Lamentation

Chapter Ten

When I reached the Thames Street stairs there were plenty of boatmen waiting along the riverside, calling, ‘Eastward Ho!’ or ‘Westward Ho!’ to indicate whether they were going up- or downriver. I called to a man who was going upriver, and he pulled into the steps.

We rowed past Whitehall Palace; I had asked the boatman to take me to Westminster Stairs, just beyond. At the Whitehall Common Stairs servants were unloading great armfuls of firewood from a boat, presumably destined for the palace kitchens. I thought again of yesterday’s burning, and shuddered. The boatman gave me an odd look. I lowered my eyes, watching him pull the oars in and out. He was a young man but his hands were already hard and knotted; I knew that older boatmen often got painful arthritis, the joints in their hands frozen into grasping claws. And all to take rich folk like me where they wanted to go.

We passed the King’s Stairs: a wide covered gallery painted in green and white, jutting out fifty feet into the water, and ending in a broad, covered landing stage where the King’s barge would pull up. Beyond, the long line of the palace facade was beautiful, the red brickwork mellow in the late afternoon sun, interspersed with projecting, richly glazed bastions, with tall glass windows, and at the south end the Lady Mary’s new lodgings, covered in scaffolding. I paid the boatman and walked back up the Whitehall Road, beside the west wall of the palace, to the Gatehouse. I was hot in my robe, dusty, tired and troubled.

This time there was no one to meet me, but my name was on the list and the guard at the gate allowed me in. I walked underneath the Gatehouse, across the courtyard, then up the stairs and into the King’s Guard Chamber; my name checked at every door.

I went up to the King’s Presence Chamber. A brown-robed servant carrying a silver ewer of water hurried past as I entered, almost colliding with me. I looked around. It was strange; already the effect of all the fantastic magnificence had worn off a little, though I was conscious of the Gentlemen Pensioners around the wall; their dress magnificently decorative. But they were big men, and carrying heavy poleaxes. Here I saw fewer young men come to fish for a name of fame standing around. My eye was drawn again to the picture of the royal family, the square solid frame of the King a total contrast to the grotesque, sad figure I had seen earlier that day.

Two of the would-be courtiers sat gambling with silver dice. One suddenly stood and shouted, ‘You cheat! That is the third time you have thrown a five!’

The other stood up, moving his short Spanish cloak aside to free his arm. ‘Dirt in your teeth! You insult me —’

Two of the Gentlemen Pensioners instantly moved forward, each grasping one of the popinjays by an arm. ‘You forget where you are, churls!’ one of them shouted. ‘Do you dare think you can make a bray in this place, as though it were a common tavern? Get out! The King’s Chamberlain will hear of this!’ The two gamblers were marched to the door, now watched by everyone in the room.

I drew in my breath sharply at the sight of two men in black robes and gold chains, who had entered from the stairs and stood staring at the brawlers. I had seen both of them at the burning. One was Chief Secretary William Paget, his square face frowning above the bushy brown beard that framed his odd, downturned slash of a mouth. The other, his spare frame contrasting with Paget’s solid build, and with a sardonic smile on his thin face, was Sir Richard Rich. They had not seen me; I moved quickly to the door leading to the Queen’s Presence Chamber and whispered my name to the guard. He opened the door and I slipped through. On the other side another guard in the Queen’s livery looked at me interrogatively. ‘Serjeant Shardlake,’ I said breathlessly. ‘Here to see Lord Parr.’

The Queen’s uncle was already waiting for me in the chamber; someone below must have told him I had arrived. Among all the magnificent decoration, and the sumptuous clothes of a pair of courtiers, Lord Parr made a sober figure in his black robe, the only colour the Queen’s badge on his chest and the heavy gold chain around his neck. I bowed low. He said, ‘Come to my private office, Master Shardlake.’

I followed him through another door. He led me on down a corridor, our footsteps making no sound on the thick rush matting that covered the floors from wall to wall. Through an open door I glimpsed the Queen’s Presence Chamber, and caught sight of the Queen herself sitting sewing at a window, dressed in red, with some of the ladies who had been also present earlier. Gardiner, the Duchess of Suffolk’s spaniel, sat on the floor, playing with a bone.

