Sovereign

Chapter Forty-five

AS WE APPROACHED Westminster the rain eased and by the time the boat pulled in at Temple Stairs it had stopped completely. Barak helped me out. I stood looking at Temple Gardens and the familiar squat shape of the Templars’ church.

‘Can you manage the walk to Chancery Lane?’ he asked.

‘Ay. The thought of home draws me like a magnet.’

‘The horses are back, by the way. Arrived two days ago, fresh as new paint.’

I laughed bitterly. ‘Never doubt the ability of the King and his minions when it comes to organizing things. A Progress, a reception, an army. Torture and death.’ I looked at him seriously. ‘I got Cranmer to agree he will never call on my services again.’

‘Suits me. I never want another few days like I’ve just had. What will happen to Rich and Maleverer?’

‘To Rich, nothing. He stands too high. Maleverer will lose his position. Cranmer is worried about who Broderick’s assassin might be. I suggested he question Sergeant Leacon.’

Barak shook his head. ‘The sergeant? It can’t be him. He’s like old Wrenne, no concerns beyond his family and doing his work.’

‘Then Cranmer will find that out. I just wanted to – to tie this up if I could. There’s no one else I can think of that it could be.’ And then I thought, but isn’t there?

‘Are you coming?’ Barak asked.

‘Yes, yes of course.’ We began walking up the path, carefully, for it was carpeted with wet leaves.

‘We’d better tell Joan something to explain your appearance,’ he said. ‘We could say you’d been set on and robbed.’

‘Ay. I’ll have to keep this gyve hidden. Damn the thing.’

‘I’ll get that off with my tools.’

I shook my head. ‘Was it raining hard all the time I was in the Tower? It seemed like it.’

‘Pretty much.’

I looked at the bare trees. ‘When we started for York summer was not long past. Now we are come to winter.’

‘Do you remember the great snow we had in November four years ago? Jesu, that was cold.’

‘All too well. That was when I was sent to the monastery at Scarnsea. My first matter of state. My disillusion with the King and all his works started there.’

We trudged on, up to Fleet Bridge and then across to Chancery Lane. The red chimneys of my house came into view.

‘Home!’ I breathed. ‘At last!’ Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

PETER THE KITCHEN BOY was in the hall as we entered, carrying a pail of slops. He stared wide-eyed at my appearance. I tucked my manacled hand into my coat pocket.

‘Where is Joan?’ Barak asked him sharply.

‘Gone to market, sir. Mistress Reedbourne has just taken a bowl of broth to Master Wrenne.’ He gave a saucy leer at Barak when he mentioned Tamasin’s name.

‘Is there a fire in the parlour?’ I asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then bring us some beer.’

He went off. I followed Barak into the parlour and slumped down in my chair by the fire, massaging my wrist.

‘I’ll get my tools,’ he said. I remembered the night he had picked the lock of the Wentworths’ well for me, a year ago. I had been a little scandalized, then, by his lock-picking skills. Now I was past being scandalized by anything.

HE WORKED ON the gyve for half an hour, but without result. ‘The damned lock’s all rusted inside,’ he said.

I looked at the cursed thing; already I hated that tight circle of iron more than any object in the world. ‘Then how are we to get it off? It bites into my wrist.’ I heard the edge of panic in my voice.

‘I’ve a friend down Cheapside who can have any lock off,’ he said. ‘He’s more skill and better tools than me.’ Barak glared at the manacle, reluctant to admit defeat. ‘I’ll go and see if he’s about.’

‘You should rest.’

‘No. I’ll go now.’ He finished his pot of beer and left. I heaved myself to my feet and slowly mounted the stairs.

Giles was sitting up in bed, in nightshirt and dressing gown. Tamasin sat at his side, sewing one of her dresses. She jumped up at my arrival. Both stared at my face.

‘It looks worse than it is,’ I said.

‘You are free?’ Giles asked.

‘Yes. Thanks to Barak. I do not want to talk about it, not yet. How are you, Giles?’

He smiled. ‘A little stronger every day. That voyage was too much for me. By Jesu, I am glad you are free. I have been sore worried.’ I was moved by the concern in his face.

‘He is not a good patient, sir,’ Tamasin said. She smiled, but her eyes on me were watchful. She looked pale and tired.

