by C. J. Sansom
‘Poor Bealknap,’ I said.
‘Oh no,’ Rowland said. ‘Rich Bealknap. Much good it did him in the end.’ I did not reply, and he turned to the pile of papers on his desk. ‘Secretary Paget’s people have sent me more details about the French admiral’s visit next month. It is going to be an even bigger event than I thought. I’ll show you the correspondence. But first,’ his voice deepened, ‘I’ve got to waste my time on this nonsense.’ He pulled a letter from the pile on his desk and threw it across to me: Isabel’s complaint, two pages covered in her neat, tiny writing. As expected, it accused me, along with Philip Coleswyn, her brother and the expert Master Adam, of collusion to defeat her case, ‘out of wicked spite’, as she was of honest religion while we were all heretics.
‘It’s all nonsense,’ I said. ‘She chose that architect herself.’
‘Is he a radical?’
‘No. The accusations of heresy she sent flying around at the inspection scared him out of his wits. As I said, it’s all nonsense.’
Rowland gave his laugh, a sound as though rusty hinges were opening and closing in his throat. ‘I believe you, Brother Shardlake. It is years since you associated with the radicals; we spoke not long ago of how you have been careful. Though you did not attend Mass yesterday.’
‘Urgent business. I will be there next weekend.’
He leaned back in his chair and regarded me closely, stroking his long white beard with fingers stained black from a lifetime’s working with ink, as mine were. ‘You seem to attract trouble, Serjeant Shardlake, despite yourself. How did you end up working for this madwoman?’
‘Ill luck. Every barrister has such clients.’
‘True. I am glad I am out of such nonsense. What of this Coleswyn, is he a radical?’
‘He has a reputation as a reformer.’
Rowland looked at me sharply. ‘Mistress Slanning says you went to dinner at his house.’
‘Once. We became friendly because we were both frustrated by our clients’ behaviour. Mistress Slanning’s brother is as much a vexatious litigant as she is. And Mistress Slanning found out about my visit because she sometimes passes the evening spying on Coleswyn’s house. That gives you a flavour of the woman.’
‘She says her brother met Coleswyn because they both attend the same radical church.’
‘It is a common enough way for lawyers to meet clients.’
He nodded agreement, then made a steeple of his fingers. ‘Who represents her now? Do we know?’
‘Vincent Dyrick of Gray’s Inn. He called to get the papers last week.’
Rowland frowned. ‘He has a vicious reputation. He’ll make something of this conspiracy theory in court. Probably instigated the complaint.’
‘He said he did not, it was all Isabel’s idea. Actually, I believe him there. But he won’t be able to stop her from making her allegations in court.’
‘Do you think she might complain to Gray’s Inn about Coleswyn?’
‘She’d have no right. He is not acting for her.’
Rowland considered. ‘Very well. I will try to make this go away. I will write to Mistress Slanning saying she has no evidence to back her complaints, and to warn her about the laws of defamation. That should frighten her off.’ He spoke complacently, though I feared such a letter would only anger Isabel further. ‘And you, Master Shardlake,’ Rowland continued, his voice full of angry irritation, ‘stay out of this case from now on. I don’t want you mixed up in any religious quarrels when you are to represent the Inn at the celebrations next month.’
‘I will step down from attending the ceremonies if you wish,’ I answered mildly.
Rowland gave his unpleasant half-smile and shook his head. ‘Oh no, Brother Shardlake, you will do your duty. I have already given in your name. Now, see this.’ He passed me another sheaf of papers. ‘Details of the peace celebrations.’
I looked them over, remembering what Paget and the Queen had said about the jewels ordered for her, the new clothes for the Queen’s ladies. Even so, my eyes widened at the scale of what was planned. The admiral was to sail up the Thames on the 20th of August with a dozen galleys. The King’s ships, which had met those galleys in battle exactly a year before, were to be lined up along the Thames from Gravesend to Deptford to welcome him. He would be received by the King at Greenwich, then next day go upriver to the Tower of London, before riding through the streets of the city. During this procession the London aldermen and guildsmen – and others including senior lawyers from the Inns of Court – would line the streets to cheer him, all in their best robes. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered standing on the deck of the Mary Rose a year before, watching as those same French galleys fired at our fleet.
