Revelation ms-4

by C. J. Sansom

  'It flourishes, my lord. I thank you again for helping me to that post.'

  'You were owed it.' He stared at me again. I was conscious that they were all looking at me: Cranmer, Harsnet and Lord Hertford seriously, Sir Thomas with a cynical smile. I shifted uneasily. It was Sir Thomas who broke the silence.

  'Well, can we trust the hunchback?'

  'Do not call him that!' Cranmer looked genuinely angry. 'I am sorry, Matthew.' He turned to Sir Thomas. 'Yes, I believe we can.'

  'He was after us like a rabid dog when the coroner adjourned the hearing.'

  Cranmer looked at me intently. 'Matthew,' he said quietly, 'you found the body, and you were a close friend of Lawyer Elliard and his widow, I believe. How deep are you in this?'

  'I promised Mistress Elliard to find her husband's killer,' I said.

  'Would you do that for yourself, or for her?' The question came from Hertford. I turned and met his eye.

  'For both, my lord. But what I have promised Mistress Elliard is a debt of honour.'

  'And would you still work to redeem that debt, even if it turned out to be a matter of politics?' Cranmer asked. 'Think carefully before you answer, Matthew, for you once told me you wished never to be involved in such matters again. Yet you must be, if you are to help us fish out the bottom of this.'

  I hesitated. Thomas Seymour gave a bark of laughter. 'He has not the stomach for it! And you said he failed you last time, he never found those papers.'

  I bowed my head. I did not want him reading my expression; in fact, that time I had not failed, only decided to keep secret the things I had found out. My heart beat faster, remembering what these men could do to me.

  'You have a fine mind, and much experience,' Cranmer said. 'And discretion.'

  I took a deep breath. For a second I saw Roger's face in my mind; smiling, animated, full of life. I faced the Archbishop. 'If I can help you in this, my lord, I am yours.' And now I had a sense of bridges crashing in flames behind me.

  Cranmer looked at the other three. Harsnet and Lord Hertford nodded; Thomas Seymour shrugged. Cranmer frowned at him. 'You are only here, Thomas, because your household may be useful and because of your particular association with — her.' Seymour reddened and for a moment looked ready to burst out angrily. He looked at his brother.

  'The Archbishop is right, Thomas,' Lord Hertford said seriously. Sir Thomas set his lips, but nodded. Cranmer turned to me.

  'You will wonder, Matthew, what the political link is to your friend's murder.'

  'Yes, my lord.'

  He took a long breath, holding in his secrets for a last second, then said, 'Your friend was not the first to be killed in that terrible manner.'

  My mouth fell open. 'Another; The same?'

  'In every horrid detail. It was kept secret because of who the victim was.' The Archbishop nodded to Harsnet. 'Tell him, Gregory.'

  Harsnet looked at me. 'One morning a month ago, in late February, a labourer was walking to work along the river, past the mudbanks over on the Lambeth shore.' He paused. 'There was snow on the banks then, and the river was frozen a yard deep; but the tide still ebbed and flowed underneath the ice into the tidal pools along the south bank. That morning the labourer saw that one of the pools was red, with something floating in it.' My eyes widened. Harsnet nodded seriously. 'Yes. He found a man lying there with his throat cut. Exactly as Elliard was in that fountain, and again in a public place where he was bound to be discovered.'

  'Dear God.'

  'Our labourer went to the constable, who fetched the coroner.' Harsnet's look at me now was keen, probing. 'My colleague the Surrey coroner is a good reformer and he keeps himself up on court news. When he realized who the man was, he came to me, as he knew of my connection with the Archbishop.'

  'Has there been an inquest?' I asked.

  'No.' It was Lord Hertford who answered. 'It was vital the matter be kept secret.' He looked at me firmly with those protuberant eyes. 'It still is.'

  Harsnet spoke again. 'The dead man was a physician, Dr Paul Gurney. An eminent man.' He paused. 'And physician to Lord Latimer, late husband of Lady Catherine Parr. Dr Gurney had attended Lord Latimer since he sickened last autumn, and visited him constantly at his home by the Charterhouse.'

  So that was the connection. 'They say the King is courting Lady Latimer,' I ventured.

  'They say right,' Cranmer agreed.

  'We can't tell him all,' Thomas Seymour burst in. 'If this leaks out it could be to the peril of that good lady.'

