Lamentation

Chapter Thirty

I sat in Lord Parr’s office again. It was late, well past midnight. Whitehall Palace was dark and silent, everyone asleep apart from the guards ceaselessly patrolling the corridors. Lit only by dim candlelight, all the gorgeous decoration was in shadow, hidden.

Lord Parr was still working in his office when I arrived; his room brightly lit with fat buttermilk candles, the shutters closed. He had called for William Cecil, who arrived within minutes; he must have been staying at the palace. After I told them the story of my encounter with Rich, Lord Parr sent for the Queen; she had been with the King that evening but had returned to her own bedchamber. ‘She must be consulted,’ he insisted. ‘This comes so near to her person.’

Sitting behind his desk while we waited, Lord Parr looked exhausted. ‘Richard Rich, eh?’ He shook his head and smiled wearily, the old courtier in him perhaps amused by this turn of the political screw.

‘I thought Rich might be behind all of it,’ I said. ‘The murders and the taking of the book. But it seems not so, not this time.’

‘But if he gets hold of the Lamentation—’ Cecil began.

‘Yes,’ Lord Parr replied. ‘He would use it. The campaign against the Queen could revive.’ He looked between us. ‘Well, you know the saying: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Let us work with Rich, and keep him close.’

There was a gentle knock at the door. Mary Odell and the Queen’s sister, Lady Herbert, stood in the doorway, bearing candles. They stepped aside to allow the Queen to walk into the room between them. Like the others she was dressed informally, in a gold-and-green caftan; there had been no time for the long labour with pins and corsets necessary for her to be dressed fully. Her auburn hair was tied back under a knitted hood. Under hastily applied whitelead, her face was tense. We bowed to her, my back suddenly stiff after the long day. She dismissed her ladies.

‘What news?’ she asked without preliminaries. ‘Please, tell me my book is found.’

‘Not yet, niece,’ Lord Parr said gently. ‘But there has been another development, a — complication. I am sorry to request your presence at this time of night, but matters are urgent.’

He nodded to me, and again I told my story, though missing out the part about Stice’s threat to send me Nicholas’s head. ‘Rich knows nothing of the Lamentation,’ I concluded. ‘He believes there may be something in Anne Askew’s writings which would compromise you as well as him.’

‘Rich doesn’t know we have Myldmore,’ Lord Parr added. ‘Shardlake did well in foxing him.’

‘The rogue, though.’ The Queen walked past me to the shutters, a rustle of silk and a waft of scent as she passed. She made to open them. ‘It is so hot—’

‘Please, Kate,’ Lord Parr said urgently. ‘You never know who may be watching.’

The Queen turned back to us, a bitter little smile playing on her lips. ‘Yes. For a moment I forgot, here one must guard one’s every movement.’ She breathed deeply, then took a seat and looked at each of us in turn. ‘Must we cooperate with Rich?’

‘We must at least pretend to,’ Lord Parr answered. ‘Work with his people, but watch them every moment. More pairs of eyes at the docks would be useful.’ He turned to me. ‘That information about Bale is helpful, as well.’

‘But who has the books?’ Cecil asked. ‘The four who have disappeared — McKendrick, Curdy, Vandersteyn, and that wretched guard, Leeman? Or someone else entirely? We do not even know if the missing four are still alive. Who employed Greening’s murderers? We know now it wasn’t Rich.’

I said, ‘I think the four missing men are radicals who want to get both books out of the country. We know from their actions in Germany what the Anabaptists are capable of, even if some have renounced violence now. Greening’s killers could have been henchmen of theirs, employed after an internal falling out. I have said before, if it was the conservatives that took the Lamentation, all they would need to do is lay a copy before the King.’ The Queen winced momentarily, but it had to be said. ‘I think the answer lies with Curdy’s people within the radical group.’

Lord Parr shook his head. ‘We may know the limits of Rich’s involvement, but someone else who bears the Queen ill will at the court could still be hiding the book, and could have employed one of the group as a spy.’ He shook his head again. ‘If so it would almost certainly be a member of the Privy Council, I am sure. But which one? And where is the book now?’

