Lamentation

Chapter Thirty-one

I walked from Nicholas’s lodgings back to Needlepin Lane. In daylight it looked even more dingy, the plasterwork crumbling on the old houses, the lane a narrow track with a stinking piss-channel in the middle. Though it was Sunday, men were standing outside the Flag Tavern, quaffing beer from wooden mugs in the sunshine. Among them I saw a couple of girls in bright make-up and low-cut dresses. The King had ordered the Southwark brothels closed that spring, but although prostitution was already illegal in the city and conviction could bring a whipping, many whores had come north of the river. One girl, well in her cups, caught my glance and shouted out, ‘Don’t glower at me like that, crookback, I’m a respectable lady!’ People stared at me, and some laughed. I ignored them and knocked on the door of the house with the green shutters. Stice opened it immediately.

‘You’re back soon.’

‘I have a message for your master.’ I nodded over my shoulder. ‘I’d best come in; I’ve attracted notice from the people outside the tavern.’

‘Common churls, they’re always shouting at passers-by.’ He stood aside, and I walked into the bare room. My hand closed instinctively on my knife as he shut the door and went over to the table. He sat down, smiling insolently. The sword with which he had nearly killed Nicholas the night before lay there; he had been polishing it. The sun glinted on its razor-sharp edge. There was a jug of beer and some pewter mugs on the table, too. ‘No hard feelings, eh, Master Shardlake?’ Stice said. ‘We each serve those to whom we are pledged.’ Then, with an edge to his voice, ‘You have an answer for my master?’

‘Yes. Those I work for agree to our collaborating to try and locate these missing people, and Anne Askew’s writings. I will liaise with you. We have another man, a lawyer named William Cecil, who has been keeping an eye on the docks. These are the people he has paid to look for writings being smuggled out.’ I handed him a copy of Cecil’s list. Stice looked it over and nodded. ‘Well, between us,’ he said, ‘I think we have the docks and the custom house covered.’

‘How many men do you have there?’

‘In our pay, two officials.’ He wrote two names on the bottom of the sheet of paper, tore it off and gave it to me.

‘Sir Richard said that Bale is expecting a consignment. Let us hope we are in time.’

‘Amen to that.’

‘One important condition, Master Stice. If either party has word of the cargo, they warn the other at once.’

‘Of course.’ Stice smiled and spread his arms. ‘By the way, if there’s any fighting to be done — say with what’s left of Greening’s people, if they turn up — how many men can you bring to bear?’

‘Two for certain. Probably two or three more.’

‘Are the first two Barak and the boy?’

‘Yes.’

Stice nodded appreciatively. ‘They’re both handy.’

‘Cecil will likely be able to call on more.’

‘And I have three on hand, including Gower, whom you met yesterday. He’s down keeping an eye on the docks now. I’m sure my master will agree those terms.’ He laughed. ‘Who would have thought, when you came in last night, we’d end by working together? Come, sit, let’s share a beer.’

Reluctantly, I dropped into a chair opposite him. The more I could learn about these people the better: I had no doubt that if they got hold of the Lamentation Rich would betray us in an instant.

Stice poured me a beer, then lounged back in his chair. He was, I reckoned, about twenty-five. He dressed well — again the silk cuff of his shirt was visible below the sleeve of his doublet, like the one he had torn on his aborted raid on Greening’s premises. His face was good-looking in a hard way, though that lopped ear was a disfigurement. I wondered that he did not wear his hair long to hide it.

Stice saw me looking and put his hand to the ear. ‘Can’t miss it, eh? People’s eyes get drawn to it, as I daresay they do to your back. I’m not ashamed of it, I came by it in an honest duel, with a mangehound who impugned my ancestry. And in the sort of business Master Rich sometimes has me on, it shows people I’m not to be treated lightly.’

‘How long have you worked for Rich?’

‘Two years. I come from Essex, where Sir Richard has many properties. My father’s land adjoins his, and he sent me to court to try my luck. Sir Richard was looking for young gentlemen with no ties and a taste for adventure.’ He smiled again.

I thought, another young gentleman, like Nicholas, in search of excitement. Yet Stice, I guessed, would stoop to anything, including murder, for the sake of rising in Rich’s service. That, no doubt, was why Rich had chosen him.

He laughed. ‘By Mary, sir, you have a grim look. Sir Richard said you had the manner of a canting Lutheran, though not the religion.’

