Chapter Seven

SIR WILLIAM GLARED from me to Barak and then at the terrified apprentice. ‘What’s going on?’ he barked.

I managed to keep my voice calm. ‘We are investigating the glazier’s death for the coroner, Sir William, as you instructed. We just arrived; I was questioning the apprentice —’

‘Oh. Yes.’ To my surprise, he seemed to have forgotten his own instructions. ‘Why up here?’

‘He was listening at the door,’ Barak said, nodding at young Green.

Maleverer leaned over and grasped the apprentice by the ear, yanking him to his feet. He stood, plump limbs trembling, as Maleverer glared into his terrified face before turning to me. ‘Well, what have you got out of him?’

‘He says Master Oldroyd had no enemies he knew of.’

‘Does he?’ Maleverer turned back to the boy. ‘What do you know of your master’s affairs, eh? What have you heard listening at doors?’

‘Only about his business, sir, only his business.’

Maleverer grunted, released the boy’s ear and drew a deep breath. ‘I’ve talked with the Duke of Suffolk,’ he said. ‘His instructions are that I should investigate this personally. It seems Oldroyd was crooked in his business dealings with us. It needs looking into.’

‘No, sir,’ the boy said. ‘Not maister —’

He broke off as Maleverer landed him a terrific clout across the face. He fell back across the bed, blood pouring from his mouth and from his cheek where a ring Maleverer wore had cut a gash. Sir William looked at me. ‘I’ll take this little squealing pig back to St Mary’s and see what some questioning can get out of him. Are there any other servants?’

‘A housekeeper, I believe, who is out shopping.’

‘We’ll have her in too.’ He turned to the nearer guard. ‘Get two men and take the boy back to St Mary’s. The rest of you can help me search this place.’ A guard hauled young Green to his feet. He gagged, spat a tooth into his hand, then started weeping in terror and shock. The guard manhandled him out of the room, still bleeding profusely. Sir William turned brusquely to the other guard. ‘Now go down and get that search organized.’

‘What are we looking for, Sir William?’

‘I’ll know when I see it.’ Maleverer watched him go, then glared at me. ‘This matter is out of your hands. Forget about it, understand?’

‘Yes. We—’

‘Out of your hands. And those words you heard Oldroyd say this morning, about the King and about that name –’ he lowered his voice – ‘Blaybourne. You say nothing of that to anybody, do you understand? Have you mentioned it to anyone?’

‘No, Sir William.’

‘Then leave, both of you. Go about your business —’

He was interrupted by the sound of a commotion outside. He turned to the window. Two soldiers could be seen hauling the apprentice up the street. The boy’s legs had given way and they were dragging him along the earth by the arms. He was howling with fear, begging to be let go. The doors of all the neighbouring houses had opened and there was a babble of voices as a crowd, mostly women, came to their doors. Someone called ‘For shame!’ after the soldiers. ‘Southron dogs!’ another shouted. Maleverer set his lips.

‘God’s death, I’ll have them all in gaol!’ He marched furiously out, and a moment later I heard him bawling at the crowd. ‘Be about your business, unless you want taking in for a whipping!’

Barak nudged me. ‘I think we should get out while we can. Let’s go the back way.’

I hesitated, glancing at the spot on the wall the apprentice had looked at, then nodded and followed him downstairs. Another two soldiers were guarding the back gate. I explained we had been there on official business, but had to show my commission before they would let us out. We found ourselves in one of the narrow side-lanes and followed it out to the main street. We walked slowly back towards the Guildhall, both a little shocked by what had happened.

‘Can we get some lunch?’ Barak asked. ‘My stomach feels my throat’s been cut.’

‘Ay.’ I realized I was hungry too; we had had no breakfast. We found a busy inn where we ordered some bread and pottage and sat at a vacant table.

‘What was all that about?’ Barak asked, quietly so our neighbours would not hear.

‘Jesu knows.’

