Sovereign

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘What are you doing?’ Barak asked.

  ‘I’m tracing the limits Broderick could have walked. Seeing if there is anything odd on the floor, the walls.’

  ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘No – ah.’ I stopped at the window. ‘Yes, he can walk this far. I thought so; he told me he used to stare at Aske’s bones.’ I looked out. I could see the opposite tower, the shape of the skeleton swinging in its chains in the cold wind that whipped rain into my face, along with something else: a smell I recalled from the handkerchief in Broderick’s cell at St Mary’s, and from Fulford when I bowed and looked at the King’s leg – rot and decay. I studied a long leaden pipe that ran down the wall and broke off to one side of the window, where a crack in the wall ran jaggedly along beside it. From the end of the pipe a white, slimy-looking deposit hung, water sweating from it into the crack. And something else: a couple of brown stems, broken off from the fungus that had grown in this filth.

  ‘That looks like a lightning strike,’ I said to the guard.

  ‘Ay, maybe.’ He sounded puzzled by my interest.

  ‘Where does the pipe come from?’

  ‘It’s an overflow pipe, from the guards’ little kitchen at the top of the tower. Some of the guards sleep there usually, though they were turned out when Broderick came.’

  ‘So the pipe will be full of the nastiest stuff you could imagine. Bits of bad meat, rotten vegetables.’ I took off my robe, took out a clean handkerchief and then, with some difficulty, reached my hand through the bars and broke off a chunk of the white slimy deposit. As I touched it I felt my stomach turn. I sniffed at it, then showed it to Barak. He bent his head, then recoiled.

  ‘Ugh. It’s like shit, only worse.’

  I reached out again, and plucked a couple of the little mushrooms. I held them in my palm.

  ‘This is Broderick’s poison,’ I said quietly. ‘And the smell in his handkerchief was the stuff from the pipe. This is where he got it. He then ate the fungus, hoping it would poison him.’

  ‘Jesu!’ The guard’s face wrinkled in disgust. ‘What manner of man could do such a thing?’

  ‘A man of great desperation. And courage. He was in a state when he would try anything.’

  ‘He wouldn’t know what the mushrooms would do,’ Barak observed

  ‘No, but he knew it would be nothing good. That perhaps it could kill him.’

  ‘And he kept it in a handkerchief stuffed up his arse,’ Barak added, making the guard cringe even more.

  ‘As I said, desperate. What courage it must have taken to make that plan, collect that stuff and actually force oneself to swallow it, stomach heaving, hoping but not knowing if it would poison you to death. Well, that is one mystery solved. No one else was involved in his poisoning.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Barak asked.

  ‘I didn’t. But I knew he had to get it from somewhere and I thought, what if he got it from outside the window. It was the only possible place left.’ I smiled. ‘There is as always an answer if you look hard enough.’

  We left the cell and returned to the courtyard. I watched the leaves skittering over the courtyard in the wind. ‘I’ll tell Maleverer,’ I said. ‘This will let Radwinter off the hook.’ I laughed softly. ‘I wonder if he’ll be grateful?’

  ‘I should think he’ll hate you worse than ever.’

  ‘Poor Broderick. I suppose he thought anything was better than what he faces in the Tower.’ I shook my head. ‘Well, I have ensured he is safe for that now.’

  ‘He would never have died. That filth was so strong his body just rejected it at once.’ Barak looked at me. ‘You sound as though you admire him.’

  ‘In a way I do. Jesu, that stink reminds me of the smell that came from the King’s leg.’ I laughed. ‘Mould from the Mouldwarp.’

  THE AFTERNOON WITH ITS succession of petitioners passed much like the morning. There was one case, though, which troubled me, and brought me as close as I had come to a disagreement with Giles. It was a petition from a supplier of wood to St Mary’s, which had gone into the building of the pavilions. He had provided the materials months ago and according to the terms of his contract with the Council of the North he should have been paid long before. He invoked the King’s justice in seeking payment now.

  ‘This is a difficult one,’ Master Waters said uncomfortably as we studied the papers before the petitioner was admitted.