I did not answer directly. ‘You hope to advance under Rich?’ I asked.

‘I do. Sir Richard is loyal to those who serve him. It is well known.’

I laughed. ‘Loyalty is not the word that comes to my mind.’

Stice waved a dismissive hand. ‘You speak of his dealings at the King’s court. None of the great men is truly loyal to any other. But Sir Richard is known to stick by those who serve him, and reward them well.’ His eyes narrowed over his mug. ‘I hope the same can be said of the Queen and her people. Who is it you work for? Sir Richard told me it was probably Lord Parr, her uncle.’

I was not going to be drawn. I put down my mug and stood abruptly. ‘I will let you know if I have news of any developments. And you can contact me at my house. It is in Chancery Lane.’

He raised his mug in a mocking gesture. ‘I know where it is.’

I had decided to warn Philip Coleswyn of the latest turn in the Slanning case, but I thought that was best done after I had discussed Isabel Slanning’s complaint with Treasurer Rowland on the morrow. I went home; I had what remained of Sunday to myself, and there were two other things I needed to do.

First I went to my study and wrote a letter to Hugh. I wrote of the general news, and my part in the coming ceremonies to welcome Admiral d’Annebault. Then I advised him that John Bale was a dangerous man, that he was to be avoided, and warned Hugh not to write to me of him again. There, I thought: at least I have not drawn Hugh into this. I sealed the letter and put it in my satchel to be posted from Lincoln’s Inn tomorrow.

I went downstairs. The house was silent. As agreed, Josephine had gone walking with her young man again, so I knew she was not at home. There was nobody in the kitchen; a tallow candle was burning on the table there, in order that there should be fire ready for cooking later. I went out to the stables, where Timothy was energetically mucking out the stable, a pile of old straw and horse dung already by the door.

‘God give you good morrow, master,’ he said.

‘And you, Timothy. Remember to keep the horse-dung for Mistress Brocket’s vegetable patch.’

‘Ay. She gives me a farthing for a good load.’

‘Have you thought any more about going for an apprenticeship? I could speak to the Lincoln’s Inn stablemaster about what places may be available among the farriers.’

A shadow crossed his face. ‘I would still rather stay here.’

‘Well, I would like you to give it some more careful thought.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied, but unenthusiastically, his head cast down.

I sighed. ‘Do you know where Master and Mistress Brocket are?’

‘They went for a walk. Mistress Brocket asked me to keep an eye on the candle in the kitchen, light another from it if it got too low.’

‘Good.’ So the house was empty. There was nothing illegal in what I planned to do next, but I did not want to be seen by anyone. ‘They had a letter delivered this morning, by messenger,’ Timothy added. ‘I was in the kitchen with them. I don’t know who the letter came from but they both looked upset. They ordered me from the kitchen and a little after they said they were going for a walk. Master Brocket looked grim, and I think poor Mistress Brocket had been crying.’

I frowned, wondering what that was about. I said, ‘Timothy, there is a job of work I have to do. Can you make sure I am undisturbed for an hour? If anyone comes to the door, say I am out.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

I went upstairs, and unlocked the chest in my bedroom. My heart was heavy as I looked at the books within; several were on the new forbidden list and must be handed in to the city authorities at the Guildhall by the 9th of August. After that date, possession of any of the books would attract severe penalties. With a heavy heart I lifted out my copies of Tyndale’s translation of the New Testament, and some old commentaries on Luther dating from twenty years before. These books had been my friends in my old reformist days; one of them had been given me by Thomas Cromwell himself. But given my current employment with the Queen, to say nothing of the trouble with Isabel Slanning, I had decided it was definitely better to burn them privately than hand them in and risk my name appearing on a list of those who had owned forbidden books.

I took them downstairs, lighting another candle from the one in the kitchen, then went out to Agnes’s neatly tended vegetable patch behind the house. There was a large iron brazier there, used for burning weeds and other garden rubbish. It was half-full, the contents brown and dry after all the recent sun. I took a dry twig from the brazier, lit it with the candle and dropped it in. The fire flared up quickly, crackling. I looked around to ensure I was unobserved, then, with a sigh, I took the first of my books and began tearing out pages and dropping them on the fire, watching the black Gothic script I had once read so carefully curling up. I remembered Anne Askew, her skin shrivelling in the flames, and shuddered.

Next morning, Monday, I went into chambers early and caught up with some work. When Barak arrived I told him of my talk with Nicholas, and my meeting with Stice. I said there was nothing to do for now but wait for news from him or Cecil.

