Lamentation

Chapter Twenty-eight

I half-walked, half-ran the few streets to Barak’s house, earning curious stares from passers-by. My overwhelming fear was that he had found a similar note at Nicholas’s rooms and had gone off on a hunt of his own. I told myself it was not like Barak to act impulsively, certainly not these days. But I was truly frightened now for both of them, and cursed myself anew for the trouble my involvement with the Lamentation had brought to all around me.

I was out of breath when I arrived, sweating and panting heavily as I knocked at the door. I realized I had become unfit these last months, doing little more than sitting at my work all day and eating Agnes Brocket’s good food at home.

Jane Marris opened the door. She curtsied, then stared at me. ‘Have you run here, Master Shardlake?’

‘Half-run. From chambers.’

Unexpectedly, she smiled. ‘All is well, sir. The mistress had a scare, but it turned out to be nothing. Dr Malton is with her.’

I frowned, not knowing what she meant, but followed her anxiously down the little hallway, breathing hard. In the neat little parlour Tamasin sat on cushions, looking pale. To my immense relief Barak sat on a chair beside her, his unbandaged hand in hers while Guy, in his long physician’s robe, leaned over the table, mixing herbs in a dish. From upstairs I heard little George crying.

‘Jane,’ Tamasin said, ‘will you go up to him? He knows there is something out of sorts.’

‘What has happened?’ I asked when Jane left the room.

Barak looked up. In the warm summer evening he wore only his shirt and hose, and I again glimpsed his father’s ancient mezuzah on its gold chain round his neck. ‘Tamasin had a pain in her stomach this morning. When I came home at lunchtime it was worse. She feared something was happening to the baby. I went round to Guy.’

Guy spoke soothingly, ‘All is well, it was nothing more than wind.’ Tamasin looked away, embarrassed.

‘She had me worried,’ Barak said. Tamasin lifted a hand and stroked his neat beard. He turned his head to look at me. ‘Sorry I didn’t come back to work. But it’s Saturday. Paperwork day. How did you know I was here?’

‘I–I didn’t, for certain. But there was something I needed to discuss with you urgently, so I came round.’

‘I am sorry I discommoded you,’ Tamasin said.

‘’Tis you that needs the commode,’ Barak answered with a wicked grin.

‘Fie, Jack.’ She reddened.

Guy stood up. ‘Mix these herbs with some beer and take them with food,’ he instructed. ‘Sometimes the mixture can ease — what you have.’ He smiled. ‘There is nothing else to worry about.’

Tamasin took his hand. ‘You are good to us,’ she said. ‘Only we worry, after —’

‘I know,’ Guy said. She was remembering their first, stillborn child.

‘I’ll see you out,’ Barak said.

‘Thank you.’ I noticed there was still a reserve in Guy’s voice when he addressed me. He gave me a formal little bow, which hurt me more than hard words would have done, and Barak showed him out. I was left with Tamasin. She leaned back on the cushions.

‘I was worried,’ she said to me quietly.

‘I understand. In your condition any — upset — must make you fear some ill to the child.’

‘Yes.’ She looked wistful. ‘I hope for a daughter this time. A little girl to dress in frocks and make rag dolls for.’

‘Maybe it will be so.’

She smiled briefly at the thought, then said, ‘Guy looked at Jack’s hand. It is healing well. But it was unlike him to be so careless, and that is a nasty cut to get just from a paper knife.’ Her eyes had narrowed slightly and I had to stop myself shifting uneasily; I knew how sharp Tamasin was.

‘I am glad it is healing well,’ I replied neutrally.

Barak returned. From the look of me he had guessed something serious was afoot. ‘We’ll go and talk up in the bedroom, Tammy,’ he said. ‘You won’t want to hear a lot of legal business.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Take Guy’s advice, woman,’ he said with mock severity, ‘and get some rest.’ He led me up the little staircase to their bedroom, where he sat on the bed, lowering his voice, for Jane Marris was still with George next door. He spoke quietly. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Did you go round to Nicholas’s lodgings today?’