‘I hear you have been attending Master Wrenne well.’

‘She has.’ Giles smiled at her warmly.

‘He will keep getting up, though your friend Master Guy says he should stay abed awhile yet.’

‘Barak told me he came.’

‘May I leave you for a while, sir?’ Tamasin asked. ‘I said I would do some shopping for Mistress Woode.’

‘Ay. And thank you for bringing those things to the Tower.’

‘I am pleased to see you out of that doleful place, sir. Jack was half mad with worry.’ There was still something watchful, evaluating, in her look. Was that because she was uncertain of the treatment she might expect from me? She curtsied and went out. I took her chair by the bed.

‘What did they do to you?’ Giles asked quietly.

‘Less than they might have, thanks to Jack.’

‘Barak told me of the wicked plot Rich and Maleverer hatched against you.’

‘Yes. Cranmer knows all now. Maleverer will be in trouble, though Cranmer says he cannot touch Rich.’

I saw Wrenne’s eyes on my wrist. My wretched sleeve had ridden up again, exposing the gyve and the raw skin around it.

‘That thing is like a symbol,’ he said quietly. ‘The whole nation fettered and bruised by the King. A piece of filth like Rich may have a man falsely imprisoned, even tortured, to get a legal case dropped. It is not justice, Matthew. This is not the country I once knew.’

‘No. Giles,’ I said, ‘you said once that Maleverer’s family were all strong Catholics, then he aligned with the reformers after 1536 in hope of gain.’

‘That is right. He is a greedy man. But what –’

‘What if he could satisfy his greed by standing with the reformers, yet secretly help the old cause?’

‘How? What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’

Giles smiled at me. ‘I am not sure he would have the brains.’

I WENT TO BED and fell asleep at once. When I woke it was early morning, I had slept near twenty hours. I felt somewhat rested, though my shattered tooth hurt and my nerves were still so strung up the squeak of a mouse would have set me bounding. I got up and dressed, cursing the gyve again. I looked at my face in my steel mirror. I was startled by the staring apparition that looked back at me from sunken eyes, several days’ stubble darkening the cheeks.

I went downstairs. Joan, hearing me, bustled out of the kitchen. She saw me and opened her mouth in horror. I raised a hand, frightened she would scream. ‘It looks worse than it is.’ I was getting used to that phrase.

‘Oh sir, your poor mouth! The rogues! Is no one safe from vagabonds these days!’ I stared at her in surprise, then remembered I was supposed to have been attacked by robbers. ‘I will be all right, Joan. But I am very hungry, might I have some breakfast?’

‘Of course, sir.’ Her face working with concern, she hurried away to the kitchen. I took a seat in the parlour and looked out at my sopping garden, strewn with leaves. It was not raining, but the sky was heavy with dark clouds. My eye was drawn to the wall at the far end where the Lincoln’s Inn authorities had grubbed up an old orchard for replanting, remembering what Barak had told me. I had warned them in the summer that without trees to absorb the ground-water the bottom of the slope could flood. I should go and take a look.

My thoughts went back to Maleverer. He had allowed Rich to involve him in a plot against me, no doubt in return for help to get rebels’ lands, and that had been his downfall. But what if that had been a side issue, what if he had been playing a double game? He had refused to accept that Jennet Marlin might not have stolen those papers, had insisted Radwinter was guilty of Broderick’s death, and had allowed a pair of drunks to be appointed as his guards. I had taken it all for stupidity and obstinacy, but what if it had been something else? Where was he now, in London or on his way back to York? I thought, if I knew who appointed those guards…

Joan returned with eggs, bread and cheese. ‘I am sorry to land you with such a full household,’ I told her. ‘But I promised old Master Wrenne he could stay here till he is fit for some family business he has to deal with, and Barak hurt his leg. Where are they, by the way?’

She sniffed. ‘Went out early. Master Jack had some private business, he said, and Tamasin was to go to Whitehall to see if she still had a place. There is some trouble in the Queen’s household.’

‘So I hear,’ I replied neutrally. The household would be dissolved now. Tamasin could be out of a job.

