Lamentation

Chapter Twenty-six

Late that afternoon I stood again in Lord Parr’s office at Whitehall Palace. With us were William Cecil and Archbishop Cranmer, whose white surplice made a contrast to the dark lawyer’s robes Cecil and I wore. On the table was a large piece of paper covered with my writing, the fruit of much thinking that afternoon. We looked expectantly at the door, waiting.

We were to meet with Lord Parr at four o’clock, Cecil had informed me, when he and his men took Myldmore away from my chambers. He had told the terrified young gaoler only that he worked for people at court who were friends and would see him kept safe, housed somewhere quiet for now; a message would be sent to the Tower officials that he was ill, to buy some time.

Myldmore had been very frightened, pleading to be let go, but Cecil answered brusquely that Greening’s killers were still at large and I had encountered them very recently, which I could only confirm. As he was led out, Myldmore looked at me over his shoulder; a look of sorrow and anger, for he had bared his soul to me, while all the time I had been preparing to have him seized. As I stood in Lord Parr’s office I remembered that look. Yet Myldmore was safer hidden away somewhere — unless the Queen fell; in that case, he was just one more who would fall with the rest of us.

For two hours after they left I had remained in my office. I pulled the shutters closed, got out pen and paper, and sat thinking; about dates and individuals, and the disappearance, now, not of one but of two crucially sensitive books. I tried to fit Myldmore’s story into the rest of what I knew. It all came back to Greening and his group; who and what they were. I lost track of time; then the Inn clock sounded three, reminding me I should be on my way. I gathered up the paper on which I had written some crucial notes, and headed down to the river to catch a wherry to the Whitehall Stairs. Once again, I changed my robe in the boat; at the palace the guards were already beginning to recognize me; some nodded respectfully as they ticked my name off their lists. I was starting to become familiar with the layout of the palace, too; that tight-packed series of extraordinary buildings, all different, interspersed with little hidden courts that had seemed so hard to navigate at first. Even the brightness and beauty of the interiors was becoming almost commonplace to me now, and I could walk along the corridors without constantly wanting to stop and gaze in wonder at a statue, a painting, a tapestry.

I arrived at Lord Parr’s office just before four; he arrived soon afterwards. Also in the room when I arrived was William Cecil and, to my surprise, Archbishop Cranmer, looking withdrawn and worried. I bowed deeply to him. Lord Parr told me the Queen would be attending us shortly. ‘I have been trying to work out where this new development with Myldmore leaves us,’ I said as we waited.

‘And where is that, Matthew?’ Cranmer pressed quietly.

‘I think we are narrowing down the possible scenarios.’

There was a tap at Lord Parr’s door and it opened. Lady Anne Herbert, the Queen’s sister, whom I had seen at Baynard’s Castle a few days ago, stood on the threshold. She bowed as the Queen herself entered, wearing a magnificent dress of gold silk, the forepart and sleeves white with a design of tiny golden unicorns. Her expression was calm and composed. Behind her stood Mary Odell. We all bowed low.

The Queen said, ‘Mary, Anne, you may return to my chamber.’ The ladies nodded to us briefly and left. She looked between the four of us and took a long breath; for a moment her composure slipped and she appeared haggard as she turned to address her uncle. ‘Your message said there had been developments? Have you recovered my book?’

‘No, Kate, but Master Shardlake has some news.’ He nodded in my direction.

‘Good?’ she asked quickly, intently.

‘Not bad, your majesty. Complicated,’ he replied.

She sighed, then turned to Cranmer. ‘Thank you for attending us, my Lord. I know my uncle has been keeping you informed of developments.’

‘I was here for the meeting of the King’s Council.’

‘Now that Gardiner and his people are no longer on the offensive,’ Lord Parr said. There was a touch of contempt in his voice, no doubt aimed at Cranmer’s tendency to absent himself from the council when matters looked dangerous.

The Queen gave her uncle a severe look. ‘We five,’ she said, ‘we are the only ones who know the Lamentation is gone. But first, my Lord Archbishop, what news from the council?’

