by C. J. Sansom
He heaved himself up and settled himself carefully in the saddle.
Then, so fast it startled me half out of my wits, Genesis reared up on his hind legs with a dreadful scream. Giles cried out and grabbed frantically at the reins but the horse bucked to unseat him and to my horror I saw the old man plunge head-first from the saddle. He would certainly have dashed his brains out on the stone flags of the courtyard had not Barak stepped forward. Giles fell heavily on top of him and they both crashed to the earth, Barak letting out a yell as he went down.
People turned to look. Some exclaimed, others laughed. Master Wrenne rolled off Barak’s body and sprawled on the ground, shocked.
‘Giles!’ I cried. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I – I think so. But what. . .’
‘Jack?’ I turned to Barak. He too tried to sit up, but groaned and fell back. His face was ashen. ‘Shit!’ he said thickly. ‘My fucking ankle.’ He looked at his left foot, which was bent at an unnatural angle.
I looked up at the crowd that was quickly forming around us. ‘A physician!’ I cried out. ‘There’s a man hurt here!’ I saw two of the clerks had grabbed Genesis’ reins and were holding him with difficulty. My normally calm old horse was still agitated, twisting his body frantically as though in pain. Then a little figure shoved through the gathering crowd and knelt by Barak. It was Tamasin, her face distraught. ‘Jack!’ she cried. ‘Jack!’
‘It’s all right, wench, I’ve hurt my leg, that’s all.’
‘I heard you cry out, I thought someone —’
‘No, ’twas just an accident.’ He looked round at the crowd with embarrassment. Sir James Fealty appeared, frowning angrily.
‘What in Jesu’s name is going on here?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Get up, woman!’ he snapped at Tamasin. ‘This is unseemly!’
‘My clerk has hurt his leg!’ I said with asperity.
‘Yes.’ Wrenne got shakily to his feet. ‘He saved my life,’ he added.
I was aware the crowd had suddenly gone quiet, and looking up I saw Lady Rochford standing above us. There was something frightened in her expression.
‘What has happened?’ she asked.
Wrenne bowed to her. ‘An accident, my lady. This man has broken his leg.’
She looked at Barak, then at Tamasin and me. ‘Nothing worse?’
‘No, my lady,’ I said.
She stalked away, the crowd parting to let her through. ‘Come, Tamasin,’ I said quietly, lifting her to her feet. ‘You should go too. I will see Jack is safe.’
She gulped and nodded, then looked at Genesis, still straining against the men who held him. ‘Why did the horse buck like that?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It is as though he were trying to get rid of the saddle.’ She caught her breath. ‘Look, sir, there is blood!’ My eyes widened as I saw a thin trickle of blood running from underneath the saddle, staining the horse’s flank.
‘Tamasin,’ I said quietly. ‘Help me get this off. Be careful, or he’ll buck again.’
Watched by the curious group of lawyers, we lifted off the saddle. My eyes widened with horror. Underneath was a little thorny piece of branch from a rosebush, the thorns embedded now in my poor horse’s flesh.
‘It was put here so the horse would rear when someone sat on it,’ I breathed. ‘This was another attempt to kill me.’
Chapter Thirty-two
ALL THE LAWYERS HAD seen us find the branch under Genesis’ saddle, and word went round the courtyard like wildfire. I waited with Barak until a doctor from the royal household appeared and examined him. His ankle was not broken, I was relieved to hear, but he had damaged his ligaments. The doctor bandaged up his foot and warned he would be unable to walk properly for some time. A crutch was improvised from the branch of a tree and a servant was sent for, to help him to one of the carts which were waiting in line at the camp. He would have to travel to Howlme in it. The King and Queen had already ridden out, and the vast train of courtiers and officials was starting to move, one group after another riding under the gate of St Mary’s.
‘Damn this,’ Barak said as the servant offered his arm. ‘I hate being laid up.’
‘You must rest your foot,’ Giles said. ‘I want to see you fit again soon. Thank you once more.’
