Earl Hugh bowed low to the robed man. "Your Eminence." He hardly felt it necessary, but the situation was critical. The Bishop of Winchester, it was said, controlled the boy-King, barely now out of his swaddling clothes; only by courting the Bishop could Hugh hope to court the Crown. Hugh hazarded a glance to the side as he rose, smoothing his deep blue court robes, emblazoned with the arms of Courtenay. Good. His page, Roderick, was cloaked in shadow, poised to record every letter written, and there were enough guards about to make the culprit unclear. Very good. It had taken a sizeable bribe to arrange for his page to be sneaked into the hall, but he had an advantage -- the Bishop was half-blind. He would never notice Roderick concealed there. If the other fools will not move to win us Parliament, though Hugh, then I will.
The ancient Bishop motioned Hugh forward. "We hear much from Parliament these days, Lord Devon. I am told the time is nearly upon us for one of these... hrm... elections? A curious concept that our dear departed King Harry conceived of. Perhaps something like that of the Germans?"
Hugh saw an opening, and took it. "I believe so, Your Eminence. Perhaps His Grace King Harry thought that it was wise to emulate the Holy Roman Empire and its close connections to the Mother Church."
The Bishop smiled warmly. Perfect. "A good and pious man, King Harry was, and wise beyond his years. Not so different from yourself, Lord Devon."
Hugh had to struggle mightily to suppress a boastful grin. More true than you know, you old coot. "You are too kind, Eminence. I only hope to serve the Church and her servant England in mine life."
The Bishop nodded sagely. "Well-said, good Devon. Now, then, out with it. What would you speak with me of?"
So, he tires of word games and goes straight to business. Tactless, but predictable. Hugh drew in a deep breath and prepared for a long diatribe. "Your Eminence, the incompetence of the Whigs is apparent. They have mishandled our wars, sacrificing our rightful holds in Ireland for a questionable peace with the hated Scots. How might we ever hope to seize the Irish territories and turn them to our own good gain if we have no foothold? It is well-known that the Holy Church's wisdom is not clear to those brutes, and many still follow their outdated ways. Now, Ireland might well be cut off to us -- who knows for how long?"
He paused to gauge the Bishop's reaction. He was pleased to see the Bishop nodding in agreement. "Well-said again, good Devon; but what would you propose to do about this?"
Hugh was ready for that one. "We must court both the Irish and the Bretons; only then might we hope to convert the Celtic folk to our ways. Too, we must ready for war with the Scot, for he will not remain docile for long; especially not after the fall of his French allies. Mayhaps we could even bring the Irish into our alliance to bolster our wars and remove a potential threat. But the Whigs have not stopped there, Your Eminence; their mishandling of our budget is of particular concern to myself. The tax collection upgrade should have taken two years, not five, and inflation is still far too high. The Whigs would press us to more war, and destroy our abilities to fight. We must improve our arms and economy if we are to survive. And I need not even mention the absence of the Prime Minister; do the Whigs truly think our good governance so unimportant that they need not attend Parliament?"
The Bishop smiled cautiously. "You speak much wisdom, Devon, as I have said before. The Church especially, and the Court generally, share many of your concerns. The Whigs prosecute their war with little concern for the rest of England. What of our Crown's reputation when we seize half of France? We will be hated, reviled. I have even heard that, as the war with France drags on and the Crown resides in but a boy, the peasantry grow restless."
Hugh nodded emphatically. "I have heard these rumours too, Your Eminence. These times are troubled indeed." Hugh checked off a mental tick. Rumours bought, paid for, and well worth it. "But let me tell you more of the hopes of the Tories for our government......"
Two hours later, Earl Hugh strode for the stable with Roderick in tow, spouting a stream of orders as he went. "...as many copies as you can. One to Ye Sunne, one to The Fairly, But Not Entirely Independent. The rest to various would-be rebels, rumourmongers, and any fence-sitting Lords in Parliament. Feel free to embellish the bit about how concerned the Church and Crown are about Whig misgovernance. Oh, you'll need some money; here." The Earl pressed a few coins into Roderick's hand. "And send a note to Earl John -- if he wants more bribes, we will need more funds." He paused. "Well, Roderick, what are you waiting for? We have an election to win!"