  'Matthew will not break a confidence,' Cranmer said. 'If he gives me his word to keep secret all we tell him, he will not break it. And I think he will have some sympathy for our position. Will you swear, Matthew, to say nothing of this matter, except to us? Remember, it means that if the killer is found you may not be able to tell your friend's widow the circumstances.'

  I hesitated, then said, 'May I tell her the killer is caught and dealt with?'

  'Yes. And he will be,' Lord Hertford said grimly. I caught a sense of this dour man's strength, and ruthlessness. 'Then I swear, my lord.'

  Cranmer leaned back, satisfied. 'Then continue, Gregory. Tell him everything. All.'

  'I investigated, quietly,' Harsnet said. 'But I found no clues. As with Master Elliard, Dr Gurney was a man respected in his profession, with many friends and no enemies. He was a childless widower, and we had his friends told he had died suddenly in his sleep. Diligent enquiry has offered no clues as to who killed him, or why. Nothing. According to discreet enquiries, he had left Lord Latimer's house late the evening before. He was staying there, for Latimer was near his end — he had a great growth on his back. He told the steward he had an urgent "errand of mercy" somewhere in the town.'

  'Was a note delivered to him: As with Roger:'

  'Not that we know of, though one may have been. Dr Gurney too helped poor people in need of his advice. And died for it, perhaps.'

  'Was the body examined:'

  'No. Perhaps I should have had that done.' Harsnet frowned. 'That Moor gave us an important clue today, about the drug. It means we should look for someone with medical connections.'

  'Legal, too. A man of wide knowledge.'

  Cranmer spoke again. 'I consulted Lord Hertford, and we decided it was vital as few people knew as possible. Catherine Parr had been married to Lord Latimer for ten years. Both were welhknown figures at court, and the King has long had an eye on her. When it became known in January that Lord Latimer would die soon, the King let his interest be known. He has now proposed marriage.'

  'Another older husband.' Thomas Seymour spoke with bitterness in his voice. I recalled Barak saying there was a rumour that someone else was interested in Catherine Parr. Could it be Seymour? He and she would be of a similar age. 'Latimer was past forty.'

  Cranmer clasped his hands together. 'This would be a sensible, safe marriage and Jesu knows we have had few of those.' He hesitated before explaining his remarks, then continued, looking straight at me. 'The Lady Catherine has an interest in religious reform. She has kept it quiet, for Lord Latimer was a conservative. And God knows we need an ally now. Bishop Gardiner of Winchester is back in the King's councils working with Bishop Bonner of London to crush the reformers.' He looked at me. 'Even I may not be safe.'

  Hertford gave Cranmer a quick shake of the head, but the

  Archbishop raised a beringed hand. 'No, Edward, if we are to tell him we should tell him all. And it will be public soon enough, heaven knows. Matthew, the conservatives are moving on a number of fronts. Bishop Bonner's campaign against the London Bible-men will soon escalate. And a bill will be laid before Parliament shortly, restricting reading of the Bible to nobles and gentlemen only. No common folk, and no women.'

  He hesitated. Harsnet interjected, quietly but bitterly. 'They will pluck Christ's holy word from the people.' I looked at him; the phraseology was that of a radical. Cranmer frowned slightly.

  'And finally,' he continued, 'they seek to attack me. Lord Hertford t
oo perhaps, but principally me. There have already been arrests of radicals among my staff at Canterbury, and among some of the junior courtiers at Windsor. They will be charged with heresy. Young men with foolish tongues, who may end by bringing me down.' His cheek twitched uncontrollably, and I saw the Archbishop was afraid. He collected himself, looked at me again.

  Lord Hertford spoke, quietly and seriously. 'What protects us more than anything is that the King still has moderate reformers in his household, men he trusts. His physician, Dr Butts. His new secretary, William Paget. When those like Gardiner and Norfolk whisper venom in his ear, their private access to the King means they can counter it. A Queen of reformist sympathies could help us more than anyone.'

  'But would this marriage be safe for her' Thomas Seymour interjected. 'Anne Boleyn pressed the King too far on religion and was executed. And Catherine Howard was beheaded not much more than a year ago.' I remembered again that glimpse of Catherine Parr I had caught in the funeral procession, her expression of fear.

