Page 328 of A Column of Fire
‘And who were they?’
‘The late earl of Shiring, Bart; his then wife, Margery, who is now my wife; and their two sons, Bartlet, who is now the earl, and Lord Roger.’
The king’s face darkened. ‘A serious charge.’
‘I ask your majesty to consider that a woman may be dominated by a strong-willed husband and an equally overpowering brother, and that she and her children are not entirely to blame for crimes committed under such strong masculine influence.’
Margery knew this was not true. She had been the leader, not the follower. She might have said so, if her own life had been the only one at stake. But she bit her tongue.
Ned said: ‘I ask your majesty to spare their lives. It is the only reward I ask for saving your own.’
‘I can’t say that this request pleases me,’ the king said.
Ned said nothing.
‘But the smuggling of priests took place a long time ago, you say.’
‘It ended after the Spanish armada. From then on Rollo Fitzgerald did not involve his family in his crimes.’
‘I would not even consider this were it not for the remarkable service you have rendered the crown of England over so many years.’
‘My whole life, your majesty.’
The king looked grumpy, but at last he nodded. ‘Very well. There will be no prosecutions of his collaborators.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You may go.’
Ned bowed, Margery curtsied, and they left.
They walked together, without speaking, through the series of anterooms and out of the palace into the street. There they both turned east. They went past the church of St Martin-in-the-Fields and along the Strand. Margery felt nothing but relief. All the lying and double-dealing was over.
They passed the palaces along the Thames shore and entered the less affluent Fleet Street. Margery did not know what was going on in Ned’s mind, but he seemed to be coming home with her. Or was that too much to hope for?
They entered the city through Lud Gate and started up the rise. Ahead of them, on top of the hill, St Paul’s Cathedral towered over rows of low, thatched houses like a lioness with cubs. Still Ned had not spoken, but Margery sensed that his mood had changed. His face slowly relaxed, the lines of tension and anger seemed to dissolve, and there was even a hint of his old wry smile. Emboldened, Margery reached out and took his hand in her own.
For a long moment he let her hold his hand without responding, and it lay limp in her grasp. Then, at last, she felt him squeeze her fingers, gently but firmly; and she knew it was going to be all right.
*
We hanged him in front of Kingsbridge Cathedral.
Margery and I did not want to join the crowd, but we could not be absent either, so we watched from the window of the old house. She burst into tears when they brought Rollo from the Guild Hall down the main street to the market square, and walked him up the scaffold.
When the support was jerked from beneath him, Margery began to pray for his soul. As a Protestant I never believed in prayers for dead souls, but I joined in for her sake. And I had done something more practical, also for her sake. Rollo should have been cut down and disembowelled while still alive, then hacked into pieces, but I had bribed the executioner, and so Rollo was allowed to choke to death before his body was ritually mutilated – to the disappointment of the crowd, who had wanted to see the traitor suffer.
After that I retired from court life. Margery and I came back to Kingsbridge permanently. Roger, who never found out that he was my son, took over from me as the Member of Parliament for Kingsbridge. My nephew Alfo became the richest man in Kingsbridge. I remained lord of Wigleigh – I had developed a strong affection for the people of my little village.
So Rollo was the last of the men I sent to the gallows. But there is one more part of the story to be told . . .
Epilogue
1620
At the age of eighty, Ned spent a lot of time sleeping. He napped in the afternoon, he went to bed early, and he sometimes nodded off after breakfast in the front parlour of the Kingsbridge house.
The house was always full. Barney’s son, Alfo, and Ned’s son, Roger, both had children and grandchildren. Roger had bought the house next door and the youngsters treated the two houses as one home.
