Lamentation

Chapter Twenty-one

Mercifully, Guy was at home. His assistant, Francis, looked astonished when I appeared on the doorstep with two men who were both bleeding profusely. ‘Robbers attacked us,’ I lied. Francis hurried us through to Guy’s consulting room, where he was mixing herbs. ‘By Mary!’ he cried. ‘What has happened?’

I watched anxiously as he examined Nicholas and Barak. Nicholas’s chest wound required only a couple of stitches, which he bore well, biting his tongue as Guy sewed. Then he carefully examined Barak’s left hand. ‘Thank heaven it was a narrow knife,’ he said, ‘and went through the fleshy part between the long bones of your fingers. But it will require stitching, and lavender and other oils to stop the wound becoming poisoned.’

Nicholas frowned. ‘I thought wine was best to clear wounds.’

‘Lavender is better. Though it stings. And a bandage.’ Guy looked at Barak seriously. ‘You will have to wear it for a week, and have it changed regularly. You are right-handed, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Barak. ‘God’s wounds, it hurts.’

‘It will. But with luck, there should be no damage save a little stiffness.’

Barak turned to Nicholas and me. ‘You’ll both be seeing Tamasin at George’s birthday celebration in a few days. I’ll make something up. We’ll discuss the details later, to make sure everyone has them right. I’ll tell her it was an accident at work. I don’t want her catching you out.’

‘Surely your wife will believe you?’ Nicholas said, surprised.

‘Don’t bank on it, lad.’

Guy said, ‘This is not the first time your master has brought Jack Barak here to be tidied up after — an incident of violence, shall we say. And Jack has brought your master, too.’ Guy’s tone was severe, but Nicholas looked at me with new respect.

I said, ‘May I leave them with you, Guy? I am sorry, but I have an important appointment and I fear I will be late.’ On the way I had seen the hand on a church clock showing near eleven.

He nodded agreement. ‘A word, though, Matthew, if you please. I will see you out.’ His mouth was set, his dark face troubled and angry.

Outside he spoke quietly. ‘So, it was not a robbery.’ He shook his head. ‘Again you bring Jack to me after a dangerous encounter, married with a child and with Tamasin pregnant again. And this boy as well.’

‘I am investigating a murder,’ I answered. ‘A pair of rogues who bludgeoned two innocent men to death. They were seen in a tavern, by a witness who brought the news to me at Lincoln’s Inn. It was a chance, perhaps the only chance, to take them. Jack and Nicholas knew there was danger.’

‘Did you take these killers?’

I shook my head angrily. ‘No, they were experienced fighters. They got away.’

‘Matthew,’ Guy said, ‘you ever follow danger. But now this boy, and Jack. Jack is no longer so young, and used to a quieter life now.’

I ran a hand across my brow. ‘I know, I know. But it was my only chance to bring two murderers to justice.’ I stared at my old friend defiantly. ‘And perhaps stop them killing again.’

‘You indicated when we last met that you were involved in something secret, the details of which it would be dangerous for others to know.’

‘Yes.’

He inclined his head to the consulting room door. ‘Have you made Jack and that boy aware of those details?’

I shook my head.

‘Then you should not have involved them,’ Guy said. ‘I am sorry, but that is what I think.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘Is it something to do with the Queen?’

‘What makes you ask that?’

‘I see from your expression that it is. I know you have ever had an immoderate affection for her. I have seen your troubled looks these last months, worrying about her travails. But you should not let it place you in danger — and still less those who work for you.’

‘Why?’ I answered sharply. ‘Because you think her a heretic?’

‘No,’ he snapped back. ‘Because she is the Queen, and because, as you yourself said, thunder circles around thrones. Certainly this King’s throne,’ he added bitterly. I did not answer. ‘Is this man Bertano you asked me about part of it?’ he asked.

I remembered Daniels and Cardmaker mentioning his name back at the inn. I said seriously, ‘Keep that name close, Guy, as you value your safety.’

He smiled wryly. ‘See, you have even involved me in a small way. Think on my words, Matthew. I do not want to have to treat Barak or Nicholas again, and for something worse. Nor you,’ he added in a gentler tone.

I hurried to the Tower, my mind full of conflict. Guy was right: it was my own feelings for the Queen that had set me on this path, trailing danger in my wake like the bad humours of an illness. But I could not just step aside now, even if I wanted to. Those two men at the inn had known my name.

Tower Hill rose ahead of me, where Lord Cromwell and so many others had died; and beyond, the Tower of London: the moat, the high white walls and there, the huge square bulk of the White Tower, where the conspiracy between Rich and Bealknap five years before had resulted in my briefly being held prisoner in its terrible dungeons.

