Sovereign

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘Is the King abed?’ I asked the soldier, to make conversation.

  ‘No, sir, he is playing chess with the gentlemen of the bedchamber. He will not sleep for many hours, I think.’

  The soldier led me into the camp. The cooking fires were dying down now, the soldiers and servants fed. Men sat before their tents talking or playing cards.

  ‘Is it far?’ I asked. ‘I am sore tired.’

  ‘Not far. You have a tent by the fence. Your man and the old lawyer are next to you.’

  He came to a halt where three small conical tents were set together in a corner of the field. There were others dotted around, some lit from within by flickering candlelight; the other lawyers, perhaps, whose status merited their own tent. I thanked the soldier, who walked away to the manor, and opened the flap of the only tent of the three that was lit from within.

  Inside, Giles lay on a truckle bed which had been set on the bare grass. Barak sat on a box beside him, his injured leg up on another box and his crutch beside him, drinking beer.

  ‘This is a homely scene,’ I said quietly. ‘How are you both?’

  ‘Master Wrenne is asleep,’ Barak answered. ‘He told me what happened. Is Jennet Marlin truly dead?’

  ‘Ay, she is. I have been with Maleverer; he has searched her belongings for the papers, but found nothing.’

  ‘She destroyed them, then?’

  ‘He thinks so. How is your leg?’

  ‘All right so long as I don’t put any weight on it. Tammy had to go back to her quarters.’

  ‘Maleverer is going to question her about Jennet Marlin. And the other ladies. Lady Rochford too.’

  ‘Tammy will be shocked,’ he said seriously. ‘She was fond of Mistress Marlin.’ He sighed.

  ‘Still no word from your friend in London? About her father?’

  ‘Only a note to say he is following some leads.’

  ‘Have you told her?’

  ‘No. And if it’s bad news in the end, as I suspect, I won’t.’

  I nodded, then went over and looked at Giles. He seemed deeply asleep.

  ‘He saved my life,’ I said. ‘But I think it was all too much for him. He can only take so much. We must take care of him.’

  ‘We will.’ Barak looked at me. ‘So. It is all over.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘You’re not sure?’

  ‘There’s something – but I am tired, I must go to my tent, sleep. I can’t think straight now.’ I laughed suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The soldier who brought me across told me the King is playing chess with his gentlemen. It struck me, this whole Progress is like a great chessboard, with a real king and queen trying to outmanoeuvre the people of the north.’

  He looked at me seriously, eyes glinting in the candlelight. ‘A real king?’ he asked quietly. ‘Or a cuckoo in the royal nest?’

  ‘Either way we three are the humblest of pawns, easily dispensable.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  WE WERE TRAVELLING DOWN a long stretch of road. I was still on the horse I had been given yesterday, for Genesis’ cuts were not healed sufficiently for me to ride him. He was at the back of the Progress, with the spare horses. Alongside me, Barak sat wearily in Sukey’s saddle; he had insisted on riding today, despite his leg. Giles was not with us; he had wakened feeling ill and weak, his face grey. I suspected he was in pain and had begged a place for him to travel in one of the carts. I too was feeling the effects of the previous night. Although I was thickly swathed in my coat, I felt cold.

  We had an even longer ride today: to Leconfield Castle, five miles north of Hull. The country beyond Howlme was less flat, with low round hills capped with trees whose leaves glowed red and yellow this bright, cold autumn morning. It made a pretty picture. Away to the east I could see a line of hills I heard someone call the Yorkshire Wolds. All around us the Progress thundered and clattered. Behind, the procession of carts disappeared out of sight beyond a bend in the road. Ahead, the feathers in the caps of the officials bobbed up and down, while on either side the soldiers in their bright uniforms rode, with harnesses jangling, and the messengers ran up and down the verges.

  The picture of Jennet Marlin with her head staved in kept coming into my mind. I guessed Giles’s state of health this morning was at least partly a reaction to what he had had to do. I recalled his shocked expression and his words, ‘I have never killed another person.’

  ‘Penny for ’em,’ Barak said.