‘We still have no idea,’ Cecil said.

Lord Parr took a deep breath. ‘All right. Shardlake, you liaise with Rich via this man Stice. You and Cecil can work with his people on trying to find the missing men, and keeping an eye on the docks.’ He bent forward and scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘These are our men at the customs house there. Give this to Stice, and get the names of their agents in return. Our men know only that we are looking for someone trying to smuggle out some writings.’

Cecil looked uneasy. ‘There are murderers involved. There could be trouble. We may have to deal with the missing men if they try to escape, and if Stice calls on us we shall need help. We may have to deal with more of Rich’s people, too, if the Lamentation is found. How many fit young men do you have?’

‘There are four in my household whom I would trust with this,’ Parr said. ‘Though naturally I will tell them nothing about the Lamentation.’

The Queen said, ‘I would have no violence.’

‘There may be no alternative, niece,’ Lord Parr answered sadly. ‘Shardlake and Cecil may need to defend themselves, and should have help available.’ He looked at me closely. ‘How much does your man Barak know?’

‘All of it now.’ Lord Parr raised his eyebrows. ‘I had to tell him,’ I explained, ‘when I asked him to watch for me at Needlepin Lane.’

He considered, then said, ‘Then we can use him. And what of your pupil who was kidnapped?’

‘He knows only a little. He has shown himself courageous, but he is very young. And Barak has responsibilities. I would not wish to put either into any further danger.’

‘Do they want to help?’

I hesitated. ‘Yes. They are good men.’

‘Then we need them.’

Cecil asked, ‘I know of Barak, but this boy, this —’

‘Nicholas —’

‘Is he truly fit to be trusted with this? To whom does he owe his loyalties?’

I considered. ‘Nobody other than me, I think.’

‘Would you vouch for him on that basis?’

‘Yes, certainly.’

‘What of his background? His religious loyalties?’

‘He is of Lincolnshire gentry stock. He has no links to anyone at court. As for religion, he told me once he wishes only to worship as the King requires, and believes others should be allowed liberty of conscience.’

‘Even papists?’ There was a hint of disapproval in Cecil’s voice now.

‘He said only that. I do not see it as my place to interrogate my servants as to their religious views.’

Lord Parr fixed me with his eyes, bloodshot and tired now, but still keen. Then he came to a decision. ‘Include the boy,’ he said. ‘Tell him the story. He has shown himself useful. But this is a new responsibility; make him swear that he will keep knowledge of the Queen’s book secret. Barak as well.’

‘This Nicholas sounds like a boy of little faith,’ the Queen said sadly.

I replied with an unaccustomed boldness. ‘As I said, your majesty, I have not sought to weigh his soul. I do not have the right. Nor, in fact,’ I continued, ‘do I have the right to involve him, or Barak, in more danger.’

She coloured slightly. Lord Parr frowned and opened his mouth to reprove me, but the Queen interrupted. ‘No. Matthew has the right to speak. But — if he and Cecil are to do this, surely there is safety in numbers.’ She looked at me. Slowly and reluctantly, I nodded agreement.

Lord Parr spoke brusquely. ‘So. Rich knows the heresy hunt is over but believes the reformers have not yet won. The Queen’s brother was at the Privy Council meeting today; he tells me that Gardiner and Wriothesley and Paget were whispering together again in corners. He heard them muttering about someone who was about to arrive in London.’

‘This Bertano, whose name ever haunts us?’ I asked keenly.

‘We’ve no idea,’ Lord Parr answered impatiently. ‘But if Paget knows, the King knows.’ He turned to his niece. ‘Did his majesty say anything to you tonight of this?’

The Queen frowned at her uncle. ‘He spoke only of the preparation for Admiral d’Annebault’s visit. Then we had the players in, and I sang to him. He was in much pain from his leg.’ She looked away. The Queen hated reporting on what the King had said. But these last months she had needed allies.

Lord Parr stood. ‘Very well, Shardlake. Get a message to Rich. Cecil will talk to our people at the customs house. And now I must go to bed.’

