by C. J. Sansom
‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘I saw Richard Rich earlier.’
I was surprised at his reaction to that name. He jerked away and stared at me with a scared, angry look. ‘You know Rich?’
‘As an adversary in the law. I have a case in London where he is backing my opponent.’
‘He is a serpent,’ Craike said with passion.
‘That he is.’ I waited for him to say more, but he changed the subject. ‘I meant to ask, is any more known of the person who attacked you in the manor?’
‘No.’ I looked at him keenly. ‘But he will be found.’
‘You may not know, security has been greatly increased since the attack on you. And people say poor Oldroyd’s death was not a natural one. That for some reason he was murdered.’
‘Do they?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Those in charge of security are worried. On every progress checks are kept to weed out those who batten on to the household, pretend to be servants so they can steal food and other trifles. But tonight I am told every man’s papers are being checked thoroughly, and anyone who is not authorized to be in camp is questioned, not merely turned out.’ He looked at me. ‘What is going on, sir?’
Is he fishing for information, I wondered. Yet he seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘I know nothing, Master Craike.’
‘It was frightening, being searched by Maleverer the day I found you.’
‘But you have nothing to fear. He let you go. Or have you been questioned again?’
‘No. Only – I did speak with Oldroyd, probably more than anyone else at St Mary’s.’ He sighed. ‘I confess when I was sent ahead of the Progress to York, to arrange the accommodation, I was a little afraid of what the Yorkers would be like, we had heard such stories of them as savage rebels. And indeed they were very guarded with me, not friendly. But Master Oldroyd seemed happy to talk. He was a friendly face, that was all.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I fear some may try to make more of it. Master Shardlake, you must have seen, beneath the pomp everyone here, everyone, Yorkers and southrons, walks on eggshells. It makes one nervous.’
You are keeping something back, I thought, I smell it. I remembered Barak’s story of him going to a tavern in a poor part of town late at night.
‘I can understand it must have been lonely for you when you first came,’ I said.
‘It was. Master Oldroyd was someone to talk to.’
‘You will be glad when all this is over, I’ll warrant. To get back to your family in London. Seven children, eh?’
‘Ay. All alive and well by God’s grace. And their mother. My Jane.’ To my surprise, his face clouded. ‘Ah, she did not want me to come on the Progress.’ He fiddled nervously with the buttons on his robe. ‘We have been away longer than was expected, and no one seems to know when we will be leaving York. I fear I will have a mighty tongue-lashing when I return. Held four months in reserve.’ He laughed nervously. I realized the picture I had formed of his contented family life was perhaps wrong. I wondered whether to tackle him directly about his visit to the tavern, then thought, no, that will put him on his guard. I will go there with Barak.
‘Well, sir,’ I said. ‘It is growing dark. We should go back down while we can still see. Thank you, Master Craike, for showing me the camp. I think I shall go and look at it.’
‘A pleasure, sir.’ He smiled, and led the way down.
I WALKED THROUGH to the far end of the church. I saw a stream of people passing through the side-gate beside the church, which I had heard was called St Olave’s; like me no doubt going to look at the great camp. I felt reluctant to face the crowds, some among them must have been at Fulford. A little way off I saw a big copper beech, the grass underneath thick with dark purple leaves. There was a bench set against the trunk and I went over and sat down. The sun was setting now and it was a dim, shadowed spot. I watched the people passing in and out of the gate, listening to the ticking sound of the leaves falling around me.
My thoughts returned to Fulford. They had been circling round it all afternoon and now they went back to the scene as a dog will return to its vomit. Had I really gone chalk-white, had I really given the Queen a look of desperate appeal? I wondered what it must be like for that girl, married to that gross old man with his stinking leg. I remembered the King’s eyes, cruel as Radwinter’s. And that was the King of England, the man Cranmer believed had been appointed by God himself as guardian of our souls. We had all learned, from childhood, to see the monarch as no ordinary mortal man, and in recent years as a sort of demigod. I had never believed that; but nor had I believed that the cloak of majesty covered such physical and moral ugliness. Surely others must see it too; or were they dizzied by the panoply, his power? I wondered what Giles had made of the meeting, Giles whom the King had called a fine fellow in contrast to me. I thought again that I would have expected him to wait, give me some comfort. I had not thought he was one to disappear and avoid embarrassment.