  ‘I was thinking of last night. Mistress Marlin lying dead on that hill.’

  ‘I saw Tammy this morning, before we set off. She said Lady Rochford had looked terrified when Maleverer came to question her. He questioned Tammy too, but there was nothing she could tell him.’ He glanced at me. ‘She was sore upset to learn the truth about Mistress Marlin. She was in tears when I saw her.’

  ‘Upset that her mistress was a murderess?’

  ‘And that she was dead.’

  ‘Lady Rochford must have been scared the Queen’s foolery had been discovered.’

  ‘Ay. But none of the ladies knew anything. Mistress Marlin had no friends apart from Tamasin. She used to go off for walks on her own sometimes, but no one knew where she went.’

  ‘To spy on me,’ I said.

  Barak lowered his voice. ‘You were right all along not to tell Maleverer about Culpeper. Cheer up, you are safe. It’s over. And you can stop worrying about that family tree, and who Blaybourne was.’ He grinned. ‘Stop moithering, as the Yorkers say.’

  ‘I wonder,’ I said quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Jennet Marlin never actually admitted to taking the papers.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Surely she of all people would have made sure I was dead when I was struck down and the papers stolen at King’s Manor.’

  ‘You mean she had a confederate?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, she worked alone on her mission.’

  ‘Then who else can have taken them?’ Barak sounded exasperated.

  ‘I don’t know. But why did she not kill me at once when she had the chance last night? She could have shot me in the back as I stood there pissing against that beacon. But she made me stand there.’ I shuddered. ‘I think if she had had the time she might have asked me if I knew where the papers were.’

  ‘You can’t know that.’

  ‘No. But if she thought I had them it would explain why she was so sure I had seen the papers incriminating Bernard Locke.’

  ‘But she didn’t try to question you before. The bitch just tried to kill you.’

  ‘She didn’t have the opportunity before. If one of her earlier attempts had succeeded she might have somehow found the chance to go through my papers at the lodging house. Bribed a servant to do it, perhaps.’

  Barak shook his head. ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘I’ve no proof. If it was someone else who struck me down at King’s Manor, someone linked to the conspirators, the papers would probably have been despatched to them long ago.’

  ‘So they’re gone, whatever they were?’

  ‘Long gone, I’d say.’ I sighed. ‘Maleverer said they would subject Bernard Locke to stiff questioning now. Perhaps they will learn more from him.’

  Barak shrugged. ‘I guess they’ll rack him.’

  ‘Yes.’ I shuddered. ‘And what will he say? I hope the name Martin Dakin does not come up. That would just about finish the old man.’

  ‘There’s no reason it should. Just because they share the same chambers.’

  I nodded thoughtfully. ‘There’s an age difference, too. Giles said Dakin was over forty, and Locke must be about ten years younger if he was of an age with Jennet Marlin.’

  ‘There you are. Barristers with that much difference in experience wouldn’t normally mix much.’

  ‘Unless they have other things in common.’ I sighed again. ‘I must visit Broderick when we arrive at Leconfield. I never went back to his c
arriage yesterday.’

  Barak shifted his position to ease his leg. ‘You should tell Maleverer what you have been thinking. That the papers might not have been destroyed.’

  ‘I will. But he will probably only scoff. He will believe what he wants to believe, which is that it is all over.’

  Barak looked round him at the crowds. ‘Who could it have been?’

  I followed his gaze. ‘Anyone. Anyone at all.’

  WE PASSED THROUGH the little town of Market Weighton without stopping. The King and Queen were at the head of the Progress, far out of sight. People stood in the streets and watched the Progress as they had in the villages, with caps off but generally stony faces, though I heard some ragged cheers up ahead as the King and Queen went by.

  Towards evening we came upon a wooded area where trees pressed upon the road, slowing our speed from the usual walking pace. As the sun was beginning to set we came to a halt in a grassy space before an enormous mansion, enclosed by a moat in the old fashion. We got down from our horses. Grooms made their way down the Progress, collecting the gentlemen’s mounts.

