by C. J. Sansom
He shook his head. ‘The Queen and Anne Askew never met. Mistress Askew had contacts on the fringes of the court, yes, and would have loved to preach at the Queen, but my niece and I were too careful to permit that. I made sure Anne Askew never came near her household.’
‘Yet she must have been tortured for some reason. By the way, the news of that must have been leaked by someone inside the Tower. Is there any chance of finding out who that could have been?’
Lord Parr considered. ‘When it became obvious at the burning that the street gossip about Askew’s torture was true, I thought there would be a hue and cry in the Tower to find who set those rumours. Someone there, as you say, must have talked. But I have heard nothing.’ He furrowed his brow. ‘The Constable of the Tower, Sir Edmund Walsingham, was my predecessor as Queen’s Chancellor and is a friend. I shall make enquiries. In the meantime I want you to come to the palace tomorrow to question the guard who was on duty the night the manuscript was stolen and who Mary Odell said behaved oddly. He comes back on duty in the morning.’
‘Thank you, my Lord. And those three runaways: Curdy, McKendrick and the Dutchman. It is essential to interview them. I wonder whether they may even have taken the Queen’s book in connection with some hare-brained scheme of their own. Perhaps even fallen out over it, so that one killed Greening and made off with the book.’
Lord Parr’s face set hard. ‘Then we are dealing with wild fools rather than an enemy at court.’ He shook his head. ‘But how could such people get hold of the book in the first place?’
‘I do not know.’
‘But nevertheless they should be found.’
‘Yes.’ I added, ‘I was thinking about Okedene the printer, whether they might come after him now.’
‘He has already told us what he knows.’
‘Even so, his safety – ’
Lord Parr looked irritable. ‘I do not have a limitless supply of people I can employ on this matter; and none I would completely trust, apart from Cecil. I have no network of spies like your old Master Cromwell, or Secretary Paget,’ he added caustically. ‘I have asked Cecil to keep his ears and eyes open, which he will do. And I can arrange for him to bribe someone at the customs house. Cecil suggested that, to see whether anyone resembling these three men books passage on a ship. Perhaps he can bribe one of the dockers to keep a watch.’
I remembered Hugh’s letter. ‘Many radicals are going abroad these days,’ I said.
Lord Parr grunted. ‘And provided they are just little fish, the authorities wink at it. Glad to be rid of them.’
‘Then they may already be gone. But if they are seen, would it be possible to detain them? Perhaps on suspicion of involvement in the theft of a missing jewel?’
‘Yes, that may be a good idea. I will talk to Cecil.’ Lord Parr raised a monitory finger. ‘But remember, Master Shardlake, my powers are limited. And the Queen still has to watch every step.’ He sighed deeply. ‘For myself, I wish I were back in the country.’ He shook his head. ‘Nearly a fortnight since the Lamentation disappeared, and not a whisper of it.’
‘And two men murdered.’
‘I am hardly likely to forget. And I have still heard nothing about this man with half an ear sliced off, in the employ of someone at court.’ All at once, beneath his finery, I saw a puzzled, frightened old man. ‘We are in the midst of a deadly business. Surely the two attacks on Greening’s premises must be connected. Yet the Lamentation had not yet been stolen when the first attack took place. Pox on it!’ He spoke querulously, banging his stick on the cobbles. Then he collected himself, turned and looked at Barak. ‘Will he be acting as your right-hand man in this?’
‘No, my Lord. I’m sorry, but I fear his family commitments—’
Lord Parr grunted impatiently. ‘Too much softness is not a good thing with those who work for you. It gets in the way of business. However, I am arranging for some money to be sent to the apprentice’s mother when his body is taken away. Together with advice to leave London.’
‘Thank you, my Lord.’
Another grunt. ‘I would be in trouble with her majesty if I did not help the woman. And she is safer off the scene. Have you brought the piece of embroidery your boy found?’
‘In my satchel.’
‘Good. You will be taken to the embroiderer after seeing Master Barwic, the carpenter and locksmith. You can also tell the embroiderer the story of the stolen jewel. His name is Hal Gullym.’
‘Has he been with the Queen long?’