‘How is Tamasin?’ I asked.

‘Does nothing but talk of tomorrow’s party. All our neighbours are coming. You know what women are like.’ He looked at me shrewdly. ‘I think she’s forgotten any suspicions she had about what I might be doing. Let’s hope she goes on forgetting, eh?’ He raised his hand and I saw the bandage was off and the stitches out. ‘I’m ready for action,’ he said.

Later that morning I crossed the sunlit Gatehouse Court to visit Treasurer Rowland. The old man was as usual seated behind his desk, his office shutters half-closed, and he greeted me with a curt nod.

‘I looked for you at Bealknap’s funeral on Saturday. I wondered if you would come.’

‘Actually, I forgot about it.’

‘So did everyone else. There were only me and the preacher there. Well, Brother Bealknap lies in the chapel now, under a flagstone like any other, with his name and dates of birth and death inscribed upon it. He merited no mausoleum.’

‘Poor Bealknap,’ I said.

‘Oh no,’ Rowland said. ‘Rich Bealknap. Much good it did him in the end.’ I did not reply, and he turned to the pile of papers on his desk. ‘Secretary Paget’s people have sent me more details about the French admiral’s visit next month. It is going to be an even bigger event than I thought. I’ll show you the correspondence. But first,’ his voice deepened, ‘I’ve got to waste my time on this nonsense.’ He pulled a letter from the pile on his desk and threw it across to me: Isabel’s complaint, two pages covered in her neat, tiny writing. As expected, it accused me, along with Philip Coleswyn, her brother and the expert Master Adam, of collusion to defeat her case, ‘out of wicked spite’, as she was of honest religion while we were all heretics.

‘It’s all nonsense,’ I said. ‘She chose that architect herself.’

‘Is he a radical?’

‘No. The accusations of heresy she sent flying around at the inspection scared him out of his wits. As I said, it’s all nonsense.’

Rowland gave his laugh, a sound as though rusty hinges were opening and closing in his throat. ‘I believe you, Brother Shardlake. It is years since you associated with the radicals; we spoke not long ago of how you have been careful. Though you did not attend Mass yesterday.’

‘Urgent business. I will be there next weekend.’

He leaned back in his chair and regarded me closely, stroking his long white beard with fingers stained black from a lifetime’s working with ink, as mine were. ‘You seem to attract trouble, Serjeant Shardlake, despite yourself. How did you end up working for this madwoman?’

‘Ill luck. Every barrister has such clients.’

‘True. I am glad I am out of such nonsense. What of this Coleswyn, is he a radical?’

‘He has a reputation as a reformer.’

Rowland looked at me sharply. ‘Mistress Slanning says you went to dinner at his house.’

‘Once. We became friendly because we were both frustrated by our clients’ behaviour. Mistress Slanning’s brother is as much a vexatious litigant as she is. And Mistress Slanning found out about my visit because she sometimes passes the evening spying on Coleswyn’s house. That gives you a flavour of the woman.’

‘She says her brother met Coleswyn because they both attend the same radical church.’

‘It is a common enough way for lawyers to meet clients.’

He nodded agreement, then made a steeple of his fingers. ‘Who represents her now? Do we know?’

‘Vincent Dyrick of Gray’s Inn. He called to get the papers last week.’

Rowland frowned. ‘He has a vicious reputation. He’ll make something of this conspiracy theory in court. Probably instigated the complaint.’

‘He said he did not, it was all Isabel’s idea. Actually, I believe him there. But he won’t be able to stop her from making her allegations in court.’

‘Do you think she might complain to Gray’s Inn about Coleswyn?’

‘She’d have no right. He is not acting for her.’

Rowland considered. ‘Very well. I will try to make this go away. I will write to Mistress Slanning saying she has no evidence to back her complaints, and to warn her about the laws of defamation. That should frighten her off.’ He spoke complacently, though I feared such a letter would only anger Isabel further. ‘And you, Master Shardlake,’ Rowland continued, his voice full of angry irritation, ‘stay out of this case from now on. I don’t want you mixed up in any religious quarrels when you are to represent the Inn at the celebrations next month.’

‘I will step down from attending the ceremonies if you wish,’ I answered mildly.

Rowland gave his unpleasant half-smile and shook his head. ‘Oh no, Brother Shardlake, you will do your duty. I have already given in your name. Now, see this.’ He passed me another sheaf of papers. ‘Details of the peace celebrations.’

