by C. J. Sansom
‘Put that down, Martin,’ I said coldly. The shadow of an emotion, perhaps fear, crossed his face as he laid the silver dish back on the table. ‘I have been talking to Timothy. Apparently the boy told you he saw me burning books in the garden.’
I discerned only the slightest hesitation, then Martin answered smoothly, ‘Yes, sir. Agnes saw the burned papers and I asked Timothy about it. I thought he might have been up to mischief.’
‘Somebody has,’ I answered flatly. ‘I was questioned about those burned books at the Privy Council this morning.’
He stood stock-still, the cloth still in his hands. I continued, ‘Nobody knew what I had done, save the friend who was questioned with me.’ Still Martin stood like a statue. He had no answer. ‘Who did you tell?’ I asked sharply. ‘Who did you betray me to? And why?’
He laid the cloth on the buffet with a hand that had suddenly begun to tremble. His face had paled. He asked, ‘May I sit down?’
‘Yes,’ I answered curtly.
‘I have always been a faithful servant to my employers,’ he said quietly. ‘Stewardship is an honourable calling. But my son – ’ his face worked for a moment – ‘he is in gaol.’
‘I know that. I found Agnes crying one day.’ He frowned at that, but I pressed him. ‘What has that to do with what you did?’
He took a deep breath. ‘Rogue though I know my son John is, I feared he might die for lack of food and care in that gaol if I did not send him money, and I could only get him out of it by paying off his debtors.’ His eyes were suddenly bright with anguish and fear.
‘Go on.’
‘It was in early April, not very long after Agnes and I came to work for you. John had had a fever of the lungs in that vile place last winter, and nearly died. We were at our wits’ end.’
‘You could have come to me.’
‘It is for me to care for Agnes and John – me!’ Martin’s voice rose unexpectedly, on a note of angry pride. ‘I would not go running to you, my master, soft though I saw you were with Josephine and the boy.’ There was a note of contempt in his voice now. There, I thought, that was why he disliked me. He had an iron view of the place and responsibilities of servants and masters. It had led him to betray me rather than ask for help.
He pulled himself together, lowering his voice again. ‘I had arranged to have what money I could scrape together delivered to John in prison by a merchant of Leicester who travels between there and London, and who knew my story.’ He took a long breath. ‘One day, as I was leaving his London office, a man accosted me. A gentleman, a fair-haired young fellow wearing expensive clothes.’
I stared at him. ‘Was he missing half an ear by chance?’
Martin looked startled. ‘You know him?’
‘Unfortunately I do. What name did he give?’
‘Crabtree.’
‘That is not his real name. What did he say?’
‘That he was an acquaintance of the merchant, had heard of my son’s trouble and might be in a position to help. I was puzzled. I know there are many tricksters in the city, but he was well-dressed and well-spoken, a gentleman. He took me to a tavern. Then he said he represented someone who would pay well for information about you.’
‘Go on.’ Martin closed his eyes, and I shouted, ‘Tell me!’
‘He wanted me to report your movements generally, but especially if you had any contact with the Queen’s household. Or any radical reformers.’ He bowed his head.
I persisted. ‘And this was in April?’
‘Yes. I remember the day well,’ he added bitterly. For the first time he looked ashamed.
I ran my hands through my hair. Stice, the servant of Richard Rich who I had reluctantly worked with, had been spying on me since the spring. But as I thought it through, it began to make sense. April was when the hunt for heretics linked to the Queen was getting going. Rich knew I had worked for her; if he was able to link me to religious radicals, he might be able to incriminate her by association. This could have been a small part of his and Gardiner’s campaign to destroy her. But of course he would have found nothing. Then, after the campaign against the Queen failed in July, and Rich found me hunting for Greening’s murderers – and, as he thought, Anne Askew’s book – he could easily have switched from spying on me to using me.
Yet it did not add up: I had not burned my books till the end of July, when Stice and I were already working together, and if it was actually Rich who brought that matter to the Privy Council, then why had he helped me today, when it was likely to bring him into bad odour with Gardiner? But the paths Rich followed were so sinuous, it could all still be part of some larger plan. I had thought him sincere this morning, but Rich could never, ever be trusted. I had to talk this through with Barak.