‘Yes. I promised I would. At lunchtime, before coming home. The other students he shares that pigsty with said he went out yesterday evening and didn’t come back. They thought he’d probably found a whore to bed with.’

‘He didn’t, though. Read this.’ I took out the note and handed it to him. ‘It was pushed under the chambers door less than half an hour ago.’

After reading the message, Barak closed his eyes a moment before opening them and glaring at me furiously.

‘All right,’ he said, his voice still quiet. ‘What in Christ’s name is going on?’

‘I can’t tell you everything. I’m sworn to secrecy—’

‘Fuck that!’ His voice rose angrily. ‘Something big’s happening, isn’t it? You’ve been using me and Nicholas to help with aspects of it. That stolen jewel of the Queen’s down at Baynard’s Castle, the murdered printer whose parents you’re supposed to be acting for, those men who attacked us in that tavern; that scared-looking young man you questioned in chambers. They’re all connected, aren’t they? You send me with a note to the palace and then a whole troop of men come and take the poor arsehole away. He was terrified. And that young lawyer who came with them, the one with the warty face, he works for the Queen, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘I could tell by the manner, the cut of his robe, that he was a palace lawyer — I worked round people like that long enough. And I’ve known you six years; I know how jumpy and tetchy you get when something dangerous is on!’ He stabbed a finger at me. ‘The Queen’s got you mixed up in something again, hasn’t she? Someone’s kidnapped Nick because of it, and you want me to help you get him back! Well, tell me everything first! Everything!’

I raised my hands. ‘Lower your voice, or the women will hear.’ I hesitated; if I told him all I would be breaking my oath and exposing him to dangerous secrets, but if I were to do anything for Nicholas I needed Barak’s assistance now. So I told him the whole story: my first summons to the Queen, the missing Lamentation, the two men who had died and the others who had vanished, Myldmore’s confession, Anne Askew’s writings. I spoke softly, Barak asking a couple of questions now and again in an equally quiet voice.

At the end of my story he sat thinking, stroking his beard, but still looking angry. ‘Can’t you get the Queen’s men to help you?’

‘The note says they have a spy in the palace.’

‘That could be bluff.’

‘I daren’t risk it.’

‘Can’t you get a personal note to the Queen herself — you who would do anything for her?’ There was impatience in his voice.

I shook my head. ‘There is no time. Nine tonight, remember. It’s well past seven now.’

‘If there is a spy at Whitehall Palace, they won’t let you out of this house of theirs alive to tell of it. Let alone release Nick.’

I spoke quietly, ‘I just want you to come to the house with me and hide nearby while I go in. You’re good at that.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Then, if I don’t come out in twenty minutes, try to get a message to the lawyer William Cecil. There is no danger to you in that.’

He shook his head, suddenly weary. ‘You’d die for the Queen, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I answered simply.

He paced the room, then said, ‘Shit. I’ll come. Though I think Tamasin’s already suspicious over my hand.’

‘Thank you, Jack.’ I spoke humbly. ‘Thank you. I am more grateful than I can say.’

‘So you fucking should be. Now wait here while I go and say goodbye to my wife, tell her some story about a witness that needs to be seen urgently. I don’t want her seeing that drawn face of yours again. I’ll call you down.’

‘We’ve an hour and a half,’ I said.

‘Enough, then, to find a tavern, and think and plan properly.’

We walked into the city, then down towards the river. Barak had donned an old leather jerkin over his shirt, and brought another for me, which I had placed over my doublet once we left the house. It would not be wise to stand out in the poorer areas for which we were headed. Greening’s killers had known that.

‘Have you any gold in your purse?’ he asked.

‘Yes. And some silver.’

‘Gold’s much better.’

