by C. J. Sansom
‘Yes.’
‘And Sir Richard Rich hungers for property like no man in England. And if I certify to the Chamberlain that this or that London house that belonged to some monastery is unfit to accommodate courtiers, then it will be sold cheaply. And Richard Rich will be ready to snap it up.’
‘He is blackmailing you?’
‘If I do not cooperate with him he will tell my wife. She is a fierce woman, sir. She would leave me, tell the world of my sins and I would never see my children again.’ The tears began flowing down his cheeks. Then, suddenly, he brushed them aside and looked at me defiantly. ‘Well, that is the truth. Nothing to do with your stolen papers or the attack on you. If you tell, you will incur Sir Richard’s wrath, I warn you, and that is no light thing. And ruin me.’
‘Is he putting pressure on you now?’
‘Yes. Maleverer wants a London house. There is a property near Smithfield that is in royal ownership. He and Rich will share the difference between the price I set for the London house and its true value.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Maleverer is trying to get hold of land up here too, I think.’
‘I know nothing of that. I beg you, sir,’ Craike said. ‘Keep my secret.’
‘I will say nothing, Master Craike. None of this is any concern of mine.’
‘Truly?’ I saw hope rise in his face.
‘I swear. I would help you if I could. It seems to me Rich is the greater rogue in this.’
He sagged with relief. ‘Thank you. Thank you. And . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘You do not even mock me,’ he said wonderingly. ‘Most men would.’
I looked into Craike’s haggard face, and wondered at the strange darkness that lay behind it. But then darkness lies behind so many faces.
‘I know mockery too well,’ I answered.
I HAD TO VISIT BRODERICK before I went to my next task, which was to ponder on that royal family tree, and what the Titulus had said about Richard III’s being born in England. I felt buoyed by my successes at the castle, and by my conversation with Craike.
Sergeant Leacon was standing guard with one of his men outside Broderick’s cell. He nodded to us stiffly.
‘All well?’ I asked.
‘Ay. He’s just lain on his pallet all day. Won’t talk to the man I have posted with him.’
‘I have solved the mystery of how the poison reached him.’ I told the sergeant of my discovery at the castle. ‘I think Radwinter will be back soon.’
He shrugged. ‘I hoped we had seen the last of him.’
‘I fear not.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sergeant, I have to thank you and your men. For shooting the bear last night. I fear if you had not arrived when you did, it would have had me.’
‘We were just doing our duty,’ he said stiffly. ‘Though I wondered if it was a ruse to distract me and free the prisoner; I wondered whether it was safe for us to lock Broderick up and go to the church.’
‘Thank Jesu you did. I shudder to think what might have happened had you not been so close.’
He nodded, but his look was still cold.
‘Sergeant,’ I said, ‘I have been thinking on your parents’ troubles. That it seems I helped land them in. It struck me: I made that arbitration without knowledge of any underleases or copyholds. Do your parents have any documents about their tenancy?’
He shook his head. ‘No. The manor court records were destroyed in a fire years ago. But they always thought they were tenants of the monks.’
‘I did not have that evidence before me. It might have made a difference, especially if any records could be found.’
‘My parents can barely read or write,’ he said awkwardly. ‘They rely on my uncle, and he is no great reader either. And they are not people who can afford a lawyer.’
‘How long before they have to be out?’
‘Six months. Spring quarter-day.’
‘Listen, sergeant, I feel some responsibility for this. When we get back to London, if you wish, I could try to help.’
‘I told you, my parents have no money for a lawyer.’
‘I would do it for nothing. Pro bono, as we say.’
His face lightened a little. ‘Would you, sir? If you could help . . .’
‘I cannot guarantee anything. But if I can, I will.’
‘Thank you.’ He looked at me. ‘I confess I cursed you hard when I learned of your involvement.’
‘Then undo the curse. I have had enough of those recently.’
He smiled. ‘Right readily, if you will aid us.’