He bowed to the Queen. ‘Thank you, Uncle,’ she said quietly. ‘And you, Master Cecil. Master Shardlake, stay. I would talk with you. We can walk a little in my gallery. Mary Odell can accompany us.’ A bitter little smile. ‘It is always safest for me to have a chaperone when I talk alone with any man not my relative.’ Lord Parr gave me a sharp look; I knew he would rather any confidences went through him. Nonetheless he and Cecil left us, bowing deeply to the Queen. As he opened the door I saw Mary Odell and the Queen’s sister still waiting outside. The Queen went out and spoke to them for a moment, leaving me alone in the room. Then she returned and said, ‘Come with us.’

I stepped outside. Lady Herbert had gone but Mary Odell remained. The Queen spoke quietly. ‘You remember Mary, Matthew. You asked her some questions last week.’

‘Indeed. God give you good evening, mistress. Your information was most helpful.’

Mary Odell nodded. Her plump face was serious; those who served the Queen as closely as she would have divined that a new danger was afoot.

The Queen led us down the corridor, past her privy lodgings, through a door to a large vestibule where two or three guards stood at each of the four doors leading from it. They saluted the Queen as she walked to the door opposite. The guards opened it, and we passed through into a beautiful gallery, perhaps two hundred feet long, dark but for a view of the river from the long glass windows on one side. One guard took a torch from a bracket in the vestibule and at a signal from Mary Odell hurried down the gallery, lighting the sconces of candles standing at intervals on tables covered with colourful turkey-cloths. I looked around as the details of the gallery became dimly visible: the roof beautifully decorated in blue and gold, paintings of biblical and classical scenes lining the walls, occasional tapestries flashing with cloth-of-gold thread. At intervals large birdcages stood on poles, cloth over the cages for the night. The guard bowed and left. The Queen let out a long breath and visibly relaxed. She turned to Mary Odell.

‘Walk a little behind us, Mary. There is something I would discuss with Master Shardlake.’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

We walked slowly down the gallery. There were alcoves at intervals, each filled with rare treasures displayed on tables or stone columns: a box of gold and silver coins of strange design, stones and minerals in many colours, and several ornate clocks, their ticking an accompaniment to our progress. The Queen stopped at a desk where there was an open book and some sheets of paper with notes in her handwriting. I stared at it and she gave me a sad smile. ‘Do not worry, Matthew. I am learning Spanish, it is a diversion, and useful for diplomatic meetings. These are only my notes.’ She looked round the gallery. ‘This is my favourite place in this palace. Where I can walk undisturbed, and rest my eyes on its treasures.’

‘There is much beauty here.’

‘The clocks remind me that however frantically courtiers plot and plan beyond these doors, time ticks by regardless.’ She looked at me directly with her hazel eyes. ‘Taking us to our judgement.’

Nearby a bird stirred and cheeped, woken by the noise. The Queen went over and lifted the cover of its cage; a pretty yellow canary-bird looked out at us between the bars. ‘A shame to see it caged,’ I dared to say.

The Queen looked at it. ‘We are all caged, Matthew, in the prison of this earthly world.’

I did not answer. She said, ‘I wish you would seek salvation, Matthew. I feel sure God must call to you.’

‘I do not hear Him, your majesty.’ I hesitated. ‘I have recently become acquainted with another lawyer, a man called Philip. He is what would be called a radical. A good man. Yet in some ways — blinkered.’

‘Is it blinkered to seek faith, to have faith?’

‘Perhaps I am too cross-grained, too contrary, to know faith as you and he would understand it.’ I asked quietly, ‘Does that mean, do you think, that I am damned?’

Taken by surprise, she stood still, her face pale in the candlelight. Then she answered me softly. ‘Only God can answer such questions in the end. But He holds out the joys of true faith, for those who would take them.’

‘Does He?’ I asked. ‘I cannot help but wonder.’

‘Then why are you doing this for me? I ask more and more of you. It puts you and those you care for in great danger. I saw just now how concerned you are for those men who work for you.’