‘He is not an old retainer like Barwic, the cofferer. He was employed at court three years ago, when the Queen’s household was set up. Like everyone at Baynard’s Castle he is part of the domus providenciae, a servant, a craftsman. And he has a strong motive for loyalty and obedience. Working for the court takes you to the top of your profession. Every guildsman in London longs to work here.’ He spoke patronizingly, I thought, an aristocrat talking dismissively of men who worked with their hands. ‘So Hal Gullym will be happy to assist. Now – ’ From his robes Lord Parr produced the Queen’s key, still on its gold chain, and gave it to me. ‘Handle that with great care.’
‘I will.’
‘The guard with a fair beard you see over at that door has been told you are coming to investigate a jewel theft; he will guide you, and wait while you examine the chest. Give the key to him afterwards to return to me; he can be trusted. Then he will take you to Barwic and then Gullym. If you find anything important, send word to Whitehall. Otherwise, attend me there at ten tomorrow morning.’ Lord Parr turned and called to Barak. ‘Over here, sirrah, your master has instructions.’ Then he hobbled away to the inner courtyard to join the members of his family.
THE INTERIOR OF THE BUILDING into which the guard led us was nothing like Whitehall, for all the fine tapestries adorning the walls. This part of Baynard’s Castle was a clothing enterprise; embroiderers and dressmakers working at tables in the well-lit hall. The shimmer of silk was everywhere, the air rich with delightful perfumes from the garments. I thought of what the Queen had said, how the richest of these clothes had passed from Queen to Queen.
Barak shook his head at it all. ‘All these people are working on the clothes of the Queen’s household?’
‘It has a staff of hundreds. Clothes, bedlinen, decorations, all have to be of the finest quality and kept in good repair.’ I nodded to the guard, and with a bow he led us over to one of the many side doors. We were taken down a corridor to a large room where several clothes presses stood, bodices and skirts kept flat beneath them. The Queen’s chest stood on a table; I recognized the distinctive red-and-gold fabric covering its top. It was oak, with strong iron brackets at each corner. Barak walked round it, felt the wood, looked at the lock, then lifted the lid and peered inside. It was a bare wooden box, empty except for the tills in the side where small valuables were kept.
‘Good strong piece. You’d need an axe to break in. The chest is old, but the lock’s new.’ He leaned in and thumped the sides and bottom. ‘No hidden compartments.’
‘It is an old family heirloom.’
He looked at me sharply. ‘Of the Queen’s?’
‘Yes. She had a new lock fitted in the spring, the other one was – old.’
He bent and peered closely at the lock, inside and out. Then he said, ‘I’d better see the key. I saw Lord Parr give it to you.’
‘Don’t miss much, do you?’
‘Wouldn’t still be here if I did.’
I handed him the key. I wished he had not asked about the Queen. But if I limited his involvement to the chest, surely he would be safe. He studied the key’s complicated teeth closely, then inserted it in the lock, opening and shutting the chest twice, very carefully. Finally he took a thin metal instrument from his purse and inserted it in the lock, twisting it to and fro, bending close to listen to the sounds it made. Finally he stood up.
‘I’m not the greatest expert in England,’ Barak said, ‘but I would swear this lock has only ever been o
pened with a key. If someone had tried to break in using an instrument like mine, I doubt they’d have succeeded – the lock’s stronger than it looks – and I’d expect marks, scratches.’
‘The Queen says she kept this key always round her neck. So no one would have had the chance to make an impression in wax to construct another. I think there must be another key.’
‘And the only person who could have made that is the locksmith, isn’t it?’ Barak said, raising his eyebrows.
‘So it seems.’
He rubbed his hands, his old enthusiasm for the chase clearly visible. ‘Well, let’s go and see him.’ He smiled at the guard, who looked back at us impassively.
THE CARPENTER’S WORKSHOP was at the rear of the hall, a large, well-equipped room smelling of resin and sawdust. A short, powerfully built man with regular features only half-visible through a luxurious growth of reddish hair and beard was sawing a plank, while his young apprentice – like his master, wearing a white apron emblazoned with the Queen’s badge – was planing another piece of wood at an adjacent table. They stopped working and bowed as we entered. At the back of the workshop I noticed a set of locksmith’s tools on a bench.