‘Why’s the Duke of Suffolk involved? He’s in charge of the Progress, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. He’s the senior official, close to the King.’

‘What was Oldroyd up to? They wouldn’t send a troop of soldiers if he’d been overcharging for taking out the glass. That’s balls.’

‘No. I think that was the first thing that came into Maleverer’s head when he saw us.’ I lowered my voice. ‘It’s something political, it has to be.’

‘Something to do with the conspiracy?’ Barak whistled softly. ‘I remember Oldroyd sounded like he might be a papist, mourning the stained glass.’

I nodded, then frowned. ‘God knows what they’ll do to that apprentice.’

‘Poor little arsehole.’ Barak gave me a hard look. ‘Still, apprentices often learn things through listening at doors and with a callow lad like that scaring it out of him is the quickest way to the truth.’

‘That’s what Lord Cromwell would have done?’

He shrugged. ‘If the boy has any sense he’ll tell them all he knows.’

‘And he did know something,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘He kept glancing at a spot on the wall, as though there were something hidden behind that hanging.’

‘Did he? I missed that.’

‘I was going to tell Maleverer about it, but he stormed out.’

‘Maybe we should go back and tell him now.’

I shook my head. ‘You saw he wanted us out of there quick. I’ll speak to him later.’

‘Anyway, we’re off the case. Can’t say I’m sorry.’

‘No. Yet . . .’ I hesitated. ‘I cannot but wonder what it is all about. I’ll never forget that desperate look in Oldroyd’s eyes. What he said about the King and Queen and that name, Blaybourne. It was obviously important after all.’

‘Seems so.’

‘I’d guess that when Maleverer told the Duke of Suffolk about Oldroyd’s words they meant something to him. He’d know secrets of state Maleverer wouldn’t.’

‘Your curiosity is piqued, then?’ Barak grinned. ‘We’ll have to watch out now; you will be wanting to investigate the glazier’s death after all.’

‘No, I have enough to deal with.’ I pushed my bowl away. ‘We should go,’ I said. ‘There is another delightful gentleman I should see today. Master Radwinter. As we are in the city, let’s get it out the way before we go to Master Wrenne’s.’

IT WAS EASIER to negotiate the narrow crowded streets on foot than on horseback, and within half an hour we had crossed the city. York was far smaller than London, and we were beginning to recognize the landmarks. It was raining again by the time we reached the castle, a mizzling rain that seemed to sink into one. The leaves and mud of the inner bailey were slimy underfoot. I looked up at Aske’s skeleton.

‘ ’Tis not healthy to stare too long at these displays,’ Barak said quietly.

‘Broderick told me that sight should be a reminder of what lawyers may come to.’ I looked up at the tower, the little window at the top that marked Broderick’s cell. ‘Well, I had better go in.’

‘Do you want me to come with you this time?’ Barak asked.

‘No.’ I smiled. ‘I know you’re curious, I would be in your shoes. But I feel I have to meet Radwinter man to man. If I took someone with me he’d take it as a sign of weakness.’

He nodded, and I led the way to the guardroom, where the hard-faced fellow from the day before agreed Barak could sit by his fire. He took me again to the tower, unlocking the outer door.

‘May I leave you to go up by yourself, sir?’

‘Very well.’ I passed inside. He turned the key behind me. I climbed the stone steps again. All was silent apart from the drip of water somewhere, and I guessed Radwinter and Broderick were the only people in the tower. Broderick was secure indeed, I thought; between him and the outside world stood the guards at the castle drawbridge, those in the guardroom, then the locked door to the tower and another to his cell.

I paused on the landing outside Radwinter’s door to catch my breath, so that he should not see me out of wind again. But he had the hearing of a cat, for I had only stopped a few moments when the heavy door jerked open. Radwinter stood in the doorway, his face set hard and holding a sharp-looking sword. When he saw it was me, he laughed.

‘Master Shardlake!’