Martin was looking at me now, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. ‘Crabtree gave me the money I needed to start to pay down the debts. But only little by little, and all the while the interest was mounting. Agnes, she was at the end of her tether.’
‘I know.’
‘And Crabtree kept demanding information.’ Brocket looked at me in a sort of desperate appeal. ‘I was bound to him, he could expose what I had done, if he chose.’
‘That is the problem with being a spy. Where did you meet?’
‘In a house, a poor place, barely furnished. I think it was used for business.’
‘In Needlepin Lane?’
He shook his head. ‘No, sir, it was at Smithfield, hard by St Bartholomew’s Hospital.’
‘Exactly where?’
‘In a little lane off Griffin Street. Third house down, with a blue door and a Tudor rose above the porch.’
It did not surprise me that Rich kept more than one place for secret meetings. He owned half the houses round St Bartholomew’s.
‘I suppose Agnes and I must go now, sir,’ Martin said quietly.
‘I take it she knows nothing of this.’
‘No, sir. She would not have let me do it. She would have argued, it would have upset her mightily – women, they do not understand the hard necessities men can be driven to.’ He attempted a quick half-smile, man to man, as though we could at least agree on the vagaries of women. I stared back at him coldly. Though he recognized how dishonourably he had behaved, he had still not apologized. And he had disliked me from the beginning, as I disliked him. That made the next thing I said easier.
‘You will not leave yet, Martin. The game is not quite played out. A game involving the highest in the realm, which your betrayal has involved you in. When did you last meet Crabtree?’
He began to look worried. ‘Last Wednesday. I meet him once a week at the house near St Bartholomew’s, to give him what information I have. If there is urgent intelligence I am to leave a message that I wish to see him at a tavern nearby. I did that when I learned you had been burning books.’ He had the grace to lower his head as he said that.
‘For now you will say and do nothing. We shall go on apparently as before. I may need you to go to the tavern with a message, I do not know yet.’
He looked seriously worried now. ‘Could Agnes and I not just leave now?’
‘No. And if you go before I say you can, I will ensure you never work again. Now, I have to send a message to Hampton Court.’
Martin looked frightened. He must have realized Stice was connected to the heresy hunt, that politics was involved, but he had doubtless preferred not to think about it. ‘Is that understood?’ I asked sternly.
‘Yes, sir. I will do as you command.’ He took a deep breath, and before my eyes his face composed itself into its normal expressionless mask. He rose from his chair, a little shakily, and took up the silver bowl.
MY APPOINTMENT WITH ROWLAND was for two o’clock, and it was almost that now. My stomach rumbling with hunger, I left the house and walked down to Lincoln’s Inn. When I was shown into his chamber the Treasurer was sitting behind his desk as usual. He smiled at me, quite unashamed. ‘So the Privy Council let you go, Brother Shardlake
?’
‘Yes. They recognized Mistress Slanning’s accusations for the rubbish they were.’
He inclined his beaky head, stroking the ends of his long beard. ‘Good. Then the matter is over, with no disgrace to Lincoln’s Inn. Secretary Paget sent a message asking me not to see you before today.’ He smiled. ‘They like to do that, ensure that the people to be brought before them have no advance warning.’ My anger must have shown in my face, for he added, ‘Take care what you say next, Brother Shardlake. Do not abuse me as you did once before: remember who I am.’
I replied quietly, ‘I know exactly who you are, Master Treasurer.’ He glared at me with his flinty eyes. ‘As the Slanning matter is over,’ I continued, ‘I take it there is nothing more to discuss. Except that, in light of my arrest, I presume someone else will attend the ceremonies to welcome the admiral later this week.’
Rowland shook his head. ‘You do presume, Brother Shardlake. The message from Secretary Paget was that if your appearance before the council led to your arrest for heresy I should find a substitute, but if you were released you should still attend. They want someone of serjeant rank and you are the only one in town, except old Serjeant Wells, who is entering his dotage and would probably turn up on the wrong day. So you will attend as planned, starting with the parade through the city on Friday. I take it you have the requisite robes and chain.’