‘Master Barwic?’ I asked.
‘I am.’ He looked a little apprehensive, I thought, at the sight of my lawyer’s robe with its own Queen’s badge. But then he would know of the theft, and that he might be under suspicion.
‘I am Matthew Shardlake, Serjeant at Law. I am enquiring for Lord Parr into the loss of a jewel belonging to the Queen, which she values greatly.’ I turned to the apprentice, who was small and thin, a complete contrast to poor Elias. ‘Does this boy help you with lock-making?’
‘No, sir.’ He gave the boy an unfavourable look. ‘I have enough trouble training him up on the carpentry side.’
I looked at the lad. ‘You may leave us.’ Barwic stood, hands on the table, frowning a little as the boy scurried from the room. ‘I heard of the jewel’s loss, sir. I think someone must have stolen the key.’
I shook my head. ‘Impossible. The Queen wore the key round her neck at all times.’ I saw his eyes widen; he had not known that. ‘Come,’ I said. ‘I would like you to see the chest.’
‘It is here?’
‘In one of the rooms nearby.’
We led Barwic to the chamber, where he examined the chest carefully. ‘Yes, I made this lock, and fitted it to the chest, back in the spring.’ I gave him the key and he studied it. ‘Yes, this is it.’
‘And you made no copies?’ Barak asked.
Barwic frowned, obviously annoyed at being questioned by someone junior. ‘On the Queen’s instructions,’ he answered. ‘It was unusual, but those were her majesty’s orders. The chest was brought to my workshop. The lock was as old as the chest, though serviceable enough. I made the new lock and key, tested them, then took the key and chest back to Whitehall by myself, as instructed. I gave the key directly into the hands of Lord Parr.’
‘Normally, though, you would make a spare key, in case the original was lost?’
‘Yes, and send both keys to the Chamberlain.’ His calmness deserted him and his voice rose. ‘I did as I was ordered, sir, simply that.’
‘I have to question everyone connected with this chest,’ I answered mildly.
‘I am a senior craftsman.’ Barwic rallied a little. ‘I was Chairman of the Carpenters’ Guild last year, responsible for its part in all the ceremonies and processions, and raising troops for the war.’
I nodded slowly. ‘An honourable duty. Did you know what was kept in the chest?’
‘They told me jewels and personal possessions. Sir, if you are accusing me—’
‘I accuse you of nothing, good Master Barwic.’
‘Ay, well, I am not used to being questioned like this.’ He spread his hands. ‘Perhaps someone was able to make an impression of the Queen’s key. If so, they could open the lock, if the duplicate were made carefully enough. Someone in that great warren, the Queen’s household. Surely she did not wear it all the time. I am a man of honest reputation, sir,’ he added. ‘Ask all who know me. A simple carpenter in his workshop.’
‘Like Our Lord himself,’ Barak said, straight-faced.
BARAK ACCOMPANIED ME back out into the courtyard, the guard assigned us walking a little behind. ‘Jesu,’ Barak said. ‘All that just to clothe a few women.’
‘More than a few, I think. The ladies are granted the cloth, but pay for the work themselves.’
He stood rocking on his heels. ‘That cofferer, he looked worried.’
‘Yes. And he was Chairman of his guild last year. That’s an expensive business, as he said.’
‘He’ll be well paid in this job.’
‘It would be an expense, even so. And with the value of money falling, and all the taxes to pay for the war that are due this year, everyone has to be careful. He may have need of money.’ I slowed. ‘Could he have made a second copy for someone else? He did not know the Queen wore the only key constantly round her neck.’ I considered. ‘I think we’ll let him sweat a little.’
‘It would be a dangerous matter, stealing from the Queen. He’d hang if he was caught.’
‘We both know the things people are capable of risking for the sake of money. Especially those who have gained status and wish to keep it.’
Barak looked at me askance. ‘You said we’ll let him sweat a little.’
‘A slip of the tongue, I’m sorry. I told you, I just wanted your help with the chest and lock.’