  Cranmer nodded. 'Yes. It is no wonder she has not yet accepted. For the first time, Matthew, a prospective wife has refused the King's proposal. But he wants a companion in his old age. Lady Catherine has placed her decision in God's hands, I know. The situation could not be more delicate. An extraordinarily brutal murder close to her, still more now there has been a second, would worry the King, for he is a superstitious man. Two of these shocking pointless deaths. People will start to say this murderer is possessed.'

  'They are already,' Harsnet said. 'At first we feared the killer's purpose was to make a scandal that would imperil these marriage negotiations. But if so, why strike again?'

  'To make a spectacle that would be linked firmly to the doctor's death?' I suggested.

  'It has not been so far,' Cranmer said. 'And it must not be. That is why we wished to send Master Elliard's death officially to sleep. Unofficially I will leave no stone unturned to find the killer. And Catherine Parr, like the rest, thinks Dr Gurney had a sudden seizure.'

  Now I understood the strain in their faces. The King did not look kindly on those who kept secrets from him. I realized I was involved again in something that could get me in bad odour with the King. Something dangerous. A second time, I might not survive. Yet I had sworn; there was nothing to do but go on.

  'The manner of these deaths was monstrous,' Cranmer said, fingering the silver pectoral cross that hung round his neck.

  Thomas Seymour laughed scornfully. 'No more than the things I have seen in Hungary.' He laid a hand on his gold'embroidered scabbard. 'I saw the Emperor's defeated army returning from Budapest. They failed to take it from the Turks, but they brought back as a trophy a great cart full of the heads of slain Turks, with one live Turk on top, slipping and rolling, covered with blood and bits of rag from the dead men's turbans. Everyone laughed as the cart tail was opened and the Turk rolled out screaming among all his comrades' heads.' Sir Thomas smiled; he had laughed too.

  'That was war,' his brother said. 'Cruel but honourable.'

  I looked at Hertford, wondering what he might have seen and done in Scotland.

  'Well, Matthew,' Cranmer said. 'You come fresh to this matter, and you knew poor Elliard well. Where do you think we should go next;'

  They all looked at me. I squared my shoulders. 'I would suggest we find out whether Roger and Dr Gurney had any acquaintances, or any clients, in common. Though it would be strange for someone to hate two men so viciously.'

  'I have made an extensive list of Dr Gurney's patients and friends,' Harsnet said.

  'And I can do the same for Roger.' I looked at them. 'With his widow's help.'

  'Very well.' Cranmer nodded. 'But she is to know nothing of Gurney.' I hated the thought of not being frank with Dorothy, but saw it must be so.

  'How old was Dr Gurney;' I asked.

  'Old. Past fifty.'

  'And his build;'

  'His build;' Harsnet looked puzzled. 'He was a small, spare man, by the look of his body.'

  'As was Roger. Our killer had to carry Roger to the Lincoln's Inn fountain, and no doubt Gurney to the marshes. Almost as if he chose small men to kill, men he could carry.'

  'What were Master Elliard's views on religion;' Harsnet asked.

  'He was a reformer.'

  'As was Dr Gurney. A safely moderate one, though, these days.' He sounded almost disapproving.

  'So was Roger. There seem to be more and more things in common between them.'

  'Which encourages the view that this has been done by the papists to scotch the King's marriage,' Harsnet said. 'Jesu, they are capable of anything. They would devour poor Protestants as beasts eat grass.'

  'And you, Master Shardlake,' Hertford asked quietly. 'What are your religious views; They say you are a Laodicean, a man of little faith.'

  'Matthew would not harm our cause,' Cranmer interposed. 'So long as he thought our methods just, eh;' That sad smile of his again. 'That will not be a problem here.'

  'Who is he to tell us what is just?' Thomas Seymour scoffed. 'A crookback lawyer.'

  His brother turned on him with sudden anger. 'God's wounds, Thomas, I will have you kept out of this if you say another word! I'll warrant this man will be far more help than you!'

  Thomas Seymour looked chastened at the fresh reminder of where the power lay. Cranmer turned to me. 'Matthew, I apologize again for Sir Thomas.'

  'It does not matter, my lord.' Though it did. Why was this foolish boor involved? 'If I may,' I went on, 'I would like to talk to the labourer who found the first body, and visit the scene. These correspondences with Roger's death are so close, they may help us.'

  Cranmer looked at Harsnet. 'Where is the man now, Gregory?'