‘There you are. Thank heaven.’
I looked up to see Barak standing in front of me.
‘Yes, here I am. I fear I have been thinking treasonous thoughts.’
‘Is it safe to be out alone?’
‘I have been in no mood to care. Did you hear what happened at Fulford?’
‘Ay. That fellow Cowfold was in the lodging house when I went there just now, making a great joke of it.’
‘I gave him a few choice words earlier. Probably a mistake.’
‘I told him if he didn’t shut his mouth I’d bang his head against the wall till it was soft as a baked apple. I think I’ve shut him up.’
I smiled then. ‘Thank you.’ I noticed Barak’s face was anxious. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Ay, it is. I have been looking all over this damned place for you. Maleverer wants to see us both, at King’s Manor.’
‘Oh.’ Suddenly my head was clear, my self-indulgent gloom chased away.
‘A representative of the Privy Council is there. He wants to talk to us about the missing papers. Now.’
Chapter Nineteen
WE STOOD AGAIN before Maleverer’s desk. A pair of guards had escorted us through King’s Manor, where richly dressed servants and officials walked in decorous silence. The King and Queen would be upstairs now, in the royal apartments. I remembered the men that morning, labouring to get the King’s giant mattress upstairs.
Maleverer sat behind his desk, dressed in a red silk doublet, a chain of office round his neck. He motioned Barak and me to stand before his desk and sat surveying us.
‘Well, sir lawyer, I told you the Privy Council would be sending someone to talk to you.’ He smiled evilly as footsteps were audible outside. ‘You will be interested to see whom they have sent.’
I did not reply. There was a peremptory knock at the door. Maleverer stood up and in the instant before he bowed deeply his expression was transformed from hulking bully to fawning courtier as Sir Richard Rich, swathed in a magnificent beaver-lined robe of dark-green velvet, walked in.
‘Sir Richard. This is an honour. Please take my chair.’
‘Thank you, Sir William,’ Rich replied smoothly. He sat down, Maleverer taking up a respectful position beside him. Rich looked at me, his pale features puckering into an acid smile.
‘Master Shardlake, my brother in the law. I saw you in York the other night. I know Master Shardlake, Sir William.’
‘He is a great nuisance,’ Maleverer said.
‘I know that well.’ Rich’s cold grey eyes scanned my face. ‘We had several – encounters – last year, and have another pending in Chancery.’
‘Indeed?’
‘But did you know, Sir William, the King did Brother Shardlake the honour of speaking to him this afternoon. Or at least, speaking of him.’
‘I gathered something had happened.’
‘It is the talk of all the law clerks. Brother Shardlake was appointed to present the gripes and whines of the York petitioners to His Majesty at Fulford Cross, together with a Yorker lawyer —’<
br />
‘Old Wrenne.’
‘Is that his name? You should have seen Brother Shardlake and this Wrenne standing before the King. Wrenne is a very tall and straight old fellow, and from a distance they looked like some proud old pensioner out with his bent crone of a wife.’ Rich laughed. ‘The King remarked they breed fine fellows in the north, finer than some of the creatures the south can produce.’
Maleverer looked at me, then smiled. ‘His Majesty ever knew the value of a timely jest. That will have gone down well with the Yorkers.’
‘So it did. They stood there cackling with laughter.’
Maleverer gave me an evil grin. ‘You see, Master Shardlake, you have helped the King a little in bending the north to his will.’
I fought to keep my voice under control. ‘Then I am happier for it.’
Maleverer laughed. ‘Well answered, eh, Sir Richard?’
