Of Pride and Power - 11. Chapter 11: “Play on people’s need to believe to create a cultlike following.”

Lady Jane Grey was sent off with the fifty men that Ambrose brought with him to the holdings of John Dudley. I had hoped that John Dudley would at least offer her the mercy of having Guildford accompany her, but John Dudley was pragmatic with his son’s affections. Denying her access to her love was a psychological power play against both Jane and Guildford, whose forewarning had allowed Jane to escape his father’s clutches, a year earlier. Sadly, they had already been drawn into their fates.

Ambrose escorted my usual group of Francis, Puck, and the triplets towards Norfolk. I was grateful that over the year of administrative reorganization, Francis had taught me to ride a horse properly. Thus, I didn’t need to use one of the horrible horse-drawn wagons without suspension. The oversized codpiece was still weird to wear, but it didn’t affect my riding without the constant presence of Robert’s body nearby.

On our way, we passed by several towns and hamlets, which gave me a detailed view of the lives of many peasants and nobles throughout England. I heard stories from peasants of anguish about the loss of dispensation from local churches, such as food and clothing. I heard rants about the lack of grazing land for sheep and cattle due to the royal decrees from London. The nobles in contrast were angry about the commitment to “popish” activities, like saints’ holidays for peasants and demands on crops at lower prices from higher-ranking nobles. Unlike my territory, where ample vacation days would supersede holidays and market forces dictated production outputs, the draconian nature of the compromises within the Prayer Book reform of 1549 was making many unhappy. It was what I had expected.

In one town, we encountered a provocative scene. In the middle of the town, a well-dressed man stood above a raised platform. He was yelling with a lot of emotion that drew a decent crowd, including travelers like us on horseback, who were out of hearing distance. I was curious about a public speaker that could easily raise the attention of so many. In the modern world, Twitter and YouTube followers were the digital equivalent of people like these, who could with the sound of their voice raise armies and crush rebellions. As we drew closer to the center of town, I regretted coming so close.

The man was a Protestant minister. He was delivering one of those fire and brimstone sermons that my parents’ church loved to showcase from guest pastors to draw crowds and raise extra money. People love being reminded of damnation in hell and the rewards of a good Christian life. He spoke about the place of men and women, describing women with power as corrupt and tainted by temptation. Men must be strong and virtuous; tenderness was a weakness of a man’s faith. No matter what era, it never changes. Unlike everyone else, I’ve died, and I have come back, so his words irritated me. There was no shining paradise, nor eternal pit to damn these people. We have a life to live and what we leave behind is all that truly matters, for good or evil. It’s people like this who use mysticism and fear to blind people to the world around them, but no one can call bullshit on them, because no one has ever come back, to tell the truth about this divine system of life and death. The wars over the Christian religion in my world and this one are clear facts that these people are lying to their followers, but people would rather die for a lie than accept an unprovable truth of their follies. I want to make a world separate from these idiots, where reality supersedes blind faith in an illusory system of punishment and rewards. As those were my beliefs, I glared at the minister and his flock, remembering everything I suffered in my prior life and all the lies that he was spewing about Heaven and Hell.

As the minister began to end his sermon, he spotted me glaring at him with scorn, “Young man, will you dismount your horse and come before me? I sense that you have distrust in my words, distrust in salvation by true faith, and the rewards of faith.”

I did not have any interest in his overtures, but I never stood down when challenged by my parents or the evangelical flock, who believe in these false principles. I dismounted my horse and walked towards the Christian minister with Francis flanking my side and the others trailing behind us. I climbed the elevated platform and stood in front of the man. My disgusted grimace and hateful glare never disappeared, which was visible to all.

The Christian minister asked me, “What is your given name, young man?”

I answered coldly, “My name is Eli and I am not a young man, nor a young woman.”

Whispers throughout the crowd grew, some recognizing my name with rumors from the western lands or gossip from nobles in London.

He stared at me with a smile, “Well, my Lord Eli, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard of your benevolence in handling the affairs of Devonshire as many others. It was by divine guidance that you discovered the crimes of John Seymore.”