  ‘Why?’ Giles asked. ‘It seems clear enough Master Segwike’s payment is overdue. I know him, his business is small, he cannot afford to continue unpaid.’

  The young official shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘The problem is, if his petition is granted, the council will be deluged with demands for payment. Our clerks have had some difficulties in managing the – er – flow of cash.’

  ‘You mean they’ve made a mullock of things, ordering more than they can pay for?’

  ‘Sir Robert Holgate is in discussions with the King’s treasury.’ Waters looked between us. ‘I have been generous on other matters concerning the council. I am instructed to continue to be: provided this petition is dismissed. Master Segwike will be paid, and the others, but we need time.’

  Giles nodded and smiled softly. He looked at me.

  ‘We are here to do justice,’ I said. ‘We should not be subject to pressure from a member of our panel on individual cases.’

  ‘When was justice ever divorced from politics?’ Giles asked quietly.

  ‘Under the constitution of England, the answer to that is “always”.’ I knew it sounded priggish, but I would not let this go by unchallenged.

  ‘Then I will be less accommodating with other petitioners,’ Master Waters said. ‘I’m sorry, but those are my instructions.’

  ‘We are stuck with this, Matthew,’ Giles said. I shrugged angrily, but said no more. Justice for this one man would mean less justice for others. The woodsman was called in. An elderly fellow, nervous to be before us, stated his case haltingly.

  ‘But you cannot doubt the Council of the North will meet its debt,’ Giles said when he had finished. ‘They are the King’s representatives.’

  ‘But when, sir?’ the old man asked. ‘I have debts to meet myself.’

  Giles raised his eyebrows at Waters, passing the problem over to him.

  ‘Soon, fellow,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It is in hand.’

  ‘But my creditors —’

  ‘Must wait a little too,’ Giles said in a grave voice. ‘Then all will balance out. You can tell them this tribunal has confirmed payment will be made –’ he paused – ‘soon.’

  The woodsman was dismissed. I watched him go, his shoulders slumped in dejection. Giles took a deep breath and looked at Waters. ‘I hope it will be soon, sir,’ he said.

  ‘It will be. We can’t afford to have York full of discontented traders for too long. Not with the mood as it is.’

  I looked at Giles. ‘You overawed the poor fellow.’

  He shrugged. ‘Lawyers must ever be good actors and play their part boldly for the greater good.’ Yet he frowned, and was sharp with the petitioners who followed. The cases came and went, while outside the wind had risen to a gale. We heard shutters banging around the castle keep.

  ‘Well, that is done,’ Giles said when the last petitioner had gone. He looked at Waters. ‘Another day should finish matters.’

  ‘You have proceeded with admirable dispatch, sir,’ Waters said. ‘If we meet at noon tomorrow, that should be enough time to finish the business.’

  I found myself thinking sadly of my arbitration of the Kent land disputes, and the injustice that had been done to Sergeant Leacon’s family as a result. ‘Barak will draw up the orders for us,’ I said. ‘Shall we send you copies, Master Waters?’

  ‘Ay.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘How goes it at King’s Manor? I hear Sir William Maleverer is in charge of the King’s security.’

  ‘Yes. Do you know him?’

  ‘No, I work in the administration. But he
is known as a fierce fellow. All fear his swaggering ambition.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘But men are often like that where there’s a taint of bastardy.’

  ‘I heard that story.’

  ‘ ’Tis said he has decided not to marry till he has accumulated so much land people will not care about his origins. They say he was much in love with a Neville girl when he was young, but she would not have him. With their Yorkist blood they are a proud old family. She turned him down because of that whiff of bastardy.’

  ‘Really?’ It reminded me of Maleverer’s comment when I had mentioned Cecily Neville’s name on that family tree. ‘Everything starts with Cecily Neville,’ he had said.

  ‘That would make him bitter,’ I observed.

  Waters nodded. He looked at me. ‘Sir William’s mother and father – well, his supposed father – went as part of the train that accompanied Queen Margaret to Scotland, when she married the Scotch King’s father forty years ago. Sir Martin Maleverer had to return early. His wife came back with the ladies many months later with a baby, and he doubted it was his. Not even born in this country.’