‘I am. But Nicholas is young and adventurous, and Barak —’ I sighed. ‘Well, he is no longer young, but he is still adventurous, despite himself.’

She looked at me closely. ‘Are you doing all this because it is I who ask?’

‘For you, and the loyalty I owe you,’ I answered quietly. ‘And because I hope that if your side wins people may be allowed some liberty of conscience and belief; that apprentices and young gentlewomen and aged clerics will not be burned alive at the stake for their private beliefs, while men like Rich and Gardiner look on.’

She lowered her gaze. After a moment she whispered, ‘You mean when my husband is dead?’

I answered, the words suddenly rushing from me, ‘The people are sore afraid, your majesty. Afraid that any belief they hold may be approved one month, but the next may send them to the stake. It drives them to a careful, fearful orthodoxy which, whatever it is, is not faith. All fear the prison and the fire,’ I added quietly.

‘I fear it, too,’ she replied. ‘Sometimes these last months I have been so convulsed with terror I have scarce been able to rise from my bed, let alone converse and behave as the Queen must.’ She shuddered.

I would have dearly liked to touch her then, to comfort her, but that I dared not do. We stood in silence for a moment, opposite a great ornate fireplace where carved heraldic beasts sported above the empty grate. A few yards off Mary Odell waited, hands held before her demurely.

At length the Queen drew a deep breath. ‘My family hope that one day I may be Regent for Prince Edward,’ she said quietly. ‘If that happens there will be no burnings, no persecutions. The rules governing the church would change, and there would be no capital penalties.’ She smiled sardonically. ‘But the Seymours, as the King’s uncles, believe they have a better claim. Although they too, I am sure, would want to lighten the severity of the law. For the moment we stand together against Gardiner and his people, but the future — it is in God’s hands.’ She added, passion in her voice now, ‘That is my comfort, that it is in His hands. Our duty is to be His handmaidens on this poor sorry earth.’ She lowered her head again. ‘But it is a duty I failed in when, out of pride, I kept that book despite the Archbishop’s advice.’

‘And my duty is to recover a piece of property stolen from a most noble lady, and bring a pair of murderers to book. That is all I can promise, your majesty. I cannot promise to undertake a quest for faith.’

‘It is more than most would do for me.’ The Queen smiled, then raised a hand impulsively, as though to touch my arm, but let it fall. When she spoke again her tone was level, even a little formal. ‘The hour is very late, Matthew. Mary can arrange a room for you in the outer lodgings, then you can leave tomorrow morning. I know you have much to do.’

I was found a place near the gate, in a large room with rush matting and a comfortable bed. I slept well and woke late; the sun was already high in the sky and I heard people talking in the wide courtyard outside. It was Sunday and church bells sounded both within the palace grounds and beyond the precinct. I remembered that Bealknap’s funeral had taken place yesterday; I had forgotten about it. I wondered if any mourners had gone. And as for Bealknap’s strange deathbed gloating, perhaps that mystery had died with him, too.

I dressed hurriedly — I had a message to get to Stice, and I also wanted to talk to Nicholas. As I left the lodgings I saw people had gathered round three sides of the courtyard, facing the King’s Guard Chamber. Servants, courtiers, officials, all seemed to be congregating there. I saw William Cecil a little way off and shouldered my way through the crowd to greet him.

‘Brother Shardlake?’ he said. ‘You have been here all night?’

‘Yes. I was given lodgings as it was so late.’

‘I often need to spend the night here, too. But I miss my wife and children.’ He smiled sadly, then looked at me speculatively. ‘You spoke with the Queen?’

‘Yes. Mainly of religion.’

‘She would have all see the light which she has seen.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ I changed the subject. ‘It seems, Master Cecil, that we shall be working closely, perhaps even facing danger together.’

He nodded seriously. ‘Yes. I did not know things would come so far as this.’

‘Nor I.’ I looked round curiously. ‘Why is everyone gathered here?’

‘Do you not know? When the King is in residence at Whitehall he always makes a public procession to the chapel on Sunday mornings.’

‘The Queen too?’

‘Yes. Observe.’