I looked them over, remembering what Paget and the Queen had said about the jewels ordered for her, the new clothes for the Queen’s ladies. Even so, my eyes widened at the scale of what was planned. The admiral was to sail up the Thames on the 20th of August with a dozen galleys. The King’s ships, which had met those galleys in battle exactly a year before, were to be lined up along the Thames from Gravesend to Deptford to welcome him. He would be received by the King at Greenwich, then next day go upriver to the Tower of London, before riding through the streets of the city. During this procession the London aldermen and guildsmen — and others including senior lawyers from the Inns of Court — would line the streets to cheer him, all in their best robes. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered standing on the deck of the Mary Rose a year before, watching as those same French galleys fired at our fleet.

‘Quite something, is it not?’ Rowland said. Even he sounded a little awed.

‘It is, Master Treasurer.’

I read on. The admiral would stay in London two days, riding to Hampton Court on the 23rd. On the way to Hampton Court he would be welcomed by Prince Edward, lords and gentlemen and a thousand horses. Next day he would dine with the King and Queen and there would be enormous festivities at Hampton Court. Again my presence would be required, as one of the hundreds in the background.

I put down the papers. ‘It is all about impressing him, I see.’

‘Great ceremonial was ever the King’s way. All you will be required to do is stand around like scenery, richly garbed. Have you a gold chain for such ceremonies?’

‘No.’

‘Then get one, before they are all sold out.’

‘I will be ready.’

‘Good,’ Rowland said. ‘And I will write to Mistress Slanning.’ He made a note, then looked up at me and spoke wearily. ‘Try to keep out of trouble, Serjeant Shardlake.’

Despite Rowland’s warning, that afternoon I fetched Genesis from my house, rode up to Gray’s Inn and asked for Philip Coleswyn’s chambers. His outer office, which he shared with another barrister, was neatly organized — it made me realize that my own chambers were starting to look a mess. I was shown into Coleswyn’s office, which again was immaculate, all the papers filed neatly in pigeonholes. He laid down his quill and stood to greet me.

‘Brother Shardlake. This is an unexpected pleasure. So Mistress Slanning has dismissed you. I had a note this morning from her new representative, Brother Vincent Dyrick.’

‘Yes.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘I know Dyrick.’

‘So do I, by repute.’ He sighed. ‘His letter said Mistress Slanning plans to raise in court the nonsense about us and her brother conspiring with Master Adam, because we are all heretics. He said she has also made a complaint about you to Lincoln’s Inn.’

‘I had a meeting with the Treasurer this morning about that. I came to reassure you he recognizes the complaint for the foolery it is. But also to warn you about Dyrick: he is persistent, and unscrupulous.’

‘I think perhaps Brother Dyrick hopes that by airing these allegations of a heretic conspiracy he will frighten me, and perhaps Master Cotterstoke, into coming to a settlement.’ Philip shook his head. ‘But we both know nothing on this earth will bring those two to settle.’

‘Treasurer Rowland ordered me to steer clear of the business, particularly since I am to play a small part in the ceremonial welcoming the French admiral next month.’

‘Then I thank you all the more for coming to see me. I spoke to Edward Cotterstoke about these latest allegations yesterday. He will not shift an inch. In fact he lost his temper when I told him of his sister’s latest ploy. He said a strange thing: that if the worst came to the worst, he knew things that could destroy her.’

‘What did he mean?’

‘Heaven knows. He said it in anger, and refused to elaborate. Insisted it was nothing to do with the case and quickly changed the subject.’

‘And Isabel once said her brother had done terrible things. What is it with those two, that they hate each other so?’

‘I do not know,’ Coleswyn said. He shook his head again.

‘You remember the old family servant, Vowell, who became upset by their behaviour at the inspection. Is he still taking care of the house?’

‘Yes. But Master Shardlake, you should do as your Treasurer advises, and leave the matter alone now.’

‘But I will still be involved, if this conspiracy allegation comes up in court. I am named.’

‘You are not a radical reformer. You have nothing to fear.’

‘Do you?’ I asked bluntly.

He did not answer, and I continued. ‘Isabel Slanning will make whatever trouble she can. What if she asks you, through Dyrick, to swear in court that the Mass transforms the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ?’

‘I doubt the court would allow it.’

‘But if they do?’

Coleswyn bit his lip. ‘I am not sure I could do that.’

