by C. J. Sansom
Those present, however, were the same people as before; myself, Philip, his wife Ethelreda and his crotchety old mother; our fellow barrister Edward Kenzy and his snobbish wife Laura; their daughter Beatrice, and Nicholas.
It was to bring these two young people together that the dinner had been organized. A week before, Philip had come to visit me in chambers, where I was trying to catch up with my cases, at the same time pondering where to find new work, for the regular flow of conveyancing from Elizabeth had, after that last encounter with her, abruptly dried up. I resolved to ask Barak to try, in his work as a jobbing solicitor, to drum up some work for me in London. Now that Tamasin and I were reconciled, I could do so openly.
Philip looked worried when he visited, as many did that month. The power struggle between Protector Somerset and the Earl of Warwick had threatened for a while to turn into another full-scale military conflict; but in the end Somerset had surrendered his office. However, it was not that which he had come to discuss, but Nicholas and Beatrice.
He sat down in my office, stroking his long, silky beard. ‘I am sorry to trouble you, Matthew,’ he said with some embarrassment. ‘But I have been asked by Edward Kenzy to speak with you. He said his wife is snapping at his heels like a terrier since your return. Have you seen him?’
‘No, I have spent most of my time here since I got back from Norwich, trying to catch up with everything.’ I did not add, and trying to forget.
Philip sighed. ‘Well, Kenzy’s wife and daughter are most concerned that Nicholas has not been in touch. Beatrice Kenzy wrote him a letter asking for news in the summer, but he never replied.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘Kenzy feels, and I have to agree, that given how things were developing between the two of them, Nicholas is being discourteous. He suggests I arrange another dinner, where they can at least be brought together.’
I rubbed my chin. ‘You are right. But Nicholas – I have been keeping him busy, although he was much affected by what happened in Norfolk. And I thought before we left that he was more interested in Beatrice than she in him.’
Philip smiled. ‘Perhaps absence makes the heart grow fonder. And the mother, I think, still has hopes. She is one for the proper proprieties.’
I sighed. ‘I should warn you, Nicholas is much changed. He is – melancholy.’
Philip looked at me. ‘As are you. People remark on how you have lost weight, have a haunted look about you now.’
‘We saw terrible things. It affected me, but Nicholas even more. To be frank, I think he has pretty much forgotten Beatrice. But you are right. She deserves to know where she stands. What date had you in mind?’
‘The twenty-first would be convenient for us.’
‘I shall speak to Nicholas.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No. Thank you, Philip. If I remember aright, there was too much dissension over religion for the last occasion to go well. It is good of you to bring that mix together again.’
‘I think conversation this time will be more about the struggle between the Protector and the Earl of Warwick. I am sure everyone will agree the Protector had to go, for the peace of the realm.’
‘What is the latest news?’
‘Somerset goes to the Tower today. Warwick has won.’ Philip shook his head. ‘He is a hard man; the poor will not fare well under him. But better than a civil war, which many predicted.’
‘And the poor hardly fared well by trusting Somerset. It is said eleven thousand died across the country in the suppression of the rebellions.’
Philip sighed. ‘Was there ever such a year as this?’
‘I cannot remember one.’
He left soon after. I sat staring from my window, where the cobbles of Lincoln’s Inn courtyard were now covered in autumn leaves. I remembered the Earl of Warwick hinting to me after Dussindale that these whirling days might not yet be quite over. And indeed, throughout September, there had been rumours that most of the Council wanted a change of government. In early October Somerset had issued a proclamation asking his subjects to repair to Hampton Court, where he had taken the young King, ready for battle. Some six thousand, mostly poor Londoners, had gone to support him – incredibly, even after Dussindale, some still saw him as the friend of the poor. They had, though, only the most basic arms and no training, whilst Lords Russell and Herbert, leaders of the military forces against the rebels in the West, declared for Warwick on the way back to London with their armies. Somerset moved Edward to Windsor, but on the ninth of October he had surrendered, realizing he could not win. The Protectorate was abolished, and authority returned to the whole Council, though there was little doubt that Warwick would be its leader. A few days later, I saw the young King ride through London, cheered by the crowds, waving in acknowledgement. The poor boy had been moved around like a chess piece by his uncle, and though I noticed he was growing taller, his thin face filling out, his features were marked by the fear he must have experienced that month.