‘Well,’ I said, a little embarrassed, ‘I must see how Broderick fares.’
Leacon shook his head as he reached for his keys. ‘Why do folk bring themselves to such a dreadful place as he is in? Is there not enough trouble in the world?’
BRODERICK LOOKED PATHETIC when I entered his cell, lying pale and drawn on his pallet. I stood looking down at him. A candle had been lit against the gathering dusk and it made deep shadows of the premature lines in his young face. He looked up wearily.
‘You have something to drink?’ I asked.
He nodded at a pitcher on the floor. ‘Ay.’
‘I know how you did it, Sir Edward,’ I said quietly. ‘The poison. You took those horrible toadstools from the drainpipe, didn’t you?’
He looked at me for a long moment, then let his eyes fall. ‘ ’Tis all one now,’ he said apathetically. ‘I failed. And now you have moved me there will be no more chances.’
‘Your very being must have cringed when you forced those things into your mouth.’
‘It did. I forced them down with water, held my nose to avoid that smell.’
‘Yes. The smell.’
‘But it did no good. My body voided them.’ His face twisted in a spasm of anger.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘Why not talk now, give them what they want? They will torture it out of you in the end. There is no virtue in pain. You may be able to negotiate a pardon if you talk; it has been done before.’
He laughed then, a harsh croaking sound. ‘You think I would believe their promises? Robert Aske did, and consider how they served him.’
‘His skeleton fell from the castle tower today. The wind blew it down.’
He smiled slowly. ‘An omen. An omen the Mouldwarp should take note of.’
‘For an educated man, sir, you talk much nonsense.’ I studied him, wondering how many of the answers I sought might lie within his scarred breast – the connection between the Queen’s secret and the conspirators, the contents of that box of papers. But I was forbidden to probe his secrets.
‘If King Henry is the Mouldwarp,’ I asked him suddenly, ‘who then is the rightful King? Some say the Countess of Salisbury’s family.’
He gave me a crooked smile. ‘Some say many things.’
‘Prince Edward is the rightful heir, is he not, the King’s son?’ I paused. ‘And any son Queen Catherine may have after him. There have been rumours she is pregnant.’
‘Have there?’ No flicker in his eyes, only an expression of amused contempt. He laughed coldly. ‘Are you turned interrogator, sir?’
‘I was merely making conversation.’
‘I think you do not merely do anything. But you know what I would like?’
‘What?’
‘To have you with me in that room in the Tower, while they work me. I would have you watch what your good custodianship will bring me too.’
‘You should talk now while your body is still whole.’
‘Go away.’ Broderick’s voice was full of contempt.
I sighed, and knocked on the door for the guard. As I stepped outside, I saw with a sinking heart that Radwinter was there. His eyes looked tired, the skin around them dark. His arrest had told on this man who loved his authority. He stood glaring at Barak, who leaned against the wall, a picture of studied nonchalance.
‘So,’ Radwinter was saying. ‘I hear your master found out how Broderick poisoned himself.’
> ‘Yes. Broderick did it cleverly.’
‘He will get no further chance. I am restored to my duties.’ He turned to me. ‘Maleverer says I have you to thank for that.’
I shrugged.
‘And you will enjoy the thought I am beholden to you,’ he said bitterly.
‘I do not care,’ I said. ‘I have other matters to think about.’
‘I put you down once,’ Radwinter said. ‘And I will again.’ He shouldered his way past me, almost knocking me into Barak, and called sharply to the soldier to surrender the keys to the prisoner’s cell back to him.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Barak and I sat in my cubicle at the lodging house. Between us on the bed was the piece of paper on which I had copied out again, from memory, the family tree I had found in the box. A lamp set precariously on the bed cast a dim yellow light over the royal names.
‘How can this lead us to who attacked you?’ Barak asked wearily.
