Sovereign ms-3

by C. J. Sansom

  Broderick nodded. ‘I know it well. The manor house used to belong to Sir Robert Constable, Robert Aske’s deputy in the Pilgrimage of Grace. Constable’s remains hang over the gates of Hull now, and the King stole his house at Howlme. ’Twas a fine mansion.’

  I grunted, then nodded my head at the door. ‘A word, sir,’ I said to Radwinter. He followed me outside, telling the soldier to sit with Broderick. Clearly he was not to be left alone for a minute now.

  Radwinter leaned against the wall and stared at me interrogatively. Sergeant Leacon stood looking on, leaning on his pike.

  ‘I am worried by how pale Broderick is. And that cell stinks. He needs air.’

  ‘He’ll be in the carriage tomorrow.’

  ‘I am not sure he is fit to travel.’

  ‘What you think does not matter. Those are the rules.’

  I met his gaze. ‘I remember Cranmer said a man died under your care once. Were that to happen again, with this prisoner, I would not envy your position.’

  I wondered if he would burst out in mocking anger, but he only nodded and smiled again. ‘We are all allowed one mistake, Master Shardlake. The circumstances were quite different. Shall I tell you what happened?’

  ‘Well?’

  He shifted his position, making himself more comfortable. ‘It was seven years ago, when the King had not long married Anne Boleyn. There was a Dominican monk from a house in Hertfordshire who had come to London and was preaching that the King’s break with Rome meant he was condemned by God. He was brought before the Archbishop but would say nothing about who was feeding and sheltering him. Your old master Cromwell wanted him taken to the Tower so the information could be racked out of him, but the Archbishop decided a sojourn in the Lollards’ Tower might be sufficient to cool him down and loosen his tongue. He was put under my care and I was told to deal with him strictly, and find out what I could.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was quite unrepentant. When I gave him an English book of prayers to read he threw it across the cell. So I decided to bring him to his senses by hanging him from the ceiling by his wrists, his toes just touching the floor. I am told the Scotch have a variant where they hang you by your thumbs, but of course the thumbs are wrenched out after a while and I wanted this Brother Frederick to suffer a good while.’

  I gave him a look of disgust, which perhaps was what he had been waiting for.

  He smiled again. ‘That silenced the good old brother. It is hard to breathe in that position, as well as very painful. But I had not realized Brother Frederick had a weakness of the heart. Oh, I should have considered the possibility, I see that now; he was fat and had a high colour and wheezed when he was led up the stairs to the Lollards’ Tower. On the second day I found him hanging dead in his chains. The Archbishop was sore angry with me, I confess. He sent me on a visit to the Tower, where I learned from the experts how to judge how much a man may take.’

  ‘Cranmer did that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Radwinter inclined his head. ‘So now I have the skill to weigh a man’s condition.’

  ‘You are a vile creature,’ I said.

  ‘You feel sorry for that monk, crookback? Well, reflect that his death was easier than being drawn and quartered for treason. I did the churl a favour.’

  I turned away, but he called me back.

  ‘I hear you have been talking to Broderick while I was away. About who has the right to the throne. You mentioned the Queen may be pregnant.’ I looked at him in surprise. ‘Oh, the soldier outside listened to your converse, as I ordered him to. You had strict orders not to question him.’

  ‘It was merely conversation,’ I said dismissively.

  ‘Was it?’ Radwinter looked at me. ‘Sometimes I wonder if you have some private agenda, Master Shardlake, whether your concern for the prisoner is more than soft stupid pity. If it is, beware.’

  I THOUGHT ANXIOUSLY on Radwinter’s words as I ate with Barak in the refectory. It was full of people snatching a quick meal before making their preparations for leaving. There was much shouting and calling, a palpable air of relief that the Progress was on the move again, on its final leg before the return to London.

  I went over what I had said to Broderick a few days before. Nothing incriminating or dangerous. I had been careful, although I had not thought Radwinter would go so far as to get one of the soldiers to eavesdrop on me. He had bribed the man, no doubt. I wondered whether to report it to Sergeant Leacon, but decided to leave it. I must not take any risks with Broderick again.

