Sovereign ms-3

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘Yes. I can see that.’

  ‘I learned to live by my wits, sir.’

  ‘As Barak did.’

  ‘When I saw him that day in the town, something stirred in me, as it has seldom done before, and I thought – why not manufacture a meeting?’

  I smiled reluctantly. ‘In truth you are clever, mistress, as well as bold.’ I looked at her directly. ‘And now you hope to hook your fish, eh?’

  Her face was serious. ‘We are becoming fast friends, sir. I wanted only to ask you not to stand in our way. And please, where is the boldness in asking that?’

  I studied her a long moment. ‘I think you are an unusual woman, Mistress Reedbourne,’ I said. ‘I had thought you of a frolic disposition but I see I was wrong.’

  ‘Jack is sorry for his words earlier,’ she said.

  ‘He used to be very bold. But I think part of him wants to settle down. Though part does not,’ I added.

  ‘I hope he would settle down,’ she said. ‘Stay working for you, give proper value to the opportunities you have given him.’

  I smiled wryly. ‘So that is it, Mistress Tamasin,’ I said. ‘You have come to offer me an alliance.’

  ‘We have an aim in common. Jack admires you greatly, sir, he says you have known troubles and have sympathy for poor folk and the necessities of their lives.’

  ‘Does he truly say that?’ I asked. I was touched, as no doubt she meant me to be.

  ‘He does, sir. And he feels it was his fault the papers were lost. I think he is angry with himself more than anyone. Do not be too hard on him.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I will think on what you have said, mistress.’

  ‘That is all I ask for, sir.’

  ‘Well, I see you care for him. And he perhaps for you?’

  ‘I hope when this wretched Progress is done, Jack and I may meet again in London. But it will be as he wishes.’

  I nodded. ‘Tell me, how did you get from the sewery to working for Mistress Marlin and Lady Rochford?’

  ‘After Jane Seymour died her household was broken up. I obtained a post with Mrs Cornwallis, the Queen’s confectioner. She trained me in the art of making comfits and sweets.’

  ‘You made her your friend too, eh?’

  ‘She is a good old body.’

  ‘You have a talent for making the right friends. But as you say, poor folk must shift as they can.’

  ‘When the King married Queen Catherine last year I was taken into her household, since she too is fond of comfits, and placed under Mistress Marlin. She has been kind to me.’

  ‘Mistress Marlin is a strange woman.’

  ‘She is good to me. The other women mock her.’

  And you are naturally kind, I thought. Yes, I think you are. ‘And Lady Rochford?’ I asked. ‘What is she like?’

  ‘I have little to do with her. All fear her, they say she is dangerous.’

  ‘And is she?’

  ‘I think so. She likes nothing better than to dig up juicy gossip and take it where it may do most harm.’ She frowned. ‘She is not a stupid woman, I think. Yet she behaves stupidly.’

  ‘Dangerously.’

  ‘Yes. It is what she has always done. Yet she has attached herself to the Queen, they are fast friends.’

  ‘I saw the Queen today.’

  She hesitated. ‘At Fulford?’

  ‘At Fulford. Jack told you what happened to me there?’

  She cast her eyes down. ‘It was a cruel thing.’

  ‘Well, as you say, the sooner we are all out of York the better.’

  She rose. ‘I should go, sir. I must see how Mistress Marlin fares.’

  ‘Does Barak know you are having this conversation with me?’

  ‘No, sir. It was my idea.’

  ‘Well, Tamasin, you have charmed me, as I guess you have charmed many. Would you like me to accompany you back to your lodgings?’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, sir, but no. As I said, I am used to making my own way.’

  ‘Goodnight, then.’

  She bowed, then turned and walked confidently away, to be lost in the crowd. I watched her go. I had been wrong about her, she was a girl of mettle. Perhaps Barak had met his match.