‘The answer is always in the detail,’ I said, frowning at it. ‘Bear with me,’ I continued. ‘Now, the Titulus stressed that Richard III was born in England, which gave “more certain knowledge of your birth and filiation”. I have been thinking. I think they were saying between the lines that one of Richard’s brothers was a bastard.’
‘You said yourself the Titulus seemed to be scraping together everything, no matter how shaky, to justify Richard usurping the throne. Where is the evidence?’
I looked at him. ‘Perhaps in that jewel casket?’ I pointed at Cecily Neville’s name at the head of the tree. ‘If one of her children was a bastard that would explain Maleverer’s remark when the papers went missing. “Cecily Neville. It all goes back to her.” ’
Barak stroked his chin. ‘There are two sons beside Richard III.’
‘Yes. George Duke of Clarence who was the father of Margaret of Salisbury, who was executed this year, and Edward IV. The grandfather of the present king.’
‘If the Clarence line were being called into question, that would be useful for the King. He’d want to make it public.’
‘And the conspirators would not. They’d have destroyed any evidence, not kept it hidden and protected. So the allegation must have been aimed at Edward IV, the King’s grandfather. Whom it is said he much resembles.’
Barak looked at me with a horrified expression. ‘If Edward IV was not the son of the Duke of York —’
‘The one through whom the royal bloodline runs – in that case the King’s claim to the throne becomes very weak, far weaker than the Countess of Salisbury’s line. It rests on his father’s claim alone, Henry Tudor.’
‘Who had but little royal blood.’
I pointed to the tree. ‘If I am right, those names marked in bold represent a false line. They are all Edward IV’s descendants.’
‘So who is supposed to have fathered Edward IV?’
‘Jesu knows. Some noble or gentleman about the Yorkist court a hundred years ago.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Perhaps someone called Blaybourne.’
Barak whistled, then thought a moment. ‘I never heard of any family of note with that name.’
‘No. But many noble families went down in the Striving between the Roses.’
Barak lowered his voice, though the lodging house was quiet, the clerks all at dinner. ‘These are serious matters. Even to talk of doubting the King’s descent is treason.’
‘If there were evidence, and it were to be released at the same time as evidence about Catherine’s dalliance with Culpeper, that could truly rock the throne. It would turn the majesty of the King into a complete mockery.’ I laughed incredulously.
‘It’s no laughing matter.’ Barak was looking at me narrowly.
‘I know. Only – great Henry, nothing more than the descendant of a cuckoo in the royal nest. If I am right,’ I continued seriously, ‘the information the conspirators had was the most potent brew imaginable, challenging both the King’s own legitimacy and that of any children Catherine Howard may have. I imagine it was planned to reveal it when the rebellion got under way. Only it never did, the conspirators were betrayed before it could start.’
‘Betrayed? Don’t you mean discovered? The informer did the country a service.’
‘Discovered, then. And the papers were spirited away, hidden in Oldroyd’s bedroom.’ I looked at him. ‘Until the time was ripe to try again. Broderick told me once the King would fall soon. Perhaps he meant, when all this comes out.’
‘You think another rebellion is brewing? But York is sewn up tight. There’s never been such a well-guarded city.’
‘It’s quiet now, but when the Progress leaves the soldiers will go too. Then York will be left to the local constables, and who is to say where their sympathies lie? And the people here have hardly welcomed the King. Remember what Master Waters said about the Council of the North not being able to afford to have a city full of discontented traders. Cranmer himself admitted they hadn’t got to the bottom of the conspiracy. Many leaders escaped and the authorities are still after information from those locked up on suspicion, like Jennet Marlin’s fiancé.’
‘And Broderick. But it’s all supposition. Dangerous supposition too,’ Barak added.
‘Is it? It explains the wording of the Titulus Regulus, and the way that family tree is set out. And Maleverer’s remarks about Cecily Neville.’
‘It doesn’t help us towards guessing who is trying to kill you.’