‘We are passing on to the Queen’s privy lodgings,’ Lord Parr said. ‘My office is there. The Queen likes me close to her since I was recalled from the country in the spring.’ He opened the door to a small, dark office, with a window giving onto another courtyard, the papers on chests and the little desk in neatly ordered piles. ‘Here,’ he said, taking a lawyer’s robe in fine silk from a chair and handing it to me. ‘Change into this.’ The Queen’s brightly coloured badge of St Catherine, I saw, was sewn onto the breast. Before taking his place behind the desk he went over and closed the window. Then he bade me sit.

‘I prefer it open these summer days,’ he said ruefully. ‘But in this place one never knows who may be listening from the next window.’ Lord Parr sighed. ‘As you have probably realized, the court is a place full of fear and hate; there is no real amity anywhere. Even among families; the Seymours quarrel and scratch like cats. Only the Parr family is united; we are loyal to each other.’ He spoke with pride. ‘It is our strength.’

‘You have been here only since the spring, my Lord?’ I ventured.

‘Yes. For much of the last few years I have delegated my duties and stayed on my estates. I am old now, not always well. No longer the man I was, when I served the King.’ He smiled in reminiscence. ‘As did my brother, the Queen’s father; and the Queen’s mother was lady-in-waiting to Catherine of Aragon. The Parrs have been a part of the court for a long time. The Queen’s mother died just before the full storm of the King’s Great Divorce broke. Well, she was spared that.’ He looked up, eyes sharp again under the white brows. ‘I have stood in loco parentis for my niece since then. I will do anything to protect her. When she asked me to come back to court, I did so at once.’

‘I understand.’

‘I should swear you in.’ He took a Testament from a drawer, and I solemnly swore to serve the Queen loyally and honestly. Lord Parr nodded brusquely, returned the Testament to the drawer, and said, ‘Well, what news?’

I took a deep breath. ‘Not good, my Lord.’ I told him that the first of the attacks on Greening had taken place before the Lamentation was stolen, that the authorities had given up on the case, that Greening’s friends seemed to have gone to ground and might even be Anabaptists. Finally I explained how Elias had fled. I had promised to tell only the Queen of anything that might endanger the boy, but Lord Parr had to know of his plight. None of it made good hearing, and I had to mention Nicholas’s careless use of the name Bertano, which had caused such distress to Elias, though I praised his discovery of the scrap of silk. I had brought it with me, and now laid it on the table. Lord Parr examined it.

‘A fine piece of work, expensive,’ he said. ‘The blackwork decoration is distinctive.’ He turned it over. ‘The Queen’s embroiderer, Hal Gullym, has worked all his life at the Queen’s Wardrobe in Baynard’s Castle; he knows all the fine shirt-makers in London. He might be able to find out who made this.’

‘From a mere piece of sleeve?’

‘Of this quality, possibly.’ He frowned. ‘The apprentice was certain that the first attack on Greening happened before the Lamentation vanished?’

‘Certain. I am sorry he ran away. When that name Bertano was mentioned he became terrified.’

‘I have never heard it before. And Okedene, he overheard them talking of this Bertano as one who would bring down the country, an agent of the Antichrist?’

‘He is quite sure. And I believe Okedene is an honest man.’ I added hesitantly, ‘He asks that we leave him alone now; he fears for his family.’

‘As I fear for mine,’ Lord Parr answered bluntly. ‘And yet — eleven days now since the book was stolen and not a word, nothing. Who could have taken it?’

‘Not a religious radical, surely.’

‘And yet if it was a papist, surely the book would be public knowledge by now, and God knows what would have happened to my niece. The King has a hard view of anything that smacks of disloyalty.’ He bit his lip.

‘We should find that apprentice,’ I said.

He looked at me sternly. ‘You should not have lost him.’

‘I know, my Lord.’

‘And those three associates of Greening’s. Gone to ground?’

‘It looks like it. Though they may just be keeping quiet for a while. The constable knows where they live. He has been keeping an eye on them this year, as suspected sacramentarians.’

