Chapter Sixteen

I WALKED WITH BARAK along the Fossgate, one of the main city roads, among a crowd heading for the public rehearsal for the musical entertainment that would be given before the King tomorrow evening. As night fell the wind and rain had ceased, though the street was miry, strewn with leaves and small branches, and the doorsteps and shopfronts glinted wetly in the moonlight. It was a merry crowd, the most cheerful I had seen in York, that made its way towards the Merchant Adventurers’ Hall.

I had decided to accompany Barak to the rehearsal rather than sit alone in the lodging-house with anxious thoughts for company, listening for more nasty comments from the clerks. Barak was dressed in his best green doublet and, above it, a pretty shirt-collar decorated with lacework. Both our faces were smooth, cleared of nearly a week’s growth of beard, for that afternoon the barbers from the Progress had ridden into St Mary’s. There had been a mass shaving, so all the gentlemen should look their best when the King arrived. I had put on my best robe but donned my old cap. I had had trouble fixing the feather back properly on the new one and did not want it coming unstuck again tonight. Tomorrow I would doff it to the King. My stomach gave a strange lurch at the thought.

We passed the Minster; it was brightly lit from within, the huge stained-glass windows a shout of colour against the dark sky.

‘Look at that,’ I said to Barak.

He gave it a glance. ‘Ay. All ready for the King.’

I jerked my robe aside as a couple of apprentices ran past, splashing us as they ran whooping through a puddle.

Barak smiled sardonically. ‘I heard in the taverns last night that the latest instructions about clearing the middens have caused problems because people have been forbidden from dumping anything in the river – they want it smelling sweet for the King. So people without proper cesspits are having to keep everything in their backyards, which will stink to heaven at the same time they’re being told to prettify the housefronts.’

‘There is discontent, then.’

He nodded. ‘Most Yorkers don’t want the King here at all.’

‘You kept out of trouble, then, last night?’

‘Ay. I attached myself to a group of carpenters. Most of the workmen came up from London but there were Yorkmen too. Paid well, so quite happy with His Majesty. We steered clear of the taverns where they don’t like southrons.’ He looked at me. ‘I saw one interesting thing though.’

‘What was that?’

‘We were passing through a poor part of town, past some alehouses the carpenters said we should avoid, and who do you think I saw down an alley, going through the door of a mean-looking little place?’

‘Go on.’

‘Master Craike. He had on a dark cloak and a cap, but I recognized that fat face of his in the moonlight. It had an odd, set look.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘No, I’m sure he didn’t.’

‘Craike,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘He’s the last person I’d have expected to be visiting disreputable alehouses at night. What was he up to?’

‘Maybe someone should ask him.’

I nodded as we turned into the square that housed the Merchant Adventurers’ Hall. It was an impressive old building, wide and three-storied, with a cobbled space before it that was already crowded. A stage had been erected in front, covered by curtains, torches blazing around it. Guildsmen in their robes stood in little groups among the crowd, and I saw a number of richly dressed men surrounded by retainers: the advance guard of the Progress. The open space was lined with constables in York livery, and I glimpsed little groups of soldiers in the doorways, breastplates glinting in the torchlight. I remembered what Maleverer had said about increased security.

A serious-faced young man in a lawyer’s robe came across to us and bowed. ‘Brother Shardlake.’

‘Brother Tankerd.’ I recognized the city Recorder, who had been at the Guildhall two days before. ‘How is it all going?’

‘I think all is ready at last. We have been waiting so long, I cannot believe the King will actually be here tomorrow.’ He laughed nervously. ‘And that I shall be making a speech to him. I gather Sir James Fealty is happy with the petitions.’

‘Yes.’

‘I confess I am somewhat nervous.’

‘I think everyone is.’

‘It will be a wondrous thing to see the King. They say in his youth he was the most magnificent prince in Christendom, tall and strong and fair of face.’

‘That was over thirty years ago.’

He studied my face. ‘You have a nasty bruise there, sir.’

‘Yes.’ I adjusted my cap. ‘I shall have to try and hide it tomorrow.’