‘The robes, no chain. Who can afford a gold chain these days?’
He frowned. ‘Then get one, Serjeant, in the name of Lincoln’s Inn, which you will be representing.’
I could not resist one piece of insolence. ‘Perhaps the Inn could provide me with one. After all, it has recently acquired the late Brother Bealknap’s estate. You will have his chain, surely.’
‘Gone to the Tower mint to be melted down like the rest of his gold,’ Rowland snapped. He waved a hand. ‘Now, that is enough, Brother.’ He pointed a skinny, inky finger at me. ‘Get a chain. And a shave as well. You look a mess.’
I NEEDED TO GET THE NEWS about Brocket to Lord Parr as fast as possible, but I was hungry, and exhausted already. As I crossed the square to the refectory I realized both my hands were clenched tight into fists. Timothy’s stupidity, Brocket’s betrayal and Rowland’s insouciant rudeness had left me in a state of fury.
Feeling a little better for my meal, I went into chambers and asked Barak and Nicholas to come to my room. From the expression on Nicholas’s face Barak had told him about my arrest. When the door was closed behind us Barak said, ‘Thank God you’re out.’
‘No reply to the message you took?’
‘Nothing.’
I sat looking at him. It hurt that those I had served seemed to have abandoned me. The Queen most of all. I said, ‘Well, I must get another message to Hampton Court now. Something else has happened. It had best go direct to Lord Parr.’
‘Perhaps it might be better for me to take this one,’ Nicholas said. ‘The guards there may have instructions to hold Jack off; another messenger may get through more easily.’
I looked at him; the boy seemed himself again, after the dreadful hurt his father’s letter had caused. Yet I sensed a new sadness and seriousness in him.
Barak nodded agreement. ‘God’s blood, Nick boy, you’re learning the ways of politics fast.’ He gave him a mocking look. ‘So long as it’s not just a chance to see all the ladies inside Hampton Court.’
He answered quietly. ‘On my oath, after what has just happened to Master Shardlake, I have no wish to step into a royal palace.’
‘Thank you, Nicholas,’ I said. There was still loyalty in chambers at least, and my spirits rose a little.
‘But what happened at the council?’ Barak asked.
I told them about my appearance there, Rich’s unexpected help, and Martin’s disloyalty, concluding with my encounter with Rowland. I asked ruefully, ‘Has either of you a spare gold chain you don’t need?’
‘Rowland’s an arsehole,’ Barak said. ‘The way he cheated Bealknap, it almost makes me feel sorry for the old rogue.’ He looked at Nicholas. ‘If you make a career in the law, be sure you don’t turn out like either of them.’
Nicholas did not reply. I studied him. What would he do when his period with me came to an end in a few months? Run for the hills, if he was wise. But I hoped he would not.
‘So you still have to go to the ceremonials?’ Barak said. ‘I’m going with Tamasin to see the admiral arriving at Greenwich on Friday. She insisted.’
‘I should like to see that,’ Nicholas said.
‘I wish it were all over, these ceremonies that I must attend.’ I looked at him. ‘Try all you can to get the message through that I am about to write. It may be possible, now, to set up a meeting between Brocket and Stice at the house and then grab Stice. We may be able to find out exactly what Rich has been doing.’
Barak raised his eyebrows. ‘How? He won’t willingly betray his master. He’s not some youngster who got himself involved with crazy Anabaptists, like Myldmore and Leeman.’
‘I’ll leave that to Lord Parr,’ I answered grimly.
He looked at me askance. ‘I quite agree; but that’s a bit ruthless for you, isn’t it?’
‘I have had enough.’
‘What is Rich up to? We all thought he’d changed tack after the heresy hunt ended and Anne Askew’s book was taken. That he was helping you. But it was him, through Stice and Brocket, who reported your burning those books.’
‘Rich can never be trusted. And yet I can’t see either why he would report my burning the books to the council now. It was risky, I could have spilled the truth about Anne Askew.’
