by C. J. Sansom
‘I hope so.’ But she spoke doubtfully. Lord Parr gave a quick frown of impatience. The Queen turned to me.
‘First, Master Shardlake, may we go over the other developments? My uncle has told me, but I would like to hear first-hand from you.’
‘Quickly,’ her uncle murmured.
Rapidly, I summarized everything that had happened since we last met: Elias’s murder, the disappearance of Greening’s three friends, Bealknap’s strange last words, my suspicion that all was not quite right with Barwic the carpenter. I added that the mysterious name Bertano was Italian in origin, and suggested that perhaps we could find out whether the name was known among the Italian merchants in the city.
‘I will arrange that,’ Lord Parr said. ‘Discreetly. First, though, let us see what these guards have to say. And if after that there remains any question of the carpenter’s involvement, I will come with you to Baynard’s Castle and speak to the man myself.’
‘But Lord Parr, I thought you wanted to keep your involvement in the enquiries to a minimum.’
‘I do. But those at Baynard’s Castle are household staff, responsible to me, and therefore frightened of me.’ He smiled tightly. ‘As for the docks, Cecil has persuaded one of the customs house officials to inform us if any of Greening’s three friends are spotted and try to flee on a ship. All goods and persons entering or leaving the country have to go through there. And Cecil has also got one of the dockers to keep an eye on everything that happens on the waterfront. With a promise of a goodly sum in gold if these jewel thieves are captured.’ He smiled wryly.
‘That poor apprentice boy,’ the Queen said. ‘I cannot understand why he should say he was killed for Anne Askew. I made sure she and I never met.’ She looked sadly at her uncle. ‘At least there I was properly careful.’
Lord Parr nodded. ‘I have spoken to my old friend Sir Edmund Walsingham,’ he said. ‘I am going to the Tower tomorrow. I have invented a piece of household business to justify the visit.’ He turned to me. ‘You will come too. We shall see what we can dig out about the news of Mistress Askew’s torture being leaked. But now – the guard.’
The Queen, however, seemed reluctant to let me go. ‘This man Bealknap?’ she asked. ‘Which side did he follow in religion?’
‘Neither. But he was associated with Richard Rich.’
‘Those words of his. Did they sound like a warning, or a threat?’
‘Neither, your majesty. Merely a last gloating, a hope to see me charged with heresy, and you.’
Lord Parr said firmly, ‘That’s surely what it was.’
‘Bealknap could not have been involved with the theft,’ I said. ‘He has been ill in his room for many weeks.’
‘Then forget him,’ Lord Parr said resolutely. He turned to the Queen. She swallowed, gripping the arms of her chair. Her uncle put his hand on hers. ‘And now,’ he said, looking at me, ‘the Captain of the Guard, Master Mitchell, is waiting for you. With his prisoners. Question them. Alone, of course.’
Chapter Eighteen
THE GUARDROOM, I WAS TOLD, was on the other side of the Presence Chamber. As I crossed the chamber, a plump middle-aged man, sweating in a furred robe, stepped into my path, doffed a feathered cap and gave me an exaggerated bow. ‘Good master lawyer,’ he said in honeyed tones, ‘I saw you come from the Queen’s Privy Chamber. I regret interrupting you, but I am an old friend of the late Lord Latimer, visiting London. My son, a goodly lad, wishes to serve at court—’
‘Such things are not my business,’ I answered curtly. I left him clutching his cap disconsolately and made my way quickly towards the door to which I had been directed. ‘Sent to Master Mitchell from Lord Parr,’ I said to the yeoman standing with his halberd outside. He opened the door and led me into a small anteroom, where two black-robed guards sat playing dice. He crossed the room to another door and knocked. A deep voice called, ‘Come in.’ The guard bowed and I entered a cramped office.
A strongly built, fair-haired man in a black robe sat behind a desk, the Queen’s badge set on his cap. My heart fell when he looked up; I could tell from his sombre expression that he had no good news.
‘Serjeant Shardlake?’ He waved a hand to a chair. ‘Please sit. I am David Mitchell, Head of the Queen’s Guard.’