  ‘How long do you think it will be before we reach London?’ Barak asked.

  ‘Three or four days to Hull perhaps, then maybe a week on the boat. Much will depend on the weather while we are at sea. Quicker than riding back, anyway.’

  ‘There’s been no trouble for a week,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Do you think maybe whoever attacked you has given up?’

  ‘I hope so. I’m not relaxing my guard.’

  He smiled. ‘Well, in a couple of weeks we may be safe, back working at Lincoln’s Inn. Back to the grind.’

  My heart lifted. ‘You’re definitely coming back to work in Chambers?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘When we get to Hull I will try to secure a place for Giles on the boat, and Tamasin too. Someone might have to be bribed but between us Giles and I could manage that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

  I SLEPT UNEASILY, for the work of moving and loading went on through the night, with a constant shouting and rattling of carts. I rose at the first light of dawn and dressed, putting on my coat and donning my riding boots for the first time since we had arrived. Some of the clerks were awake already, standing round the fire while one tried to light it. I gave them a cold nod and went outside.

  It was a cool, damp day, the sky covered with a canopy of high milky cloud. Barak was already up, standing in the doorway looking out at the courtyard. It had been stripped almost bare. The paddocks that had housed the animals were being dismantled.

  ‘St Mary’s last moment of glory over,’ he said. ‘I hear the King has ordered the last windows taken out of the church, and the roof taken off.’

  I looked at the church, its spire lost in mist again, remembering poor Oldroyd.

  After breakfasting we walked to the church to fetch the horses. The carpenters were at work dismantling the pavilions now. What a vast amount of money and labour had been wasted. Servants from the royal household were carefully wrapping up a huge tapestry, glinting with gold leaf, in a waterproof cover. It was forty feet long and it took four men to roll it up, with infinite care, soldiers standing guard around the precious thing. There was a tremendous bustle around the main doors of the church, which had been thrown wide open. People were leading their horses out and taking their places among the groups that were forming all around the yard. We went inside into a great crush as people jostled up and down the rows of stalls, peering round the high walls in search of their animals. Most had already been saddled. I saw Sergeant Leacon among the throng. ‘Are you riding today?’ I asked.

  ‘Ay, if I can get to my horse.’

  I felt myself pushed roughly against a stall, and turned angrily. ‘Make way there. Queen’s household.’ Surrounded by a retinue of servants who shoved aside everyone in their path, a group of courtiers was leading their horses towards the doors. I recognized Francis Dereham. Seeing me, he gave an unpleasant smile. The courtiers passed, and Barak and I returned to the stalls.

  ‘Take care, sir, take care!’ A woman’s voice I recognized, calling sharply. I saw Jennet Marlin just ahead. A young courtier was trying to calm his horse, which was tossing its head and neighing, upset by the crowd. It threatened to flatten Mistress Marlin against a stall. Barak stepped forward. ‘Look out!’ he called. ‘There’s a woman there.’ He helped the man calm the horse, while I gave Mistress Marlin my arm and helped her away from the animal. She gave me a startled look.

  ‘You? Oh – thank you.’

  �
��Are you seeking your horse?’

  ‘Yes, she is down here somewhere.’

  Barak and I helped her find the stall containing her animal, a grey palfrey, ready saddled.

  ‘Come with us,’ I said. ‘We’ll just find our own.’

  She coloured. ‘No, I am all right now. Thank you. I am obliged.’ She took her horse by the reins and led it away.

  ‘Doesn’t like to be seen as a poor weak woman,’ Barak said.

  ‘She certainly has her pride.’ We made our way to the stalls where Sukey and Genesis stood, ready saddled like the others. We led them out, not without difficulty for both were nervous. Barak’s Sukey had always been temperamental but I was surprised how skittish my normally calm Genesis was. ‘What a mêlée,’ I said. ‘This hasn’t been well organized. Someone could be trampled.’