  'I had him locked up for a few days to impress the need for silence on him. He's back home now, I'll have him sent for.'

  'Thank you, coroner.'

  'I want you and Gregory to work together on this,' Cranmer said.

  'Might I bring in my man Barak? He could be of much use.'

  Cranmer smiled. 'Ah, yes, him. Yes, I know Lord Cromwell trusted him. But no one else. And not that ex-monk doctor. He cannot help us over Dr Gurney; he has been buried for weeks.'

  'I understand.'

  'You will keep me closely informed. Contact me here and only through my secretary, Ralph Morice. I trust no one else.'

  'Yes, my lord.'

  Cranmer stood up. Harsnet and I followed, bowing low.

  'Gregory, Matthew,' Cranmer said, 'I pray to Our Saviour you may be able to resolve this.'

  'Amen, my lord,' Harsnet answered feelingly.

  'I believe you have put Adam Kite's case into the Court of Requests?' Cranmer asked me suddenly.

  'Yes, my lord. I have applied to have his fees remitted, and to make sure he is cared for. And I am having a physician examine the question of his sanity.'

  'I will see the Privy Council does not stand in your way,' he said. 'So far as Kite's fees and his care are concerned, it was mentioned yesterday, and your name was a provocation to Sir Richard Rich. Who is the doctor you have instructed — Dr Malton;'

  'Yes, my lord.'

  Cranmer nodded, considering, then looked at me again seriously. 'Neither Lord Hertford nor I would want the boy released, unless he was cured to the extent that it was certain there would be no more crazed public demonstrations. He must be kept secure.'

  'In times of trial, Christians must show the wisdom of serpents as well as the innocence of doves,' Hertford said. He looked sad for a moment.

  'I understand, my lord.'

  Cranmer smiled. 'Good. Make sure that old ex-monk does not turn him papist.' I looked at him. So he knew about Guy's past, he had probably had enquiries made about him. Lord Hertford, over- hearing, looked at me curiously as he stepped past me. He bowed and swept away, leaving me alone with Harsnet in the corridor. We walked away together. Harsnet seemed a little uneasy with me. He seemed to ponder a moment, then said, 'I am sorry for the way I had to conduct the inquest. I ho
pe you understand now why that was necessary.'

  'I understand why you did it, sir,' I answered neutrally. I looked at him, wondering what he would be like to work with. A clever man, but a religious radical, I guessed. When the King had defied the Pope to marry Anne Boleyn ten years before, he had allowed Thomas Cromwell to install in the Royal household men who were far more radical reformers than he was — even Lutherans. Since Cromwell's fall, the King was steadily moving back towards the old religious practices, and most reformers bent to the wind, at least in public. But some radicals remained, clinging on to their posts through ability and cunning.

  'I fear for the Lady Catherine Parr,' he said. 'I have met her, a good, sweet lady. I hope the killer did not get to the doctor through someone in her household.'

  'That is not how he got to Roger.'

  'No. But then what is the connection?' He looked me seriously. 'We must find it, Serjeant Shardlake. I agree it would be useful for you to talk to the man who found Dr Gurney. I will arrange that, send the message to your house. And you will prepare a list of everyone that Master Elliard knew — clients, friends, possible enemies.'

  'Yes I will speak to his clerk.' I took a deep breath. 'And his widow.' I looked at him. 'What of the body? May it be released for the funeral?'

  'Of course.' Harsnet looked uncomfortable again. 'Thank you.'

  Somewhere a clock struck one. I had an appointment with the Kites that afternoon at Lincoln's Inn, and I had to see Dorothy.

  We passed into Lambeth Palace yard, where the sweet smell of wet grass met us, unfamiliar after those weeks of snow. I turned to Harsnet. 'I do not understand Sir Thomas Seymour's involvement. He seems—'

  'Unreliable? A foolish braggart?' The coroner smiled wryly. 'He is all that and more. A man of proud conceit, born to mischief. An elbow-hanger on his brother. But we are stuck with him.'

  'Why?'

  'Thomas Seymour wished to marry Catherine Parr. And she was in love with him. Heaven knows why, though even sensible women may have their heads turned. He has had to step aside for the King. But he has made his brother involve him in this. To protect her interests, he says. If Lord Hertford has one weakness, it is devotion to Thomas. But Thomas is something even worse than a papist.'