‘God give you good morrow. I believe Lord Parr has explained that I wish to question Michael Leeman, who was on duty the night the Queen’s b—, I mean, ring – was stolen.’ I cursed myself. I had nearly said ‘book’. That one word, uttered to the wrong person, could bring everything crashing down.
Mitchell, for all that he was a big man, looked uncomfortable, somehow shrunken inside his uniform. He spoke quietly. ‘I have Zachary Gawger in custody here. But I am afraid we do not have Michael Leeman.’
I sat bolt upright. ‘What?’
Mitchell coughed awkwardly. ‘I checked the rotas yesterday afternoon, when Lord Parr asked me to. Gawger and Leeman were both on the evening shift on the sixth of July, and it was Leeman that was assigned to stand guard at the door of the Queen’s Privy Chamber. Yet according to Mary Odell it had actually been Gawger. Gawger was on duty last night and I had him immediately placed in custody. Leeman was supposed to be on duty at six, but he never arrived and when I sent for him, his chamber in the guards’ lodgings was empty. His possessions had gone too.’
I closed my eyes. ‘How did this happen?’
It was strange to see the Guard Captain, a military man of considerable authority, squirm in his chair. ‘Apparently one of the other soldiers had seen Gawger taken into custody. He went to spread the news, and apparently Leeman was in the wardroom, heard the gossip. I was not quick enough. The sergeant I sent to arrest him must have arrived minutes after he left.’ He looked at me. ‘Lord Parr shall have my resignation this morning.’
‘Is there any indication where Leeman may have gone?’
‘He was checked out of the palace at eight last night. He said he was going into the city for the evening; he often did, it was not remarked upon, though the guard on duty noted he was carrying a large bag. Containing the Queen’s lost ring, no doubt,’ he added bitterly.
I stared up at the ceiling. A fourth man disappeared now. I turned back to Mitchell. There was no point in being angry with him. I little doubted Lord Parr would accept his resignation.
I said, ‘I think the best thing will be for Gawger to tell me all he knows.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded at a door to the side of the office. ‘He is in there. Christ’s mother!’ he spat in sudden anger. ‘It will be his last morning at Whitehall; tonight he will be in the Fleet Prison, the rogue.’
I looked at him. ‘That is for Lord Parr to decide.’
Mitchell got up slowly, opened the door, and dragged a young man into the office. He was dressed only in undershirt and hose, his brown hair and short beard were bedraggled and there was a bruise on his cheek. He was tall and well-built, like all the guards, but he made a sorry figure now. Mitchell thrust him against the wall. Gawger sagged, looking at me fearfully.
‘Tell the Queen’s investigator all you told me,’ Mitchell said. ‘I shall be waiting outside.’ He looked at the young man with angry disgust, then turned to me. ‘I should tell you, Master Shardlake, that during the twelvemonth Gawger has worked here I have had cause to discipline him for drunkenness and gambling. He is one of those young fools from the country whose head has been turned by the court. I was already thinking of dismissing him. Would that I had.’ He glared at Gawger. ‘Spit out the whole story, churl!’
With that, Mitchell turned and left his office. The young man remained cowering against the wall. He took a deep breath, then gulped nervously.
‘Well?’ I asked. ‘Best you tell the whole truth. If I have to tell Captain Mitchell I have doubts, he may be rough with you again.’ It was no more than the truth.
Gawger took another deep breath. ‘About three weeks ago, sir – it was at the start of the month – one of my fellow guards approached me in lodgings. Mich
ael Leeman. I did not know him well – he had not made himself popular, he was one of the radicals, always telling us to amend our souls.’
‘Really?’ I leaned forward with interest.
‘He said the palace soldiery were mired in sin and that when his term was done he would go to new friends he had, godly friends.’
‘Do you know who they were?’
Gawger shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. But they lived somewhere around St Paul’s, I think. He was always off there during his free time. But I steer clear of talk about religion. It’s dangerous.’ He stopped, breathing rapidly now, perhaps realizing that he was in deep danger. The rules governing the Queen’s Guard were strict, and I had little doubt that what Gawger was about to confess to constituted treason. I took a deep breath.