He looked around the courtyard. Another cart was unloading. ‘Jesu,’ he said again, ‘all this to keep fine clothes on the backs of great ladies. Just as well we didn’t bring Tamasin. We’d never have got her out.’
‘Remember she doesn’t know you’re here. And would be displeased if she did.’
‘I won’t forget. What do you want to see the embroiderer for?’
I sighed. He was interested now; he would not easily let it go. ‘I’m only trying to trace a piece of fine silk sleeve Nicholas found, that may be connected to the case,’ I answered. ‘The embroiderer may be able to help me, perhaps suggest who might have made it.’
‘If he gives you a name you may need someone to pay him a visit.’
‘I think that might be a job for Nicholas. He found the sleeve, after all.’
Barak looked disappointed, then nodded. ‘You’re right, it’s a job for a junior.’
‘And now I have an appointment with the embroiderer.’
He fingered his beard, reluctant to leave, but I raised my eyebrows. ‘All right,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, and quickly walked away to the gate.
I NODDED TO THE GUARD and he took me back into the hall, knocking at another side door before entering. Within, a man was working at a desk set close by the window to get the best light. He was embroidering flowers on a piece of fabric, flowers so tiny he needed to look through a large magnifying glass on a stand. To my surprise, he was a big, black-bearded fellow, though I saw his fingers were long and delicate. He stood up at my entrance, wincing a little. For a man of his height, a life spent constantly hunched over was a recipe for a bad back.
‘Master Gullym,’ I asked, ‘the Queen’s head embroiderer?’
‘I am.’ His voice had a Welsh lilt.
‘Matthew Shardlake. I am investigating the theft of a jewel from the Queen.’
‘I’d heard something about a ring gone missing.’ Gullym sounded curious, but unlike Barwic, unconcerned. But of course he was not under any suspicion. I took the piece of torn silk and laid it on the desk. ‘We think this may belong to the thief. Is there any way of identifying who made it?’
Gullym picked up the scrap of silk, wrinkling his features in distaste, for it was a little dirty now. ‘Looks like an English design,’ he said. ‘Very fine, expensive. Someone in the embroiderers’ guild made it, I’d warrant.’ Carefully he slid the delicate silk he was working on from under the magnifying glass and replaced it with the piece of cuff. ‘
Yes, very well made indeed.’
‘If the maker of this piece could tell me who commissioned it, it might help us. They would gain the favour of the Queen,’ I added.
Gullym nodded. ‘I can write you a list of names. Perhaps a dozen embroiderers in London could have made this. It was done recently, I would say, that design of little vines has only been popular this year.’
‘Thank you.’
With slow, deliberate steps, Gullym crossed to a desk, wincing again as he moved. He took quill and paper and wrote out a list of names and addresses, then handed it to me. ‘I think these are all the people who might help you.’ He smiled complacently. ‘I have been in the guild since I came to London thirty years ago, I know everyone.’
I looked at the list. Someone would have to visit all these London shops.
‘Thank you, Master Gullym,’ I said. ‘By the way, I could not help but notice you have some problems with your back.’
‘Goes with the job, sir.’
‘I do, too, as perhaps you may imagine.’
Gullym nodded tactfully.
‘There is a physician who has helped me much. He practises down at Bucklersbury, Dr Guy Malton.’
‘I have been thinking I should see someone. It gets bad in the afternoons.’
‘I can recommend Dr Malton. Tell him I sent you.’
Chapter Seventeen
THAT EVENING, AFTER DINNER, I rode down to Bucklersbury to visit Guy. We had not parted on the best of terms three nights before, and I wanted to try and mend fences. I also hoped he might tell me about that name, Bertano.
The cloud had disappeared during the afternoon and the sun was out again, setting now, casting long shadows on the row of apothecaries’ shops. Although Guy had come originally from Spain and qualified as a physician in the great French university of Louvain, his status as a foreigner – a Moor – and a former monk, had meant a long struggle for acceptance as a member of the College of Physicians. Before qualifying, he had practised as an apothecary and, although he now had a large practice and the status of an English denizen and could have moved to a good-sized house, he preferred to stay here; partly because of his old monkish vow of poverty, and because he was getting old and preferred the familiar.