‘I am glad I saved you, sir.’ Barak looked round the emptying courtyard at the horsemen riding out, the men on ladders removing the roofs from the pavilions, the big silent church. ‘I’ll not be sorry to leave here.’ He hopped away with the servant. As he did so I saw a large figure walking towards us. Maleverer. Beside him was Sir Richard Rich, resplendent in a black robe edged thickly with fur.
They halted before us, and Maleverer put his hands on his hips.
‘Well?’ he barked. ‘I hear you’ve had trouble again.’
‘That man can never keep out of it,’ Rich added waspishly.
‘What happened?’
I nodded to where the servant was still pruning the roses by the house. ‘Someone got hold of a pruning from a rosebush and put it under my horse’s saddle.’ I raised the twig, which I was still holding.
Maleverer whistled. ‘God’s death, that’s bold.’
‘Not really. There was such a mêlée in the church, no one would notice who was in a particular stall. With their high sides someone could stand with their back to the open end and slip something under the saddle without being noticed.’ I thought, Dereham was in the stable. And Craike said he had been in there early. It could have been any one of hundreds.
‘Pox on it,’ Maleverer said. ‘This is a clever opportunist. So he has not given up, and we are no nearer finding him.’ He frowned, and I thought, yes, you are using me as bait.
‘Are you coming with the Progress, Sir William?’
‘I am coming all the way to London. I have business there.’ He smiled. ‘You are not rid of me yet.’ He looked at Genesis. ‘What about your horse?’
‘He won’t let anyone ride him today.’
‘We’d better find you another. Yours can be led behind. This will delay everything. The carts can’t start moving till the officials have taken their place at the head of the Progress.’ He glared at me as though I had sabotaged the arrangements on purpose. ‘Wait there.’ He strode off.
Rich smiled at me. ‘I hope nothing else happens to you, brother. What would they do without you at the Guildhall?’ He turned and followed Maleverer. Giles looked at me. He was pale, his brow furrowed with concern.
‘Someone has been trying to kill you?’ he asked, aghast.
I sighed. ‘For some time. This is their third attempt.’
‘But – but why?’
‘I do not know. It may be because they think I saw the papers in that damned casket we found at Oldroyd’s house.’
‘You think it is the thief?’ He looked shocked.
‘Yes. And the irony is, I saw hardly any of the papers. Not enough to understand their import. Giles, I am sorry, I have put you in danger too.’
‘No wonder you have looked so strained,’ he said. ‘I had no idea.’
A middle-aged soldier with an untidy brown beard appeared, leading a large grey horse. ‘My name is Temple-man,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought this horse for you, sir; I’ve been told to lead yours.’
‘Thank you.’ I suggested Wrenne take this animal while I mounted Sukey. The soldier took Genesis’ reins and followed us to the gate. I gave St Mary’s one last glance and rode out.
WE RODE SLOWLY through York, the King and Queen and their households in front, then the nobility, then the officials with us lawyers at the rear. Behind us rumbled the great train of carts. Lines of mounted soldiers rode two deep on either side of us. It felt strange to be part of the great concourse, like being washed along by a vast river. The Yorkers had got used to us – there were few faces at the windows today. Those that were there looked grimly pleased to see the Progress leave at last.
We took a road that headed east, travelling at little more t
han a walking pace, the sound of hooves all around and the rumble and creak of hundreds of carts behind. The countryside was flat and low-lying, with ponds and water meadows. A wind blew across the flatlands, ruffling the horses’ manes and tails and making the banners the soldiers carried wave and snap. Occasionally a man on horseback would ride along the grass verge between the road and the field, carrying messages between different sections of the Progress.
Towards noon the great train slowed as it crossed a humpbacked bridge across a fast-flowing river. ‘The Derwent,’ Giles said. ‘It is full after all the rains.’
‘So I see.’ I looked at him. He seemed to have rallied from his shock, there was colour in his cheeks again. We rode on through the afternoon, along roads commanding a wide view of the flat empty countryside. I studied the grey sky and the wide misty horizon, realizing only now how crowded and claustrophobic St Mary’s had been. The country was scantily populated, with only a few poor villages through which we rode without stopping. The inhabitants gathered in their doorways to watch us pass; mothers holding children tightly to them, faces expressionless.