I saw Lord Parr was already waiting outside the Middle Tower gate, on horseback. To my surprise young William Cecil sat on another horse beside him, two servants in Queen’s livery holding the reins. Cecil was dressed in his lawyer’s robe, and Lord Parr wore a light doublet, green and slashed at the shoulder to show the crimson silk lining. He sniffed at a pomander that hung by a gold chain from his neck, to ward off the stink from the moat.

‘Matthew!’ It was the first time he had greeted me by my Christian name, his tone much more civil than when we had last met. ‘I brought Master Cecil with me, so that we might exchange news.’

‘My Lord, I am sorry I am late, but I have just had an encounter with the men who killed Greening —’

He leaned forward in his saddle. ‘Are they caught?’ he asked eagerly.

‘No, but Barak and my pupil were injured in the attempt. I had to get them medical attention.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

I glanced at Cecil. ‘William knows all,’ Lord Parr said. ‘Including about the Lamentation. The Queen and I agree he can be trusted, and he has already organized enquiries among the radicals, and agents at the docks.’

I looked at Cecil. Trusted indeed, I thought. I told them about our encounter with Daniels and Cardmaker, that the two seemed to know my name and had, I was sure, mentioned the name Bertano. I also told them Nicholas had identified the torn sleeve as belonging to one Charles Stice, who, from the description of his damaged ear, had been involved in the first attack on Greening, and the attempt to suborn the young page Garet.

Cecil said, ‘I have made less progress, I fear. No sign of Greening’s three vanished friends, nor the guard Leeman. And though all four have friends among the religious radicals, none are part of any known group. I think Greening and the rest set up their own little circle.’

‘I think that may be right,’ I agreed.

Lord Parr grunted. ‘God knows there are enough of those springing up, even under Gardiner’s nose. Maybe even Anabaptists. We know that one of the men is Dutch, and it is from there and from Germany that those wretched people come.’

‘What about Bertano?’ I asked Lord Parr.

‘The name is not known in the Italian merchant community. They all have to be registered, and this name is not on the list.’

‘He could have slipped into the country,’ Cecil observed.

‘Possibly.’ Lord Parr shook his head. ‘Or he may not be in England at all.’ He looked across at the Tower. ‘Well, Matthew, we must go in. They will take the horses at the gate. We are late enough already.’ He turned to Cecil. ‘There, William: Shardlake has another three names for you to investigate. Daniels, Cardmaker, Stice.’ He inclined his head. ‘But quietly.’

The young lawyer nodded gravely, then rode away. Lord Parr stroked his beard. ‘There’s a clever fellow,’ he said quietly. ‘And discreet.’

‘You have told him everything?’

‘Yes, the Queen approved it after meeting him. She took to him very much.’ I felt an absurd pang of jealousy. Lord Parr watched Cecil’s retreating figure. ‘He is ambitious. If we succeed in this, it may be a stepping stone for him. Of course, there is religious principle involved for him as well. If we do not succeed, however,’ he added bleakly, ‘and the book is published for the King to see, all of us may be in dire straits.’

The guard at the Tower gate saluted Lord Parr. His horse was taken to the stable, and we walked across Tower Green.

‘No word of the Lamentation, then?’ I asked.

‘No. More than two weeks now since it was taken. I tell the Queen that each passing day makes it less likely it will appear on the streets, but she does not believe it.’ He gave a quick bark of laughter. ‘Nor, in truth, do I. These men you encountered,’ he continued. ‘One said you did not know who you were dealing with. Implying it was somebody senior. And you said earlier you thought Sir Richard Rich might be involved?’

‘Possibly.’

‘There are so many possibilities: Norfolk, Gardiner, Paget, acting alone or in concert; perhaps someone else —’ He shook his head. ‘But no, not Paget; he always works strictly to the King’s orders.’

‘Are you sure, My Lord? Wolsey and Cromwell did so at first, but later...’

He pursed his lips. ‘You are right. We cannot be entirely sure of anything in these whirling days.’

‘It still concerns me, my Lord, that when Jane Fool arrived to be questioned, the Lady Mary appeared with her.’

‘That was just unfortunate.’

‘I wondered whether it might be something more. Is Jane truly a woman of little wit, or could she be acting, concealing her true intelligence?’

Lord Parr shook his head. ‘She is a mere idiot, of that I am sure. I cannot see her deceiving her mistress about that; you know how shrewd the Queen is. In any event she did not let Jane anywhere near that manuscript.’

‘The Lady Elizabeth seemed not to like Jane Fool.’