‘Quite something, is it not?’ Rowland said. Even he sounded a little awed.
‘It is, Master Treasurer.’
I read on. The admiral would stay in London two days, riding to Hampton Court on the 23rd. On the way to Hampton Court he would be welcomed by Prince Edward, lords and gentlemen and a thousand horses. Next day he would dine with the King and Queen and there would be enormous festivities at Hampton Court. Again my presence would be required, as one of the hundreds in the background.
I put down the papers. ‘It is all about impressing him, I see.’
‘Great ceremonial was ever the King’s way. All you will be required to do is stand around like scenery, richly garbed. Have you a gold chain for such ceremonies?’
‘No.’
‘Then get one, before they are all sold out.’
‘I will be ready.’
‘Good,’ Rowland said. ‘And I will write to Mistress Slanning.’ He made a note, then looked up at me and spoke wearily. ‘Try to keep out of trouble, Serjeant Shardlake.’
DESPITE ROWLAND’S WARNING, that afternoon I fetched Genesis from my house, rode up to Gray’s Inn and asked for Philip Coleswyn’s chambers. His outer office, which he shared with another barrister, was neatly organized – it made me realize that my own chambers were starting to look a mess. I was shown into Coleswyn’s office, which again was immaculate, all the papers filed neatly in pigeonholes. He laid down his quill and stood to greet me.
‘Brother Shardlake. This is an unexpected pleasure. So Mistress Slanning has dismissed you. I had a note this morning from her new representative, Brother Vincent Dyrick.’
‘Yes.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘I know Dyrick.’
‘So do I, by repute.’ He sighed. ‘His letter said Mistress Slanning plans to raise in court the nonsense about us and her brother conspiring with Master Adam, because we are all heretics. He said she has also made a complaint about you to Lincoln’s Inn.’
‘I had a meeting with the Treasurer this morning about that. I came to reassure you he recognizes the complaint for the foolery it is. But also to warn you about Dyrick: he is persistent, and unscrupulous.’
‘I think perhaps Brother Dyrick hopes that by airing these allegations of a heretic conspiracy he will frighten me, and perhaps Master Cotterstoke, into coming to a settlement.’ Philip shook his head. ‘But we both know nothing on this earth will bring those two to settle.’
‘Treasurer Rowland ordered me to steer clear of the business, particularly since I am to play a small part in the ceremonial welcoming the French admiral next month.’
‘Then I thank you all the more for coming to see me. I spoke to Edward Cotterstoke about these latest allegations yesterday. He will not shift an inch. In fact he lost his temper when I told him of his sister’s latest ploy. He said a strange thing: that if the worst came to the worst, he knew things that could destroy her.’
‘What did he mean?’
‘Heaven knows. He said it in anger, and refused to elaborate. Insisted it was nothing to do with the case and quickly changed the subject.’
‘And Isabel once said her brother had done terrible things. What is it with those two, that they hate each other so?’
‘I do not know,’ Coleswyn said. He shook his head again.
‘You remember the old family servant, Vowell, who became upset by their behaviour at the inspection. Is he still taking care of the house?’
‘Yes. But Master Shardlake, you should do as your Treasurer advises, and leave the matter alone now.’
‘But I will still be involved, if this conspiracy allegation comes up in court. I am named.’
‘You are not a radical reformer. You have nothing to fear.’
‘Do you?’ I asked bluntly.
He did not answer, and I continued. ‘Isabel Slanning will make whatever trouble she can. What if she asks you, through Dyrick, to swear in court that the Mass transforms the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ?’
‘I doubt the court would allow it.’
‘But if they do?’
Coleswyn bit his lip. ‘I am not sure I could do that.’
‘That is what I feared,’ I said quietly. ‘I beg you to think carefully, Philip. That would be an admission of heresy. Think what could happen not just to you, but to your wife and children. To all those associated with you. Even me.’