Towards noon the order to halt for lunch was given. Everyone stopped but remained in their places while a procession of cooks brought baskets of bread and cold meat up from the rear. We were all hungry and glad of the food. As we sat eating I heard hooves approaching from behind. Jennet Marlin on her little grey horse drew to a halt beside us, followed by Tamasin on her palfrey. ‘There you are, sir,’ Tamasin said. ‘I rode back to see Jack.’
‘Where is he?’
‘A quarter of a mile back, in a cart full of waterproof coats. He says he feels a fool.’ She looked at me seriously. ‘Sir, please make sure he rests when we reach Howlme.’
‘I will, I promise.’
Just then the cry of ‘Fall to!’ sounded again; the King, it seemed, was indeed keen to move on. Tamasin and Mistress Marlin fell into place beside us.
‘I was shocked to hear what happened to you,’ Jennet Marlin said. ‘They are saying someone put that thorny branch under your horse’s saddle so it would throw you. Why would anyone do such a terrible thing?’
‘Someone thinks I know a secret, mistress.’
She turned in the saddle a moment and looked back over the great concourse. Then she turned back. ‘This concourse is full of evil. Cannot you return straight to London?’
‘No, I am not allowed.’
‘I am sorry,’ she said.
‘Make way! Make way!’ A messenger, riding forward with some message for one of the officials, came to a halt. Jennet Marlin pulled ahead to let him pass. Tamasin leaned in close to me. ‘What did it mean?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Lady Rochford coming over to us like that when Jack fell?’
‘I do not know. She looked afraid.’
‘And I have to go among them tonight. I hoped our troubles might end when we left York.’
‘We must keep up our courage, Tamasin.’
Jennet Marlin looked over her shoulder. ‘We had best return to the household.’ She looked at me. ‘Take care, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ They rode away towards the front of the Progress. I turned to find Giles looking at me quizzically.
‘Who can be doing this to you?’
‘I do not know. It would be better if I said no more.’
We rode on in silence. The road was raised above the level of the fields now, we looked down on soggy water meadows. After a while these gave way to uncultivated marshland, brown and dreary and spotted with dark reedy pools. The gloomy surroundings seemed to affect the Progress, the buzz of conversation dying away.
‘A miserable setting,’ I observed to Wrenne.
‘Ay, Spalding Moor was ever a dreary and dangerous spot. But see ahead, our destination.’ He smiled, then lifted a hand and pointed. Far ahead I saw a hill that rose, unexpectedly high, out of the marshland, crowned with an ancient church and thick with trees, their leaves red and gold. A straggle of houses lined the steep sides.
‘There it is. Howlme.’
‘You know it?’
He smiled for the first time since we had left York. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I was born there.’
I HAD WONDERED IF the Progress would try to mount the steep hill; getting all those carts up there would have been a mighty job. But we halted at the bottom, where a large mansion stood in the midst of fields carved out of the marshland. Everyone dismounted and stood waiting. Four huge carts containing the King’s greyhounds in great cages rumbled past us, the animals barking and whining.
‘What happens now?’ I asked Templeman, who was holding Genesis by the reins.
‘They’ll come and tell us where we’re billeted.’ He looked at the meadow next to us. ‘This is a damp place,’ he added gloomily. ‘I’ll wager we’ll wake in our tents with water seeping round our bedrolls. It won’t be the first time.’
‘I think I will walk up to the village,’ Giles said. ‘Pay a last visit to my childhood haunts.’
‘Is it long since you were here?’
‘Over fifty years. Since my mother died.’ He dismounted, taking his stick from where he had tied it to the saddle, and looked up the steep hill. ‘There will be none who remember me now, but I can visit my parents’ grave.’ He turned to the soldier. ‘Would you mind my horse, fellow?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Look for me later, Matthew, in camp. We can eat together, though what food we will have in these fields I do not know.’