‘Most of the discussion was about the visit of the French admiral next month. The scale of the ceremonies will be huge. Wriothesley argued that with so many taxes falling due this year it may cause murmuring and grudging among the populace, but the King is determined on great celebrations, nevertheless.’ He smiled. ‘And you are to be at the forefront, your majesty.’

‘I know. The King has told me of the new gowns and jewellery my ladies and I are to have. And all the time I deceive him,’ she added, a tremble in her voice. I thought how if the Lamentation suddenly appeared in public all the new finery could vanish in an instant. I remembered Myldmore’s description of Anne Askew in the Tower and suppressed a shudder.

The Archbishop continued, encouragingly, ‘Your brother, as Earl of Essex, is to welcome the ambassador and ride with him through London. He will be at the forefront of the ceremonies, too. Gardiner and Norfolk remained quiet throughout the meeting. Their heretic hunt has ended in failure, madam, that is clearer every day.’

‘Unless something brings it alive again.’ The Queen turned to me. ‘I have heard from my uncle that two of your employees were injured. I am sorry for it.’

‘Neither was seriously hurt, your majesty.’

‘And this man Myldmore, you have him somewhere safe?’ she asked Lord Parr.

‘Yes, together with the guard and the carpenter who helped Leeman.’

‘Each could be open to a charge of treason,’ Cecil observed.

Lord Parr shook his head. ‘If this matter is settled we should ensure all three move quietly out of London, to somewhere far out in the provinces.’

I said, ‘Myldmore can only pretend sickness for so long; eventually there will be enquiries made.’

‘There is no connection to us. They’ll think he’s run away.’

‘So many disappeared,’ the Queen said quietly. ‘And two dead. And all because of me.’

‘Anne Askew played her part,’ Lord Parr said gruffly. ‘God rot her wild heresy.’

Cranmer bit his lip, looking troubled, then said, ‘With your leave, your majesty, Master Shardlake would like to show us something he has worked out.’ He gestured to the sheet of paper on his desk.

The Queen looked at me and nodded, and I bowed again.

Cecil produced chairs for the Archbishop and the Queen, then stood beside Lord Parr. In front of them was a list of names and dates:

I said, ‘These seven people constituted a radical group which met at Armistead Greening’s house.’

Cranmer pointed to the paper. ‘Why is Myldmore’s name separated from the others?’

‘Because he was never actually accepted into the group. There might also be others who were considered, but these first six are the core. Vandersteyn may have had links to the Anabaptists, while Curdy had the money and may have supplied the bribes which Leeman used to pay the locksmith Barwic and the guard Gawger. Greening himself almost certainly had links to John Bale in Antwerp, and likely imported forbidden books from Flanders. Myldmore’s evidence makes clear that this was more than a discussion group; it shows the fervour of some sort of Anabaptist sect.’ I looked round. ‘I think the group was trying to recruit people with connections to positions of trust, in high or secret places — the guard Leeman and the Tower gaoler Myldmore being two examples. Myldmore, however, could not accept their views on social order, nor on the Mass, and they asked him to leave. But later, when he saw what happened to Anne Askew, he felt he must act. Greening was the obvious person for him to take the woman’s book to. And he, in turn, planned to take it to John Bale.’

The others remained silent. The Queen nervously touched the pearl at her breast; Cranmer fixed me with a troubled stare. William Cecil nodded slowly. ‘Then Greening was murdered,’ I continued. ‘As for the other five —’ I ran my finger down the list of names — ‘three immediately vanished: McKendrick, Curdy and the Dutchman. The guard Leeman remained in his place here at Whitehall. And Elias moved to work for his neighbour Okedene.’

‘If the other three fled,’ said Cecil, ‘rather than being murdered, why did not Elias and Leeman go, too?’

‘I have pondered that. It may be that Leeman thought, given he worked at Whitehall Palace, that he was safe. He has quarters there. He stayed till he found he was under investigation, and only then disappeared. As for the apprentice Elias, remember times are hard, and he provided the only income for his widowed mother and his sisters.’ I sighed. ‘He was obstinate, and probably rejected the advice of the others to join them in fleeing. He seemed, when I met him, to think Greening was the murderers’ only target. And given his youth, and perhaps limited experience, it may well be that the others did not trust him with the knowledge that they had possession of the Lamentation. Though I believe he knew that Greening had been given Anne Askew’s writings.’

