Sovereign ms-3

by C. J. Sansom

  He broke off, as a cry sounded from the gallapin at the other end of the spit. I heard a sudden grating noise. Then Barak grabbed me and threw me to the ground.

  ‘What in Hell-’ I shouted as I thudded heavily into the rough grass. Then I stared up in horror at the great metal spike that had been thrust through the centre of the spit and now quivered in the air three feet above my head. If Barak had not pushed me it would have skewered me through. Barak and the cook were running to the other end of the spit, then there was another loud cry, in the cook’s voice: ‘Murder!’

  I got to my feet, wincing at the renewed pain in my neck, and ran to where Barak and the cook were crouched over a small figure lying on the ground. ‘Someone knocked the gallapin on the head,’ Barak called out to me. ‘Then he pushed that spike at you, he was trying to kill you!’

  ‘Danny!’ the cook was crying. ‘Danny!’

  ‘That boy,’ I breathed. ‘Is he…’

  ‘Let’s see.’

  The cook was crouched on the ground, the boy’s head in his lap. To my relief the small figure was moving.

  ‘Careful with him,’ Barak said. ‘Watch his head.’

  The cook gave him an angry stare. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? He is my son!’

  ‘I am sorry.’ I bent down. ‘Where is he hurt?’

  ‘There’s blood on the back of his head,’ the cook said. I felt the lad’s skull carefully. ‘I think it’s just a scalp wound. Someone hit him on the back of the head.’

  The boy groaned. ‘Father! I can’t see properly,’ he said. The boy was no more than twelve or so. I felt a sudden rage at the brute who had struck him down.

  ‘Hold him still,’ I said. ‘See if his vision settles down.’

  The cook was looking at me. ‘This was meant to kill you, sir.’

  ‘I can see better now, Father.’ The boy tried to lift himself up, then groaned and leaned back. ‘I’m dizzy.’

  ‘Listen, fellow,’ I said. ‘Your lad has a concussion. Let him lie and rest, cover him with a blanket. If he is no better tomorrow, come to me and I will pay for a doctor. What is your name?’

  ‘Goodrich, sir.’

  ‘Ask for Master Shardlake, at the lawyers’ lodging house.’

  ‘All right.’ The cook looked fearfully at the spit, then at the darkness beyond. ‘What if he should come back?’

  ‘We’ll see to that,’ Barak said grimly. He ran back and lit a stick of wood from the fire. I followed him as he walked into the darkness, but we could see nothing, only the river flowing strongly and behind us the lights of the camp. Barak looked back.

  ‘He’ll have gone back to the camp. Shit.’

  ‘Ay,’ I said quietly. ‘Come on, let’s get back ourselves.’ We returned to where the cook still crouched by his son. I saw a group of men approaching, a cart laden with an ox carcass. I touched the cook’s arm. ‘Remember my name, Master Shardlake. Let me know how he does.’

  ‘This should be reported!’

  ‘I’ll deal with that. Don’t forget. Come and see me, at the lawyers’ lodgings.’

  We walked away, back to the relative safety of the lit areas, and stood looking over the crowd. Some of the men who had finished eating were sitting around their tents playing music, the sound of shawms and bagpipes wafting through the air.

  ‘So,’ I said quietly. ‘I am in danger. I have been careless today, grumbling about on my own.’

  ‘Why haven’t they tried before this?’

  ‘Perhaps this was the first opportunity. Someone who saw us come into the camp.’

  ‘There must be hundreds here from King’s Manor. If Maleverer would tell you what those damned papers were, why they were so important, you might know where to start looking.’

  ‘He won’t do that. I’ll tell him what’s happened, but even if he cared enough he wouldn’t be able to protect me, not among these hundreds of people.’

  ‘He’s an arsehole.’

  ‘And he’s up to some corrupt business with Rich. No, I doubt I can look for aid from that quarter. Rich would probably be glad to have me out of the way.’

  Barak whistled. ‘You don’t think…’

  ‘I don’t know. Except that whoever tried to kill me tonight is likely to try again.’