He snorted. ‘The Lady Elizabeth does not like a lot of people. Particularly anyone who upstages her with the Queen.’

We were approaching the White Tower. Lord Parr had slowed down, and I noticed a faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead. I remembered his age, his remarks about his health. He looked at me, then said uncomfortably, ‘I am sorry I was short with you when we last met. This business is a great strain.’

‘I understand, my Lord. Thank you.’ I realized it could not come easily to one of Lord Parr’s rank and temperament to apologize to an underling.

He nodded brusquely, then looked towards the Tower. ‘As I told you, Sir Edmund Walsingham used to be the Queen’s Vice-Chancellor, and he is an old friend.’ I thought, among the high ones of the realm everyone knows everyone, and they are either a friend or an enemy. ‘I am going to tell him you have acted for my wife’s family, and have a case coming up involving a witness who claims he was being questioned in the Tower sometime between — let us pick a broad range of dates — June the twentieth and July the fifth. We will say that you do not believe this man was in the Tower at all, that in fact he was up to mischief elsewhere.’

‘I understand,’ I said, uncomfortable at the thought of lying so blatantly to the Constable of the Tower.

‘We will say that you wish to check the names of men imprisoned there between those dates,’ Lord Parr continued. ‘There have been plenty in and out these last few months and if I vouch for you I think Sir Edmund will let you see the records. Could you do that? Then try to find out who was on guard duty when Anne Askew was tortured. That was around June the thirtieth. The news of her torture was leaked the same day.’

‘Very well.’ The eviction which Coleswyn and I had witnessed that morning suddenly came back to mind. ‘I could say the man concerned is trying to give himself an alibi for being part of a group of men who evicted a tenant without due process.’

‘A landlord? Yes, you work at the Court of Requests, don’t you?’ he added, a little superciliously. ‘Very well. But on no account mention Anne Askew. I do not wish to draw his mind to that.’

There was a sudden loud roar from the Tower menagerie, probably a lion. Lord Parr smiled. ‘I hear they have a new creature there from Africa, an animal something like a horse but with an absurdly long and thin neck. I may ask Sir Edmund to let me see it.’

We entered the white tower. A guard took us through the Great Hall, where as ever soldiers stood or sat talking and playing cards. At the far end, I recognized the door leading down to the dungeons.

We were led upstairs, along a corridor with rush matting that deadened the sound of our footsteps. We entered a spacious room where a man a little younger than Lord Parr, with white hair and a lined face ending in a long pointed beard, rose to receive us. There was another man standing by the desk, slightly younger, with grizzled hair and beard and a soldierly air. I bowed low to them, while Lord Parr shook hands.

‘Sir Edmund,’ Lord Parr said lightly. ‘I have not seen you for months. And Sir Anthony Knevet, Master Lieutenant of the Tower, God give you good morrow.’

‘And you, my Lord. If you will excuse me —’ the soldierly man tapped a folder of papers under his arm — ‘I am due to present a report to Master Secretary Paget at Whitehall.’

‘Then we will not detain you.’ There was a note of annoyance in Walsingham’s voice. The other man bowed and left.

Walsingham gestured for us to sit. Taking a chair, Lord Parr said, ‘There are a couple of small matters from your time in charge of the Queen’s household which I need to ask you about; I would have written, but thought to take the opportunity to visit you, now the Court is at Whitehall.’

‘I am glad you have. This has been a busy few months at the Tower.’ Walsingham raised his eyebrows knowingly.

‘Does not Sir Anthony Knevet do most of the day-to-day work?’

‘Yes, but the ultimate responsibility remains mine. And Sir Anthony has been sticking his nose into one or two places he should not have —’ Sir Edmund broke off, waved a hand dismissively, then changed the subject. ‘How go things in her majesty’s household?’

‘Easier recently,’ Lord Parr answered carefully. ‘How is your family? Your clever nephew Francis?’

‘He is at Cambridge now. Growing up fast,’ Walsingham added sadly. ‘Reminds me I grow old. I have felt my age these last months.’

‘I too,’ Lord Parr said feelingly. ‘In time of age the humours alter and slow, do they not?’ He continued casually, ‘Sir Edmund, I crave a small favour. Serjeant Shardlake here is a barrister to the Court of Requests, who has also acted for my wife; he has a case coming on at Michaelmas where the Tower records may shed light on something.’

Walsingham looked at me. ‘Oh?’

Lord Parr recounted the story of the fictional witness. Sir Edmund looked at me, his gaze keen from small tired eyes. ‘Between June the twentieth and July the fifth, you say?’ He grunted, looking at me. ‘You know who was here then?’

I paused a moment, as though trying to remember. ‘Anne Askew?’

