out. ‘We have to take the gunpowder out of the cannon,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We have to get rid of the relics.’
Luke was shocked. ‘We can’t just throw them away!’
‘Of course we can’t. But we can bury them – with all due ceremony. Hold a funeral service tomorrow at first light – just you and one or two priests. Tonight, have George Cox dig a hole somewhere inside the cathedral – don’t tell anyone where.’ George Cox was the gravedigger. ‘Bury the bones, in the golden casket, and let George replace the stones of the floor so that no one can tell they’ve been disturbed.’
Luke was thinking this through with a worried frown. ‘When people arrive for the consecration it will already be done. But what will they say? They will see that the saint has gone.’
‘Put up a notice on the iron railings saying that St Adolphus is buried here in the cathedral. Then explain, in your sermon, that the saint is still here, blessing us with his presence, but he has been buried in a secret grave to protect his remains from people who might wish to violate them.’
‘That’s clever,’ Luke said admiringly. ‘The people will be content, but there will be nothing for the Puritans to object to. Their protest will be like gunpowder that has separated.’
‘A good image. Use it in your sermon.’
Luke nodded.
Ned said: ‘So that’s settled.’
‘I have to discuss it with the chapter.’
Ned suppressed an impatient retort. ‘Not really. You’re the bishop-elect.’ He smiled. ‘You may command.’
Luke looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s always better to explain to people the reasons for commands.’
Ned decided not to fight a hypothetical battle. ‘Do it your way. I’ll come here at dawn to witness the burial.’
‘Very well.’
Ned was not totally sure that Luke would go through with it. Perhaps a reminder of Luke’s debt to him would help. ‘I’m glad I was able to persuade the queen that you’re the right man to be bishop of Kingsbridge,’ he said.
‘I’m deeply grateful to you, Ned, for your faith in me.’
‘I believe we’ll work well together, in years to come, to prevent religious hatred.’
‘Amen.’
Luke could yet change his mind about the whole idea, if one of his colleagues objected to burying the relics, but Ned could do no more for now. He resolved to see Luke again before nightfall and make sure of him.
He took his leave and walked down the nave, between the marching pillars, the leaping arches and the glowing windows, thinking how much good and evil this building had seen in the last four hundred years. When he stepped out of the west door, he saw Margery again, returning to her house with her fish basket over her arm. She caught his eye and turned to meet him.
In the cathedral porch she said: ‘Did you do it?’
‘I think I’ve avoided violence,’ he said. ‘I’ve persuaded Luke to bury the bones clandestinely, tomorrow morning, so that there will be nothing to fight over.’
He expected her to be pleased and grateful, but to his consternation she stared at him in horror for a long moment then said: ‘No! That’s not it.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘There has to be a fight.’
‘But you were always so much against violence.’
‘Swithin has to die!’
‘Hush!’ He took her elbow and led her back inside. In the north aisle was a side chapel dedicated to St Dymphna. She was not a popular figure, and the little space was empty. The painting of the saint being beheaded had been taken down to appease the Puritans.