  Chapter Twenty

  TAMASIN’S COURAGE in approaching me with her confidences made me feel rather abashed; after all, I had been less than civil to her these last few days. I rose from the bench, for I was getting chilled, and decided to visit the camp across the road and see if I could find Barak. I went through the door in the precinct wall by St Olave’s church and crossed the lane to where guards stood at a gate in the wicker wall. I showed my papers and was allowed through. My nostrils were at once assailed by a harsh smell of woodsmoke, unwashed bodies and excrement. As I entered the field, where grass was already turning to mud under the pressure of feet and hooves, someone blew a horn nearby. Men began walking to the nearest cooking-fire, carrying wooden bowls and mugs. It was late for dinner, they would be hungry.

  I stood and watched as a large group gathered round the fire, a huge blaze of wood set in a rectangular pit under a huge spit, six feet high and a dozen long, an enormous metal construction on which a whole ox turned. Scullions ran up with more wood while others turned the immense handles under the supervision of a sweating cook. The spit was an amazingly complex piece of equipment. Underneath chickens turned on smaller irons, and gallapins darted in and out, pulling out the cooked birds and slicing them deftly on big platters, fat dripping on them from the ox. Wearing leather aprons and neckerchiefs over their faces against the spitting fat, the little kitchen boys moved with extraordinary speed and skill to fill the plates held out by the hungry men. There was joking and catcalling but the men were well behaved; all looked tired for they would have started travelling at dawn, waited during the spectacle at Fulford and then come on here to set up the camp.

  Watching the little scullions darting among the flames and hot fat, I reflected that Craike was incorrect. The organization of the Progress was an extraordinary thing, but to sneer at the workmen was wrong; without the discipline and skill of these men, the drivers and cooks and carriers, nothing would have been accomplished at all.

  I heard a cough, and turned to find Barak at my elbow. ‘Oh, you’re here,’ I said roughly. ‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ We were silent a moment, watching as the men crouched on their haunches by the fire, eating hungrily.

  ‘There’s hundreds of great Suffolk horses in the far fields,’ Barak said. ‘I’ve never seen so many.’

  ‘I saw. Master Craike took me to the belltower. The officials have an eyrie there to watch the camp. In case the men make trouble.’

  He grinned. ‘A nightmare, eh?’

  ‘Ay, a nightmare!’ I laughed.

  ‘I’m sorry for losing my temper earlier. Being with those arseholes Maleverer and Rich unnerved me.’

  ‘You had a point. But I do not feel I can abandon this case, not when it seems there may be even a slim chance of winning. Can you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He was silent a moment, then changed the subject. ‘I was talking to one of the clerks earlier, who was at Fulford.’

  I looked at him sharply. ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘He said Master Wrenne was taken ill, just after he met the King.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He collapsed in the midst of the city councillors, had to be taken home in a cart.’

  ‘So that was why he disappeared. I thought he’d run out on me. How is he?’

  ‘I only know he was taken home to rest. He can’t have been too bad, or they’d have fetched a physician.’

  ‘I will visit him tomorrow. Did you and Tamasin see the King when he entered York?’

  ‘Ay. Jesu, he’s a big fellow. The Queen looked tiny next to him, a mouse beside a lion. He smiled and waved merrily, but there were hostile faces in the crowd, and a line of soldiers between him and them.’

  ‘Yes.’ The cooking-fire was blazing now. I wondered ho
w the four sweating men who turned the handles of the spit could bear the heat. ‘Let’s walk on,’ I said, ‘before we roast like that ox.’

  WE WANDERED ROUND the camp. It was quite dark now, though the many cooking-fires and lamps set before the tents gave enough light to see by. A cool breeze had risen, sending smoke drifting into our faces and making us cough.

  ‘I should tell you,’ I said. ‘I had a fight with Radwinter this afternoon.’

  ‘A fight? You?’ Barak looked at me incredulously.

  I told him what had happened. He whistled. ‘I wanted to fly at him myself after what he said about the York Jews. Jesu, he knows how to provoke.’ He gave me a shrewd look. ‘Do you think that was what he was after, making you lose control?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. He means to hold it over me. No word among the clerks on the Scotch King’s arrival, I suppose?’

  ‘No. I’ve been talking to some of the men in the camp. They’re happy to sit it out here for a few days so long as it doesn’t rain and the countryside can bring in enough supplies. They ran out at Pontefract they were there so long, and were put on short rations.’