‘Till later, then.’ Giles walked away, weaving his way slowly among the crowd. I looked beyond the meadow to the mansion. There, in the distance, the royal household had gathered before the door, a shimmering parade of velvet and satin, steel and feathers. I glimpsed a figure around whom all seemed to be revolving, a man head and shoulders above the rest. The King. I turned away, in time to see a little man in a particoloured doublet of Tudor green and white shoving his way through the crowd towards me. He took off his cap and bowed.
‘Have you come from Sir William Maleverer?’ I asked.
‘No, sir,’ he said. ‘Your presence is required elsewhere.’
‘Where? By whom?’ I asked sharply, suddenly conscious that I no longer had Barak beside me.
‘I may not say, sir. But my orders come from a high authority.’
I frowned, but allowed the man to lead the way back through the crowd. I had to walk quickly to keep up. At least he was leading me away from the manor house – for an awful second I thought this might be a summons from the King. I caught up with him. ‘Who is it requires my presence?’ I asked breathlessly.
He dodged as a huge cart laden with sides of beef trundled by. ‘You will see in a moment, sir.’
He led me into a field where some large tents had been set up. A number of women were going in and out, from which I deduced this must be where members of the Queen’s household were billeted. He went over to the largest tent, held the flap open a little and bowed for me to enter.
The interior was richly appointed. Rushmats had been placed on the floor and large beeswax candles gave the interior a warm yellow glow. To my astonishment Barak was there too, leaning on a wooden crutch someone had found for him. Beside him stood Tamasin, her face tense. Opposite stood Lady Rochford, her expression stern and haughty. And beside her a small plump figure I recognized, wearing a dress of silver satin and a black hood decorated with enormous pearls. At once I bowed low before Queen Catherine.
‘Get up, please.’ Her voice was soft, girlish. I stood and faced her, realizing I was shaking. The Queen looked at me. Close to she looked younger than ever, scarce more than a child, though even with the troubled expression I saw in her hazel eyes she had an aura of sexuality about her. Lady Rochford stepped forward.
‘That surprised him, Your Majesty,’ she said waspishly. ‘He was very bold when I met him before.’
I said nothing, waiting for the Queen to speak. There was silence for a moment, then she said, ‘Lady Rochford tells me Mistress Reedbourne and this man Bar
ak are under your protection.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘I saw you at Fulford,’ Queen Catherine said. ‘I was sorry for how you were treated there.’
‘It is of no matter.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I have been told there was an attempt on your life today.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. A thorn branch was placed under my horse’s saddle. A friend was mounting the horse; he would have been killed had it not been for Master Barak’s quick actions.’
The Queen looked at Lady Rochford. For a moment she seemed tongue-tied. But she rallied. ‘Do you know why anyone would do such a thing, sir?’
I hesitated. ‘No, Your Majesty. But it is not the first such attack.’ I looked at Lady Rochford. ‘Sir William Maleverer has the matter in hand.’
‘See, Your Majesty!’ Lady Rochford snapped. ‘You saw how he looked at me. He thinks I had something to do with it.’
‘Do you?’ the Queen asked me, a tremble in her voice.
I hesitated again. Then: ‘I do not know who may be responsible.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I called you here, sir, to assure you it was nothing to do with my household.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I believe it has to do with – another matter than that which brought us into contact with Lady Rochford.’
A look of fear again. She glanced at Lady Rochford.
‘What matter?’ Lady Rochford snapped.
‘It is to do with the conspiracy.’
She looked puzzled. ‘I see.’
The Queen raised her hands. ‘Do not tell me,’ she said. ‘They tell me nothing of politics and I do not wish to know.’ I wondered if that was her survival strategy, keeping clear of factions. She looked at me again. ‘As for what these people saw at St Mary’s –’ she glanced at Barak and Tamasin, who so far had said not a word – ‘you have all given Lady Rochford your word you would keep silent. I – I rely on that.’ She drew herself up, trying to seem like a queen instead of a frightened girl.
I bowed my head, for I could think of no reply.
‘You have told no one what you saw?’ Lady Rochford said sharply.