As I watched, a group of guards exited the ornate door of the King’s Guard Chamber and took up places before it. Then another group, Gentlemen Pensioners in their black livery decorated with gold, marched out with their halberds. Then came the King. As he was on the side nearest to me, I could only catch a glimpse of the Queen on the other side of that vast bulk, a quick view of a brightly coloured dress. Those who wore caps took them off and then loud cheers erupted from the crowd.

I looked at Henry. Today he was dressed in formal finery: a long cream satin robe with broad padded shoulders furred with marten. He looked slightly less obese than when I had seen him last, and I wondered if he was corseted, as he was said to be when he went abroad in public. Those huge bandaged legs were covered with black hose. He walked very stiffly, leaning on a thick, gold-headed walking stick, his other arm through that of a Gentleman Pensioner.

The King walked round the courtyard and turned to smile at the crowd, at one point doffing his black cap embossed with little diamonds. I saw, though, how his lips were clenched together and sweat stood out on his red brow and cheeks. I could not help but admire his courage in still presenting himself to his public as a man who could walk. It must cost him great pain. He doffed his cap once more, his little eyes darting round the courtyard, and for a moment I thought they rested on me. He passed on slowly, down the other side of the courtyard and in through the doorway of the Great Hall. Senior officials and councillors followed: I saw the stern bearded face of Paget; thin-faced, red-bearded Wriothesley; the red-robed Duke of Norfolk in the procession.

‘I thought he looked at me for a second,’ I whispered to Cecil.

‘I didn’t see. I should think he was concentrating on keeping his feet. They’ll put him in his wheeled chair as soon as he’s out of sight.’ He shook his head sadly.

‘How long can he go on?’ I asked.

Cecil frowned and leaned in close. ‘Do not forget, Master Shardlake, it is treason to foretell the death of the King. In any way.’

I agreed with Cecil that I would contact him again as soon as I had spoken with Stice. Once more I took a wherry to Temple Stairs, envying those citizens who, church over, had taken a boat onto the river to enjoy the sunshine. I walked to the narrow lanes off Amen Corner where I knew Nicholas lodged.

A young man who looked like another student answered my knock. He seemed a little reluctant to take me to Nicholas. ‘Are you his pupil-master?’ he asked.

‘I am.’

He said warily, ‘Nick’s been in a fight. He won’t say what happened, but I’m sure it’s not his fault —’

‘I know about it. And no, it wasn’t his fault.’

The student took me up a flight of stairs and knocked on a door. Nicholas answered. He was in his shirt, the strings untied, showing the line of the bandage across his chest. The bruises on his face had come out yellow and black. He made a sorry sight.

‘How are you?’ I asked.

‘It looks worse than it is, sir. And my chest is healing well.’

I followed him into an untidy room thick with dust, unwashed plates on the table, law books scattered about. It took me back to my own student days a quarter-century before; though I had been tidier than this. Nicholas evidently lodged alone, as I had. But whereas my father had not been wealthy enough to send a servant with me, Nicholas’s father had chosen not to; another sign, no doubt, of his disapproval. He invited me to take the only chair, while he sat on the unmade bed. I studied him thoughtfully. He had courage and intelligence, but also the reckless bravado of the young. But of his trustworthiness I felt certain now.

I said, ‘Nicholas, you saw last night that the matter I am involved in concerns the highest in the land. The one I am working for is of even higher status than Rich.’

His eyes widened. ‘The King himself?’

‘No, not that high. Nicholas, you spoke to me once about the religious quarrels that ravage this country. You said you wish to steer clear of it all, to be left alone and have others left alone. That is my wish, too. But what I am working on now concerns a struggle at court. On the one side are those who would keep the Mass, and in some cases perhaps bring back the Pope. On the other, those who would end what Catholic ceremonies remain. Involvement in that struggle can end in torture, murder and burning. For some, it already has.’

He fell silent. I could see my words had impressed him. ‘You still have not told me who you are working for,’ he said at length.

‘Nor can I, unless you swear an oath of secrecy.’