“I was ambushed by the man and found the bodies of the youths that he would offer as meat to his people. I merely connected the false promises of a charlatan, trying to convince naïve minds of a system that rewards faith,” I answered him without holding back.

He was puzzled by my reaction, “Have I offended you, Lord Eli? Or are you aligned with the ways of Rome?”

“I am not loyal to the authority of men, who believe they know the will of God.”

The minister waved his hands in a grand expression, “I am not speaking as if I know the will of God, I am merely speaking of the rewards of faith and the punishments of sinners who lack faith. Do you not have faith?”

I have been asked this question many times by my parents and others.

“No, I do not have faith in flawed faiths from flawed beings. The entire framework of your faith is based on an assumption of rewards and punishment based on a moral existence. However, there is no proof of a moral existence. The contrary appears far truer with our actions as flawed beings.”

He shook his head in disbelief as I knew he would, “No, my Lord, you are incorrect. There is proof of God’s rewards and punishments in the world. Even if we cannot see it, faith can sustain us until the Lord welcomes us in the hereafter.”

I mumbled in anger with memories of my old life and death fresh in my mind, “I wish I could show you what faith and death looks like.”

In a swift motion, the minister took hold of my hands. I did not know if he was trying to implore me or pray with me, but something in me snapped upon his touch. A well of memories of my past, the beatings from my father, the neglect of my gambling addict mother, and the scorn of the church members at the sight of me in town. I saw the tender moments of love and affection between me and Jack as well, acting as balms for the emotional wounds. Then, the blackness of death consumed me without feeling or sense of time. My conscious mind left the raised platform as if I was dead again.

I heard voices around me scream, “Lord Eli and the minister have fallen!”

When I awoke, it was dusk. I was lying on the bed of an inn, while my friends were all gathered around me in different corners of the room. Among them, I saw the Christian minister from earlier standing in the pale candlelight; he was stoic and fearful as he noticed I had awakened.

Ambrose came up to me, “Lord Eli, you are back with us from Heaven, did the virgin maidens not suit your interest?”

I groaned at his foolishness, “I am fine Ambrose, and you wouldn’t want any virgin maidens in heaven either.”

He glances over at Puck, “True”.

Francis came up to me next, followed by the triplets, “Are you well, Lod Eli? We could return to Somerset and claim you had taken ill to His Grace John Dudley and His Excellency King Edward VI.”

Francis gripped my hand, affectionately kissing my knuckles. As he’s a sub, I knew I had to reassure him that I was fine later, but I suspected that I needed to clear something with the minister first.

I forcefully rose from bed and made a request, “Can you all leave the room for now, so the minister and I may discuss what happened today?”

Everyone appeared shocked at my request, but Francis obeyed me without question. Puck and Ambrose both left my room, nervous glances at each other. Francis and the triplets stood guard outside my door.

The minister and I stared at each other in silence for an uncomfortable minute after they all left, and then I began.

“You must have questions after that experience.”

He nodded, “I saw glimpses of a strange place. There was a simple church with sermons like mine with people held to attention by the words of God and faith. Yet, I felt hatred from them and prejudice for things that cannot be controlled. I saw a minister beating his child for shaming him for their existence. I saw a woman consumed by worldly pleasures while preaching my words to others. I saw hatred and injury that even our lord Jesus had never felt through the eyes of a frightened child. There were brief moments of peace and healing with a boy. Then, there was an emptiness that I knew was death. It was absolute and unending without love or malice.”

I sighed, “You saw my memories from a future world, a world that existed when different events happened in this world. I died in that world and was reborn here with the aid of my lover, who intervened on my behalf. If he did not, I would have likely remained in that state for eternity until I lost myself in the ether. I was not punished, nor offered salvation. All the words that my parents preached, and men like you preached before them were empty in death. That is the truth of existence beyond the realm of death.”

He asked tentatively, “Was I…Did my teachings and words truly contribute to your suffering in that world? Was that why you stared at me with so much scorn?”

“Yes, they were like what my parents taught. The rewards and punishments that you based on faith were what people used as justification for their attitudes against me and others. Those words about the place of women and embellishment of masculine ideals haunted my world.”