After my talk with Philip I went through to see Nicholas. He had his own room now, and was reading a deposition. But he looked bad, his red hair uncombed, his face thinner, emphasizing his long nose, and dark bags under his eyes. I told him of Philip’s visit.
He put down the deposition and looked at me. ‘He is right, I have been discourteous. Though as I have said, Beatrice is not for me.’ He sighed deeply. ‘But who is?’
‘There will be someone.’
He shook his head. ‘I have been thinking about my family, how they disowned me when I refused to marry a girl I did not love, and who did not love me.’
‘That was cruel. But Nicholas, it was three years ago.’
He stood up. ‘All I had left was my status as a gentleman, one without a penny to his name but with proper education and manners. It was all I had left,’ he repeated sadly. ‘But if I am not a real gentleman, nor a commoner, then what am I?’
I crossed the room and took him by the shoulders. ‘A lawyer, Nicholas, and a good one. Let that be enough for now. Memories of Norfolk are still raw, I know, and they will never leave us, but they will fade with time if you let them. And cut the knot with Beatrice as kindly as possible.’
He grasped my arm. ‘Thank you.’
I smiled. ‘And in heaven’s name tidy yourself up, get a shave and a haircut.’
*
PHILIP HAD PLANNED the seating so that Beatrice and Nicholas were opposite each other. Philip sat at the head of the table, his wife Ethelreda at the opposite end, while I sat next to Beatrice with her mother Laura on my other side. That left me once more opposite old Margaret Coleswyn, with Edward Kenzy on her other side.
The dinner began quietly, with comments confined to complimenting the food. Beatrice and Nicholas spoke little, Beatrice asking nothing about his time in Norwich. At length he said, ‘I regret I was unable to write when I was away. Circumstances were very difficult.’
‘You have been back over a month.’
‘I am sorry.’
Old Margaret Coleswyn, in her sober black dress and old-fashioned square hood, who did not seem to have grasped the purpose of the dinner, turned on Beatrice and said, ‘You should not pester Master Nicholas, girl. What he must have endured, a prisoner of those godless rebels all these weeks. Look at him, you can see he is but a shadow of himself.’
Beatrice bent her head to her plate.
I looked at old Margaret. Despite their difference in class, she reminded me of Simon Scambler’s aunt. After Dussindale I had made no effort to find her and tell her what had become of her nephew. She would only have been outraged, I was sure, by his baring of his bottom at the Herald. When I thought of Simon I found it hard to keep my tongue bridled, and now I said, ‘The Norfolk rebels were not godless. There was constant preaching in the camp.’
She looked at me, outraged. ‘Then they were not true godly preachers, for did not our Saviour say, “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s”? Do you speak up for the rebels, Master Shardlake?’
With a wa
rning glance at me, Edward Kenzy bent towards her. ‘Do you know how many words there are in the Bible, good Mistress Coleswyn?’
She looked at him, puzzled. ‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘Over seven hundred and eighty thousand. And so many phrases contradict each other, or need scholarly interpretation. Unfortunately, people these days just pick and choose the passages that suit them.’
‘Good Master Calvin is a great scholar,’ she snapped back, ‘and he has said that where the poor are concerned the bridle should be kept tight.’
Kenzy sighed. ‘Ah yes, Master Calvin. We hear more and more of him these days.’
‘A better scholar than your popish priests, sir,’ she snapped back.
‘Mother, that is enough,’ Philip said. ‘Let us eat in amity.’ The old woman pursed her lips, but returned to her plate, mumbling something about burnings needing to be brought back.