She paused, then said, ‘I don’t mind Master Wrenne, sir, poor sick old gentleman, but that girl. It’s not right her being in the house with Jack. And she’s a pert way with her, in her fine ladylike clothes – she may say she only wants to help with the old man but I think she likes having her feet under a gentleman’s table.’

‘She’ll be gone soon, Joan,’ I said wearily. ‘The four of us need a few days’ rest.’

‘She’s no morals. They think I don’t hear her scurrying across to Master Jack’s room at dead of night, but I do.’

‘All right, Joan. I am too tired to deal with that now.’

She curtsied and went out.

I ate heartily. The meal over, I prowled the room restlessly. I thought of Maleverer and Sergeant Leacon, and Broderick swinging in his cell aboard ship. I thought of Tamasin; Barak would probably see his friend today, what would he find out about her father? I thought of Martin Dakin, and half resolved to go to Lincoln’s Inn, but I was still too tired to face the prospect of seeing familiar people, nosy lawyers who might have heard about Fulford. It could wait until tomorrow, when with luck the manacle would be off. Perhaps Bealknap would be there, and I wondered if that rogue knew what had been done to me to save that case for him.

I decided to go and look at the old orchard. Putting on my boots, I walked down the garden. Everything was drenched, and at the far wall, by the gate to the orchard, the ground was quite waterlogged. I unlocked the gate and went through.

The apple orchard had probably been there centuries; the trees had been gnarled and very old. The orchard walls bounded Chancery Lane on one side, the Lincoln’s Inn grounds on two, and my garden on the fourth. The ground sloped gently down to my wall. The orchard was, as Barak had said, a sea of mud, dotted with waterlogged holes where tree roots had been grubbed up. Without the trees to absorb any of the water from the rains, a pool the size of a small house had built up against my wall. I cursed; if there was much more rain my garden could be flooded. I resolved to visit the Inn Treasurer on the morrow.

The sight of the devastated orchard unsettled me. I went back into my garden and headed for the stables. There I found Genesis and Sukey in their stalls, munching hay. Both looked up and neighed in greeting. I went and stroked Genesis. Looking into his dark eyes I thought of what it must have been like for the horses, driven two hundred miles through unknown countryside by strangers. Did they wonder, as I had in the Tower, whether they would ever see home again? I had a sudden memory of Oldroyd’s huge horse charging through the mist at Tamasin and me, that misty morning two months before. That was where it had all started.

As I left the stable I felt raindrops on my face. I walked quickly round to the front door. There was someone standing in the porch, his back to me, a tall figure in a black coat. He was looking at the door as though uncertain whether to knock. My hand went to the dagger at my belt. I had worn it since it was returned to me at the Tower.

‘Can I help you?’ I asked sharply.

He turned round. It was Sergeant Leacon, in civilian clothes, a cap on his head instead of a helmet. His boyish face looked careworn. I saw he wore a sword, then thought, so do most men in London. He doffed his cap and bowed.

‘Master Shardlake –’ He broke off as he saw my face.

‘Yes,’ I said grimly. ‘I have had a hard time in the Tower.’

‘I heard you were released, sir. I got your address from Lincoln’s Inn. Sir, I am sorry I had to detain you at the wharf. Those were my orders –’

‘What do you want?’

‘A word, sir, if I may.’

He seemed tired and crestfallen. I took pity on him. ‘Come in, then.’ I walked past him, opened the door, and led him into the parlour.

‘Would you take off your sword, sergeant? Only I am wary of sharp blades just now.’

‘Of course, sir.’ He reddened as he hastily unbuckled his scabbard. I took it and stood it against the door.

‘Now, sergeant, what may I do for you?’

‘I – I have been discharged, sir. I am plain George Leacon now. For letting those men get drunk, they said, providing Broderick’s killer with an opportunity.’ He hesitated. ‘I was told Master Radwinter took his life. In the Tower.’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘I was questioned yesterday, by Archbishop Cranmer himself.’ I studied his face but he looked only dejected and exhausted. So Cranmer had not told him I was his informant.

‘Yes?’

‘He asked me how it came the guards were drunk.’

‘What did you say?’

‘That they were a pair of sots, sir, and drunks can always find liquor. They smuggled it aboard.’

‘Who chose those men?’ I asked quietly.