  ‘We could ask to go home. As you’re in danger.’

  ‘They seem to want me here. Besides, even if we did go back to London, what’s to stop whoever it is following us there? And there are supposed to be conspirators at the Inns of Court too.’ I looked out again over the milling crowds. It was not the first time in my life that I had walked in fear of an assassin, though never had I felt so helpless. I looked at Barak. ‘Thank you, Jack,’ I said quietly. ‘You saved my life there. You reacted quickly.’

  ‘I turned when I heard the metal grating, saw it moving. By Jesu, though, it was a matter of a split second.’

  I was silent a moment, then took a deep breath. ‘I have resolved something. Now I know someone is after my life I am going to try and track them down. I have had enough, I will not allow myself to be beaten down into a mere hunted quarry. And other lives may be at risk too, since this enemy thinks nothing of knocking children on the head.’ I looked at him. ‘Perhaps yours too. Will you help me? I have no right to ask, I have been a boorish churl with you over the girl Tamasin.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m with you all the way. I’d prefer action to sitting around like a target.’ He extended a hand, and I took it. ‘Like last time,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  SATURDAY DAWNED CHILL, a light rain falling through a grey mist that hid the St Mary’s steeple. I had tried to see Maleverer the night before, but was told he could not be disturbed. Barak and I rose early, both having slept very little, and went outside. I locked the door behind me; since the first attack on me at King’s Manor I had always locked myself into my cubicle.

  A little way off the two bears lay asleep in their big iron cages. Today they would be set to fight with great mastiffs for the King’s entertainment. We made our way over to King’s Manor again. I noticed the trees were becoming bare; autumn was further on up here. Squirrels ran to and fro along the branches, blurs of red movement. I looked up at the walls where the soldiers patrolled with their guns and swords, the only people allowed to carry weapons in the royal precincts. The household officials had sharp eyes out for weapons, particularly given what had happened at St Mary’s. Barak and I had sat up late talking, and agreed I was probably safe from a sword-thrust. Our assailant, whoever he was, would be concerned not to be recognized by anyone. It looked as though someone in the darkness of the camp had seen us and followed at a distance, waiting for an opportunity to strike unseen and seizing it boldly when it came.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you today?’ Barak asked.

  ‘No – after I’ve seen Maleverer I’ll walk over and see Wrenne, then come back to the lodging house. I’m safe enough in daylight if I keep to public areas. No, you have your day’s hunting.’

  ‘Thanks. One of the clerks is lending me a goshawk. ’Tis newly trained, only a few weeks since its eyes were sewn closed to tame it, but it will be better than nothing.’

  ‘Then take care.’

  He walked off and I went across to the manor, a phalanx of soldiers now guarding the steps. I looked up at the windows of the upper rooms where the King slept. They were shuttered. I wondered if he had taken the Queen to his bed with him. I remembered the smell of his huge leg, and shuddered.

  I gained admittance and was led again to Maleverer’s office. He was up already, working at his papers. He looked tired, there were dark rings under his fierce eyes. He was not afraid of hard work, I had to grant him that.

  ‘What now?’ he grunted, looking at me balefully. ‘I’m surprised at you showing your face again.’

  ‘I was attacked last night, Sir William. I thought you should know.’

  That got his interest. He listened attentively as I told him what had happened. He fr
owned thoughtfully, then gave me a hard look.

  ‘Are you sure it was no accident? Servants can be cunning as cats. Perhaps the gallapin was never struck, only made it up to excuse carelessness with the spit. Did you think of that?’

  ‘His head was bloody. And that spit was pushed at me with more force than a child could command.’ I remembered the sharp tip, quivering in the air.

  Maleverer was silent for a moment. When he spoke again it was in a quiet voice. ‘We thought whoever took the papers had fled. There are escaped conspirators among the fells, others in Scotland, and some in London too. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Yet no one has been reported as leaving the Progress unexpectedly. Perhaps they passed the papers on to an associate and came back here. To finish you off, as the only one who had seen inside that box. Or so at least they think.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps they believe you have kept the knowledge to yourself and not told me.’