Lord Parr frowned angrily, spots of colour forming on his pale cheeks. ‘God’s death, these extreme radicals with their mad ideas. They are a danger to those of us who know that reform must be sought through quieter means. They have no idea of the reality of politics. This Bertano, he may not even exist, may be some phantasm of their fevered minds!’ He took a long breath, calming himself, then said, ‘You must seek out these three friends of Greening’s, talk to them, find what they know. Likely that apprentice has taken refuge with them.’ He frowned again. ‘And if you take your pupil this time, make sure he knows when to keep his mouth shut.’

‘Rest assured, my Lord, I will.’

I thought, this meant even more work, and among people who could be dangerous to those they thought their enemies. I thought also of the work in chambers that I could not leave to my staff — the inspection of the wall painting in the Slanning case was coming up — and I had a moment’s panic, felt the chair shifting under me. I grasped the arms hard.

‘What is the matter?’ Lord Parr asked sharply.

‘I am sorry, my Lord, I — it has been a long day, and I was at the burning yesterday. Sometimes when I am tired I feel strange, the world seems to rock —’

I expected him to snap at me for being a mumping weakling, but to my surprise he spoke quietly. ‘The Queen told me you were on the Mary Rose when she went down last year. That was a great tragedy. Though it is not permitted to speak of it at court, the King felt much humiliated by the foundering of his favourite ship.’

‘I lost good friends, and nearly died myself. At times of strain — forgive me, my Lord.’

He grunted. ‘I, too, am sometimes unwell. I have long suffered from fevers, and they grow more frequent. Sometimes I am so tired —’ He shrugged, then gave a tight smile. ‘But we must go on. You know the Queen’s motto?’

‘To be useful in all I do.’

‘And so must we be. I know this is a hard load, Serjeant Shardlake.’

‘Thank you, my Lord, but is it really the best course for me to try to find and question these men? The radicals are suspicious of everybody. They will surely see me, as the apprentice did, as an inquisitive lawyer who may serve some master who would hurt them.’

Lord Parr smiled wryly. ‘Yes, people are suspicious of your trade, they think all lawyers will serve any master for a fee.’

‘Perhaps if someone else could approach these men initially, someone known as a sympathizer, who could reassure them that the lawyer who will be coming is not an enemy. No more than that need be said.’

The old man nodded. ‘You are right. You met young William Cecil last night?’

‘Yes.’

‘He is known to have certain — contacts, shall we say. He is a very junior employee of the Queen’s Learned Council, but I have already marked his cleverness, and his commitment to reform. As well as his ambition for himself, which is considerable.’ He gave his sardonic smile again. ‘Very well, I will send him to try and find these people, and reassure them that you merely wish to question them about the murder of Greening, but that you mean them no harm. That is all Master Cecil needs to be told. He does not know about the Lamentation, of course.’

‘That may help our quest.’

Lord Parr stroked his beard. ‘You say Greening was only printing some French primer when he was killed?’

‘Yes. I checked the print-shop thoroughly.’

‘The Queen, you may imagine, has no connection with such small-scale printers. Her Prayers and Meditations went to the King’s Printer, John Berthelet.’ He shook his head, then grasped the arms of his chair resolutely. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I would like you to question some servants of the household.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘But first, look at this.’

He reached into his robe, and held up a little key on a gold chain. ‘I have persuaded my niece to entrust this to me. It is the one she kept around her neck, that opens her private chest.’

I examined it, and saw it had several teeth of different sizes. ‘It does not look like a key that would be easy to copy.’

‘No. The chest itself I have removed to a place of safety, where it can be inspected.’ Lord Parr replaced the key in the folds of his robe. ‘Now, are you ready to question these servants?’ He gave me a hard look.

‘Yes, my Lord. Forgive me, I had but a weak moment.’

‘Good.’ He consulted a paper on his desk. ‘I have checked the records and discovered who was on duty that evening. The Queen was in her chamber all that afternoon; she went to her bedchamber after lunch, looked at the book and thought again about disposing of it, then spent some time studying Spanish — she is working to increase her knowledge of languages, that she may be of most use in diplomatic functions.’

‘She is often on her own during the afternoons?’