  IT WAS A RELIEF to get out of the church again. Little groups of men had formed all round the churchyard now, some mounted, some standing holding their horses: the households of the various nobles and officials and, by the gates, the King’s and Queen’s households. There was, too, a clutch of lawyers and clerks, grouped around the white-bearded Sir James Fealty. I saw him glance at us and cross a couple of names off a list he carried.

  Among the Queen’s household I saw Tamasin sitting on a grey palfrey, next to Jennet Marlin on her palfrey, still looking a little flustered. Nearby Lady Rochford was resplendent in a plum-coloured cloak and sitting on a big black mare, next to Sir Richard Rich on a big grey. Looking at the King’s household I was disconcerted to see Maleverer among the brightly dressed throng. Was he to accompany the Progress? It was not a thought that pleased me. I sensed someone else looking at me and glanced round just in time to see Thomas Culpeper turn his handsome head away.

  Master Craike sat nearby, on a strong-looking roan. Mounted as he was, he still had his portable desk round his neck. He was riffling through papers, but he too caught my eye. He hesitated and I guessed he would have preferred not to acknowledge me, but he smiled uncertainly. ‘Good day, Master Shardlake.’

  ‘Master Craike.’ I made my voice cheerful. ‘By Jesu, there is great confusion in that stable.’

  ‘Ay. I fetched my horse early.’

  ‘You will be busy now we are moving again.’

  ‘Yes, I leave in a minute. I have to ride ahead to Howlme Manor and see all is ready for the King.’

  ‘I gather we should wait with the other lawyers.’

  ‘Yes, ’ he said, ‘though you may be waiting some time. The royal households will pass out first, with the King and Queen, then the officers of the royal households and the households of the nobles. The various officials come next. I am afraid the lawyers are at the back. After you will come all the servants from the camp and the wagons. Everything must be done in the correct sequence.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He looked over to the manor house. A servant stood pruning the roses set round the side, carefully setting the thorny branches in a cart, oblivious to the noise and bustle all round. The manor, I assumed, would revert to its original function as a headquarters for the Council of the North. ‘The King is in a great fury that James of Scotland has let him down,’ Craike said. ‘He threatens fierce measures against the Scotch. I think they will pay for this.’

  ‘That would be -’ I sought a neutral word ‘- characteristic of him.’

  ‘Ay.’ There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Craike smiled nervously. ‘Well, sir, I shall be on the move constantly now. I may not see you again.’

  ‘In that case, farewell.’

  ‘Farewell,’ he said, and then, quietly, ‘thank you.’ He turned his horse and rode away to the gate.

  Barak looked after him thoughtfully. ‘Poor old arsehole,’ he said.

  ‘Ay. Still, Genesis!’ My horse had jumped to one side with a whinny.

  ‘Let’s not mount just yet,’ Barak said. ‘Give the horses time to calm themselves.’

  ‘All right. Look, there’s Giles. But where’s his horse?’

  The old man had come in at the gates. He was carrying a heavy pannier and seemed flustered. He stood looking round, overtopping by a head many of those who walked around his burly form. I waved him over and he walked slowly across to us.

  ‘Ah, Matthew,’ he said breathlessly. ‘There you are, and Barak, good morning. I fear I have a problem. My horse got a sharp stone in her shoe last night, she cannot possibly ride out. I did not know what to do.’

  ‘There will be spare horses,’ Barak said.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But they will be over at the camp, we cannot get one now.’

  ‘Take Sukey,’ Barak said. ‘I’ll walk beside you. Then later I’m sure we can find a horse for you.’

  Giles looked at him with relief. ‘Thank you, young Barak. Are you sure?’

  ‘Ay, take Sukey.’

  ‘Genesis would be better,’ I said. ‘Barak’s mare might not like being ridden by a stranger. I can ride Sukey, she knows me. You take Genesis. He is a calm horse.’

  ‘Thank you again, sir.’ Giles laughed uneasily. ‘I do not know what I would do without you.’

  An official came up and compared notes with Fealty, who turned and addressed us. ‘I want you all mounted now,’ he called out.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Barak formed a stirrup of his hands for the old man to mount Genesis.

  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.