‘Just so. Not so many others, the heat was dying down by then.’ He grimaced. ‘Though not for her.’ He looked at Lord Parr. ‘You vouch for him?’

‘I do.’

Walsingham turned back to me. ‘Who was this witness?’

I spoke the first name that came to me. ‘Cotterstoke. Edward Cotterstoke.’

Sir Edmund shook his head. ‘I don’t remember that name. But you can go down to the cells and look at the records, seeing as Lord Parr vouches for you.’ He laughed abruptly. ‘Don’t look like that, master lawyer. I won’t detain you down there.’

Lord Parr laughed too. ‘Sir Edmund is doing you a favour, Matthew,’ he said chidingly. ‘Officially those documents are not for the public to see.’

‘I am sorry, Sir Edmund. I am grateful.’

The Constable laughed scoffingly. ‘Well, it shows the mere name of the Tower dungeons puts people in fear, which is partly what they’re for.’ He scribbled a quick note, then rang a bell on his desk. As a guard appeared, Sir Edmund said, ‘Take this lawyer to the cells to see the record of prisoners between June the twentieth and July the fifth. See he writes nothing down.’ He gave me a look of amused contempt. ‘And bring him safely back here afterwards.’

The guard led me downstairs again, across the main hall. He was a big fellow in his thirties, with a heavy limp. Like Sir Edmund he seemed to take my apprehensive stare at the door as commonplace. ‘Looking for a name, are you, sir?’ he asked.

‘Yes, a witness in a case who says he was questioned in the Tower. I think he is lying.’

‘A strange lie.’

‘He probably thought I would be unable to make a check here.’

The guard winced. ‘May I stop just a moment, sir? My leg pains me.’

‘Of course.’

‘A Frenchie soldier ran it through with a half-pike in Boulogne last year.’

‘I am sorry. I know it was a fierce campaign.’

‘They gave me this job afterwards. I won’t be going soldiering again. I’m all right to go on now, sir, thank you.’

The door was opened by a guard and we walked down that dreadful stone staircase, slick with green algae once we passed under the level of the river. The light came now from torches, stinking with smoke. At the bottom was a barred door which I remembered. My escort called out and a hard, unshaven face appeared behind the bars.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘This gentleman has permission to look at the log.’ Sir Edmund’s note was passed through the bars. The man on the other side looked at it, then closely at me, before turning back to my escort.

‘You’re to wait and take him back?’

‘Yes.’

There was a clank of keys, and the heavy door opened. I went through, into a stink of damp, and entered a long vestibule with bare ancient stone walls, a row of cells with barred windows along its length. It was cold down here, even in high summer. I observed — strange the things one notices at such times — that the layout of the central vestibule had been changed: the desk which was its only furniture was larger than the one that had stood there five years ago, and had been positioned against the wall to allow more space for people to pass. It was covered in papers and a man sat behind it. I saw a large open ledger.

The guard who had let me in looked me up and down. ‘Your purpose, sir?’ he asked in a voice which was quiet but not respectful.

‘Matthew Shardlake, Serjeant at Law.’ I told him the story of the dubious witness. Lying was not easy under his hard, watchful eyes.

‘Well, if Sir Edmund agrees,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But you’re to write nothing down, only look through quickly for the name you seek.’

‘I understand.’

‘My name is Ardengast. I am in charge here.’

Without further comment he led me to the desk. The man sitting behind it was a big, middle-aged fellow in a leather jacket, with an untidy straggling beard. He sat up straight as we approached. Ardengast said, ‘This man is to see the logs from June the twentieth to July the fifth, Howitson. Looking for a witness in a case.’

The man in the leather jacket frowned. ‘It’s not to do with-?’

‘No. Some law matter.’ Ardengast waved dismissively. He glanced again at Walsingham’s note. ‘The name is Edward Cotterstoke. I don’t remember him.’

‘Nor I.’

‘That is the point,’ I said. ‘I think he was lying about being here.’

Ardengast turned to me. ‘I’ll leave you with Howitson, I’ve got business.’ He walked away, unlocked a door at the far end of the chamber, and passed through. From somewhere beyond I thought I heard a distant scream. I looked through the dark barred windows on the doors of the cells. They seemed empty, but who knew what pitiful souls and broken bodies lay within? I thought of Anne Askew alone and terrified in this place.

Howitson pulled the big ledger over to him. I saw there were two columns. One gave the times that prisoners arrived and left and their names, while the other, smaller column was for the signatures of the officers on duty. The writing was poor, scrawled, and I could not read it upside down. Howitson turned over several pages, pausing occasionally to lick his black-stained thumb. Then he leaned back in his chair.