‘No. But it shows why someone connected to the conspiracy would want me dead if they thought I had read what was in those papers. Perhaps they know my links to Cranmer and think I am waiting to get back to London and tell him the story, leaving Maleverer out of the picture.’ I got up, opened the lamp and set the scribbled family tree alight.
‘Is that necessary?’ Barak asked.
‘Oh, I think so.’ It burned quickly; I dropped the remains on the floor and stamped on them. I stood thinking a moment, then turned to Barak. ‘What would you do, if you were a member of the conspiracy who had escaped arrest? Perhaps hiding out in some refuge with that cache of papers?’
He considered. ‘I’d wait till the Progress and all the soldiers were safely back in London. Then I’d try and revive my networks in the north, being very careful about informers this time.’
‘And keep your networks in the south going too. At Gray’s Inn perhaps.’
‘Then I’d raise my standard when the time was ripe. And make any proof I had about Henry’s ancestry, and Queen Catherine, public. I’d probably wait till the spring. A winter campaign would be hard, with men to feed and clothe.’
‘That’s what I’d do too. And if Catherine Howard was pregnant by then, so much the better when her dalliance with Culpeper was exposed.’
‘What about all the oaths the local gentlemen have taken to the King? If there was evidence the King was not the true King, would those oaths still be valid?’
‘No. No, that would overturn everything.’
Barak shook his head. ‘So Maleverer could end with his head above the gates of York?’
‘Possibly.’ I sat down again. ‘And part of me thinks, would that not be a sort of justice, seeing how sore oppressed the people are here?’
Barak frowned. ‘Those conspirators would have the Pope back, and they’d have allied with a foreign power. The Scotch, and where you find the Scotch, the French are never far behind.’
‘A sea of blood could be spilled,’ I said.
Barak scratched his head. ‘Do you think . . .’
‘What?’
‘That the King knows the Blaybourne story? Knows he may not be the legitimate heir. He must do. Maleverer took the name to the Duke of Suffolk, and that was when the hue and cry started. If the Duke knows, the King knows.’
‘So he knows he may not be the true King, but carries on anyway?’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘I suppose I would,’ I answered. ‘But he doesn’t know about Catherine and Culpeper. He can’t. And I am not going to Malever
er with the story. If he got wind I’d worked out what the Titulus meant, our lives might be worth little.’
‘Dead men tell no tales, eh?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him. The King can’t stay here for ever. And we have passage booked on a fast boat from Hull.’
You should tell Cranmer when we get back,’ he said.
‘We’ll see.’
‘Tamasin will have to return with the Progress. That could take weeks. She doesn’t show it but she is frightened after Lady Rochford’s interrogation.’ He looked at me and in that moment I saw how much she had come to mean to him. ‘Is there any chance you could get her a place on the boat?’
‘That may be difficult. There is no official reason for her to return early.’
‘We could make up some story about a sick relative.’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ I said. ‘But let’s wait till we get to Hull.’
‘Thank you.’ Barak looked relieved. ‘Why is the King going back to Hull, anyway? He’s already been there once.’
‘He has plans for strengthening the town’s defences.’
‘It’s a long way to drag the Progress.’
‘He’s the King. He can do what he likes. And I must get Giles a place on the boat too. I feel a responsibility for that old man. It is as though he had taken the place of my father.’
‘Poor old devil. You wouldn’t think he was so ill to look at him. And he was sharp enough at the hearing today.’
‘Yes, he was. But Dr Jibson says there is no hope for him,’ I answered heavily.
‘You didn’t agree with him about turning away that woodsman’s claim?’
‘No. But he knows the political realities up here.’
‘Will we be able to finish with the petitioners tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Ay. Then our work will be done.’
‘Perhaps we could go to town in the morning. Get a break from this place.’ He reddened. ‘Tamasin said she and Mistress Marlin are going shopping tomorrow. For some sewing materials to repair the Queen’s linen. I said I might be at St Helen’s Square around ten thirty. I haven’t seen her today. But I’m supposed to stay with you.’