  ‘It’s harvest-time. I imagine the farmers will be making money out of the Progress.’

  ‘They get paid over the purveyance rate, I hear. Part of the plan to win the Yorkers over.’

  I looked at the men walking to and fro or sitting by their tents with their bowls, waiting as more cooking-fires were lit around the camp.

  ‘They’re tired,’ Barak said. ‘They’ve had near three months on the road.’ I nodded, envying the ease with which Barak could strike up conversation with common folk.

  We had arrived at a cockfighting ring. Men stood cheering as two black cocks, feathers slick with blood, circled in a clear space next to the fire, slashing at each other with the fierce hooks fixed to their claws.

  ‘Your bird is losing again,’ I heard a cultivated drawl. ‘You may strive till you stink, Master Dereham, but you will never beat me in a cockfight wager.’ Looking round, I saw the louche handsome face of the courtier Lady Rochford had referred to as Culpeper. A little group of male courtiers stood at the front of the crowd. The rest of the audience, out of respect, had left space around them. Culpeper’s face was lit redly by the flames, as was that of secretary Dereham, who stood next to him, a saturnine smile on his face.

  ‘No, sir,’ Dereham replied. ‘I took a wager on your bird as well as mine. For two marks.’

  Culpeper looked puzzled. ‘But then…’ He still looked puzzled as Dereham laughed in his face. For all his charm with the ladies, young Culpeper had little intelligence.

  Then Dereham saw me. He frowned and stepped forward with a bullying swagger. ‘Hey, you!’ he said sharply. ‘You’re Lawyer Shardlake, ain’t you?’

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘I’ve had Sir William Maleverer asking me questions about seeing you carrying some decorated casket at King’s Manor a few days ago. What have you been bandying my name about for, you stinking knave?’

  ‘I have not, sir,’ I said evenly. ‘Sir William wished to enquire of everyone who had seen me with the casket, and I remembered you and Lady Rochford looked over at me. I had some plaster on my cloak,’ I added.

  ‘What’s so important about the box, hey?’ Dereham demanded. ‘Maleverer wouldn’t say, only that it had been stolen.’

  I looked around uneasily; several people had turned at the sound of Dereham’s loud braying voice. Maleverer would be furious if he knew Dereham was broadcasting the news like this.

  ‘It was lost, sir,’ I said quietly. ‘Sir William has the matter in hand.’

  ‘Don’t answer me back, you baseborn slug.’ Dereham’s face reddened. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  ‘You are Master Dereham, the Queen’s secretary.’

  ‘Then have respect.’ Dereham frowned, then smiled cruelly. ‘You’re the hunchback the King made mock of, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am,’ I said wearily. With one of Dereham’s rank, as with Rich and Maleverer, there was nothing one could do but take it.

  ‘It’s all round the town.’ He laughed and turned away.

  Barak took my arm and walked me off. ‘Parasites,’ he said. ‘Tamasin says that Culpeper made a pass at her, he tries it on with every woman he likes the look of. He’s one of the King’s bodyservants, he can do as he likes.’

  ‘I am going to have to develop the hide of a crocodile.’

  ‘It’ll be a two days’ wonder. There’s to be a big bear-baiting at the manor tomorrow, all the York gentry invited, and half the camp will straggle along to watch. That’ll be the talk tomorrow night.’

  I nodded. ‘Will you take Tamasin?’

  ‘She doesn’t like the bear-baiting. Another one with a weak stomach.’

  I smiled. ‘When we return to London, will you see her there? Or is she just another of your dalliances?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like her?’

  ‘Maybe I was too harsh. Anyway, ’tis your business.’

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to see.’ He smiled enigmatically. ‘I can’t think that far ahead. I feel like we’ve been here for ever.’

  ‘So do I. Come, this walking is making me hungry. Are they serving food in the refectory?’

  ‘Should be.’

  We started walking back to St Mary’s. I saw young Leacon standing with a group of soldiers by the tents; he bowed to me and I nodded in reply. Then I espied another figure, standing with arms folded at the edge of a crowd, cheering on a bloody dogfight between two great mastiffs. He nodded approvingly as one dog tore open the other’s stomach, spilling a mess of guts and blood.