Rich grunted. ‘Sarcastically answered, if I know the mind of our friend.’ He made a steeple of his fingers and leaned forward. ‘But now, there are other matters on hand. Master Shardlake, you had possession of a cache of papers – very important papers, more than you can know. And you let them be stolen. Sir William has told me what happened, but I want the story from your own lips.’
‘Very well, Sir Richard.’
I told him of our visit to Oldroyd’s house, the discovery of the secret panel in the wall and the papers, and how I had been struck down. Rich frowned mightily when I told him how Barak had tried to open the box.
‘You had no right to open that casket. Your duty was to leave it till Sir William returned.’
‘I am sorry, Sir Richard.’
‘And I,’ Barak said.
Rich snorted, then turned his gaze to Barak. ‘You seem to think you can still take liberties, you churl, as though Lord Cromwell were still alive. Well, he is not. You are a pair of meddling fools.’ He frowned thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Who saw you bring the casket to King’s Manor?’
‘When we came into the house, Lady Rochford and her lady Mistress Marlin were with secretary Dereham. They looked over at us. My coat was dusty.’
Rich’s eyes widened. ‘How come you to have acquaintances in that quarter?’
‘Not acquaintances, Sir Richard. But – er . . .’ I looked at Barak.
‘There was some dalliance between this Barak and a kitchenmaid under Mistress Marlin’s authority,’ Maleverer said.
‘Who else?’ Rich snapped.
‘Only Master Craike, who let us leave the casket in his office. And Master Wrenne whom we met on the way, and the sergeant at the gate.’
‘I’ve questioned all three,’ Maleverer said. ‘And the girl. And Oldroyd’s apprentice, but he said nothing useful either.’
‘Many others that we do not know must have seen us,’ I said.
Rich sat considering. ‘Have you questioned Lady Rochford about the casket?’ he asked.
‘No, sir. I questioned Jennet Marlin. I did not think I could interfere with members of the Queen’s household.’
Rich nodded. ‘No, Lady Rochford and Dereham can’t be questioned by the likes of you, but the Queen’s Chamberlain could put some careful questions to them. As for that Mistress Marlin, she has a fiancé in the Tower. Suspected of being part of a Gray’s Inn link to the spring conspiracy.’
‘She was investigated and declared safe to come on the Progress,’ Maleverer said.
‘I will arrange to have some questions asked of Lady Rochford and Dereham. And you can question the Marlin woman again. We shall see if that throws anything up.’ Rich turned and pointed a long finger at me, then Barak. ‘And you had better keep your curiosity to yourself, Brother Shardlake. You know too much as it is. Some on the Privy Council think that is reason to send you back to London, but I think I would rather have you under my eye. Besides, the Archbishop wants you to look after Broderick. Not that you’ve done well there, either. I hear someone tried to poison him.’
‘Yes, Sir Richard.’
‘And he won’t say whom?’
‘No. I have wondered . . .’
‘Well?’
‘Whether he is party to the plot to poison him. I know he wishes to die.’
Rich looked at Maleverer. ‘Is that possible?’
‘It could be. He’s an unusual one. He was well groped in York Castle, but said not a word. The torturers there feared he’d die if they went on much longer.’
‘What instruments do they have there?’
‘The rack, pokers, the usual. But the men are not skilled.’
‘And the locals cannot be trusted with what Broderick might know. Hence the King’s order he be taken to the Tower, where the real professionals will work on him.’ He shook his head. ‘Yet time passes.’
‘Hopefully he will be on a boat in a few days,’ Maleverer said.
‘We must hope for a fair wind. We could send him by road, but that’s not safe and the roads are still in a mess from the rains and the passage of the Progress.’ Rich turned to me. ‘What is his state of health now?’
‘Weak still from the poisoning.’ I hesitated. ‘I saw him earlier today. He was talking about the Mouldwarp legend. He seems to believe in it.’
Rich looked at Maleverer. ‘There were papers about that legend in the box.’
‘It was a common currency among the rebels in the commotion time. It is of a piece with Broderick’s fanaticism.’
Rich cast sharp eyes at me. ‘Why should Broderick relate the Mouldwarp legend to you? He can hardly have thought you would credit it. Can he?’