  I sat up, for Waters’ words had rung a bell. What the Titulus had said about Richard III: ‘Ye be born within this land; by reason whereof you may have more certain knowledge of your birth and filiation.’ I drew a sharp breath. That must mean one of his siblings was not. Someone had a taint of bastardy. I tried to remember how the lineage ran.

  ‘Brother Shardlake?’ Waters asked. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘You were in a brown study,’ Giles said with a laugh.

  ‘I am sorry —’ I broke off at the sound of a great shout from outside, the sound of running feet. ‘What on earth?’

  Giles and Waters looked at each other in surprise, then rose and went out. Barak and I also exchanged a glance. I shuddered. The commotion had brought back the cries and yells in the church the night before.

  ‘Shall we see?’ Barak asked.

  We descended the steps to the castle bailey. There servants and clerks were standing around, heedless of the rain, watching as soldiers spilled from the guardhouse. They ran up the mound to where the castle keep stood. At the bottom of the keep I saw a pile of chains and bones strewn across the grass. Master Waters crossed himself. ‘Jesu. Aske’s skeleton. The wind has brought it down.’ I watched as the guards ran to the white bones and began picking them up, making them safe from relic hunters.

  ‘That this should happen while the King is here.’ Wrenne laughed softly, then raised his eyebrows at me. ‘People in York will take this as an omen.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  MALEVERER STARED when, an hour later, I explained how Broderick had worked his own poisoning. Then he shook his head and gave a bark of laughter. He looked at me across his desk, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he ran his finger along the edge of his beard, as he liked to do.

  ‘By Jesu, you’re a clever fellow. So Broderick outwitted Radwinter.’ He laughed again. ‘God’s body, that gaoler’s reputation will never be the same when this gets out. I told him to keep to his room. Well, now we know nobody else was involved I suppose he can go back on duty. You have rescued him from suspicion, Brother Shardlake.’

  ‘I would not have anyone under false suspicion. Even Radwinter.’

  Maleverer’s smile turned into a cruel smirk. ‘Jesu, sir, you are a righteous prig. I wish I could afford your scruples.’

  I said nothing. He turned and stared out of the window, to where workmen were tying thick ropes across the royal tents to secure them against the wind. I studied his heavy dark face, wondering if it was angry shame at the taint of bastardy that drove this relentless, cruel man. Strange to think that he too knew mockery and heard the laughter behind his back.

  ‘Those tents can’t stand there for ever,’ he said. ‘Damn the Scotch King.’

  ‘Still no word of his arrival, sir?’

  ‘That’s not your business.’ He changed the subject. ‘I’ll tell Radwinter he can go back to work. And you’re still to keep an eye on Broderick. Visit him at least once a day, without fail. He might try something else.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘If Broderick’s poisoning was all his own doing, that means it’s only you someone is trying to kill.’

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Make sure you do as I ordered, keep your randy clerk with you. That’s all.’ He waved a quill dismissively, and I bowed and left. As I walked away I felt more determined than ever to say nothing to Maleverer about what had happened with the Queen and Culpeper; I could not trust him a single inch. He disliked me strongly; he would do me ill if he could.

  OUTSIDE THE WIND WAS dropping, though still blowing hard. Barak was waiting for me. As we walked past the pavilions I saw a familiar plump figure going into the church: Master Craike, his robe billowing round his ankles.

  ‘Here’s the chance to resolve another mystery,’ I said.

  The church was a hive of activity. Grooms went to and fro, straw and dung lay everywhere, and forges flared red in every side-chapel. In the daylight I saw the walls were smeared with dirt and graffiti, crude drawings of bare-breasted women and men with gigantic penises.

  ‘Where is he?’ Barak asked.

  ‘He’s probably gone to the belltower.’ I paused and looked at a charred heap of straw that had been piled against the wall; the bear’s body was long gone.