  ‘That is possible.’

  ‘I shall have to report this to the Privy Council.’

  I hesitated. ‘I wondered whether it might be better for me to leave the Progress now, go back to London?’

  He smiled coldly. ‘No. No, Master Shardlake. You can be our stalking horse. Perhaps you will lead our killer into the open.’

  ‘Perhaps he will kill me,’ I said.

  Maleverer shrugged. ‘Then you must take care. This can be your penance for losing the papers in the first place. No, I forbid you to leave the Progress.’ And he smiled at me for a long moment, running a thick hairy finger along the edge of his beard, the yellow nail standing out against the black hairs.

  ‘As you command, Sir William.’ I kept my voice neutral, professional. ‘I plan to go to see Master Wrenne now. I gather he has been taken ill. Other arrangements may need to be made if he cannot attend the hearings on the petitions.’

  Maleverer grunted. ‘I said he was too old for this. Send a message to me if he is unable to do it. We’ll have to find someone else. You can’t do it, we need someone with presence and a reputation up here.’ He smiled at me again.

  I bowed and left. As I descended the staircase I thought, so, it is up to me to save myself. From now on I would wear a dagger at my belt, for all it was forbidden to carry weapons at King’s Manor.

  AS I WALKED DOWN a misty Petergate towards the Minster I saw men in city livery raking the sand and ashes back into place on the roads; no doubt the King would be returning to the city for more ceremonies and entertainments. I looked at the little houses along Petergate and thought again of the rule preventing citizens from casting sewage in the streets or in the river while the Progress was here. It would be piling up in their backyards. It was symbolic of the King’s visit: all glitter and show in front, a pile of turds behind.

  I gained entry to the Minster precinct and knocked at Master Wrenne’s door. The old housekeeper answered. Her face was drawn with anxiety. ‘Good morning, Madge,’ I said. ‘How is Master Wrenne? I heard he was ill.’

  She sighed. ‘Maister can attend to no work today. He’s happed up in bed. His physician is with him.’

  ‘I came only to see how he was.’

  She hesitated. ‘Come in then, maister. I will see if he can receive thee.’

  She left me in the solar. The fire was unlit; the greyfalcon asleep on its perch, head tucked under its wing. It made me think of Barak, out hunting with Tamasin at his side. I had not wanted to stay at St Mary’s alone, I knew I would feel safe at Wrenne’s.

  I looked around the stacked piles of books. It had occurred to me that if I could find a map of Kent somewhere I could confirm where Blaybourne village was. I did not know where that would get me but it was something and my determination to discover what was happening had grown. It was a counterweight to the shame and anger I felt over what had passed at Fulford Cross.

  Madge returned and said Master Wrenne would see me. I followed her up to a small but well-appointed bedroom. Giles lay on a good feather bed. I was shocked at the change in him: his strong square face was white and it seemed to me some of the flesh had fallen away from it since yesterday. To my surprise, Dr Jibson was there talking to him. He smiled at my entrance.

  ‘Master Shardlake, good morning.’

  Giles reached out a hand. ‘Dr Jibson tells me you are acquainted. He will not say how, professional discretion. But I hope you are not ill too?’

  I took his hand, glad the old man’s voice at least seemed strong and clear as ever. His grip, too, remained firm. ‘No,’ I said. ‘But you…’

  ‘Oh, I had a bad moment, but I am recovering. I shall be ready for work on Monday. We have to hear the first petitions then, down at the castle.’

  ‘I will leave you now, sir,’ Dr Jibson said. ‘I will instruct your housekeeper how to make up that powder.’

  The physician left. ‘Draw up a chair, Matthew,’ Giles said. I brought a stool to the bed. He looked at me seriously, then sighed. ‘What the King said yesterday must have caused you grievous hurt. And for me to have been made part of his evil jest gives me sorrow.’

  ‘ ’Tis not the first such jest I have had to endure, though never from a King nor in front of such a concourse. But what of you, sir, I heard you were taken ill just after?’