Cecil said, ‘Because he said “killed for Anne Askew” before he died.’

‘Exactly.’

‘The poor boy,’ the Queen muttered. ‘He stayed for the sake of his mother and sisters, and died for it.’ She walked abruptly to the window and stood looking out over the little courtyard below, her head bowed.

Lord Parr said, ‘So these other four? Are they still alive?’

‘I do not know. The fact Elias was murdered, too, makes me think the killers were after the whole group. Whether they found them or not we do not know.’

Lord Parr stroked his white beard. ‘And whoever killed Greening and Elias is likely to have both Anne Askew’s writings and the Queen’s.’

Cecil asked. ‘Could someone powerful — Wriothesley or Gardiner, Rich or Paget — have an agent inside the group? One of the missing four? How else could anyone outside have come to know that Greening had the Lamentation?’

I said, ‘Yes, someone within that group could have been working for an enemy. I think we can rule out Leeman — if he was acting for Gardiner, the last people he would take the Lamentation to is Greening’s group. That leaves Curdy, Vandersteyn and McKendrick; three of them. But if one of them was a spy working for Gardiner or anyone else, and murdered Greening and took the Lamentation, Anne Askew’s work too, why has nothing been heard of either book since? Anne Askew’s work they might destroy, for it incriminates Wriothesley and Rich, but surely the spy, if there is one, would take the Lamentation straight to the King?’

Cranmer nodded. ‘Yes. Norfolk and Gardiner knew that Lord Hertford and Lord Lisle are about to return to the Privy Council, and that the heresy hunt had failed. It has only been recently that I have felt it prudent to return to the council myself. The sensible thing for them would have been to act at once, so far as the Lamentation was concerned.’

I said, ‘Yes, my Lord Archbishop, I agree.’

The Queen turned and looked at me, a spark of hope flashing in her eyes. ‘So you think it may not be Gardiner’s agents who killed Greening and took the Lamentation?’

‘Possibly. Though Master Cecil’s logic about an informer within the group is persuasive.’

She shook her head, mystified. ‘Someone working against a group of the godly from within? Pretending to be one of them? How could anyone bear such a betrayal of their souls?’

Lord Parr spoke with sudden impatience. ‘In God’s name, niece, when will you realize not all are as pure in mind as you?’

The Queen stared back at him, then laughed bitterly. ‘I am not pure. If I were, I would never have needed to write a book called Lamentation of a Sinner — nor failed, after my Lord Archbishop’s good advice, to destroy it through my sinful pride, and hence caused all of this. And deceived my husband in the process,’ she added bitterly.

I glanced at her. In other tones the words might have sounded self-pitying, but the Queen spoke with a sad, honest intensity. There was silence for a moment. Then Cecil turned to me. ‘The way Greening and Elias were killed, and your description of the two killers — that speaks to me of the involvement of someone powerful, someone who can afford to hire experienced assassins.’

I looked at him. Cecil was young indeed to be included in a council such as this, but his cleverness was as great as his calm. Lord Parr had chosen well. ‘I agree,’ I said. ‘But that does not get round the problem of why the book is still kept hidden.’ I shifted my stance, for I had been standing a long time and my back was hurting. ‘Lord Parr, my Lord Archbishop, your majesty: with your leave I would show you what I have written on the reverse of this paper. It is a chronology, and may illustrate matters further.’ The Queen nodded, touching Catherine Howard’s pearl again. I had never seen her so subdued. But she leaned across the table with the others as I turned the paper over:

They studied the chronology. I said, ‘This timetable allows that there could be two different sets of people involved. One that was after Anne Askew’s writings, and another that wanted the Lamentation.’

Cecil shook his head. ‘But there can only have been one informer, surely. Is it not more likely the informer told Gardiner — or Norfolk, or Rich, or Wriothesley, or whoever — about Anne Askew’s Examinations first, after Myldmore took them to Greening on the twenty-ninth of June, and agents were then sent to take it, but were interrupted by Elias? Then, on the sixth or seventh of July the Lamentation comes into Greening’s hands, and two different men, also under the authority of whoever is behind this, are sent to kill him and seize both books — succeeding, apart from the torn page Greening held on to?’