‘Is Jack working with you?’

‘Yes. He insists.’

‘And you need more help?’

‘Yes.’

He smiled sadly. ‘Nobody has ever asked for my help before.’

‘I say in all honesty, it may be better for you to stay out. Not because I doubt your courage or loyalty, but because of the danger. As I said last night, I can arrange for you to work for another barrister. Nicholas, you should not just think of yourself. Consider your parents, your inheritance, your future as a gentleman.’ I smiled, thinking that would get through to him as nothing else could.

His reaction surprised me. He spoke with sudden, bitter anger. ‘My parents! My inheritance! I told you, sir, why it was I came to London. My father — and my mother — would have had me marry someone I did not love. You know I refused —’

‘Yes, and so were sent to London to learn the law. I am sure when your studies are finished your parents will have got over their anger, perhaps even come to respect you for what you have done.’

‘That they never will,’ he said bitterly. ‘My father told me if I would not marry according to his wishes he would disinherit me. He sent me to learn law to get me out of his sight. My mother, too; she is even fiercer on the matter than he. She told me that in refusing to marry whom they chose I was no proper man, and not her son. So I have no inheritance.’ He looked at me fiercely.

‘That is very hard. But things said in anger —’

He shook his head. ‘They meant it. I could see it in their faces when they spoke. I remember well the sinking feeling when I realized they did not love me.’ There was a choking sound in his throat for a moment; he coughed. ‘They have already hired lawyers to see what can be done about barring the estate to me. They would transfer it to a cousin of mine, a young popinjay who would marry a one-legged dwarf if she would bring enough money. No, Master Shardlake, they mean business.’ He looked down, and smoothed the sheet on his unmade bed. ‘I am their only child. That is a burden on me, as I am on them.’

‘I, too, have no brothers and sisters. Yes, that can bring its burdens, though I never had such a hard one placed on me as you have.’

Nicholas looked around the untidy room at the law books. ‘Sometimes I find interest in the law, though at others it all seems like rats fighting in a sack. The Slanning case —’

I smiled. ‘Fortunately, cases such as that are rare. What matters do you find interest in?’

‘Ones where one can sympathize with the client, where one sees an injustice to be righted.’ He smiled. ‘Exciting ones.’

‘Exciting ones are dangerous ones. And as for the others, one cannot just act for those of whom one approves. However, in the autumn term perhaps you could assist with my cases in the Court of Requests.’

He made a face. ‘Commoners suing the gentlemen who are their natural rulers?’

‘Should everyone not have an equal right to go to law, just as they should have to their private religious views?’

He shrugged.

‘Perhaps you would see matters differently if you were to work on the cases.’

‘I do not know. For now, an active life, in pursuit of an honourable cause, that is what I want. Even if it means being kidnapped again.’ He smiled then, his large green eyes shining.

‘Something with meaning?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘Yes. I need some — meaning.’

I realized now that Nicholas wanted a life of adventure partly to escape the memory of what his unworthy parents had done. I remembered the story I had heard of him getting into a sword fight over a prostitute. I thought, if he does not find the excitement he needs with me he may find it somewhere else, and end with a sword in the guts. And perhaps if he is with me I can guide him, check that self-destructive urge I detected in him. ‘You think the cause I serve is just?’ I asked.

He answered seriously, ‘If it will bring an end to such persecution as I have seen since coming to London, then yes.’

‘If I tell you for whom I am working, and the details of what this is about, you must first swear, on your oath as a gentleman, to tell nobody, nobody at all.’

‘I have no bible here—’

‘Your word will do.’

‘Then I swear.’

‘My employer is that honourable lady, her majesty Queen Catherine.’

His eyes widened. ‘Skelly told me you used to do legal work for her.’

‘I have known her since before she was Queen. She is a good lady.’

‘Many say she has been in trouble.’

‘She has. She is now. But she is no persecutor of anyone.’

‘Then I will help you.’

‘Thank you. And Nicholas, do as I tell you, with care; no heroics.’

He blushed under his bruises. ‘I will.’

I took his hand. ‘Then thank you.’