‘No. But when an afternoon is free she does like to take the chance to be alone for a little — it is not always easy in this place,’ he added feelingly. ‘Then at six she was called to the King, as you know, and returned at ten of the evening. It was during those four hours that the Lamentation was stolen. According to the guards, the only people who came into the Queen’s privy lodgings during that time were the two page boys whose duties are to clean the rooms and the Queen’s Gallery, and feed Rig, the Queen’s spaniel, and her birds. Also you will interview two women who have more or less free access — Mary Odell, a maid-in-waiting who has served the Queen for years, who makes sure her bed is ready and often sleeps with her in her chamber; and Jane, the fool she shares with the Lady Mary. Jane is much wanting in wit. Apparently she came into the Privy Chamber that evening, where some of the Queen’s ladies were sitting, demanding to see my niece, saying she had something that would entertain her. She did not believe the ladies when they told her the Queen was with the King, and Jane can make a great fuss if she does not get her way — the Queen and the Lady Mary both overindulge her — so the guard let her into the Queen’s privy lodgings to see for herself. She came out after a few minutes. And that is all.’

‘How many rooms make up the Queen’s privy lodgings?’

‘Six. The bathroom, bedchamber, the closet for prayer, a study, and dining room. And beyond those the Queen’s Privy Gallery, where she often walks. I have searched every inch of each chamber myself, by the way, in case the book was somehow secreted there. And found nothing.’

‘Are two pages needed to clean each day?’

Lord Parr laughed scoffingly. ‘Of course not. But this is the royal household, and a multitude of servants is a sign of the Queen’s great status. There is another pair who come to clean in the morning. Only the King has more.’

‘And the staff on duty vary?’

‘Yes. There is a rota. I see what you are thinking. Another servant could somehow have discovered the book’s existence earlier? But they could not have arranged in advance for the book to be taken on that day, as nobody knew the King would call the Queen to him that evening.’

‘But he must do so fairly often?’

‘Not every evening. And in recent days he has often had meetings in the evening with the councillors and ambassadors.’

‘So, it seems the book must have been taken by one of these four servants, unless someone had secreted themselves in the Queen’s Gallery.’

‘Impossible. Nobody could. The guards at the doors to the Privy Chamber entrances check everyone who goes in and out. They are an absolute bar.’

I thought a moment. ‘What about the guards themselves? Can they be trusted?’

‘All selected by the Queen. On a rota, again, but if any guard left his post by one of the doors, it would be noticed instantly. Not least by would-be courtiers, who are ever eager to gain closer access to places they shouldn’t. No, the only people who had entry when the Queen was absent were the two page boys, Mary Odell, and Jane Fool.’

‘Four people only.’

‘I have had both boys called in, and the two women. Using the pretext of the stolen ring, I want you to check the movements of each of them on that day. Present the jewel’s loss as a matter of great sorrow to the Queen. She has given authority for you to see Mary Odell alone, but you will have to question Jane in her presence; Jane is so foolish she would be afraid if you were to question her alone, perhaps even defiant.’ He frowned; he obviously thought her an unmitigated nuisance.

‘Very well, my Lord.’

‘Mary Odell is one of four chamberers. It is a junior post, but Mary is especially close to the Queen. She is her cousin once removed. There are many distant Parr relatives in the Queen’s household now, just as once there were Boleyns and Seymours. As well as being her dependants, they all owe their posts to the Queen, so their loyalty can be counted on. But Mary Odell, particularly, is the Queen’s close friend as well as her servant. Handle her gently. As for Jane Fool —’ he inclined his head — ‘there are two types of fool: those skilled at gentle clowning, like the King’s man, Will Somers, and natural fools like Jane. She has great licence. But she has a sharp wit as well.’ Lord Parr looked at me closely. ‘One never knows if fools are always so foolish as they seem,’ he concluded darkly.

‘And Jane serves as fool to the Lady Mary as well. So she has joint loyalties,’ I ventured.

‘I have considered that. It is ten years since the Lady Mary ended her defiance and agreed to the Royal Supremacy. She is conservative in religion, but has followed the King’s wishes all this time. The Queen has tried to bring all three royal children together, but although Mary is fond of little Edward, she does not like the Lady Elizabeth.’ He shrugged. ‘Understandable, as Elizabeth’s mother displaced hers. The Queen has done everything to befriend Mary. They are of an age, and often together.’