I reddened, expecting some sardonic remark, but he beckoned me in. ‘I fear you startled me, I heard someone outside.’ He put down his sword. ‘You are wet, sir, come and stand by the fire.’

I was glad to go and stand by a charcoal brazier in the centre of the room. ‘The year tumbles to its end, does it not?’ Radwinter said in the same friendly tone, smoothing down his already tidy hair. ‘We must hope for dry weather on Friday when the Progress arrives. Though in this damp demesne of York nothing is guaranteed.’

‘No indeed.’ Why was he being friendly now, I wondered.

‘You will have a glass of wine today?’ he asked. I hesitated, then nodded. He passed me a goblet. ‘There, sir. The doctor has been and dressed Sir Edward’s burns. He gave him a poultice for the one that was weeping fluid. He will come again tomorrow.’

‘Good.’

‘I fear we made a bad start yesterday. You must forgive me, I am alone in this tower with only my prisoner and those churls of guards for company. Such isolation causes the black humours to rise.’ He smiled at me, yet his eyes still held that icy glitter.

‘Consider it forgotten,’ I said mildly. I hoped this might mean I had won, that there would be no more challenges to my authority. Radwinter nodded, then stepped to one of the windows and beckoned me over. Through the rain-spattered pane I saw a view of the broad river, some houses and, beyond the city wall, a bleak flat countryside of woods and heath. Radwinter pointed to a road leading out of the city.

‘That is the Walmgate. The Progress will enter there on Friday.’

‘I wonder how those thousands will get across the city to St Mary’s.’

‘The royal household has been organizing progresses time out of mind. Though never one like this.’ He pointed to the horizon. ‘Over there is Fulford Cross, which marks the boundary of the city. The city fathers will make their submission there.’

‘I am to be there,’ I said.

He turned to me. ‘Indeed?’

‘I am involved with the preparation of the petitions to the King. I will be at the presentation to him.’

‘You do not sound as though it is a task you relish.’

I hesitated. ‘It is a little daunting.’

‘I have seen the King, you know.’

‘Have you?’

Radwinter nodded proudly. ‘Do you remember the trial of John Lambert three years ago?’

I did. The King, as Supreme Head of the Church, had presided over the heresy trial of Lambert, a radical reformer. It was the first sign he felt reform had gone far enough.

‘Ay,’ I answered slowly. ‘He was burned.’

‘As he deserved. Lambert was under my care while he was held in the Lollards’ Tower; I accompanied him to the trial. The King was –’ a smile played round the corners of his mouth – ‘splendid. Magnificent. Dressed all in white, the colour of purity. When Lambert tried to air his heretical interpretations of the scriptures, he shouted him down, reduced him to a cringing dog. I saw Lambert burned too, he made a great shouting.’ Radwinter looked at me; I sensed that he guessed how distasteful I would find this. He was playing with me again after all. I did not reply.

‘And he will be magnificent again, with the Yorkers. He has been clever, forcing the gentry to take personal oaths to him. He forgives their trespasses and at the same time makes it clear that if those oaths are broken they can expect no mercy. Carrot and stick, that is how one deals with donkeys like these. So,’ he added, ‘your journey to York is concerned with more than Broderick.’

‘The Archbishop offered me the legal position first. I was only given this second mission once I had agreed.’

Radwinter laughed softly. ‘Yes, he can be a fox. But it will pay well.’

‘Well enough,’ I said stiffly.

‘Enough to buy a new robe, I hope, especially if you are to see the King. The one you wear is torn. I only mention it in case you had not seen.’

‘I have another. This one was torn this morning. On a glazier’s cart.’

‘Really? A strange mishap.’

‘Yes.’ I told him the story of finding Oldroyd’s body, though only the parts that were public knowledge. The gaoler smiled again. ‘It seems a lawyer’s work is never done,’ he said. He put down his goblet. ‘Well, I expect you would like to see Sir Edward.’

‘Please.’