We said little more as we walked along St Peter’s Street and into Thames Street. To the south I could see the cranes on the wharves and the river beyond, white with sails. Over to the west the sun was setting. Barak never broke his stride; he had spent all his life in the city and knew every street and alley. Eventually he stopped. A respectable-looking tavern stood where Thames Street intersected with a lane of narrow, tumbledown houses that led down to the river, some of the buildings slanting at odd angles as they had settled, over the decades, into the Thames clay. A little way down the lane I saw a sign marking another, shabbier-looking tavern, painted with the red-and-white cross of St George. It was the Sign of the Flag mentioned in the note.

‘Needlepin Lane,’ Barak said. ‘Mostly cheap lodging houses. Let’s go in here to this tavern; sit by the window.’

The place was busy, mostly with shopkeepers and workers come for a drink at the end of the day. Barak got two mugs of beer and we took seats with a view of the lane; the shutters were wide open this hot evening, letting in the stifling dusty stink of the city. We had scarcely sat when Barak rose again. A solidly built man in a London constable’s red uniform, staff over his shoulder and lamp in hand, was walking by. Later he would patrol the streets to enforce the curfew. Barak leaned over. ‘Your purse. Quick!’

I handed it over. Barak darted outside and I saw him talking with the constable, their heads bent close. At one point the constable turned and stared at me for a moment, then he walked on down Thames Street. Barak returned to the tavern.

‘Right,’ he said, taking his stool. ‘I’ve squared him.’

‘I didn’t see money pass.’

‘He’s good at passing coins unseen. So am I. I told him we’re on official business about some stolen jewellery, and we’re meeting an informant at the house two doors down at nine. Asked him to be ready to come to the house with anyone else he can muster, if I shout.’

‘Well done.’ I knew nobody better at such tasks; Barak’s instincts were always extraordinary.

‘I asked him if he knew who lived there. He said one or two men go there occasionally, but mostly it’s empty. He thinks it might be where some gentleman takes a girl, though if so he hasn’t seen her. You’re four shillings poorer, but it’s worth it.’ He paused. ‘It could well be a house belonging to some courtier, where people meet for unauthorized business. Lord Cromwell had such places; I expect the Queen’s people are keeping that gaoler from the Tower in one.’ He fell silent as a young boy set a candle on our table; outside it was getting dark. Barak took a draught of beer, then stood again. ‘I’m going to take a quick walk up and down the street. See if there are any lights on in that house.’ He left again, returning a few minutes later. ‘The shutters are green, like the note said. They’re closed but I could see a glimmer of light between the slats on the ground floor.’ He raised his eyebrows and smiled. ‘Nothing to do now but wait till the church clocks strike curfew.’ Then he took a long gulp of beer.

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘I would not have thought of any of that.’

He nodded. ‘I quite enjoyed persuading the constable to back us up, spying out that house. And even that sword fight in the inn, if truth be told, for all it hurt my hand. Old habits die hard.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘But I’ve not the speed and energy I once had. I’ve a good wife, a good job, a child and another on the way.’ He stared into space a moment, then said, ‘Lord Cromwell pulled me out of the gutter when I was a boy. I enjoyed the work I did for him, too, the need for sharp wits and sometimes a sharp knife. But that’s a job for the young, and those with little to lose.’

I quoted a biblical verse that came to my mind: ‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’

‘Never had much chance for childish things.’ Barak took another swig of beer, and looked at me hard. ‘The old ways — I still love that excitement of having to move, think, watch, quickly, on your feet. I’ve realized that again tonight.’ He sat thinking, then looked at me and spoke quietly. ‘I passed my mother in the street, you know, a few months back.’

I stared at him. I knew that after the death of his father, Barak’s mother had quickly married another man, whom he detested; he had been out on the streets alone by the age of twelve. He said, ‘She was old, bent, carrying a pile of twigs for the fire. I don’t know what happened to him, maybe he’s dead, with luck.’

‘Did you speak to her?’

He shook his head. ‘She was coming towards me, I recognized her at once. I stopped, I wasn’t sure whether to speak to her or not. I felt sorry for her. But she walked straight past, didn’t recognize me. So that was that. It’s for the best.’