‘But Mary is no reformer.’

‘She has avoided all taint of plotting. She is safe. And now I will leave you.’ Lord Parr stood. ‘The pages will be sent in. It will attract less notice, as I told you, if the questioning is conducted by one of the Queen’s Learned Council rather than myself. I will return later. The missing ring is plain gold with a large square ruby in the centre, and the initials of the Queen’s late stepdaughter, MN, for Margaret Neville, on the inside of the band.’ He stepped to the door. ‘Watch the page Adrian Russell, he can be an insolent pup. Later I will show you the chest. By the way, I heard today the King is moving to Hampton Court next month. The rat-catchers have already been sent in. Everything and everybody in the Royal Apartments will be moved there by barge. So it is important that you see everything here as it was at the time of the theft, while you still can.’

A guard showed in the first page, a skinny fair-haired lad of about sixteen, with a haughty manner. He wore the Queen’s red livery, her badge on his chest, and a black cap which he removed. I looked at him sternly, as though he were a hostile witness in court.

‘You are Adrian Russell?’

‘Yes, sir, of Kendal. My father is a distant relation of the Queen, and owns much property in Cumberland.’ He spoke proudly.

‘I am Serjeant Shardlake, of the Queen’s Learned Council, set to investigate the matter of the ruby ring stolen from the coffer in the Queen’s bedchamber. You have heard of the theft?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘It was stolen while the Queen was with his majesty on the sixth of July, between six and ten in the evening. You were one of those on duty that night?’

Russell looked at me boldly. ‘Yes, sir. Garet Lynley and I came in at six, to bring fresh candles, clean the rooms, and scent them with new herbs. I left at eight. Garet stayed. To attend to the bedchamber,’ he added.

‘Did you enter the Queen’s bedchamber at all?’ I asked sharply.

‘No sir, only Garet Lynley. Only one page is allowed in there each evening, and it was not my turn that day.’

‘Two pages carry out this work every day for two hours?’

‘That is our assignment on the rota. We have to attend to the Queen’s gallery, too, feed the birds there. And her dog.’

I did not like this lad’s arrogant tone. I spoke coldly. ‘Mayhap it does not always take two hours? Perhaps you sometimes sit down, rest?’

‘All servants do, sir.’

‘And boys are prone to meddle. A page stole something from the Queen before, you may remember. And he was sentenced to hang until the Queen pardoned him.’

Russell’s eyes widened. He began to bluster. ‘Sir, I would do nothing like that, I would steal nothing, I swear. I am of good family—’

‘So you say. Did you see anyone else while you were there? Or anything unusual at all?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Think. Think hard. Perhaps the thief left something out of place, moved something?’

‘No, sir. I swear, I would tell you if I had noticed anything out of place.’ Young Russell was kneading his hands together with anxiety now, his childish arrogance gone. I could not see this callow lad being involved in the book’s theft. In gentler tones, I got him to go over his exact movements, then told him he could go. He scurried from the room with relief.

The second page, Garet Lynley, was afraid from the outset; I could see that at once. He was the same age as Russell, tall and thin, his neatly combed brown hair worn long. I bade him sit and asked him about his duties in the Queen’s bedchamber.

‘I go in there, put new candles in the holders, lay out fresh linen on the coffer, then change the flowers and place fresh herbs and petals about the room. I feed the Queen’s dog, Rig, if he is there, but he was not that night. I do not touch her majesty’s bed or clothes, of course, that is for her chamberers. Mary Odell, I think it was, that day.’

I nodded. ‘You put the linen on the chest. You know valuables are kept within?’

‘I swear, sir, I did not touch it. I never do. I believe it is locked.’

‘Have you ever tried the lock to find out?’

‘Never,’ he answered. ‘I am loyal to her majesty —’ His voice rose in fear.

I made my tone friendlier. ‘Did you notice anything unusual in the room that evening? About the chest, perhaps?’

‘No, sir. It was dusk by then. I carried a lamp.’ He frowned. ‘But if anything had been amiss with the chest I think I would have seen. I placed the linen there every night that week.’

‘Have you ever seen the stolen ring?’

‘No. I am told the Queen wears it on her finger sometimes, but I always have to bow low each time she passes, so I have never seen it.’