‘The guard captain suggested them to Sir William, I think to get them off his hands, save trouble on the journey back. When Sir William gave me the names of those two, said they were to come on the boat, I objected. I told him they were not good men to choose.’

I frowned. ‘Then why did he pick them?’

Leacon shrugged. ‘He did not want to be seen to do the bidding of a mere sergeant. I believe it was poor judgement on his part.’

That phrase again. ‘Poor judgement. Yet it is you that pays the price. You are made the scapegoat.’

‘That was ever the way of things, sir. Sir William has paid a price too, though. I hear he has been stripped of his place on the Council of the North.’

‘Tell me, do you think Radwinter killed Broderick?’

He looked puzzled. ‘Who else could it have been? Radwinter became stranger and stranger in his mind as time went on.’

‘Perhaps.’ I looked at him, then asked quickly, ‘Does the name Blaybourne mean anything to you? Or Braybourne?’

‘Braybourne is a place in Kent, sir, some way from where I come from. Have you another land case there?’ He looked puzzled, and a little concerned, as though the dishevelled figure before him might also be wandering in his mind.

‘It is not important,’ I said with a smile. ‘Now, Master Leacon, why have you come to see me?’

‘Sir, you may think it an impertinence, after I arrested you, but –’

‘Your parents’ land case. Of course.’ I had forgotten all about it.

‘They are in London. And now I am dismissed, I have no money for a lawyer.’

‘I will see them. A promise is a promise. But I have been away two months, I need a few days to straighten my affairs. Bring your parents to my chambers next Wednesday. Have they their papers with them?’

‘Yes, sir.’ His face relaxed with relief. ‘Thank you, sir. I knew you were a gentleman.’

I smiled wryly. ‘I shall have had a shave before then, I will look more presentable.’

‘I am grateful to you, Master Shardlake.’

‘Here is your sword.’ I looked out of the window. The rain was teeming down again. ‘I fear you will have a wet journey back.’

I watched him walk down my path from the little window by the front door. Dutiful soldier, I thought, dutiful son. Surely Leacon had nothing to do with any of what had happened. But what of Maleverer? Bad judgement? Or had he shut Broderick’s mouth to stop him naming him as connected to the conspiracy? Did he have the papers? Yet Maleverer could not have struck me down at King’s Manor – he had been away.

I climbed the stairs again to Giles’s room. He was asleep but as I came in he stirred and opened his eyes.

‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘I sleep too much.’ He heaved himself into a sitting position. ‘I shall get up for supper this evening.’

‘Guy said you should have a few more days in bed.’

He laughed. ‘I shall take root here.’ He looked at me. ‘You still look tired yourself.’

‘I am. I have just had a visitor. Young Leacon. He seeks my help on a legal matter.’

Wrenne raised his eyebrows. ‘After arresting you on the wharf? I would have sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

I sighed. ‘I promised him help in York. And as I told him, a promise is a promise.’

‘That is true,’ he said emphatically. ‘There is nothing more important.’ He looked at me. ‘Unless you are the King, who breaks them all the time.’

‘Ay,’ I answered inattentively.

‘You seem preoccupied, Matthew.’

‘I am sorry. Only I still wonder who really attacked me at King’s Manor, and helped Broderick die. Who is it who has been scurrying and slipping through our midst all this time? And if the person was on the boat, he is in London now.’

‘Do you think you could be in danger?’ Giles asked.

I shook my head. ‘No. If I was, something would have happened long before now.’ I gave him a wry smile. ‘I should forget about it. I have told Cranmer I want only to live quietly as a lawyer from now on.’

‘’Tis a sensible policy these days.’

‘For the rest of my life. Barak feels the same.’

‘A lawyer’s life is a good one,’ Wrenne said. ‘I found it so.’ He sighed deeply. ‘But that is over, now I must find my nephew, make my dispositions. I shall go to Gray’s Inn, perhaps not tomorrow but the next day.’ He leaned back on his pillow and his eyes closed. I thought, he is still weak, is he fit even to go up Chancery Lane to Gray’s Inn?

I thought again about Bernard Locke’s strange words to me in the Tower. He had said Martin Dakin was no conspirator, and he was safe. But if he was not a conspirator, what had Locke meant by safe? I decided I would go to Gray’s Inn tomorrow, seek Martin Dakin out.