‘He overheard me talking to Radwinter.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Radwinter wormed out of me that the King mocked me at the Progress today. Broderick overheard our conversation and related the Mouldwarp nonsense. But I swear I said no word against the King.’
Rich leaned back, giving me a sidelong look. ‘You had better not, or you will be in the hottest of hot water. You are in bad enough odour with the Privy Council. My advice to you, Master Shardlake, is to follow the natural inclination of your bent body and keep your head down.’
‘Yes, Sir Richard.’
‘A low profile. That is the best course for you from now on.’ He spoke slowly and carefully, fixing me with his eyes, grey and lifeless as those of a corpse. He leaned forward. ‘It might help your reputation a little if you were to advise the London Guildhall to drop the Bealknap case.’
I met his gaze. I realized Rich had probably volunteered to be the Privy Councillor who would question me; it was a chance to put some pressure on. I did not reply. He inclined his head slightly.
‘In any event it will do no good to keep on with that matter. I have found the judge I want, the case has been assigned to him.’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘The case has not been formally set down yet. You will find out if you continue. You would be better to take my word for it, advise the Guildhall to drop the case now, and save costs.’
Take Rich’s word was one thing I would never do. I saw Barak look at me anxiously. Rich saw too. ‘Perhaps you can advise your master to see sense,’ he snapped. ‘Otherwise, I do not know what will become of him. All right, that will be all. You can go.’
Maleverer leaned over to Rich and spoke quietly but eagerly. ‘May we take the opportunity, Sir Richard, of discussing the property of Aske’s family? If the disbursements can be agreed —’
‘Not now.’ Rich frowned and looked at me. ‘I told you to go,’ he said. ‘Send for that Marlin woman.’ He waved a hand at us and we left the room. Outside, a guard was waiting to lead us downstairs.
‘Some corrupt business between those two,’ I murmured to Barak.
IT WAS ALMOST dark now.
‘Shit,’ Barak said. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ I said bitterly.
‘What are you going to do about the Bealknap case?’
‘I don’t believe Rich has managed to bribe a judge. If he had he’d have given the name. No, he w
as just using the opportunity to intimidate me.’
‘Intimidate you?’ Barak came to a halt. He looked angry, and as worried as I had ever seen him. ‘Intimidate you?’ he repeated. ‘Have you any idea just how much pressure he can put on you if he wants? On a man who has the disapproval of the Privy Council? What he could do to you now if he really wanted?’
‘I have Cranmer’s protection.’
‘And Cranmer’s here, is he? I can’t see any archbishop’s robes among this lot. And Cranmer can’t stand against Rich, not if Rich has the Privy Council behind him.’
‘Cranmer—’
‘Would only risk so much for someone as lowly as you. Or me. I’m in trouble too – it was me decided to try and open that fucking box!’
‘I will not be pressured or blackmailed into giving up a case!’
‘You’ve said yourself you didn’t think you could win.’
‘I won’t be blackmailed!’ I realized I was shouting.
‘Obstinacy,’ Barak said. ‘Obstinacy and pride. It’ll be the death of you – of both of us.’ He opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again and walked away.
I ran a hand across my brow. ‘Shit!’ I said. A passing official looked at me curiously. I turned, walked down the side of the church and made my way to the bench under the copper beech. I sat down heavily under the branches. People were still going to and fro through the gate that led to the encampment. I shivered, for there was a chill in the air now.
Barak’s outburst had surprised me. When I first met him a year ago he had been defiance itself, ready to treat the highest with disrespect. But then he had been under Lord Cromwell’s patronage and, as Rich had taken pleasure in reminding us, Cromwell was dead. And now, as Barak had said, part of him at least wanted a quiet life. But it had been strange to hear him accuse me of obstinacy and recklessness. I felt a warm flush of self-righteousness. I was protecting my clients, as every honest lawyer must. My integrity in the often corrupt world of the law was my badge, my identity. Was even that to be taken from me by these mocking courtiers?