  ‘Radwinter,’ I said. ‘Come, this way, I don’t want to see him.’ The wretch, though, had seen me. He smiled at me sardonically as we slipped away into the darkness.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Barak said. ‘I thought he was guarding Broderick.’

  ‘I suppose Maleverer must allow him time to exercise. Damn him. Beware, it’s muddy here.’

  We had come to the edge of the camp, beyond the tents, where the ground sloped down to some trees. Beyond I saw the Ouse gleaming in the moonlight. We turned and walked back.

  ‘Saturday tomorrow,’ I said. ‘You can have a free day. I will go and see Master Wrenne, see how he is. And what the arrangements are for hearing the petitioners. I may have to do it myself if he is indisposed.’

  ‘The bear-baiting is in the morning,’ Barak said. ‘But some of the clerks are going hawking, I thought I might accompany them.’ He hesitated. ‘Tamasin would like to go.’

  ‘Good idea. Get some fresh air. How does the old rhyme go? A Greyfalcon for a King…’

  ‘A Merlin for a Lady,’ Barak continued cheerfully.

  ‘A Goshawk for a Yeoman, a Sparrowhawk for a Priest -’

  ‘A Kestrel for a Knave. I’m hoping someone might lend me a kestrel.’ He laughed.

  ‘Tamasin was telling me about her father,’ I said.

  ‘Oh?’ He looked surprised. ‘When did you see her?’

  ‘We happened to meet. Had a little talk. Perhaps I have been a little hard on the girl.’

  ‘I’m glad you see that.’

  ‘She believes her father was a professional man.’

  ‘I think that’s probably a story her mother told to comfort the girl. Nobody likes the taint of bastardy.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ I was reminded of Maleverer. He too had that taint. His way of dealing with it was more brutal.

  Barak shook his head. ‘Tammy is so practical in many ways. But she has this notion about her father fixed in her head.’ He sighed. ‘Women need things to comfort them, and she sets no great store by religion. At the court she has seen something of the politics and greed that have brought the religious changes.’

  ‘You will see eye to eye with her on that, I think. As do I.’

  Barak nodded. ‘I thought I might write to a contact of mine in the household office. I did him a favour in the old days, when
I worked for Lord Cromwell. If someone is illegitimate, there is always a trail of gossip.’

  ‘Might be better not to find out the truth.’

  ‘If her father turns out to have been in charge of putting stray dogs out of the kitchens or something, I needn’t tell her.’

  ‘No.’

  We heard voices. It was dark here, on the fringe of the camp, but I saw, a little way ahead, the light of a small fire, a group of men and boys gathered round it. A pit had been dug and filled with faggots. A group of gallapins had unloaded the pieces of another giant spit from a cart and were labouring to set it up, thrusting the great spiked central rods through the centre of the apparatus.

  ‘Don’t put the turning-handles on yet, Danny,’ a stout cook in an apron called out.

  ‘All right, Father,’ a boy’s high voice replied from the far end of the spit. The spit was so long that I could only make out his dim shape at the end.

  ‘Where’s that damned ox?’

  ‘Owen has gone to look.’

  ‘Keep your voice down. We don’t want the men from yonder tents shouting for food before the beast’s even skewered. Who’s that?’ the cook demanded sharply as he heard our footsteps, then doffed his cap at the sight of my robe. ‘Ah, sir, I’m sorry, only we don’t want people here till the cooking’s under way.’

  ‘We were just walking by.’ I stepped away from the end of the spit, where the sharp points waved to and fro as the little gallapin at the other end adjusted them. ‘That is a mighty spit,’ I said. ‘Are you cooking a whole ox on there?’

  ‘Ay, and chickens and ducks underneath. We must feed a hundred tonight.’

  ‘Have you been doing this every night since London?’ It was a relief to talk to someone who would neither know nor care about what had happened at Fulford.

  ‘Ay. In worse conditions than this too. In fields turned to seas of mud in July. One day the rains put out the fire and the men looked set to riot – the soldiers had to be brought in.’ The cook shook his head. ‘I will never complain about the cold in the Hampton Court kitchens again -’