  ‘Do you know where we are billeted?’ I asked the groom who took our horses.

  ‘One of the steward’s men will tell you, sir. You should wait here till then.’

  I helped Barak; with his left leg useless he could not dismount unaided. He cursed and grumbled. Giles appeared; he looked better though he still leaned heavily on his stick. We sat on the grass and looked over the moat to the house and the procession of carts and people spreading out into the neighbouring fields. Already tents were starting to go up. My attention was drawn by a familiar black carriage, ringed by soldiers on horseback that had pulled into the next field. ‘Broderick,’ I said.

  Giles looked at me curiously. ‘Sir Edward Broderick of Hallington? I knew he was taken. Is he being brought south?’

  ‘Ay.’ It was inevitable, now the Progress was on the move again, that questions would be asked about that closed and guarded carriage. I looked at Giles. ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘Only by reputation. As a fine young man, a good landlord.’ He smiled sadly.

  ‘I am responsible for seeing he is properly looked after. At the request of Archbishop Cranmer.’

  ‘On top of everything else?’ Giles looked at me seriously. ‘You carry a heavy load, Matthew.’

  ‘Not for long, now we are on the move again. I had better go and see how he does. Excuse me.’ I left the others sitting on the grass and walked across to the carriage.

  Sergeant Leacon, who was brushing his horse, bowed to me. ‘I was expecting to see you last night, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Something happened to detain me.’ I looked at the closed carriage. ‘How is the prisoner?’

  ‘Listless.’

  ‘And Radwinter?’

  He spat on the ground. ‘The same as usual.’

  ‘I had best look in on them.’

  ‘Sir William Maleverer was here last night, looking grim. He spent some time talking to the prisoner alone. Made Radwinter wait outside, which did not please him.’

  I wondered if he had been trying to discover whether Broderick had any links with Jennet Marlin. ‘Well, I will see how he does,’ I said. I mounted the little step on the side of the carriage, and knocked on the door. It opened and Radwinter stared out at me. He appeared tired and a little unkempt, his hair untidy. He would be unable to keep up his usual standards in there.

  ‘I thought you had forgotten us,’ he said sourly.

  He stood aside and I stepped into the dark airless carriage. It stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. The carriage seats had been knocked out and a couple of straw mattresses laid on the floor for prisoner and guard. Broderick lay on one of them, his wrists and ankles secured by heavy chains. Though it was hard to see in the gloom I thought he looked paler than ever.

  ‘Well, Broderick,’ I said.

  He stared up at me with his bright angry eyes. I wondered what he might know of Jennet Marlin and her fiancé. But even if he did know something, Maleverer would have got nothing from him.

  ‘Where are we now?’ he asked.

  ‘A place called Leconfield. We stay here tonight, and go on to Hull tomorrow, I believe.’

  ‘Leconfield. Ah.’ A look of sadness crossed his features.

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Broderick looked at the open door of the carriage. ‘Are we at the castle?’

  ‘Nearby. You can see it from here.’

  ‘I would like to see it. Just through the door. If I may.’

  ‘No,’ said Radwinter.

  ‘Yes,’ I countered. I wanted to get a clearer look at the prisoner in the light. Radwinter shrugged angrily. Broderick tried to struggle to his feet but the heavy chains impeded him. I gave him my arm; he took it reluctantly. Through his dirty shirt his arm felt like skin and bone. He shuffled to the open door and looked out at the castle. Courtiers were riding across the drawbridge and a group of swans, disturbed by the noise, flew up from the still waters of the moat. The high brick walls shone red in the setting sun. All around, the trees in their bright autumn colours. I studied Broderick’s face as he blinked in the unaccustomed light. He looked pitifully thin and pale.

  ‘I came here many times as a boy,’ he said, in softer tones than I had ever heard him use. ‘This used to be the Yorkshire seat of the Percy family.’ He looked at me. ‘Once they were the greatest family in the north.’

  ‘Who owns it now?’ I asked.

