Lamentation

Chapter Thirty-two

I stayed only a little longer. Outside, the rain pattered down relentlessly, then the thunder came. Guy’s departure had been noted. I told Tamasin he had said he was feeling unwell. I left myself a short while later. The thunderstorm had ended, and as I walked home the air smelt damp and oddly fresh, though a nasty brown sludge of sewage and offal squelched under my feet.

When I got home I heard a woman weeping in the kitchen. Josephine’s young man, Edward Brown, stood in the hall. He looked embarrassed, twisting his cap in his hands.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked sharply. I had thought him a decent young man. If he had done something to upset her—

‘It is Goodwife Brocket, sir,’ Brown said hastily. ‘I came back with Josephine and we found her distraught in the kitchen. Forgive me waiting in your hallway, sir, but Josephine sent me out.’

‘Very well.’ I went to join the women. Agnes Brocket sat at the table, her coif removed, her head in her hands. Josephine sat beside her. Agnes looked up as I entered, wisps of nut-brown hair falling over her face.

‘What is amiss?’ I asked.

Josephine answered. ‘Mistress Brocket has had some upsetting family news, sir. I found her crying when Edward and I got back. She will be all right, I will take care of her.’

Agnes looked up. ‘Forgive me, I am but a silly woman —’

‘Where is Martin?’

‘Gone into town, sir.’ Agnes made an effort to pull herself together, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes. ‘He’s not happy with the bread delivered by Master Dove, he has gone to complain. Please don’t tell him you saw me thus, Master Shardlake.’

‘I would like to know what is amiss, Agnes.’

She took a deep breath and turned to Josephine, who looked uncertain. Then she answered me quietly, ‘We have a son, sir. John. Our only child, and he is in deep trouble. Some business matters went wrong, and he is in the debtors’ prison in Leicester.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

She shook her head. ‘He was such a handsome, charming boy. He had such plans to rise in the world.’

I sat down opposite her. ‘Nothing so wrong in that.’

For the first time since I had known her, Agnes frowned. ‘Martin does not think so. He believes everyone should keep to their appointed place in the social order. He was always severe with John; I think that was why the boy left home early.’ She looked up quickly. ‘But I do not mean to speak ill of my husband, sir. Despite his severity he has always doted on John.’

‘How did your son end in prison, Agnes? Perhaps, as a lawyer, I may be able to assist you.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘It is too late for that, sir. John managed to persuade some investors in Leicester to lend him money to buy up some of the land belonging to the old monasteries. He planned to hold on to it until land prices rose.’

‘They lent money without security?’ I said in surprise.

Agnes smiled sadly. ‘John can charm the birds out of the trees when he wants.’ Then her face fell. ‘But the price of land continued to fall, they sued for debt and for the last year he has sat in Leicester gaol, where he will remain until the debt is paid. Martin and I send him money — if you cannot provide food and clothing for yourself, you are left to starve in that dreadful place. And he tries to pay off his debts, little by little. But it is twenty pounds. Now John has written saying what we send does not cover the interest, and his creditors say the balance is larger than ever.’ She shook her head. ‘I fear he will die in the prison now. Last winter he had a congestion in his lungs, and another winter in there...’ Her voice tailed off for a moment. ‘Please do not tell Martin I have spoken with you, sir. It is shameful, and he is so proud, and does not like others knowing our trouble —’

I raised a hand. ‘If you wish, Agnes. But perhaps I may be able to do something —’

‘No, sir, please. We have already consulted a lawyer, he said there was nothing to be done. Do not tell Martin,’ she pleaded urgently. ‘He will be — distressed.’

‘Very well. But consider what I said. I will help if I can.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ But her tone told me she would say nothing to her husband.

I went into chambers early next morning, for there was work to catch up on. The weather was hot and sunny again. Martin Brocket attended me as usual on rising, no sign on his face of anything unusual, and I guessed Agnes had not told him of our conversation.

As I was leaving, Josephine asked to speak to me. I took her into the parlour. ‘Agnes Brocket asked me to thank you for your kindness yesterday. She asked me to speak for her as she is — well, ashamed.’

‘It is not her shame.’

‘She thinks it is. And Martin would be angry if anyone else knew. It would hurt his pride,’ she added, a note of contempt in her voice.

‘I have been thinking how seldom the Brockets go out, except for walks.’

‘And Agnes never buys clothes.’

‘All their money must be going to their son. And, Josephine, that makes me think again about the time you found Martin going through the drawers of my desk. I wonder whether, in a moment of desperation, he considered turning to theft.’

‘I wondered the same thing yesterday, sir.’

‘It would be an explanation. But I have found nothing missing, and you do not think he has done such a thing again.’

‘No, sir, I don’t. And I have been watching him.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘I think he knows that. I think that is why he dislikes me.’

‘Well, if it was a moment of madness, then no harm done — but it must not happen again. Go on keeping an eye open, will you? I have other matters on my mind just now, but when I have a little more time I will have to decide what is best to do about him.’