His face worked. ‘Do you think I have not already considered that, agonized over it? I pray constantly, trying to seek out God’s will for me.’
I looked at his honest, troubled face. I realized that Philip Coleswyn was a man who, despite his qualities, might put others at risk to save – as he saw it – his soul. I spoke quietly, ‘Think what God’s will may be for the rest of us as well.’
I HEARD NOTHING FURTHER from Stice that day, nor the one following. Little George’s party was early that evening. The weather had changed; it was cooler and clouds were coming slowly in from the west. The farmers could do with the rain as harvest approached, but I knew Tamasin hoped to have the party in her garden.
I arrived shortly after four. It was still dry, but the sky was growing slowly darker. The little house was spotless, the table in the parlour covered in a white linen cloth on which stood flagons of beer and, I saw, some wine. Pewter mugs had been laid out. Outside in the tidy little garden another table was set with sweetmeats. About fifteen men and women, mostly in their thirties, stood there talking, all in their best finery; neighbours and clerks and solicitors from Lincoln’s Inn and their wives. Sadly, no family was present, for Tamasin’s father had abandoned her as a child and her mother was dead. And I remembered what Barak had told me about meeting his own mother in the street; he had not mentioned it again. I saw Guy, standing a little apart nursing a mug of beer.
Barak and Jane Marris were waiting on the guests, taking flagons to and fro to ensure mugs were kept full, Barak looking a little uneasy in this unfamiliar role. Nicholas was there in his best bright doublet, his fading bruises attracting looks from some of the guests. Tamasin stood with George in her arms, the baby in a white robe and bonnet, holding him out for guests to come and admire. They congratulated her, too, on her pregnancy, which had evidently been already announced. She herself wore her best dress of yellow silk. I filled a mug with beer and went outside. Tamasin smiled at me and held out a welcoming hand.
‘Master Shardlake.’ She addressed me formally. ‘My friends,’ she said proudly, ‘this is my husband’s master, a serjeant of the King’s courts.’ I reddened as everyone looked at me. Fond as I was of Tamasin, the touch of snobbery in her nature could be embarrassing. Behind her I saw Barak nudge Nicholas and wink. I bent low over George, who stared at me with blank eyes. ‘A happy birthday, little fellow.’ I touched his plump cheek.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Tamasin said quietly. ‘And for all you have done for us over the years.’
‘How are you now?’ I asked. ‘Feeling better?’
‘Yes. In good health and spirits.’ She looked round, smiling contentedly. ‘Our little party goes well.’ My conscience pricked at the thought of how Barak and I were deceiving her. I said, ‘I should go and speak to Guy, he is on his own.’
‘A good idea.’
I went over to my old friend. ‘Well, Matthew.’ I noted the neutrality of his tone.
‘Tamasin says she is feeling better.’
‘Yes, everything is going as it should. And how are things with you?’ His look was sharp.
‘Well enough.’
‘Jack’s hand is healed. And the boy’s chest wound. As well they did not get infected.’
‘I know.’
He asked quietly, ‘That business which led to their injuries. Is it settled?’ I hesitated. I did not want to lie to him. ‘I guessed as much,’ he said quietly. ‘Something in Jack’s manner. I have been observing people carefully for forty years, it is part of my trade. I think Tamasin suspected something when he was hurt, though she appears settled now. But she is expecting a child, Matthew, and lost one before. If anything should happen to Jack—’
‘Guy,’ I spoke with sudden heat, ‘sometimes one takes on duties, swears oaths, and sometimes, to do what one is sworn to, one needs – help.’
‘Matthew, I know of only one loyalty you have which would let you place yourself – and others – in danger. I thought the Queen had manoeuvred herself out of the trouble she got herself into earlier, but perhaps I am wrong. Well, hers is not my cause. I agree, one must fulfil a debt of honour. But when others are dragged in, one should think also of them.’
‘Guy– ’
‘I worry for my patient.’