He continued, a whining, desperate note in his voice now. ‘I – I have had money troubles, sir. I have been playing cards with some of my fellows. I lost money. I thought I could win it back, but lost more. I appealed to my father; he has helped me before, but he said he had no more to spare. If I did not find the money soon I knew there would be a scandal, I would lose this post, have to return home in disgrace – ’ Suddenly he laughed wildly. ‘But that was nothing to what will happen now, is it sir? I gambled everything on this throw, and lost.’
‘And exactly what was this throw Leeman wanted you to make?’
‘He was in the middle of a fortnight’s evening duty. He told me he had had a dalliance with one of the chamber servant women and had left a pair of monogrammed gloves, that could be traced to him, in the Queen’s Long Gallery. He had taken this girl in there when no one else was around. If the gloves were discovered both of them would be dismissed.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘And him such a man of God?’
‘I was surprised, sir, but men who lust fiercely after religion can often turn out to have strong lusts of the flesh as well, can they not?’ He gulped again, then added, ‘Leeman showed me a bag with ten sovereigns, old ones of pure gold.’ The man’s eyes lit up for a moment at the memory. ‘He said it was mine if I would take his place as guard outside the door to the privy lodgings, just for a few minutes, while he fetched his gloves. We would both be on duty in the Presence Chamber for several days, and could change places when the Queen and her servants were absent. He said it needed to be done as soon as possible. But it was many days before we were able to do it.’
‘So the switch happened on the sixth?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I leaned back in my chair. It all fitted. Somehow Leeman had found out about the Lamentation, and had decided – why, I had no idea to steal it. He had looked for an accomplice, found the wretched Gawger, and taken his opportunity when it came on the 6th of July. He was a religious radical. He had friends by St Paul’s. Was he a member of Greening’s group? I looked at Gawger. Such a young man as this could easily be won over with the promise of gold. And Leeman’s story was plausible; even in July, carrying silk gloves of fine design was common round the court as yet another symbol of status. But how had Leeman learned of the book? Why had he stolen it? And how had he got a key to that chest?
I asked Gawger, ‘How would Leeman know for sure when the Queen’s lodgings were unoccupied?’
‘Everything runs according to routine in this place, sir. In the evenings, the servants arrive and depart at fixed hours. If the Queen is called to the King, as she frequently is in the evenings, her personal attendants go with her and for a short time nobody is present in her apartments. I was on duty, but in reserve rather than at post. My arrangement with Leeman was that I would remain in the guardroom – the room you came through just now – and if the Queen was called away he would run across to tell me. Then I would take his place while he went inside for a few minutes. That would not be noted; there is always someone in reserve in case a guard is taken ill or has to relieve himself and cannot wait. And at that time of night, if the Queen was with the King, there was normally nobody in the Presence Chamber either. There wasn’t that night.’
‘Go on.’
Gawger took a deep breath. ‘Just before nine, Leeman came into the Guard Chamber. I was the only one there. I remember how set his face was. He nodded to me, that was our signal. Then the two of us went back to the Presence Chamber and I took his position by the door while he slipped inside. I waited at the door – in a sweat, I may say.’
‘Had you had a drink?’ I asked.
‘Just a little, sir, to give me courage. But I had only been there a minute when Mistress Odell arrived. I tried to delay her – ’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘You pretended her name was not on the list, and when she insisted on going in, as you opened the door you said loudly that everything must be done properly, no doubt to alert Leeman. She told me. It was that which first aroused my suspicions.’
Gawger lowered his head. ‘Leeman must have hidden somewhere till Mary Odell had passed by him. Then he came out again.’
‘Was he carrying anything?’
‘Not that I could see.’
I thought, the manuscript was small, he could have concealed it under his voluminous cloak. Suddenly I felt angry. ‘What if Leeman had been unbalanced? What if he had planned to murder the Queen, who you are sworn to protect? What then, master gambler?’
Gawger bowed his head again. ‘I have no answer, sir,’ he said miserably.
I went across to the door. Mitchell was waiting outside. I let him in and told him all that Gawger had told me; both, of course, thought that at issue was a stolen ring. ‘It seems you have your answer, Serjeant Shardlake,’ Mitchell said bleakly.
‘I would rather have Leeman as well,’ I answered curtly. ‘Now I will report back to Lord Parr. Do not have this man publicly accused yet. Is there somewhere you can keep him?’
