Part 4 News of the Spanish Match had reached England ahead of Charles and Buckingham. London that was in near riot. Londoners knew that Charles was to marry Maria of Spain but they did not know the terms of the marriage treaty. Rumor substituted for fact and each rumor grew in the telling. Charles' children would be raised Catholic. Charles had become Catholic. The Pope was coming to England to rebaptise King James himself. The Jesuits were to be placed in charge of a reorganized Church of England. Puritans and Presbyterians would be sent to the silver mines of New Spain. With Buckingham still to return, James needed another source of advice. As it involved a religious matter the King supposed he should send for his Archbishop. This was something James did only reluctantly, as past experience showed that Abbot could be very difficult. It was with some surprise that James received the message from his courtier that Archbishop Abbot could not see him. It transpired that today was Saturday and his Grace was in the habit of arising early on the Sabbath eve[1] and taking his carriage from Lambeth Palace to the South London station and thence to Portsmouth for a day at the seaside. Apparently taking the sea air was something of an obsession with the Archbishop of Canterbury. He had quite given up hunting and had even dismissed his gamekeeper. "No hunting parties for his fellow clergy?" James asked. "Don't they resent that?" "Oh no, your majesty," his messenger replied, "not these Puritans these days. They respect His Grace for not spilling the blood of animals. They think it befitting an archbishop not to be a man of blood." James, who had dispatched a not inconsiderable number of grouse to the avian equivalent of the communion of saints, was nonplussed. He finally met with Abbot late on Sunday morning, after the Archbishop had celebrated mass, or 'the Lord's Supper' as he called it, at St Paul's Cathedral. The sermon had been on 1 Samuel 16:13, the Prophet Samuel anointing David while Saul was yet King. James and the Archbishop had traveled from St Paul's to Whitehall Palace in separate carriages. The two were seated in a private chamber. Being the King, James had to speak first. "I've had word from Southhampton. The marriage alliance is very favorable. No real changes to our laws. The Infanta and her household are allowed to remain Catholic, that is all." The Archbishop shook his head slowly, "The people will take this very hard, your majesty. Spain is a symbol of popery. The Spanish tried to invade us not so long ago..." "Almost forty years!" the King interrupted. "Your Majesty, the English have memories almost as long as the Scots. If your son were engaged to another Catholic princess, even a French one, that would be bad enough. But the Infanta..." George Abbott let his voice trail off. "I can't have an insurrection in my own kingdom. And it's not as if your preaching is helping, Canterbury!" "The people are strongly wedded to your Protestant religion, your majesty. If you could but make some anti-Catholic gesture to reassure them." "My religion is Christianity, as I hope is yours," said James, slowly. "Are you suggesting I go to war with... with France just to keep my subjects happy? As if war was some circus and I were a pagan Roman emperor?" "God spare us from the War, your majesty. No, I propose not war, at least not at first. Yet a wedding is an opportunity. Princes from all Europe will be present. It is a chance to talk. To be seen to be talking. To be seen talking in particular with your brother Protestant princes." "Hah! And when you speak of my brother princes you mean in particular my son-in-law Palentine?" "This wedding will be a great day your son, your majesty. Have you not a bone you can throw to your daughter and her husband the Elector?" "Mayhap. But let us discuss the wedding itself. I see processions, and candles, and incense, and..." James stopped, seeing the look of horror on the Archbishop's face. "Is something wrong, your grace?" "Your majesty, any sign of what the common people might think 'popery', might lend credence to these most unfortunate rumors sweeping the city, the foolish suggestions that you are embracing the Church of Rome. It would be well for the wedding to be plain and simple." "It is my son and heir, the Prince of Wales, that is getting married. The eyes of the rulers of Christendom will be upon him and his bride. The occasion must be special!" Abbott thought quickly. "Music," he suggested, "in fact a song. A song in the vernacular. A song by the greatest orator and the greatest composer in the land. Played on the finest steam-organ in the world at St Paul's. A song for your son. A song for your daughter-in law. For all the crowned heads and other guests. A song for Europe." The King waved a dismissive hand, "Make it so!"

George Herbert came puffing up to the organ loft at Westminster Abbey, clutching his manuscript. Orlando Gibbons was already there, just beginning to consume an enormous Pisa tart. Refugees from the French and Hapsburgs' Florentine War had fled to London and now sold their traditional fare from the markets of Paul's Walk. Well, not quite 'traditional'. The love apple used in the classic Pisa tart did not find favor with the English sweet tooth, so rhubarb or seasonal berries were usually substituted. Judging by look and smell, Orlando had purchased a raspberry, cheese and sausage tart. "I can't see how you can eat those things, Gibbons," said George, conversationally. "Oh, hullo Herbert! Would you like a slice?" "No, thank you. And for two good reasons. It looks like vomit and it's bigger than my head. Have a care when you eat it that you don't choke." If truth be told, Herbert was in a bad mood. The King still hadn't delivered the ambassadorship that he'd been hinting at. If it went on longer, he, Herbert might lose his looks or the King might die. What career then for a school orator? This 'Royal Commission' he had been given was some recognition but it was not what he craved. Astoundingly, the Pisa tart was gone. Did Orlando chew at all? The musician wiped his mouth and asked for the manuscript. George handed it over. "Hah!" Orlando exclaimed, "10 10.10 10.10 10" "Is that going to be difficult?" George inquired anxiously. "Do you jest? I could cut this goose[2] in my sleep!" Orlando swung around on the organ stool and placed his feet above the pedals. He was wearing the heel-less shoes beloved of the better class of organists. He pulled a few levers on the panel to start the flow of steam. The organ was a smaller model of the one at St Paul's. The engine that powered the organ had long since been moved from the crypt of Westminster Abbey as it had been impossible to prevent the vibrations travelling into the abbey itself. Instead the engine was now housed in a nearby building, with an ingenious system of underground pipes and pulleys to give power to the mighty instrument. Orlando played a chord and then began singing in a light but pleasing tenor, whilst accompanying himself:      Immortal Ruler of the world that is      of all the lands either at peace or war,      Guide of the nations in this vale of tears      into the safety of the peace before:      dwell in our hearts, that we soon become      sedate and peaceful, quiet yet not numb.      We are Your creatures, we are humankind,      ransomed by Your Son, so we bear his name;      come down, O Holy Spirit, fill our mind,      and fill our hearts so we won't always blame;      the Protestants who strike against their lord,      nor Catholics who put them to the sword.      So come on Lord and make us spurn the fight,      inspire us constantly to work for peace      in place of war vouchsafe us peace and light      show us a future when all wars do cease      we would be one in hatred of all wrong      in this our European vision song. [3] Orlando swung back around to face George. Both men smiled. "Well, Gibbons," said George, "when they play this song at the wedding, I think it'll be ushering in a hundred year period of peace." [To be continued]

[1] Sabbath = Sunday for the benefit of any Seventh Day Adventists or other such non-conformists amongst my tender readers. [2] Goose. The turkey did not replace the goose in England as the favored festive fowl until the 20th century. [3] SingAlongASyd: For the true Usenet multi-media experience you can find a midi file with Orlando Gibbon's composition at http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/e/t/eternrcs.htm Of course, the file does not do justice to the majestic steam organ of Westminster Abbey.