Josephine smiled, pleased at the responsibility. ‘You can rely on me, sir.’

In chambers I found everyone already at work; Barak and Skelly at their desks, Nicholas doing some much-needed filing. Apart from the disapproving looks Skelly cast at Nicholas’s puffy face, it was like any normal day, spent working with my staff on preparing cases for the new court term in September.

The quiet did not last long. At noon Barak came in and closed the door to my office behind him, his expression serious. ‘Stice has turned up.’

I laid down my quill. ‘Here?’

‘Yes. Says he has news. Shall I bring him in?’

‘Yes. Fetch Nicholas as well.’

Stice walked confidently into the room. He was well dressed as ever, sword at his hip, every inch the young gentleman. I did not invite him to sit and he surveyed the three of us with a cynical grin.

‘All together again, hey?’ He looked at Nicholas. ‘That’s a fine pair of shiners you have.’

‘They’re fading. At least in a few days my face will look normal, which yours never will.’

Stice laughed, but put a hand to his ear. ‘Well, I am keeping my part of the bargain,’ he said to me. ‘There’s news from the customs house. I think some birds may be about to fly into our trap.’

‘The missing men?’ I could not keep the eagerness from my voice.

‘Four of them, at least,’ Stice said. I exchanged a look with Barak. There were only four survivors of Greening’s group, but Stice did not know that.

He continued, ‘A balinger arrived yesterday from Antwerp, with a cargo of silks for the peace celebrations. A Dutch crew. They’re loading up a cargo of wool now to take back tomorrow, spending the night moored at Somers Key Wharf. Meanwhile my man at the customs house says four men presented themselves there this morning, claiming they had business in Antwerp, and had passage booked on that ship. One Dutch, one Scotch, and two English. He sent word to me. The four answer the descriptions of Vandersteyn, McKendrick, Curdy and Leeman from the Queen’s household.’ Stice’s thin face lit up with excitement. ‘Though they gave false names, of course. No sign of Myldmore or that apprentice. They’ve been told they can go aboard at ten this evening.’ He smiled. ‘So, we beat your associate Cecil to the quarry.’

‘It’s not a competition,’ I answered calmly. ‘If the coming of these four has been recorded at the customs house I have no doubt the news will get to our people today.’

‘Isn’t ten at night an unusual hour to go aboard?’ Nicholas asked.

Stice looked pleased with himself. ‘I’d told my man at the customs house to say it would take till ten to process the papers. It’ll be dark then, easier to take them. All we need to do is wait at Somers Key Wharf tonight. It’ll be quiet, work will have finished for the day. With luck we’ll take them all. And hopefully Askew’s confession will be in their luggage, or more likely about the person of one of them.’ And the Lamentation too, I thought. My heart quickened.

‘Why tell us?’ Barak asked Stice. ‘You could have taken them yourselves.’

‘Because Sir Richard keeps his word, fellow.’ Stice smiled, then shrugged. ‘And as you said, your people will likely get wind of it today, in any case. Besides, if we take them on the wharf there may be trouble. I’ve told the customs people to keep out of it, that this is private business of Sir Richard, but the crew of that Dutch ship may not like us seizing their passengers, particularly if they’re all heretics.’

‘The crew will probably be getting drunk in the city,’ Barak said.

‘There will be a couple of men left on board at least,’ Stice replied. ‘To keep watch, and help the passengers aboard. And these four may bring their own protection with them, of course.’

I had to agree. ‘Yes, there is still the question of those two men who murdered the printer.’

‘If there is a fight at the wharf, won’t that attract people?’ Nicholas asked.

‘It could do,’ Barak agreed. ‘But if swords are being waved around, and a good number of men are involved, people are unlikely to intervene.’

‘I agree,’ Stice said. ‘I can bring another two men tonight besides me and Gower. Can you three come?’

Nicholas and Barak nodded, Nicholas looking Stice in the eye. I said, ‘And I will send a note to Cecil, to see if he can provide anybody, too.’

Stice thought a moment. I wondered if he was considering, if Cecil brought some more men, whether his own party would be outnumbered if it came to trouble between us. Then he smiled again. ‘Wear dark clothes. We can look forward to an exciting evening.’

‘My instructions are to see these people are taken alive,’ I said. It had occurred to me that Rich might prefer that anyone with knowledge of Anne Askew’s writings be put permanently out of the way.

‘Of course. Sir Richard and your friend Cecil will doubtless want to question them all. Unless they decide to act the hero and fight back. They’re fanatics, remember.’ Stice looked serious now.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Unless they fight back.’

‘Nine o’clock then, at Somers Key Wharf. I’ve been down there and paid the wharfmaster to ensure a big stack of empty barrels is moved to a place opposite the Dutch ship. We wait behind them; it’s an ideal arrangement to take them by surprise. We’ll meet first at Needlepoint Lane at eight, get to the wharf by nine and hide ourselves. There’s no moon tonight, it’ll be dark. When they come they won’t know what’s hit them.’