‘Rich always turns with the political wind, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes. He started as Cromwell’s man.’
‘What if this was a double-bluff? Rich gets the matter onto the council agenda along with the Slanning complaints because he knew that your burning the books wasn’t illegal, and that the Slanning charges were all shit?’
‘Why would he do that?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Because he is turning with the tide towards the reformers,’ Barak answered excitedly. ‘The whole performance could have been intended to show a shift of loyalty on his part, by siding with Lord Hertford and the Queen’s brother.’
‘That sounds too devious to be credible,’ Nicholas said doubtfully.
‘Nothing is too devious for those courtiers,’ I replied vigorously. ‘But the problem with that idea is that Rich knew nothing of the Slanning case. He didn’t know Isabel would have no evidence and make a fool of herself as she did. And he seemed genuinely worried afterwards.’ I sighed. ‘Only Lord Parr can help to sort this out. And he ought to be told about it.’
Barak said, ‘The Queen’s brother will have told him.’
‘Not the whole story.’
‘What role is Secretary Paget playing in all this?’ Nicholas asked. ‘They say he is the King’s closest adviser.’
‘No: his closest servant. There is a difference. He is the King’s eyes and ears, the ringmaster, if you like. From all I understand, he never challenges the King over policy. He remembers Wolsey and Cromwell too well.’ I smiled wryly. ‘He is the Master of Practices, not Policy.’
‘He must have an eye to the future; when the King is no longer here.’
‘Well said,’ Barak agreed. ‘He’ll be looking out for his own interest; he’ll no doubt jump to whichever faction is most likely to win.’
‘He is like all of them,’ I said angrily. ‘He will do anything to anybody. And people like me are the pawns, useful in the game but dispensable. And now, Nick, smarten yourself up a little, while I write this letter.’
I DID NO WORK FOR the remainder of that afternoon. After sending Nicholas with the message, I went out and sat in the shade on a bench under an old beech tree, occasionally nodding to colleagues who passed by. Nobody, thank God, knew I had been in the Tower a second time, though doubtless the news would get out as it always did. Exhausted, I closed my eyes and doz
ed. After a time I heard something fall onto the bench beside me and, opening my eyes, saw it was a leaf, dry and yellow-tinged. Autumn would soon be here.
I turned at the sound of someone calling my name. John Skelly was running towards me. I stood. It was too early for a reply from Hampton Court. ‘Master Coleswyn has called to see you, sir,’ he said as he came up. ‘He seems agitated.’
I sighed. ‘I will come.’
‘I thought you no longer represented Mistress Slanning, sir. I thought your involvement in that case was over.’
I said with feeling, ‘I wonder, John, if that case will ever end.’
But it was about to, and for ever.
Chapter Forty-five
PHILIP WAS WAITING IN MY OFFICE. He looked haggard. ‘What has happened?’ I asked breathlessly. ‘Not more accusations?’
It was more a tremor than a shake of the head. ‘No, not that.’ He swallowed. ‘Edward Cotterstoke is dead.’
I thought of the desperate figure in the boat that morning. Edward was not young, and the last few days had turned his world upside down. ‘How?’
Philip took a deep breath, then started to sob. He put a clenched fist to his mouth, fought to bring himself under control. ‘By his own hand. I took him home, fed him and put him to bed, for he seemed at his last gasp. He must have taken the knife from the kitchen. A sharp one.’ He shuddered, his whole solid frame trembling. ‘I went to see how he was, two hours ago, and he had slit his throat, from ear to ear. It must have taken great force.’ He shook his head. ‘There is blood everywhere, but that is the least of it. His soul, his soul. He was in great torment, but such a sin . . .’ He shook his head in despair.
I remembered Cotterstoke’s words on the boat, talking of the disgrace that confessing to his stepfather’s murder would bring his family. He had said he knew what had to be done. I said, ‘He felt he deserved death for what he did, and believed he was damned anyway; he did not want his family to suffer.’
Philip laughed savagely. ‘They will suffer now.’