He bowed his head in a show of apology, “You do not need to worry about me anymore. I don’t think I can preach anymore after seeing the truth. I now know what comes after this life, the vast emptiness that is devoid of pain or love. There are no rewards or punishments for faith. All I have done and will do with my words is lay the groundwork for injustice and pain by those who would corrupt my beliefs, just as the Roman Church corrupted Jesus’ teachings. You were right, we are flawed creatures and should never have the gall to use our limited perspective on such things.”

We went back to silence after his proclamation.

As he stared blankly at the bare wooden walls of the inn’s room, I asked him, “What is your name?”

He answered politely, “John Knox, I was a reformed minister from the lands of the Scots.”

The name sounded familiar, then his historical information came to me through my ability. I was shocked at who he was and what I had just done by sharing my memories with him. John Knox was not merely a roaming Christian preacher; he was one of the most important Protestant leaders in the 16^th century in England and Scotland. His sermons and ideas would be the foundations of the Scottish Reformation. He was considered the founder of the Presbyterian denomination, which would have around 75 million followers in the modern world. I knew this man was the key for me to create an alternative to the Protestant-Catholic religious systems, despite the Anglican system's presence in England, which had many corrupt elements due to various demands of nobles. There needed to be fresh reforms and a departure from historical norms.

I cleared my throat, “You should continue to preach about salvation and mercy. Continue to preach about fairness and the common good. Remove all the stuff about rewards and punishments, emphasize the need for human beings to be kind to one another, and make a heaven on earth. I believe in your ability to be a great religious leader under the right conditions. Your ideal of fairness and justice for the common man was not wrong, it was merely your limited perspective and events that led to such horrific outcomes. I cannot say that I will ever believe in God as you do after the life I have lived, but I do believe in the human potential to be better if the person is willing to work for the greater good.”

Our first meeting was another historical anomaly, Elizabeth I and John Knox never met in this way, nor did they exchange ideas on forming a unified religious system across Scotland, England, and Wales. In my world, Elizabeth hated John Knox for what he said about women. John Knox was in my history a very misogynistic man, who did not like women on the throne of nations. Probably due to the reign of Mary of Guise and her daughter Mary Stuart, he considered women to be tainted by power and should be subservient to men in his sermons. His sexist attitude and idealization of masculinity influenced later protestant movements in the United States, making him the grandfather of toxic masculinity. I don’t think he realized how bad things would become for women and LGBT people due to his teachings. Despite the negative aspects, he had positive attributes too, since he would not accept corruption or unfair treatment by clergy, nobles, or even royalty. He stood up for independent male thinkers and crusaded for commoners to have an equal voice. He fought against the persecution of beliefs and selfish noble power plays for the Scottish throne when he became the religious leader of the Kirk, the Scottish reformed church. I never thought that I could convince a man like that to my way of thinking, but the old saying “Not judging someone until you walked a mile in their shoes” seemed to apply well to John Knox.

At some point in the evening, I invited Francis to join our discussion and the three of us formulated some ideas about the future of religious practices and levels of tolerance. By the end, I asked that correspondence be established to keep us apprised of what was happening. John Knox would have invaluable intelligence about the Queen regent of Scotland and her daughter. Francis could offer him our intelligence on which Protestant nobles in Scotland may be under suspicion or were executed under their Catholic ruler. At some point, we needed to unify the crowns of both nations to protect against our common threat.

We left the inn on separate paths. He was invited to London by the Duke of Northumberland, John Dudley, to deliver a religious sermon to King Edward VI, while I was heading to Norfolk. I asked him to be wary of any offices that John Dudley might offer him. Mary’s allies would likely want him assassinated since my opponents within the Catholic Church’s hierarchy would know that he represented a real threat to their ecclesiastical power in both England and Scotland.

Ambrose did not speak about the incident in the small town when we traveled on the open roads to Norfolk. I had implied that I had a disease like Julius Caesar’s bout of epilepsy, which was common enough to be believed. It would also reduce some risks from John Dudley if Ambrose ever revealed my condition to his father as he would further discount my threat to his power. I trusted Ambrose as a friend, but he had younger brothers and sisters to worry about beyond Guildford and Robert, so he had obligations to his family that I knew he would need to take as precedent before our friendship.