Laura Kenzy said, brightly, ‘I hear the Earl of Warwick’s younger son, Robert Dudley, is to marry a Norfolk lady, Mistress Amy Robsart. Apparently, they met at the Robsart estate after Robert fought in that great battle against the rebels.’
‘Marry young and rue later,’ her husband said.
‘We married young.’
‘There are exceptions, of course,’ Edward replied, straight-faced. He turned to me. ‘Did you know, Master Shardlake, that Sir Richard Southwell is in trouble?’
I looked at him with interest. ‘I had not heard. Only that he had been promoted to the full Council now Protector Somerset is gone.’
‘Apparently, he has been accused of giving an enormous sum – five hundred pounds of government money – to the rebels. Did you hear anything of that when you were prisoner in the Norfolk camp, Matthew?’
‘No,’ I lied, though my heart leaped in my chest. So Elizabeth had informed Cecil after all, and he had acted.
Philip looked at me. ‘And what of the man accused of murder, whom you and Nicholas went to defend?’
‘He got his pardon at the end of September.’
Beatrice looked at Nicholas. ‘So at least some good came of it all,’ she said.
‘I suppose so,’ he replied, then fell silent again.
Philip asked, ‘How is the little girl you brought back from Norwich, Matthew?’
I smiled. ‘She thrives under the care of her good nurse. My application for adoption is with the courts.’
‘Is she not the daughter of your former servant?’ Laura Kenzy asked disapprovingly.
I looked back at her. ‘She is a child, mistress, left alone and friendless in the world.’
‘At least she will have a gentle upbringing. Who knows, in time she may marry a gentleman.’ She looked at Beatrice and Nicholas, still eating in silence.
And so it went on, the second dinner party as awkward as the first. The conversation turned to the inflation, even worse after the bad harvest, and whether Warwick would emerge as leader of the Council. Edward Kenzy hoped he would, he would rule the country with a firm hand and hopefully end the wars with France and Scotland. With the last, at least, I could agree.
*
ONCE AGAIN THE DINNER broke up early. Servants brought our coats. As we rose from the table Nicholas said to Beatrice, ‘May we have a private word, mistress?’ She nodded, and they left the room. The rest of us went and stood awkwardly in the hallway. Edward Kenzy came across to me. He said quietly, ‘I think that will be the end of their – relationship.’
‘I agree. I am sorry.’
‘My wife is furious, I fear. She thinks young Overton has treated Beatrice badly, and has been working the poor child up.’ He looked at me with sudden shrewdness. ‘The boy looks like death, and you little better. What happened up there in Norfolk?’
I met his gaze. ‘Dussindale. Bloodshed such as I have never seen, and countless executions afterwards.’
Kenzy sighed. ‘What else could they expect, Matthew?’
‘The Protector offered the people much, with his radical talk and enclosure commissions. The rebels intended to help – all right, give muscle to – the commissioners in enforcing what was, after all, the law.’
Kenzy shook his head. ‘By setting themselves as judges over gentlemen, beating and imprisoning them? Did they truly think the Protector and the Council would allow them a say in the rule of the country? It would be like allowing the foot to rule the head.’
‘I think they did. At first.’
‘Then they forgot that such a thing could, and must, never be allowed.’ He sighed. ‘But perhaps, after all, if they were truly loyal to Crown and Protector, the whole thing was no more than a terrible misunderstanding, by people too backward to see the social order could not be changed.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘The Protector offered them much, while Cranmer and the reforming bishops spoke of England as a diseased body that needed treatment. Even after the rebellions began, it is true the Protector ordered the camps to disperse, but he offered reform and changes to the government of the countryside.’ I looked at him fiercely. ‘Until he sent a Herald to Mousehold Heath who ordered them to disperse, used savage terms, and offered nothing. That was no misunderstanding, it was a betrayal. As people said in the camp later, they were promised much at first but in the end got only a barrel of ropes and halters to hang them.’