‘Surely now he should be imprisoned and tried for conspiracy in this theft, and for endangering the Queen’s person.’
‘Lord Parr must say,’ I answered firmly.
Mitchell stood up, grabbed the wretched guard, and thrust him back into the antechamber. He returned and sat behind his desk again, looking haggard. I said, ‘I want this kept quiet till you receive further orders.’
‘I place myself in the hands of the Queen. It is my responsibility Leeman is gone.’ Mitchell shook his head. ‘But it is hard sometimes, having to take on these young country gentlemen because their fathers have influence. And these last months have been terrible. All the rumours – I have served the Queen loyally these three years, but since the spring I have never known when I may be ordered to arrest her.’
I did not answer. I could feel no sympathy for him. However well organized, however disciplined a system of security might be, it only took one slip from a man in a crucial position for the line to be broken. ‘Tell me more about Leeman,’ I said eventually.
‘His father is a landowner in Kent. He has some distant connection to the Parrs through their Throckmorton cousins, one of whom petitioned for a post for him. I interviewed young Leeman last year. I thought him suitable; as a gentleman, he was well trained in the arts of combat and he is a big, handsome young fellow, well set up. Though even then he struck me as a little serious. And godly; he said his main interest was the study of religion. Well, being a reformer was no hindrance then.’ He sighed. ‘And he was a good and loyal guard for two years. Never a hint of trouble, except that twice he had to be warned against evangelizing among his fellow guards. It annoyed them. I warned him early this year such talk was becoming dangerous.’ Mitchell leaned forward. ‘He is the last one I would have expected to have concocted a plot to steal one of the Queen’s jewels. And Leeman is not rich, his family are poor and distant cousins of the Queen, delighted to have a son in such a post. How could he have come by such a huge sum as ten sovereigns to offer Gawger?’
‘I do not know.’
Mitchell swallowed. ‘I expect there will be a search for Leeman now.’
‘It rests with the Queen and Lord Parr,’ I said quietly, standing
up. ‘For now, keep Gawger close confined – and tell nobody.’ I bowed and left him.
I RETURNED TO the Queen’s Privy Chamber. Lord Parr was pacing up and down, the Queen still sitting beneath her cloth of estate, playing with the pearl that once belonged to Catherine Howard. Her spaniel, Rig, lay at her feet.
I told them what had happened with Mitchell and Gawger.
‘So,’ Lord Parr said heavily. ‘Thanks to you, we now know who, but not how or why. And thanks to that fool Mitchell, Leeman is gone.’
‘As for the how, I think another word with the carpenter is called for. Especially now we know Leeman had money to wave before people. As to the why – I begin to wonder whether a whole group of radical Protestants may be involved in this, reaching from Leeman to the printer Greening. But that brings us back to the question of why. Why would they steal the book?’
‘And how did they come to know of its existence in the first place?’ Lord Parr asked.
Suddenly the Queen leaned forward, her silks rustling, and burst into tears: loud, racking sobs. Her uncle went and put a hand on her arm. ‘Kate, Kate,’ he said soothingly. ‘We must be calm.’
She lifted her face. It was full of fear, tears smudging the white ceruse on her cheeks. The sight of her in such a state squeezed at my heart.
‘Be calm!’ she cried. ‘How? When the theft has already caused two deaths! And whoever these people are who stole my book, it looks as though someone else was after them and has it now! All because of my sin of pride in not taking Archbishop Cranmer’s advice and destroying the manuscript! Lamentation! Lamentation indeed!’ She took a long, shuddering breath, then turned a face of misery upon us. ‘Do you know what the worst thing is, for me who wrote a book urging people to forget the temptations of the world and seek salvation? That even now, with those poor men dead, it is not of them that I think, nor my family and friends in danger, but of myself, being put in the fire, like Anne Askew! I imagine myself chained to the stake, I hear the crackle as the faggots are lit, I smell the smoke and feel the flames.’ Her voice rose, frantic now. ‘I have feared it since the spring. After the King humiliated Wriothesley I thought it was over, but now – ’ She pounded her dress with a fist. ‘I am so selfish, selfish! I, who thought the Lord had favoured me with grace – ’ She was shouting now. The spaniel at her feet whined anxiously.