As for Puck and the triplets, they knew without me saying that it was another ability that I had discovered. They didn’t know what it entailed, but the change of attitude in John Knox convinced them it was something very powerful and should not be discussed outside the Coven’s Cadbury Hill stronghold. Despite Ambrose being a fair folk himself, his divided loyalties for now would preclude any intelligence exchanges.

Francis guarded me jealously during the rest of the journey, he prevented me from entering towns and hamlets for fear that a similar event might occur. I forced him to make several detours on the way to greet future allies, like Marquess of Northampton William Parr, older brother of deceased Catherine Parr. He was a very understanding man, generous, and fair-minded. Sadly, all his wives had affairs with other men due to his overall benevolence. He was a romantic, who never truly found love.

At night, when we slept either in the woods or at small inns, he would unabashedly slide into bed with me. Ambrose raised an eyebrow at the obvious sign of devotion he had to me, but he did not ask us to clarify our relationship. During this time, Francis’ needs were a bit suffocating, but it was in his nature to protect me. I was grateful to reach the outskirts of Norwich, a major city in Norfolk. I directed us to take a road that would pass the market town of Wymondham, the home of the Yeoman Robert Kett, who was the leader of the failed rebellion.

At first, I insisted on entering the town instead of bypassing it on our way to Robsart’s lands. Francis knew about my plan to investigate the town and the lack of a rebellion in 1549, so he did not deter me. As we entered the small market town, we noticed a large caravan of wagons heading into the town. They were carrying arm-length metal pipes and wooden attachment pieces that appeared innocuous separately to everyone else. However, I knew exactly what those were, blunderbusses, the ancestor of the modern shotgun. They were muzzle-loaded rather than breach-loaded as the guns that I was building had been designed but were deadly in short-range urban combat. The metal tubes and wooden pieces were uniform in shape, so they could be put together without any expertise in firearms. The presence of interchangeable parts meant these weapons were not supplied by medieval manufacturing techniques present in England. As we entered the town, my eyes followed the transit of the weapon wagons to the former Wymondham Abbey, which was dissolved in 1538 under orders from Henry VIII. I gave off no emotional response, but I knew we were in trouble.

The Catholic faction within England was still active through the protection of Princess Mary. She couldn’t outwardly build up her forces in plain sight, so she was relying on rebellious elements to the current government, just as I did in Western England and Wales. Her allies with modern knowledge knew about the purported 16,000-man army of Robert Kett, who wanted a return to land policies equivalent to what they had before Henry VIII and Edward VI’s government. In the modern world, it was common for leaders to rely on foreign nations to influence the common people and in certain cases even arm them for future military actions against the nation they lived in under the guise of reforms. Vladimir Lenin called the common people who were so easily manipulated “useful idiots”, which sadly was an apt conclusion for millions of so-called “patriots” throughout history tricked by these foreign puppet masters.

I made a show of buying a few books and trinkets in the market, to throw off any spies, then departed the town with everyone after noting the small size of the country inn, which was bigger than several we stayed in along the way. Ambrose was confused by my actions, but I had the triplets threaten him to stay silent until we left the town.

After an hour of silent travel to the city of Norwich, Ambrose began his questions, when no other travelers were on the road.

“Lord Eli, what got you spooked from that town? I thought you wanted to enjoy the markets a bit more?”

I sighed and explained everything that I noticed about the pre-assembled firearms in the wagons, which were heading to the former Abbey. I drew my conclusion that Princess Mary was likely raising a rebel army in Norfolk.

When he understood the magnitude of my discovery, he was stunned.

Ambrose began babbling, “We must raise the alarm, contact my father and your brother to raise the royal army at once. You said there were likely ten hand cannons per wagon and there were at least ten wagons. If they’ve been running these caravans every week, they could have thousands of weapons ready to take Norfolk, East Anglia, and even London itself!”

I knew that we were all panicking a little since we weren’t ready for this kind of engagement. There was likely no way I could reason with Robert Kett’s people or turn them away from Princess Mary’s cause. At my disposal, we had four revolver pistols with a hundred rounds each, a dozen hand grenades, and an assortment of poisons that Puck had brought. We’re not special forces, who could dodge gunfire and blow up an enemy camp like in some badly plotted 1980s action movies. My abilities are all logistical and administrative, I had very little accuracy with guns in either my prior life or this one.