‘How could you expect her to recognize you? You hadn’t seen her in over twenty years.’

‘A decent mother would know her own child,’ he answered stubbornly.

‘Did you tell Tamasin?’

He shook his head firmly. ‘She’d press me to look for her. And I won’t.’ His jaw set hard.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What’s done is done.’ He changed the subject. ‘You realize Nick may not be at that house, if he’s even still alive. These people want you, to find out what you know, and they won’t be gentle. After that, they’ll have no use for either of you.’

I met his gaze. ‘I know. But if they are going to interrogate me, it will take time. That’s why I need you to watch. If I don’t come out in twenty minutes, call your new friend the constable. I was going to tell you to go to Whitehall, but this way’s better and faster.’

‘All right.’ He fixed me with his hard brown eyes, and spoke seriously. ‘You have to separate yourself from the Queen. Every time you go near that cesspit they call the Royal Court you end up in danger.’

‘She is in danger.’

‘Her own fault, by the sound of it.’

I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘The King is dying.’

‘I’ve heard that rumour.’

‘It’s more than rumour. I’ve caught glimpses of him, twice. The state he is in — I don’t see how he can last more than a few months.’

‘And then?’

‘Then, if the reformers are in the ascendant, the Queen may be one of those who governs for Prince Edward. She may even be made Regent, as she was when the King led his army to France two years ago. But that book in the wrong hands could kill her.’

Barak inclined his head. ‘Even if she survives, and the reformers win, the Seymours will want to take over. And they’re Prince Edward’s blood relatives, after all. If they do, perhaps the Queen may marry again.’ He looked at me narrowly. ‘Another political marriage, probably, to someone powerful at Court.’

I smiled wryly. ‘Jack, I have never had the remotest hopes for myself, if that’s what is in your mind. Catherine Parr was far above me in status even before she married the King. I have always known that.’

‘Then let this be the last time,’ Barak said, with sudden fierceness.

At nine the church bell sounding through the deepening dusk signalled curfew, and the tavern emptied. We went outside. I saw the constable on the corner, his lamp lit. A large, younger man stood beside him. ‘Just about to start my patrol, sir,’ he said meaningfully to Barak, who nodded. We left them and walked down Needlepin Lane as far as the Sign of the Flag, where again patrons were dispersing for the night. They were a younger, rougher crowd, several apprentices among them. Barak nodded at a doorway just beyond. ‘I’ll wait there,’ he said. ‘Just out of sight.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Twenty minutes.’

‘I’ll count them off. Good luck.’

‘Thank you.’ I walked on, my legs trembling slightly. I passed a house where a ragged family could be seen through open shutters, eating a late supper by the light of a cheap candle; the next house was the one with the green shutters. Like Barak, I could see a light through the closed slats. Looking up at the upper storey, I glimpsed a faint light there too; someone was watching the street. But they could not have seen Barak from that angle.

I knocked at the wooden door. Immediately I heard heavy footsteps within. The door opened and a short, heavyset man in a stained shirt stared at me. He had a candle in one hand, the other held over the dagger at his waist. Elias’s descriptions of the men who had made the first attempt to break into Greening’s shop had been vague, but this could have been one of them. He was in his late twenties and under bushy black hair his face was square, craggy, with an angry expression that spoke of temper.

‘I am Master Shardlake,’ I said. ‘I received the note.’

He nodded curtly and stepped aside. I entered a room with rushes on the floor, the only furniture a trestle table bearing a large sconce of candles, with stools around. A rickety staircase led to the upper floor. On one of the stools sat Nicholas, his hands bound behind him and a gag in his mouth. He had a black eye, crusted blood on the gag and in his matted red hair. Behind him stood another young man; tall, in gentlemanly clothing — a good green doublet, with embroidery at the sleeves and neck of his shirt. He had keen, foxy features and a neatly trimmed fair beard. The outer half of his left ear was missing; at some point it had been sliced clean off, leaving only shiny scar tissue. He held a sword to Nicholas’s throat; the boy stared at me with frantic eyes.