‘Possibly. But surely it would have been more sensible to send the original two men on the second visit?’ I mused.

Lord Parr burst out, in sudden anger, ‘When will we get any certainty?’

‘Not yet, my Lord. And there is another possibility.’ I took a deep breath before continuing. ‘What if, after the first attempted attack, the group held divided opinions about what to do next? Perhaps some wanted to send the books abroad for publication, while others, more sensible, realized publication of the Lamentation could only damage the Queen? Remember that in terms of their understanding of politics, these people are very naive. What if the majority of the group decided not to publish the Lamentation, and those who attacked Greening that night were working for someone within the group who did want it published?’

Cranmer said, ‘We know the extreme sects are ever prone to splitting and quarrelling with each other.’

‘To the extent of murdering one another too?’ Cecil asked.

‘If enough were at stake,’ Cranmer replied sadly. ‘We should at least consider it as a possibility.’

The others were silent. Then the Queen nodded wearily. ‘At least I know who the traitor within my own household was: the guard Leeman.’ She gave me a sad little smile. ‘You were wrong, Matthew, to suspect Jane Fool and the Lady Mary.’

‘I know, your majesty. But it was my duty to interview all the possible suspects.’

She nodded again.

‘Where do we go now?’ Cranmer asked.

I turned to Cecil. ‘First, as I said, we cannot discount the possibility that one of the missing three men took the books, as part of a quarrel over strategy. If so, they may try to smuggle them out of the country. What sort of watch have you been able to put at the docks?’

‘I have arranged discreetly at the customs house for outgoing cargoes to be searched thoroughly. Of course, the customs officials’ main effort goes into searching goods coming into the country, particularly for forbidden literature. Books hidden in bales of cloth, tied in oilskin inside casks of wine—’

‘And if they find them?’ I cut in.

‘They are to be delivered to me.’ Cecil touched one of the moles on his face. ‘Lord Parr has graciously allowed me much gold to grease those wheels.’

The Queen said, ‘But what if the books go from Bristol, or Ipswich, or even on a small boat launched secretly from a creek?’

‘Then there is nothing we can do,’ Lord Parr answered flatly. He turned to me. ‘I can see a radical group sending Anne Askew’s writings abroad for Bale or someone like him to print and smuggle back to England. But the Lamentation? Surely it is obvious, with even a little thought, that printing and distributing it would do nothing but harm the Queen.’

‘I have dealt with the outer fringes of fanaticism before,’ I said. ‘These people may have actively sought to recruit people in places where secret information could be had, precisely so it could be publicized. They may even realize that harm could come to her majesty, but not care if they had it in their heads that their actions could stir people to revolt.’

Again there was a silence in the room. I continued quietly, ‘We still have two leads which have not been followed to the end, both crucial. Two people. Who is Stice, the man with the torn ear, and who is he working for? And who in God’s name is Gurone Bertano?’

‘Bertano’s name is quite unknown,’ Cranmer replied. ‘Though, as you know, there is something, some initiative, going on involving only the religious traditionalists close to the King. Whether this man could be involved I have no idea. But it could be that Greening’s group somehow got hold of a third secret, this man’s name and purpose. But from whom?’

‘The name certainly terrified Elias.’

‘We dare not question too openly, my Lord Archbishop,’ Lord Parr said. ‘If this Bertano is involved in some secret machinations of the conservatives, and I come out with the name, they will demand to know where we heard it.’

Cecil said, ‘The other man, the one with the torn ear. We know from the page that he works for someone at court, someone who was seeking information against the Queen, and who was involved in the first attempt on Greening.’

‘If only he could be found, he might be the key to the whole conspiracy,’ I said.

Lord Parr began pacing up and down, his body tensed with frustration. ‘All the great men of the realm have large households, and spies.’

Cecil said, ‘I still find it odd that Myldmore was not arrested directly after it was discovered he had spoken of Anne Askew’s torture.’