I had to offer the devil his due, so I asked Ambrose, “Go back to London and tell your father what we saw. He needs to raise an army with as many cannons as possible and prepare to fight Princess Mary’s rebel forces in an open field. These weapons were supplied by the church, but they were not long-range weapons and as we discovered before their preparations were complete, they had no cavalry support. As long as the Duke of Northumberland masses his cannons in an open field, he will win the battle.”

Ambrose blinked at my analysis of battlefield tactics, “Eli…I mean Lord Eli, how do you know of such things?”

I prepared an answer that would be acceptable to John Dudley, “I’ve heard stories about the battles in the Holy Roman Empire and how powerful the Church’s armies are from Lord Ashley. I have also read the histories of great kings, like Henry V, and his army's success at using longbows against French knights at Agincourt. The principle of cannons used in mass formations would be similar against short-range fighters like these rebels.”

At my words, Ambrose turned his horse, then spoke, “The Robsart’s lands are near Norwich, you should be able to discover it easily. I had planned on notifying them of our visit to Norwich, but you will have to greet them on your own,” he sighed, “I will make sure my father hears about this discovery and learn of your strategy to counter the rebel army. Perhaps after this, he will accept you as a valued friend like me.”

Ambrose galloped away toward the direction of London, while we continued onward on the road to Norwich. My original intention of allying with Robert Kett had evaporated and it was likely that this entire region would be a major battlefield in a few days if Princess Mary alerted her allies here of a Royal army coming up. Their first target would be to capture the major city of Norwich, then capture any potential prisoners like Robert Dudley and myself to use as bargaining chips for peace negotiations. Despite what Ambrose said about his father’s friendship, I doubt he would bargain for either of us considering the threat an army of 16,000 men North of London represents to his hegemony.

After two more days of questioning and exploration, we reached the lands of the Robsart family. It was quite expansive with many wheat crops being harvested by various young male servants. I noticed several men with whips and lashes, who menacingly glared at the harvesters. I could hear strikes on their backs and was reminded of slaves in southern plantations, it was a disgusting sight to behold. However, I would encounter the worst horrors as I noticed several scarecrows in the distance along the main road that bisected Robsart’s farmland. When we reached the scarecrows, we froze at the sight of young men hanging on a cross with ropes around their arms, legs, and torso. Caliban’s gruesome smokehouse of horrors was stomach-churning, but those youths were dead, and these youths were still barely alive.

Racing down the road to escape this horrible sight, I was startled in front of one scarecrow. His body was thinner than I remembered him, and his skin was bruised by whips, but that face remained the same as it was when I saw him last. It was a face etched in my memories across two lifetimes. To see him in this state made my blood boil, but I needed to remind myself this was Robert Dudley, not Jack. It was that rational fact that kept me sane at that moment.

I turned towards Francis and asked him, “Release him from that cross.”

As Francis did that, several of the muscular overseers approached us with daggers and whips.

One of them yelled at us, “Halt, what is the meaning of this? These are the lands of Lord Robsart, how dare you act without his permission.”

The triplets flanked me, Puck, and Francis prepared to engage these men.

Trying to calm my nerves, I demanded answers from them, “What manner of Lord would do this? This man is Robert Dudley, the son of his Grace John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and husband of your lord’s daughter Amy Robsart.”

The men froze at my pronouncements, they lowered their daggers and one of them withdrew to gather others. While this was occurring, Francis freed Robert from the wooden cross and started offering him water from his flask. Robert’s gaze was unfocused, and I could tell he was likely dehydrated from whatever medieval torture this was.

At some point, a group of twenty overseers arrived, along with a well-dressed elderly man, an elderly woman, and a beautiful girl.

The elderly man approached our group, “May I inquire as to what noble gentlemen I am speaking to?”

I answered coldly, “I am Lord Eli Tudor, sibling of King Edward VI.”

The young lady laughed at my announcement, “Oh so you are the sodomite eunuch that has captured this boy’s heart.”