‘You have organized everything very well,’ I said grudgingly.

Stice gave an exaggerated bow and looked round at the three of us again. Barak met his gaze stonily, Nicholas angrily. ‘Come, sir,’ Stice said chidingly to him. ‘No ill feelings, as I said to Master Shardlake earlier. You gave a good account of yourself, for all you’re a lad just up from the country.’

‘In an even fight, Master Stice, one on one, I may do even better.’

‘Who knows? But we’re on the same side now.’

‘For the moment,’ Nicholas said quietly.

That evening Barak and I met Nicholas at his lodgings, and the three of us walked into town. It was a beautiful evening, the sun setting slowly, light white clouds in a sky of darkening blue. A cooling breeze had risen from the west. I looked at my companions. Barak’s expression was keen and alert, Nicholas’s coldly determined. I spoke quietly to him. ‘No bravado tonight. Do not let yourself be roused by Stice, and do not put yourself at risk unnecessarily.’

‘I will not let you down, sir.’ He paused, then added, ‘I know how dangerous this is. And that we must watch our allies as carefully as our enemies.’

‘If enemies they are. We are not even sure they have the Lamentation. But we must find out.’

‘Tonight we will.’

I nodded. I was more glad of his and Barak’s company than I could say; I did not fancy my prospects were I to be caught on my own between a group of religious fanatics and a clutch of Rich’s men. I had received a reply from Cecil to say he would be joining us at Stice’s house, with two strong men from Lord Parr’s household. I guessed Cecil would be as little use in a fight as myself, so Stice’s party and ours would have four fighting men each.

We turned into Needlepoint Lane, past the tavern where once again patrons were gathered outside, and knocked on the door of Stice’s house. He let us in. The big man Gower was sitting at the table. Two other men sat with him, large young fellows with swords. They looked, as Barak would have said, useful.

Stice was cheerful and animated. He introduced us to his two new men with a mock bow. ‘Here is Serjeant Shardlake, representing the interest of a certain personage who also has an interest in seeing the scribbles of Mistress Askew destroyed. And his men Barak and Master Overton. Overton and Gower had a row a few days ago, as you can see from the state of young Overton’s face.’

Nicholas gave him a blank look. ‘I get bored with your baiting, sir. This is no time for silly games.’

‘Quite right,’ I agreed.

Stice shrugged. ‘Just a little sport.’

There was another knock at the door. Stice opened it again and William Cecil entered, with two heavyset men, a little older than the two Stice had brought. Like all of us they were dressed in dark clothes. Cecil took a deep breath, looking round the gathering with the sort of cool stare he might have given to an assembly of fellow lawyers. Stice grinned at him. ‘Young Master Cecil! I had you pointed out to me a little while ago as a rising man in the service of a certain person.’

Cecil’s reply was cold and clear. ‘You are Stice, I take it, Sir Richard’s man. I was told your appearance was — distinctive.’

Stice scowled but nodded, then Cecil asked, ‘We are all to go down to Somers Key Wharf?’

‘Yes.’ Stice looked out of the window. ‘It’s pretty dark already. We get there by nine, hide behind the barrels, and wait. When they come, we rush them and bring them, and any baggage they have, back here. It’s likely the writing we’re looking for will be on their persons rather than in their luggage. I’ve another man waiting near the wharf with a horse and a big cart with a tarpaulin; we’ll bind and gag them to keep them quiet on the way back here, knock them out if we have to.’

‘We shall have to act quickly, and all together,’ Barak said.

‘Agreed. And if any watchmen question us about what we’re doing, I have Sir Richard’s seal.’ Stice looked at Cecil. ‘But if they fight back, and someone gets killed, that’s not our fault. And if the printer’s murderers arrive, too, and they get killed, you agree that’s no loss?’

‘Agreed,’ Cecil answered coldly. He pointed to the empty grate. ‘And any writings we find on them, we destroy immediately in that fire. That is also agreed?’

Stice hesitated, but Cecil continued smoothly. ‘I think your master would prefer that nobody look at anything we find. In case it incriminates him.’ He met Stice’s eye. I admired his cool judgement. Rich would not want even his own men to see any record of his and Wriothesley’s torture of Anne Askew. No doubt Rich would have liked to find something damaging to the Queen among Anne Askew’s writings, and I had let him believe that such incriminating statements might exist; but as he had told me, that was not his priority now. Cecil’s hope was doubtless that we would be able to quickly burn all writings we found, including the Lamentation, if the survivors of Greening’s group turned out to have it. And as Greening had torn off the title page when he was attacked, I was hoping it might not be clear, from the face of the manuscript, who had written it.

‘Ready then?’ Barak asked.

‘Yes,’ Stice agreed.

‘Then let us go.’