The Queen spoke up, her voice strained. ‘From what you told my uncle, Matthew, I understand Sir Anthony Knevet was unhappy about the illegality of that poor woman’s torture, and said he would report it to the King?’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I remember dining with the King one evening, about three weeks ago. We were interrupted by a messenger telling him Sir Anthony begged to see him urgently, on a confidential matter. The King was angry, said he wanted to dine in peace, but the messenger insisted it was important. I left the room and Sir Anthony was shown in — the King was not fit to walk at all that night.’ She took another calming breath. ‘They were together some time and then he left and his majesty called me back. He said nothing about the meeting but he seemed — disturbed, a little upset.’

Lord Parr said, ‘The dates certainly tally. And what else could Knevet have wished to discuss so urgently?’

The Queen continued, ‘I can tell you this. If Rich and Wriothesley tortured Anne Askew on their own initiative, or on the orders of someone higher — Gardiner or Norfolk — if they had done such a brutal and illegal thing against a woman, the King’s sense of honour would have been outraged. They would have smarted for it. Indeed, it was shortly after this that the King came up with his plan of false charges against me being brought by Wriothesley, so that he could humiliate him.’

She held herself stiffly, as though struggling to contain remembered fear. I had long known she looked on Henry with a loving, indulgent eye, though to me he was a monster of cruelty. Nonetheless, it was also known the King placed great store by traditional, chivalric values; such a mind could be shocked by a gentlewoman’s torture, while seeing nothing amiss in burning her alive. ‘That could explain why nothing has been done to Myldmore,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘And I remember Rich had a worried, preoccupied look at the burning.’ I smiled wryly. ‘Perhaps it was not only Wriothesley who felt the King’s wrath.’

Lord Parr nodded agreement. ‘Yes, my nephew’s reports of Rich and Wriothesley being subdued at council meetings date from then. Though, as I say, they seem brighter now.’

Cecil asked, ‘But would either of them then dare go on to murder the printer and steal those books?’

‘Perhaps,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘If they had an informer in an Anabaptist sect and were told about the books. Recovering the Lamentation and presenting it to the King would then help enormously in restoring their position.’

They considered this theory. Then we all jumped at a sudden knock. We looked at each other nervously — perhaps it was not wise for us all to be seen together with the Queen. Lord Parr went to the door and opened it. One of the Queen’s guards was outside. He bowed low to the Queen, then said, ‘Master Secretary Paget is outside, my Lord. He would speak with you and her majesty.’

‘Very well,’ Lord Parr said. ‘Give us a moment, then show him in.’

As the man closed the door Cranmer spoke quietly. ‘It may be politic for me to leave. Perhaps go down to the Queen’s Gallery.’

‘Very well, my Lord Archbishop,’ Lord Parr agreed.

The Archbishop opened the door and left swiftly. But immediately we heard a deep voice in the corridor. ‘My Lord Archbishop. Visiting her majesty?’

‘Indeed, Master Secretary.’

‘Perhaps you could stay a moment. I have called to discuss arrangements for the French admiral’s reception.’

Cranmer returned to the room, frowning a little. Then Secretary Paget entered, alone. He bowed to the Queen, then looked around at us with the confident stare of a man in charge of his surroundings. I remembered that square, hard face from the burning, the mouth a downturned slit between his long moustache and unruly forked beard. He wore a grey robe and cap today, no ostentation apart from his heavy gold chain of office, and carried a sheaf of papers under his arm. ‘Meeting with men of the Queen’s Learned Council, eh, my Lord?’ he asked Lord Parr cheerfully. ‘How would our lands ever be administered without lawyers dipping their quills in the ink, hey? Well, I, too, was a lawyer once. I hope you do not trouble her majesty too much?’ he added maliciously, regarding Lord Parr with a flat, unblinking stare.

I glanced at the Queen; she had managed in an instant to compose her features. She now radiated quiet regality: a lift of the chin and shoulders, a slight stiffening of the body. ‘My councillors simplify matters for my weak woman’s wit,’ she said cheerfully.

Paget bowed again. ‘I fear I, too, must ask to indulge your well-known patience, but on a more congenial subject, I am sure. The King has given orders for new clothes for your ladies who will accompany you at the festivities for the French admiral. He wishes you to be very well attended.’

‘His majesty is gracious as ever.’