  Craike had disappeared by the time I reached the door to the belltower, but the guard confirmed he had gone up. We found him sitting on a stool, a picnic meal on his knee, staring out of the window. He looked up at me in surprise. ‘Why, Master Shardlake, what brings you up here?’ His greeting was cheerful but his eyes, again, were watchful. He smiled at the bread and cold meat spread on a cloth on his lap. ‘I have had a busy day, I thought to escape up here and have some food. I never tire of looking out over the camp. It is a strange thing to watch it from up here, like a bird on the wing.’

  I looked from the window, screwing my eyes up against the wind that whistled round the belltower. I saw again, in the fading light, the hundreds of men sitting before the tents, playing cards or watching cockfights. Campfires were lit, the wind blowing the smoke in all directions. A large group of workmen were digging fresh latrines near the ranks of carts. Craike came and joined me.

  ‘They are having problems with the sewage,’ he said. ‘You can imagine, with more than two thousand in the camp it becomes disgusting if they stay in one place more than a few days. There’s fields along the route so choked with filth they’ll not be able to use them for years. They’re worried about it all getting into the river, killing the fish. Filth will seep out, you see. It seeps out.’

  I looked at his plump, bland face, then took a deep breath. ‘Master Craike, there is something I must discuss with you.’

  ‘Indeed. You sound serious, sir.’ He looked from me to Barak and laughed nervously.

  ‘It is serious.’

  He went and sat back down on his stool.

  ‘You remember those papers?’ I asked. ‘That were stolen from me, in your old office?’

  ‘I am hardly likely to forget, sir.’

  ‘You know it was important.’

  ‘I know I was roughly searched by Maleverer’s men. He told me to say no more about the matter, and I have not.’

  ‘Barak saw you a few nights ago, going into an inn in York. To the White Hart.’

  He looked at Barak and I caught a flicker of fear in his eyes.

  ‘What has that to do with the hunt for those wretched papers?’ There was a tremor in his voice.

  ‘We were there last night. And I learned the innkeeper there can arrange to provide – well, certain women . . .’

  A shudder ran through Craike’s body then, and his face turned scarlet.

  ‘Is that why you went there?’

  He did not reply, but buried his face in his hands.

  ‘Come,’ I said sharply. ‘Answer me.’

  His voice was
a shaky whisper. ‘I am ashamed. Ashamed to show you my face.’

  ‘I have no wish to shame you, Master Craike. Look at me.’

  With a great sigh, he lifted his face to me. He looked suddenly old, his red face haggard, tears in the corners of his pale blue eyes.

  ‘That inn is a hateful place,’ he said. ‘But Jesu knows I have seen enough like it in London. Oh, I may seem like a fellow who has succeeded in life, I know.’ He laughed bitterly, then began talking rapidly, words tumbling over each other. ‘I have a wife, children, a good position, respect. But – but you do not know me, I am a bad unworthy man, a sinful man. The priests who taught me as a child knew that, they mocked me and – and hurt me. And I need to be hurt, ’tis only then I feel safe.’ He laughed then, with such hollow bitterness it made me shudder.

  What he said should have disgusted me but I only felt sorry for him, caught as he was in some trap of the mind I could barely comprehend.

  ‘How did you find it?’ I asked. ‘Was it through the glazier Oldroyd?’

  ‘No. I sounded him out about the brothels in the town, said I was asking on behalf of the officials who would be coming, but he knew nothing. He was a respectable man. No, I asked others in the city and they led me to the White Hart.’

  ‘Well, if that is all,’ I said, ‘it is no business of mine.’

  ‘If that is all.’ He sighed again, as though he would wrench out his heart. His expression changed, seemed to shift from his private hell to the real world again. ‘It is not all. There is a house I frequent in Southwark. The madam there is a paid spy of Sir Richard Rich.’

  ‘Rich,’ I said slowly. ‘I know that Cromwell used such methods.’ I glanced again at Barak.

  ‘And when he was executed Rich took over his networks. Paid those in charge of certain houses to give him names. Oh, I was of no interest to Lord Cromwell, I was too lowly. But Rich is a different matter. You know my work, I allocate accommodation to courtiers in the King’s London palaces as I do here.’