The man who had let me in closed the door. ‘No sign of anyone else, Gower?’ his companion with the damaged ear asked in cultivated tones.

‘No, Master Stice. And he’s watching above.’ He cocked his head towards the staircase.

The other man nodded, his sword still held to Nicholas’s throat. I thought, they’ve let me know both their names; that doesn’t bode well for us. Stice looked at me then; his grey eyes were cool, appraising. He took the sword slowly away from Nicholas’s throat and smiled.

‘So, Master Shardlake, you came. We didn’t think you would, but our master disagreed. He says you have courage and loyalty both.’

Gower stepped over, looking at me with his angry eyes. ‘Perhaps you like the boy, eh, hunchback? Someone like you won’t have much luck with women. Would have thought you could have done better than this beanpole, though.’

‘Leave him alone, Gower,’ Stice snapped impatiently. ‘We’ve business to conduct, no time for jests.’

I looked at Stice contemptuously. ‘What have you done to Nicholas?’

‘We had to knock him out to get him here. And he wasn’t very cooperative when he woke up. Gower had to give him a lesson in manners.’

‘I have come as you asked. Release him.’

Stice nodded. ‘You can have him, though Leonard here would have relished preparing his head to send you.’ He glanced at Gower. ‘Full of funny ideas is Leonard. He thinks you’re a sodomite.’ I would not have dared to mock the man like that, but he took it from Stice, who reached behind Nicholas and untied the gag, then used his sword to slice through his bonds. Gower went and stood beside Nicholas, hand held meaningfully on his knife, as the boy pulled the gag from his mouth. Eventually he spoke in a dry, hoarse voice. ‘I’m so sorry, sir.’

‘It is my fault,’ I said quietly. ‘I led you into danger.’

‘I’d been to a tavern last night,’ he croaked.’ I was walking home when I was knocked out from behind. When I woke up I was here. Where are we?’

‘A house near the river.’ I turned to Stice. ‘Well, are you going to let him go?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. There’s someone wants to talk to you, then if he’s happy we’ll let you both go. Leonard will take Nicky boy out back in the meantime.’ Stice, sword still in hand, leaned against the wall, waiting.

Nicholas still sat. ‘For mercy’s sake,’ he cried. ‘May I have some water?’ He swallowed uncomfortably and grimaced with pain.

‘Poor baby,’ Stice replied with a mocking laugh. ‘Not much forbearance for a gentleman. Oh, get him some water from the barrel, Leonard.’

As Gower went through a door to the back of the house, Nicholas stood, shakily. I heard a creak from the floorboards above, and remembered there was another man in the house. Well, we had been here for five minutes; fifteen more and Barak and the constable would come with his men. In the meantime I would have to dissimulate well. Nicholas stood, stretching, and feeling his bruises. Stice still leaned against the wall, hand on his sword hilt, watching him with amusement.

Suddenly Nicholas launched himself at Stice, clearing the few feet between them with one leap, a hand closing on Stice’s wrist before he could grasp his sword. Caught off guard, Stice let out a yell of anger as Nicholas grasped his other wrist and pinned him to the wall, then kneed him hard in the crotch. He cried out and bent over.

‘Stop, Nicholas!’ I shouted. A fight now was the last thing I wanted, and it was one we could not win. At that moment Gower came back with a pitcher of water. With a shout he dropped it on the floor and reached for his dagger, raising it high to bury it in Nicholas’s back. I threw myself at him and knocked him off balance, but he did not fall, and turned on me with the dagger just as Stice managed to push Nicholas away from the wall and raised his sword. His face was white with anger.

Then rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs and a voice called out, ‘Cease this mad brawling!’ Not a loud voice, but sharp as a file; one I recognized. It was enough to stop Gower in his tracks, and make Stice pause, too. Confident footsteps walked into the room. I turned and beheld, dressed in sober black robe and cap, his thin face frowning mightily, his majesty’s Privy Councillor, Sir Richard Rich.