Once again I followed as he ascended with his quick, light steps. I thought about what he had said about Lambert’s trial and burning, and remembered Cranmer’s description of Radwinter as a man of true and honest faith. That meant following the orthodoxy that the last word on religious matters belonged to the King, as Supreme Head. Such a man might well approve of burning a heretic, but his light and jesting tone had repelled me. Were his professions of faith merely a cover for enjoyment of cruelty? I stared at his back as he turned the key in the door to Broderick’s cell.

Sir Edward was lying on his dirty pallet. Fresh rushes had been laid on the floor as I had ordered, though, and the cell stank less. I saw his shirt was open, a poultice strapped to his chest. He was emaciated, all his ribs visible under dead white skin. He stared at me coldly again.

‘Well, Sir Edward,’ I asked, ‘how are you today?’

‘They’ve poulticed my burn. It stings.’

‘That can be a sign it is having effect.’ I turned to the gaoler. ‘He is very thin, Master Radwinter. What does he have to eat?’

‘Pottage from the castle kitchens, the same the guards get. Not too much, certainly. A weakened man is less likely to make trouble. You saw yesterday how he can spring at one.’

‘And how well he is chained. And he has been ill; a sick man may waste away without food.’

Radwinter’s eye glinted. ‘Would you like me to order thrushes in a pie from the King’s kitchen, then, perhaps a plate of marchpanes?’

‘No,’ I answered, ‘but I would like him put on the same rations as the guards.’ Radwinter set his lips. ‘See to it, please,’ I said quietly.

Broderick laughed hoarsely. ‘Does it not occur to you, sir, I would rather be weak when I get to London? So weak the torturers’ first attentions kill me.’

‘They would take care not to do that, Master Broderick,’ Radwinter said softly. ‘When you are brought to them they will study you carefully. They know how to bring each man to a degree of pain that will make him talk, yet keep him conscious and alive. But certainly a weaker man is likely to be able to endure less, to talk more quickly.’ He smiled at me. ‘So you see, the better you treat him, the more pain he will endure.’

‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘He is to be fed properly.’

‘And I will eat, for I am hungry. Even though I know what awaits me.’ Broderick gave me a look full of pain as well as anger. ‘How we hold on to life, eh, lawyer? We struggle to survive, even when there is no sense in it.’ He looked towards the window. ‘I came to see poor Robert every day while he hung out there, so he might see a friendly face. Each day I hoped to find him dead, yet each day he moved still, trying to ease his pains as he dangled, making weak groans. Yes, how we hold on to life.’

‘Only the innocent deserve a quick death,’ Radwinter said. ‘Well, Master Shardlake, I will arrange for the extra rations for Sir Edward. Is there anything else?’

I looked at Broderick; he was staring at the ceiling again. There was a moment’s silence, the only sound the patter of rain at the window. ‘Not for now. I will come again, tomorrow probably.’

Once again Radwinter led me outside, locking the heavy door. I could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was angry, yet I was surprised by the ferocity of his look when he turned to me. His face was red, he almost scowled. Now I saw he nourished fire under that ice. In a way it was a relief.

‘You undermine me before that treacherous, filthy rogue, sir.’ His voice was thick with anger. ‘If you wanted to change his rations, could you not have waited till we were outside to tell me?’

I looked at him steadily. ‘I want him to see that I am in charge of his welfare.’

‘I told you before, you do not know what manner of man you are dealing with. You may regret this softness.’

‘I will obey my orders.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I think your judgement is clouded, sir. Not by zeal as the Archbishop told me, but by delight in cruelty.’ The look he gave me was chilling, but anger drove me on. ‘But you will not indulge yourself at the expense of the Archbishop’s orders. He will hear what manner of man you are.’

To my surprise Radwinter laughed in my face, a mocking laugh that echoed round the dank corridor.

‘You think the Archbishop does not know me? He knows me well, sir, and knows that England needs such as me to keep it safe from heretics!’ He stepped closer to me. ‘And we all serve a just and angry God. You should not forget it.’