I wanted to gut her after those words, but I kept my cool.

The elder man offered, “Lord Eli, we were not aware that you would be coming here to our lands, but we must ask that you leave at once. Your presence here is not conducive to God’s cleansing of Robert’s soul.”

I looked around the land and pointed to the various human scarecrows,” Are their souls also being cleansed as well?”

With mirth in his eyes, the elder answered, “Yes, they are the sons of various nobles afflicted with various ills, including the curse of Sodom. We have a special dispensation from King Edward VI to assist these young men in living virtuous lives. As such if you do not leave, we must remove you from this premises and write to the King of your intrusion into our affairs.”

Fury rose through me as he described the scene in front of me. This was a medieval boot camp and conversion camp for all the delinquent noble teenage boys who didn’t toe the line. I debated on putting Robert on my horse and having us make a run for it.

At that moment, Robert recognized me in the haze of his delirium. However, he did not recognize me as Eli Tudor. He recognized me from another place and another time.

Grabbing some dirt from the ground, he offered it to me, “Hey Eric, do you want some worms?”

My heart broke into a million pieces, my mind was shattered. I had clung to the idea that they had just a passing resemblance, maybe Jack had descendants or something. When he mentioned that intimate detail about our first encounter, the acknowledgment in my prior life of friendship, I knew this boy was my partner. Tears streamed down my face because I had Jack back. He remembered how we met the first time, he still acknowledged me as who I am, not what others see me as. For an intersex person, being seen and known by the person you love is worth more than all the riches and power in the world.

Yet, another emotion grew in me as I saw his horrible state. He was beaten and battered by these people when I was busy amassing power. I remembered my promise to him. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him for loving me, which is what they did. He never gave up on me. Yet, I hadn’t kept my promise to him, I had allowed him to be tortured here alone for almost two years. He had to endure all of this without me because I couldn’t recognize him. How could I do that to him? Anger and guilt surged through me, I needed to express my wrath, needed to make someone pay for this soul-crushing pain I felt.

I stood up and turned to Francis, then the triplets. I stared at the smiling Robsart, smug in their belief that they had the protection of John Dudley and King Edward VI, along with all the noble families that sent them their delinquent children.

I gave a command that would be whispered for years to come, “I want them all to die suffering, I want them to know pain beyond human limits. I want everything they have done to be returned to them tenfold. Nobility be damned.”

Francis and the triplets quickly incapacitated the Robsart family and then started taking out the overseers. Some overseers from the fields ran to support their Lord’s family and friends, but they were quickly brought down by the revolver pistols. Francis and the triplets were angered by what they had seen, they had no hesitation in carrying out my command as they hunted everyone responsible throughout the day. During our ambush of Thomas Denny, we had all felt guilt for killing innocent youths pressed into military service, but in this place, there was only justified wrath. Those men on the crosses with whip marks on their skins could have been fair folk like them. We freed the captive young men, who were frightened by our savagery, but accepted our aid.

By the end of the second day, I had Amy Robsart witness her family’s execution. I learned from the dead overseers through Francis that she was falsely married to these young men under different names, so their noble families could send them here to be “cleansed”, then when they were proper gentlemen, they could be wed to noble ladies under the pretense their first wife had died. She was window dressing that hid the ugly nature of this place. She was involved in many sadistic acts on the various men, including Jack. There was a special place for someone like her. After she screamed and blasted me with curses and prayers of divine judgment, I had the triplets cut out her tongue. Then, I had them remove her hands and feet. In ancient China, this act was a punishment used by an Empress against a person, who tried to kill her and her son, to usurp the throne. Despite losing all her limbs and her tongue, Amy Robsart lived for a few more years. I had ordered a few house servants, who surrendered to me, to keep her fed for those agonizing years.

The official history of the kingdom will record that many of the Robsart family were brutally butchered by Kett’s rebellion as loyalists to King Edward VI and John Dudley. However, the stories about what I did are still echoed in certain pubs and taverns, a horror story about how a merciful person can be merciless if you wrong their beloved. I will not keep the truth of what I did from you, because in my place, I expect you to do no less for the ones you love. Beyond just our blood ties, it is our love that binds us in spirit.