I felt something on my hand, and looked down to see a fat splash of water. More heavy drops were falling from the grey sky. Barak said, ‘Indoors, everybody. Come, wife, get George inside.’
We all went in as the rain turned to a downpour, some of the women helping Jane rescue the sweetmeats before they got soaked. When we were in the parlour I looked around for Guy, but he had gone.
Chapter Thirty-two
I STAYED ONLY A LITTLE LONGER. Outside, the rain pattered down relentlessly, then the thunder came. Guy’s departure had been noted. I told Tamasin he had said he was feeling unwell. I left myself a short while later. The thunderstorm had ended, and as I walked home the air smelt damp and oddly fresh, though a nasty brown sludge of sewage and offal squelched under my feet.
When I got home I heard a woman weeping in the kitchen. Josephine’s young man, Edward Brown, stood in the hall. He looked embarrassed, twisting his cap in his hands.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked sharply. I had thought him a decent young man. If he had done something to upset her –
‘It is Goodwife Brocket, sir,’ Brown said hastily. ‘I came back with Josephine and we found her distraught in the kitchen. Forgive me waiting in your hallway, sir, but Josephine sent me out.’
‘Very well.’ I went to join the women. Agnes Brocket sat at the table, her coif removed, her head in her hands. Josephine sat beside her. Agnes looked up as I entered, wisps of nut-brown hair falling over her face.
‘What is amiss?’ I asked.
Josephine answered. ‘Mistress Brocket has had some upsetting family news, sir. I found her crying when Edward and I got back. She will be all right, I will take care of her.’
Agnes looked up. ‘Forgive me, I am but a silly woman – ’
‘Where is Martin?’
‘Gone into town, sir.’ Agnes made an effort to pull herself together, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes. ‘He’s not happy with the bread delivered by Master Dove, he has gone to complain. Please don’t tell him you saw me thus, Master Shardlake.’
‘I would like to know what is amiss, Agnes.’
She took a deep breath and turned to Josephine, who looked uncertain. Then she answered me quietly, ‘We have a son, sir. John. Our only child, and he is in deep trouble. Some business matters went wrong, and he is in the debtors’ prison in Leicester.’
‘I am sorry to hear that.’
She shook her head. ‘He was such a handsome, charming boy. He had such plans to rise in the world.’
I sat down opposite her. ‘Nothing so wrong in that.’
For the first time since I had known her, Agnes frowned. ‘M
artin does not think so. He believes everyone should keep to their appointed place in the social order. He was always severe with John; I think that was why the boy left home early.’ She looked up quickly. ‘But I do not mean to speak ill of my husband, sir. Despite his severity he has always doted on John.’
‘How did your son end in prison, Agnes? Perhaps, as a lawyer, I may be able to assist you.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘It is too late for that, sir. John managed to persuade some investors in Leicester to lend him money to buy up some of the land belonging to the old monasteries. He planned to hold on to it until land prices rose.’
‘They lent money without security?’ I said in surprise.
Agnes smiled sadly. ‘John can charm the birds out of the trees when he wants.’ Then her face fell. ‘But the price of land continued to fall, they sued for debt and for the last year he has sat in Leicester gaol, where he will remain until the debt is paid. Martin and I send him money – if you cannot provide food and clothing for yourself, you are left to starve in that dreadful place. And he tries to pay off his debts, little by little. But it is twenty pounds. Now John has written saying what we send does not cover the interest, and his creditors say the balance is larger than ever.’ She shook her head. ‘I fear he will die in the prison now. Last winter he had a congestion in his lungs, and another winter in there . . .’ Her voice tailed off for a moment. ‘Please do not tell Martin I have spoken with you, sir. It is shameful, and he is so proud, and does not like others knowing our trouble – ’
I raised a hand. ‘If you wish, Agnes. But perhaps I may be able to do something – ’
‘No, sir, please. We have already consulted a lawyer, he said there was nothing to be done. Do not tell Martin,’ she pleaded urgently. ‘He will be – distressed.’
‘Very well. But consider what I said. I will help if I can.’