‘That is what I feared,’ I said quietly. ‘I beg you to think carefully, Philip. That would be an admission of heresy. Think what could happen not just to you, but to your wife and children. To all those associated with you. Even me.’

His face worked. ‘Do you think I have not already considered that, agonized over it? I pray constantly, trying to seek out God’s will for me.’

I looked at his honest, troubled face. I realized that Philip Coleswyn was a man who, despite his qualities, might put others at risk to save — as he saw it — his soul. I spoke quietly, ‘Think what God’s will may be for the rest of us as well.’

I heard nothing further from Stice that day, nor the one following. Little George’s party was early that evening. The weather had changed; it was cooler and clouds were coming slowly in from the west. The farmers could do with the rain as harvest approached, but I knew Tamasin hoped to have the party in her garden.

I arrived shortly after four. It was still dry, but the sky was growing slowly darker. The little house was spotless, the table in the parlour covered in a white linen cloth on which stood flagons of beer and, I saw, some wine. Pewter mugs had been laid out. Outside in the tidy little garden another table was set with sweetmeats. About fifteen men and women, mostly in their thirties, stood there talking, all in their best finery; neighbours and clerks and solicitors from Lincoln’s Inn and their wives. Sadly, no family was present, for Tamasin’s father had abandoned her as a child and her mother was dead. And I remembered what Barak had told me about meeting his own mother in the street; he had not mentioned it again. I saw Guy, standing a little apart nursing a mug of beer.

Barak and Jane Marris were waiting on the guests, taking flagons to and fro to ensure mugs were kept full, Barak looking a little uneasy in this unfamiliar role. Nicholas was there in his best bright doublet, his fading bruises attracting looks from some of the guests. Tamasin stood with George in her arms, the baby in a white robe and bonnet, holding him out for guests to come and admire. They congratulated her, too, on her pregnancy, which had evidently been already announced. She herself wore her best dress of yellow silk. I filled a mug with beer and went outside. Tamasin smiled at me and held out a welcoming hand.

‘Master Shardlake.’ She addressed me formally. ‘My friends,’ she said proudly, ‘this is my husband’s master, a serjeant of the King’s courts.’ I reddened as everyone looked at me. Fond as I was of Tamasin, the touch of snobbery in her nature could be embarrassing. Behind her I saw Barak nudge Nicholas and wink. I bent low over George, who stared at me with blank eyes. ‘A happy birthday, little fellow.’ I touched his plump cheek.

‘Thank you for coming,’ Tamasin said quietly. ‘And for all you have done for us over the years.’

‘How are you now?’ I asked. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Yes. In good health and spirits.’ She looked round, smiling contentedly. ‘Our little party goes well.’ My conscience pricked at the thought of how Barak and I were deceiving her. I said, ‘I should go and speak to Guy, he is on his own.’

‘A good idea.’

I went over to my old friend. ‘Well, Matthew.’ I noted the neutrality of his tone.

‘Tamasin says she is feeling better.’

‘Yes, everything is going as it should. And how are things with you?’ His look was sharp.

‘Well enough.’

‘Jack’s hand is healed. And the boy’s chest wound. As well they did not get infected.’

‘I know.’

He asked quietly, ‘That business which led to their injuries. Is it settled?’ I hesitated. I did not want to lie to him. ‘I guessed as much,’ he said quietly. ‘Something in Jack’s manner. I have been observing people carefully for forty years, it is part of my trade. I think Tamasin suspected something when he was hurt, though she appears settled now. But she is expecting a child, Matthew, and lost one before. If anything should happen to Jack—’

‘Guy,’ I spoke with sudden heat, ‘sometimes one takes on duties, swears oaths, and sometimes, to do what one is sworn to, one needs — help.’

‘Matthew, I know of only one loyalty you have which would let you place yourself — and others — in danger. I thought the Queen had manoeuvred herself out of the trouble she got herself into earlier, but perhaps I am wrong. Well, hers is not my cause. I agree, one must fulfil a debt of honour. But when others are dragged in, one should think also of them.’

‘Guy—’

‘I worry for my patient.’

I felt something on my hand, and looked down to see a fat splash of water. More heavy drops were falling from the grey sky. Barak said, ‘Indoors, everybody. Come, wife, get George inside.’

We all went in as the rain turned to a downpour, some of the women helping Jane rescue the sweetmeats before they got soaked. When we were in the parlour I looked around for Guy, but he had gone.