Page 14 of The Uprising
George surveyed the other tavern patrons and considered how he might influence Robert. His friend spoke the truth and he didn’t know how to convince him to withdraw his support. He gestured to the tavern wench; a busty, vivacious brunette who was busy dispensing drinks, and signalled for another round.
‘I don’t agree with what’s being done to the monasteries any more than you; I wish they would leave them in peace. But you know how wilful the king is, Robert, and with Cromwell at his side, sanctioning and scheming to cater to his every whim, there is little chance of the king reneging on his intentions to demolish the old religion and all that symbolises the old ways,’ said George.
Robert took a hearty draft of his ale and drained his glass as he studied George’s face. ‘I confess I didn’t foresee this Pilgrimage of Grace, but it’s a natural progression after the failure of the Lincolnshire Uprising. Only a few weeks since, I was a resident at the Inns of Court, but I found myself unable to ignore the cries for help from Darcy and Constable.’
‘But why must it be you who leads them? You are a man of law, not a soldier.’
The wench arrived with a flurry, served their drinks, and winked at George, before turning to leave.
‘I see you haven’t lost your touch with the fairer sex,’ said Robert, smirking.
‘You risk all you have worked so hard for, not to mention your family’s reputation,’ continued George, undeterred when they were alone again. ‘Could you not advise them rather than lead?’
‘I only agreed to step in to lead them because I have the other leaders’ word that this is not a rebellion against the king himself, but a protest against Cromwell’s heretic policies. It’s a call for papist services to be restored, and Mary Tudor to be recognised as the rightful heir. She’s the king’s daughter, for heaven’s sake. His own flesh and blood, and but for his personal ambitions with the Boleyn woman, there would be no new religion. We wish only to restore fairness to our glorious land, or the people will judge us, and it will end in disaster. Mark my words.’
‘I understand, and I will see what I can do in presenting your plea. I will get word to the king and await his instruction, although I can’t answer for the Duke of Norfolk who has his own way of dealing with matters.’
Robert looked nervous at the mention of the duke.
‘I hope that in light of the support you have garnered, and your loyalty to the Crown, the king will consider restoring some of the monasteries and practices the people feel so strongly about. I can’t promise anything except that I will do my best for you, Robert. And for York.
‘If only they were all like you at court, George, we'd be in a much better position, and it would be a better England. You’re a good man.’
George looked at his friend. ‘These ongoing uprisings will harm us all. How will the people prosper if this state of affairs continues? I beg you, let us agree to resolve the differences, amicably. In the meantime, do I have your word you won’t lead the men to march south, my friend? That would be an all-out declaration of war and the king will see to it that heads roll. It will be a bloodbath if they march on London.’
Aske bowed his head and rested his fingers on his forehead, as if meditating. They sipped their ale in silence for a few minutes, and George leaned his aching back against the hard chair, enjoying the brief respite.
‘Cromwell rewrites every law he disagrees with and makes up new ones as he goes along. He pleases no one but himself and has little regard for the greater good of the people. And him a common lad from Putney, with no claim to noble birth, risen so high he no longer glimpses his toes. He should be ashamed, and if we prevail, he is in for a rude fall.’
‘That may well be, but I would wager Cromwell is at the Tower making ready for war as we speak. I heard he was lining up the king’s armaments and melting plate into coin. And he will not take kindly to you enforcing oaths without the king’s blessing.’
George saw Aske was growing more agitated and decided he had made as much progress as he could for one meeting. After exchanging some pleasantries, he stood and reached across the table to shake Robert's hand. ‘I appreciate your meeting with me at short notice and for your candour. Stay safe, my old friend, and remember what I said. Please don’t let the men do anything hasty. I am optimistic we may resolve this without blood on our hands. I will be in touch.’
Rose Cottage, York - Present day
Cara hung her jacket up in the entrance hall, placed her car keys into the empty fruit bowl on the oak console table, and poked her head around the kitchen door, in search of George. ‘I’m home.’
‘I’m through here,’ he replied.
Cara followed the rich, melodic timbre of his alluring voice through to the back of the cottage and found him sitting on the sofa in the study, glasses on, hardback book in hands. She kissed him and said, ‘You look studious. What are you reading?’
He held up the front cover of a large hardback book.
‘How did you know?’ she asked.
‘How did I know what?’ he said.
‘How on earth did you know that’s what’s happening in Tudorville?’
‘Oh, I see... I didn’t know. I don’t know. Hang on—what don’t I know? I’ve been reading up on 1536 and I found this book about the Pilgrimage of Grace. You were so upset the other day, I thought I would see if I could help.’
‘Oh damn,’ said Cara.
‘What?’
‘For a minute, I thought your memory had updated. I do wish it would all come back to you. But thank you—I appreciate you’re trying to help.’ She bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry I was so bad tempered—it was unfair.’
He smiled. ‘It’s hard. I found it incredibly strange when I started time travelling and I couldn’t talk to you about it. Thank goodness for Eddie, or we may never have understood what was going on.’