‘No one here called Cotterstoke, sir. I thought as much.’ He looked up with a satisfied smile.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I suspected the witness was lying. However, I will have to see the book myself. The rules of court require me to testify to what I have seen personally. Simply to repeat what another has told me would be what is called hearsay, and thus inadmissible.’

Howitson frowned. ‘I don’t know about legal rules. But that book is confidential.’

‘I know. And I will only testify that this particular name is not there, nothing else.’ He still looked doubtful. ‘It is the law,’ I said. ‘Sir Edmund said I could see the book.’

‘We have our own laws down here, sir.’ He smiled a little menacingly, an insolent emphasis on the last word.

‘I understand, goodman. If you like I can ask Sir Edmund to be more specific, in writing, to satisfy you.’

Howitson grunted. ‘All right, but be quick. No lingering over names. We’ve had enough rumours getting out of this place.’

‘I understand.’

He turned the ledger round, going back a couple of pages. I ran my eyes quickly over the entries for late June; I was not interested in those. I noticed, however, that there were always two officers present to sign a prisoner in; one was usually Howitson, the other presumably whichever guard was on duty. From the 28th of June a signature more legible than the others began appearing during the afternoons. Thomas Myldmore. He was on duty when ‘Mistress Anne Kyme’, Anne Askew’s married name, appeared on the record.

Howitson brought his big heavy hand down on the ledger. ‘That’s it, sir,’ he said officiously.

‘Thank you. I have seen all I need.’

I stepped away from the desk. As I did so the door at the end of the passage opened again and two men appeared. One was older, wearing an apron darkly stained with I knew not what. The other was young, small and thin, with dark blond hair and an oval face unsuited to the pointed beard he wore. I noticed his shoulders were slumped. The older man began undoing the buckles on his apron, paying me no heed, but when the younger one saw me standing over the ledger his grey eyes widened a little. He came across. Howitson closed the book with a thump and gave the newcomer a glare.

‘I’m going off duty now, Master Howitson,’ the young man said in a surprisingly deep voice.

‘Thank Sir Anthony Knevet you’ve still got a duty to be going off,’ Howitson muttered. The young man looked at my lawyer’s coif and robe. ‘Is there a problem with the book?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Nothing to concern you, Myldmore,’ Howitson said. ‘Don’t recall anyone by the name of Cotterstoke, do you, being here late June or early July?’

‘No, sir.’

‘There you are then, sir,’ Howitson said to me triumphantly.

‘Then I thank you, sir,’ I said with a little bow. I looked at Myldmore. His eyes were wide, burning yet frightened. ‘Good day, fellow,’ I said and headed for the door, where the veteran stood leaning against the wall outside, gently massaging his leg.

The guard led me back to Sir Edmund’s room where he and Lord Parr were talking and laughing, drinking wine. I heard Sir Edmund say, ‘The first time I saw a woman in one of these farthingales, I couldn’t believe it. Waist braced with corsets so tight it looked like you could span it with your hands, and the wide skirt with those hoops underneath —’

‘Ay, like barrels —’ Lord Parr looked round as I entered, instantly alert. ‘Find your man, Shardlake?’

‘His name was not there, my Lord, as I suspected. I thank you, Sir Edmund.’

Walsingham was in relaxed mood now. ‘Will you stay for some wine?’

‘I fear I cannot. I have much to do. But I am most grateful to you.’

‘Perhaps I should come with you, Shardlake,’ Lord Parr said. He would want to know what I had found out.

Sir Edmund protested. ‘No, no, my Lord, you have hardly got here —’

Lord Parr looked between us. Clearly he thought it might look suspicious if he left so soon. He said, ‘One more drink, then, Edmund. Forgive me, though, I must go to the jakes. Master Shardlake, can you help me?’ He made a show of finding it difficult to stand.

‘You cannot take your wine any more, my Lord,’ Sir Edmund called after him teasingly.

Once the door closed behind us, Lord Parr was instantly alert. ‘Well?’ he asked impatiently.

‘The man who was most often on duty when Anne Askew was here is called Myldmore. I saw him; he looked anxious and seemed in bad odour with the fellow at the desk.’

Lord Parr smiled and nodded. ‘Another name for Cecil to investigate. I wonder if he is connected with the others.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You are a good fellow, Master Shardlake, for all your long face and — well, never mind.’ He spoke with sudden passion. ‘We shall have them, end this game of hoodman blind, and unmask who is at the bottom of it all. I shall be in touch very soon. Good man.’

He went down the corridor, leaving me to walk, as fast as I could, towards the exit and the Tower gates.