‘Very well.’ I believed him, but Garet Lynley, I was sure, was frightened of something more than just my interrogation. ‘Where are you from, boy?’ I asked lightly. ‘You have a northern cast of tongue.’

The question seemed to disturb him greatly; his eyes swivelled as he answered me. ‘Lancashire, sir. My mother was once a maid-in-waiting in Catherine of Aragon’s household. It was through her that my family were granted their lands. She knew the present Queen’s mother, old Lady Parr.’

‘And that was how you got this post? Through your family’s connection with the Queen’s mother?’

‘Yes, sir. She wrote to Lord Parr as to whether there might be a place for me.’ His breath was coming noticeably fast now.

‘Are both your parents still alive?’

‘Not my father, sir.’ The boy hesitated. ‘He was imprisoned in the Tower after the Northern Rebellion ten years ago, and died there.’

I considered carefully. A boy whose mother had served Catherine of Aragon and whose father had taken part in the Northern Rebellion. ‘Your family history, then, might make people wonder about your religious sympathies,’ I said slowly.

Garet’s collapse was sudden, and total. Almost falling off his chair, he knelt on the floor, wringing his hands. ‘It is not true! I swear I am no papist, I loyally follow the King’s dispensations. I keep telling people, if only they would leave me alone —’

‘Get up,’ I said gently. I felt sorry to have unmanned him so. ‘Take your chair again. Now, listen, I am not here to harm you. What people?’

He shook his head desperately. Tears were coursing down his cheeks now.

‘Come, Garet. If you have done nothing wrong you will suffer no harm. If you have — and if you confess — the Queen will be merciful.’

The boy took a long, shuddering breath.

‘I have done nothing, sir. But it is as you say, because of my family’s past, people think I might be one who would spy against the reformers. Though Lord Parr and the Queen know my family wish only to live quietly and serve loyally. But since coming to the palace —’ He hesitated.

‘Yes?’

‘A man has approached me, twice, and asked if I would observe what I could about the Queen and report to those who would serve what he called true religion. I refused, I swear —’ He stared at me miserably, his face puffy with tears, and I realized suddenly what it must be like for an innocent boy to step into this gilded sewer-pit.

‘Did you report this to your superiors? Lord Parr?’

‘No, sir, I didn’t dare. The man, he — frightened me.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘When I first came, last autumn. Then again in April, when the hunt for heretics began.’

‘The same man approached you both times?’

‘Yes. I did not know him. I told one of the other pages and he said it sometimes happens when you first come to court, an approach from one side or the other, and if you would keep your skin whole you should always say no. The approach is always by someone unknown at court, a servant of one of the great men, but from outside the palace.’

‘What was his name?’

‘He would not tell it. He approached me the first time in the street. The second occasion he was waiting for me outside an inn I frequent. There was something in his face that frightened me.’ The boy looked down, ashamed of his weakness.

‘Can you describe him?’

The boy looked up at me again. He realized it was all or nothing now. ‘He was in his twenties, thin but wiry and strong. He wore cheap clothes but spoke like a gentleman. I remember he had half of one ear missing, like it had been cut off in a fight.’ Garet shuddered.

Half an ear gone, like one of the men Elias had disturbed trying to break into the print-shop that first time. I tried not to let my excitement show. Garet continued, ‘Both times he said that if I agreed to spy on the Queen I would earn the gratitude of a very great personage of the realm, who would reward me and advance my career at court.’

‘Surely an enticing prospect,’ I observed.

‘No.’ Garet shook his head fiercely. ‘Now I only want to leave here as soon as possible.’

‘You did the right thing in telling me,’ I said soothingly. ‘You have nothing to fear. Now, after you turned this man down for the second time, did you see him again?’

‘Never. It is like that, I’m told, if they cannot turn you they give up. I wish I could go home to my family, sir,’ he added in a small voice. ‘Without disgrace.’

‘I think that may be arranged.’

Garet wiped a satin sleeve across his face. I could not but sympathize with his weakness. If I had found myself in the same danger at his age my reaction would probably have been the same. I let him leave, and sat alone in Lord Parr’s office. At last, I thought, a clue.