  ‘Who owns everything?’ he answered. ‘The King. He bullied the Earl of Northumberland into making him his heir, the King took everything when he died. And the earl’s brother, Sir Thomas, who was the rightful heir, took part in the Pilgrimage of Grace and was executed.’

  ‘Where do his bones hang?’

  Broderick gave me a sharp look. ‘Nowhere. The King had him burned at Smithfield. He is naught but ashes on the wind now.’ Broderick looked back at Radwinter. ‘I expect you saw it; you tell me you go to all the burnings.’

  Radwinter frowned. ‘ ’Tis everyone’s duty to see the end of traitors.’

  ‘For you it is entertainment. You are a fit servant for the Mouldwarp.’

  Radwinter laughed. ‘I think you had best get back inside. Your traitorous face is not to be seen by Christian people.’ He took Broderick’s shoulder and shoved him back into the gloomy interior. Broderick lowered himself clumsily on to the mattress, his chains rattling.

  ‘I could do with a little air myself,’ Radwinter said. ‘A word, Master Shardlake?’ He jumped lightly down on to the grass. I clambered down beside him. He took a deep breath of the cold evening air.

  ‘’Tis good to be outside. Do you know whether we move on to Hull tomorrow?’

  ‘I am not sure. I assume so.’

  ‘I will be glad to be out of that carriage. It jolts constantly. But at least it is safe. I hear someone tried to kill you,’ he added in the same light tone. ‘And was herself killed. A woman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maleverer told me when he came to question Broderick last night. Broderick denied any knowledge of the woman or her betrothed. Perhaps it was only someone you have annoyed with your nosy priggish ways?’

  ‘Very probably,’ I replied flatly. I was not going to be provoked into telling him more than the little Maleverer evidently had. ‘Broderick looks ill and weak to me. Sergeant Leacon says you spend your time telling him gruesome stories.’

  ‘Fit subjects for a traitor. But there is a reason I talk to Broderick thus.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me, Master Shardlake, do you frequent the cockfight, or the bear-baiting? No, you would not, you are of a weak nature.’

  ‘What has this to do with anything?’

  ‘When I was a boy I went to the bear pit as often as I could cozen a penny out of someone. And I would go to hangings with my father, and burnings, too, though there were fewer in those days. I learned there is a great difference between animals and people when they are led in to be killed for sp
ectacle.’

  I looked at him. Once I had been afraid of this man with his strange icy eyes, but increasingly when I encountered him now it was disgust I felt.

  ‘The difference is anticipation. The dogs led into the pit do not think, Jesu, I am about to die in agony. They go in and they fight and they die. But the people know, will have known for days, what is coming to them. They anticipate the agony of slow strangling or having their flesh stripped from their bones by fire. For the condemned of course there is no release, but if a man may save himself by talking . . .’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I have been telling Broderick of all that may come to him to try and frighten him. I have been forbidden to use physical methods but I have always found words may serve just as well.’

  ‘Broderick will never talk,’ I said impatiently. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Water wears away stone. I cannot believe he does not lie awake at night and think with terror of what is to come in the Tower.’

  ‘Do you know, Radwinter,’ I said, ‘I think you are mad, and grow madder by the day.’ And with that I turned and walked away.

  MY ENCOUNTER LEFT ME ill at ease. Radwinter always made me feel as though something unclean had been crawling over me. I walked off in the direction of the manor, frowning.

  A number of officials were standing on the meadow in front of the moat, talking as they took the evening air. Among them I saw Master Craike standing on his own, checking papers on his little desk. I hesitated, for I knew my presence embarrassed him now, but crossed over. I wanted to talk to Tamasin and he might be able to tell me where she was billeted.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ I greeted him. ‘Still at work?’

  ‘Yes. I am very busy, I fear.’ He took a step away, and although I knew the reason for his reluctance to talk to me, nevertheless his brusqueness annoyed me.

  ‘There is something I would ask you.’ I made my voice as coldly formal as his. ‘About the arrangements for tonight.’

  ‘Very well. But I am busy. I have just learned we are to be here four nights.’

  ‘Four?’