  ‘Ay. That was the worst attack I have had so far. I was quite composed until the King looked into my eyes and spoke to me. Then-’ He broke off with a visible shudder.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You will think me an old fool.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I felt a sudden horror, that is all I can call it. For a second I did not know where or who I was. When the King turned away I stumbled away into the crowd and almost fell. Fortunately I know the townsmen and they helped me back to York without anyone seeing my piteous state.’ He reached for a mug by his bed and took a draught. I caught the spicy smell of an ale posset. He shook his head. ‘When I looked at the King’s eyes it was as though all the power drained out of me.’

  ‘His eyes are cruel.’

  Giles gave a sudden bark of laughter, yet I caught fear in the sound. ‘It made me think of that old legend of the commotion time.’

  ‘That the King is the Mouldwarp?’

  ‘Ay.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You know of it?’

  ‘I have heard.’

  He shook his head. ‘It is dangerous to speak of such things, such foolish superstitions. I had been working too hard, the strain was too much. But still – well, I have often wondered what the King was really like. Now I know.’ He shook his head. ‘And the Queen, she is so young.’

  ‘I feel sorry for her.’

  ‘A buxom little thing. Yet not regal.’

  ‘She has Howard blood.’

  ‘The Howards. Their lineage is not as old as they make out.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps all those trappings of power, all we are told of the ordained power of royalty, perhaps they addle the mind so that when we see the reality it is a shock.’

  ‘The reality. Ugly and sordid.’

  Giles looked at me. ‘Yet we must have royalty, it is the peak of the social order, without it everything would collapse into chaos.’

  ‘It has already done that in York, has it not? Five years ago, and nearly this spring too?’

  ‘Ay, there is a great grudge here. Tell me, how did the city receive the King?’

  ‘Barak said the cheers were ragged.’

  ‘How different it was for Richard III.’

  ‘Richard Crouchback,’ I said softly. ‘I remember…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Once when I was small, I was playing in the parlour. My father and some of his friends were talking round the table. Someone mentioned something that had happened in Richard’s time. Richard Crouchback’s time was what they said, forgetting I was there. My father looked at me. I can still see the look on his face. Pity. Disappointment.’

  ‘You had a hard time of it,’ Giles said gently.

  I shrugged. ‘Mayhap.’

  He sighed. ‘That was propaganda, anyway. Y
ou forget I saw King Richard. His back was straight. He had a hard face, serious. But not cruel.’ He leaned back on his pillows. ‘I was a boy then, so long ago.’ He looked up at me. ‘Matthew, I had hoped to keep my strength a little longer. But this attack of pain and weakness has been bad. If it goes with me as with my father, there will be spells of better health but more of these attacks. I may not be an easy companion on the road back to London.’

  ‘Do not fear. You will have any aid that Barak and I can give.’

  ‘You are kind.’ He looked at me, and I saw his eyes were wet with tears in the second before he turned away, that I might not see them.

  I thought, all my life I never saw tears in my father’s eyes, even when my mother died. There was silence in the room for a moment. Then I said, lightly, ‘I came to ask a small favour as well as to see you.’

  ‘Of course. Anything.’

  ‘I need to check something on a map of southern England. In connection with a matter I have on in London. Are there any maps in your collection?’

  His eyes lit up with interest. ‘Why yes, I have some. They are mostly old monkish things but you are welcome to look. Most are of the north but I have one or two of the southern counties, I think. I wanted to show you my collection, it is in two rooms at the back of the house. Tell Madge to give you the keys. The maps and plans are on the third shelf on the south wall in the first room. I must stay in bed, I fear.’

  ‘Of course.’ I rose, for I could see he was tired. ‘I shall send word tomorrow, see how you are. If you are still poorly I will speak to Maleverer about getting someone else to deal with the petitions. Maleverer will not allow me to chair the arbitrations.’

  He smiled and shook his head vigorously. ‘I will be better by tomorrow.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘Do not take what the King said too hard, Matthew. It was part of a political game. It was not personal.’

  ‘A chance to praise a Yorker at my expense. That point has been made. No, the worst thing was that I could see the King enjoyed what he did.’