Kenzy inclined his head. ‘Be careful who you say that to, Matthew.’
‘I will.’
I excused myself. The smoke from all the candles was making the house stuffy. I stepped outside for a breath of air. I looked up at the stars. Then, from nearby, I heard the sound of a woman crying. There was a gate beside the house, leading to the garden behind, and I opened it quietly. In the garden Beatrice Kenzy was sitting on a bench, her form dimly illuminated by the light from the windows.
‘Beatrice,’ I said.
She wiped her face angrily. ‘What do you want?’
‘Only to help, if I can.’
She glared at me. ‘You never liked me, did you?’
I sat beside her. ‘I felt you were dangling Nicholas on a string, at your mother’s instigation, no doubt, perhaps because of the exaggerated idea she had about my contacts in high places.’
I thought she might fly at me, but instead she gave a brittle laugh. ‘You are right. Since I was a little girl she has been training me in the womanly arts, that I might ensnare a wealthy husband. I did not love Nicholas, though I liked him much and thought he might prove a kind husband. When he told me tonight that his feelings for me had changed, although I had guessed that already, it upset me: I felt as though I had been defeated. Is that not foolish?’
‘I do not know.’
She spoke with a force and fluency I would never have expected. ‘No, men never know what it is like to be a gentlewoman, brought up to think of nothing but styles for clothes and hair, how to simper and tease, approach and retreat. I am good at it, I have been taught well. My mother thinks it all there is in the world.’
‘But you know it is not.’
‘It is all – artificial.’
I said, ‘I am sorry I misjudged you.’
She shook her head. ‘Mother will soon be planning further introductions for me. And I will go along with her plans, for you have seen how she rules this family. My father cares little, all he wants is a quiet life.’
‘You could stand up to her.’
‘She would shriek and rail at me.’
‘Perhaps you could shriek and rail back, insist on making your own choice, in your own way. Then your father would have no peace, and perhaps he might even step in on your side.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘It would not be so easy. But thank you.’
There was the sound of a window opening, and Laura Kenzy’s voice called out in fluting tones, ‘Beatrice, are you there? It is time to go!’
She rose, sighed, and walked heavily along the pathway to the rear door of the house, her shoulders sagging. She turned at the door and said to me, ‘You are adopting a little girl
. I beg you, do not bring her up as I have been.’
‘I can promise you that.’
Epilogue
7 December 1549
I stood at the window of my study, watching the snow whirl down. It had begun early that afternoon, driven by a strong wind. Now it lay thick on my path, and on Chancery Lane beyond. I looked out, and thought of Robert Kett. He had been executed in Norwich that morning, his body tied in chains and then hauled from the ground up to the top of Norwich Castle, where he had been hanged. His corpse had been left dangling from the top of the castle in its chains, and would stay there till it rotted away. His brother William had been executed in the same manner from the tower of Wymondham church.
After lunch, Barak and Tamasin had brought their two children, four-year-old George and two-year-old Tilda, to visit Mousy, who, at nine months old, was turning into a lively, cheerful child, busily crawling around, investigating everything she could reach and trying to put unsuitable things into her mouth, though Liz Partlett kept a constant, careful eye on her.
Barak took me aside at one point, and said, ‘I thought it would be good for us to come round. I know what day this is.’
‘Thank you,’ I answered quietly. On the surface Barak seemed far less marked than Nicholas or me by what had happened in Norfolk, but looking into his eyes sometimes I could see a burning, intense anger.
I changed the subject. ‘Have you grubbed up any more cases for Nick and I? We have enough to keep us going – that disputed will we got through you involves a dozen family claimants, and Edward Kenzy referred a big property case to us last week. It surprised me, it was decent of him. But without the Lady Elizabeth’s work, we could do with more.’
He grinned wickedly. ‘A nice juicy murder, perhaps?’
‘That I think we can do without.’
‘How is our carrot-head doing?’