‘I know the festivities are a month away, but there is a great deal to organize. May we discuss the arrangements? Afterwards, my Lord Archbishop, perhaps we could talk about your role, which will also be important.’

Behind Paget’s back, Lord Parr looked at Cecil and me, then curtly inclined his head to the door. Fortunately, we were too lowly to be introduced to Master Secretary. We bowed to the Queen and sidled out. Paget was saying, ‘The finest cloth has been ordered, to be made up at Baynard’s Castle...’

Cecil and I walked away up the corridor, saying nothing until we reached the discreetly positioned window overlooking the courtyard, where I had seen the King that first day. The courtyard was empty this afternoon apart from a couple of young courtiers lounging lazily against a wall. The afternoon shadows were lengthening.

I spoke quietly. ‘Secretary Paget. I saw him at the burning.’

‘Yes.’

‘He is a traditionalist, is he not?’

‘He was first brought to court under Bishop Gardiner’s patronage, but he is not linked to him any more.’

‘No?’

‘He is the King’s man now and nobody else’s. With the King so physically weak, he puts more and more of the work in Paget’s hands, but Paget never oversteps himself.’

‘Yes, I heard he learned that lesson from Wolsey and Cromwell.’

Cecil nodded. ‘Whichever way the wind blows, Paget will follow only the King’s wishes. If he has any principles of his own they are well hidden away.’

‘Bend with the wind rather than break.’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘But — are we sure? If Paget is a traditionalist in religion, and on good terms with Rich and Wriothesley? It seems those two may have taken the initiative to torture Anne Askew without consulting the King; perhaps Paget, too, is capable of using his initiative. With the King so ill. And is the Secretary not responsible for all official spies and informers?’

‘Official ones, certainly,’ Cecil replied slowly. ‘But as Lord Parr said earlier, all the great men run unofficial ones. As for the King’s health, his body is breaking down, but, from all I hear, his mind and will are as sharp as ever.’

I looked at young Cecil: clever, always coolly in control, with more than a touch of unscrupulousness, I suspected. But nonetheless he had nailed his flag unhesitatingly to the Queen’s mast. He gave a heavy sigh and I realized that he, too, must be feeling the strain of all this. I wondered whether he also felt afraid now when he smelled smoke. ‘What happens next?’ I asked him gently.

‘It is in Lord Parr’s hands, and mine, for now, I think. Watching the docks, trying to find this man with half an ear, and solving the mystery of Bertano.’

He touched my arm, an unexpected gesture. ‘We are grateful to you, Master Shardlake. That talk clarified much —’ He broke off. ‘Ah, see. Down there.’

I looked into the courtyard. Two men had entered and were walking across it, talking amiably. The two young layabouts who were already there stopped leaning on the wall and bowed deeply to them. One was the Queen’s brother, William Parr, Earl of Essex, tall and thin with his gaunt face and trim auburn beard. The other was the man I had heard the Queen’s ladies speaking of as being back in England, a man whom the Queen had once loved and whom I despised: Sir Thomas Seymour. He wore a short green robe, with white silk hose showing off his shapely legs, and a wide flat cap with a swan feather on his coppery head. With one hand he was stroking his dark auburn beard, which was long like Paget’s, but combed to silky smoothness.

‘The Parr-Seymour alliance in action,’ Cecil whispered, with the keen interest of a connoisseur of politics. ‘The two main reformist families meet.’

‘Is not Sir Thomas too headstrong for a senior position?’

‘Yes indeed. But for now his brother Lord Hertford is abroad, and Sir Thomas keeps the flag flying. Lord Hertford returns very soon, though. I have contacts in his household.’ Cecil looked at me with a quick, vain little smile, then bowed. ‘I will leave you now, sir. You will be summoned when there is further news. Thank you again.’

I watched him walk away down the corridor, with his quick, confident steps. That smile made me think: Cecil, too, would one day make a politician; already he had his foot on the first rung of the ladder. I wondered about the alliance between the Parrs and the Seymours. For now, they were united against the religious conservatives. But when the King died both families would have separate claims to govern the realm in the name of the boy Edward: the Parrs as the family of his stepmother, the Seymours as that of his dead true mother. And how long, then, would the alliance last?