Dissolution

CHAPTER 28

I left Westminster with my mind in a whirl. I went over the names of everyone at the monastery, trying to find a possible link with the Smeaton family. Could John Smeaton have met Brother Guy in Spain thirty years ago? If he were an apprentice, then he and the sacrist would have been of an age.

All the time I was turning these matters over, in my heart there was a dull, leaden feeling. I had believed Thomas Cromwell incapable of the unchristian acts attributed to him over Anne Boleyn's fall. And now he had casually admitted they were true. And it was not Cromwell who had gulled me into false belief; I had done that for myself.

The horse had been picking its way slowly over the icy ruts in the road, but halfway down Fleet Street it stopped and tossed its head anxiously. A little way ahead a crowd had gathered, blocking the road. Looking over their heads I saw two of the constable's men struggling with a young apprentice. He was resisting fiercely, shouting out at his captors.

'You are the forces of Babylon, you seize God's chosen children! The righteous will prevail, the mighty shall be pulled down!'

The guards pinioned his arms behind his back and hauled him away, still kicking. Some of the crowd yelled catcalls after him, others shouted support.

'Be steadfast, brother! The Lord's chosen will triumph!'

I heard another rider at my elbow, and turned to see the sardonic features of Pepper, the fellow lawyer I had encountered the day I undertook the mission to Scarnsea.

'Ho, Shardlake!' he called amiably. 'So they've taken another hot gospeller. An Anabaptist by the sound of him. They'd have all our property, you know!'

'Is there a round-up of unlicensed preachers? I've been out of London again.'

'There's talk of Anabaptists in London, the king's ordered all suspects to be taken. He'll burn a few and just as well. They're more dangerous than the papists.'

'There is safety nowhere these days.'

'Cromwell's taken the opportunity to have a general round-up. Cutpurses, fraudsters, unlicensed preachers, they've all been lurking in their dog-holes in this fearsome weather and he's rooting them out. Not before time. D'you remember that old woman with the talking bird we saw?'

'Aye. It seems an age ago.'

'It turned out you were right; the bird just repeats words it's taught. They've brought in a couple of boatloads of the creatures and they're the talk of the City, everyone with a town house wants one. The old woman's been charged with fraud, she'll probably be whipped at the cart's tail. But where have you been, keeping by your fire in this cold?'

'No, Pepper, I have been out in the country, Lord Cromwell's business again.'

'I hear he's looking for a new bride for the king already,' he said, fishing for gossip. 'There's talk of a marriage among the German princes, Hesse or Cleves. That'd tie us to the Lutherans.'

'I have heard nothing. As I say, I have been away on Lord Cromwell's business.'

He looked at me enviously. 'He keeps you busy. D'you think he might have work to spare for me?'

I smiled wryly. 'Yes, Pepper, probably he would.'

At home I looked over the correspondence I had been too weary to do more than glance at the night before. There were letters about cases I was handling; people were becoming anxious for replies on several matters. There was also a letter from my father. The harvest had been poor that year, the farm would show little profit and he was thinking of running more land for sheep. He hoped my business was prospering and that Mark was doing well at Augmentations – I had said nothing of his disgrace. He added that it was said in the country more monasteries would come down. Mark's father said that would be good, it would mean more work for Mark.

I put the letter down and sat staring gloomily into the fire. I thought of Mark Smeaton on the rack under torture, guilty of no crime. And Jerome on the same rack. No wonder he hated the office I embodied. So all he had said was true. He must have known of the link between Singleton and Mark Smeaton, or why tell me the story? Yet he had sworn no one in the monastery had killed Singleton. I tried to remember his exact words, but I was too tired. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Joan came in.

'A letter has just come, sir. From Lord Cromwell.'

'Thank you, Joan.' I took the thick letter from her and turned it over in my hands. It was marked 'Most secret'.

'Sir,' she said hesitantly. 'May I ask you something?'

'Of course.' I smiled at her; her plump face was anxious.

'I have wondered, sir, is all well with you? You appear troubled. And Master Mark, is he safe down there on the coast?'

'I hope so,' I said. 'I do not know about his future, though, he does not want to return to Augmentations.'

She nodded. 'That does not surprise me.'

'Doesn't it, Joan? It did me.'

'I could see he was unhappy there. I have heard it is a wicked place full of greedy men, if you will forgive me.'

'Perhaps it is. But there are so many such places. If we were to avoid them all and just sit by our fires, we should all be beggars, should we not?'

She shook her head. 'Master Mark is different, sir.'

'Why different? Come, Joan, he has beguiled you as he does all women.'

'No, sir,' she said, stung. 'He has not. Perhaps I see him more clearly than you. He has as gentle a nature as I have ever seen under that amiable surface, injustice pains him. I have wondered whether in a way he sought his disgrace with that girl, to get away from Westminster. He has strong ideals, sir, sometimes I think he has too many to survive in this harsh world.'

I smiled sadly. 'And I thought I was the one with high ideals. "And the veil was lifted from mine eyes."'

'Pardon, sir?'

'Nothing, Joan. Do not worry. I must read this.'

'Of course, I beg pardon.'

'No need. And, Joan – I thank you for your care.'

I turned to the letter with a sigh. It contained notes made by Singleton and letters to Cromwell about his progress with Mark Smeaton. They made it clear a coldly calculated plan had been set to trap the young musician with perjured evidence and kill him. Alleging the queen had bedded with someone of such humble origins would be particularly shocking to the public, Singleton said, so it was important to have him in the net. He referred to Smeaton mockingly as a silly creature, a lamb to be led to the slaughter. At Cromwell's house they had smashed his lute against the wall before his eyes and left him naked in a cellar all night, but it had taken torture to make him swear a false confession. I prayed he was safe in heaven.

There was a memorandum from Singleton about the boy's family. His mother was dead and there was only his father; no other male relatives at all. John Smeaton had an older sister out in the country somewhere, but there had been a quarrel and he had not seen her for years. Singleton told Cromwell the lack of relatives with connections would make it easier to deal with the boy as they liked, without questions raised.

I put the letter carefully back in its envelope. I recalled Singleton's funeral, the sight of the coffin lid shutting on his face, and I confess now I was glad. I called for the horse to be brought round; it was time to set out for Whitechapel. I was glad to get into my coat and step out of doors again, with a goal to follow. It released me from the whirling chaos in my mind.