He looked at me curiously. ‘And your enquiries about Master Oldroyd, how are they proceeding?’

‘Sir William Maleverer has taken it into his own hands.’

Someone hailed Tankerd, and he excused himself. I turned to Barak, who was craning his neck to look over the crowd.

‘Where is she?’ he muttered.

‘Mistress Reedbourne? Over there.’ I pointed to a group of courtiers some way off. I recognized Lady Rochford, her face alight as she retailed some story to a little group of ladies. As always there was something hectic, overexcited, in her expression. Jennet Marlin stood a few paces off, Tamasin beside her. Mistress Marlin was looking disapprovingly at the stage, but Tamasin was glancing around eagerly.

Then I drew in my breath, for I recognized a small, neat man with sharp, delicate features and a rich fur robe who stood near to Lady Rochford. He was talking to Dereham, the Queen’s young secretary. Sir Richard Rich, Chancellor of the Court of Augmentations, whom I had made an enemy of the year before, and who had backed my opponent Bealknap in my Chancery case. I had known I might encounter Rich here, but now I shrank away.

Barak had seen him too. ‘That arsehole,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t want to meet him unless I have to.’

‘Then I’ll leave you if I may, go over and see Tamasin. Rich won’t remember a common fellow like me.’

‘All right.’

‘Take care for cutpurses,’ he warned, then threaded his way through the crowd towards Tamasin. Alone, I felt suddenly vulnerable. Cutpurses, yes. And assassins.

Musicians had appeared in the hall doorway, carrying sackbuts and lutes. A man in a chorister’s robe shepherded a group of chattering boys on to the stage. They disappeared behind the curtain.

‘That’s my bairn Oswald!’ a woman behind me called out excitedly. I shifted my position, wishing I could sit down for my neck hurt again. I thought about what I had remembered earlier, the name Blaybourne and the place in Kent. Should I tell Maleverer? If there was a connection between this Blaybourne and Kent he should perhaps know, for York was already full of Kentish soldiers and hundreds more would be arriving tomorrow. Yet I sensed Maleverer would not be pleased to find that I had not put that name out of my mind.

‘Brother Shardlake.’ I started at a deep voice at my elbow, then smiled as I turned.

‘Brother Wrenne. How are you, sir?’

The old lawyer wore his cap and thick coat and, I saw, carried a cane that he seemed to lean on heavily.

‘A little stiff this evening. But what of you? Maleverer told me you were attacked after I left you yesterday, and that old casket you found at Oldroyd’s stolen.’

‘I am all right, I was only knocked out.’

‘Is that a bruise you have? It looks painful.’

‘It is nothing. I was sorry to learn Sir William questioned you.’

He smiled wryly. ‘Oh, Maleverer does not frighten me. I answered his questions and left.’

‘He did a cruel thing to Oldroyd’s young apprentice.’

‘Madge told me. That news is all over York. But the glazier’s guild are looking for another place for Master Green.’

‘I am glad.’

‘I remember Sir William when he was but another younger son of an old family, twisting and bullying his way towards power in the aftermath of the rebellion. He is a man of great ambition. As men often are when they have the taint of bastardy.’

‘He is illegitimate?’

‘So ’tis said. Not a true sprig of the old Maleverer family. His mother and father were part of the train that accompanied Margaret Tudor to Scotland when she married the Scotch King’s father forty years ago. His mother had a dalliance up there, they say.’

‘Really?’

‘William Maleverer is a man driven to prove himself. But he will overreach himself one day, for he lacks subtlety.’ Wrenne waved his free hand, dismissing Maleverer, his big emerald ring catching the torchlight. ‘I thought I would come out and see the performance. I asked Madge to accompany me, but she says it will be a heathen thing.’

‘ ’Tis but a musical entertainment.’

‘Ay, but they are using the musicians and some of the equipment from the Mystery Plays. She does not approve. She is another York traditionalist in religious matters.’ He smiled gently, the lights from the stage emphasizing the deep lines in his face.

The curtains began to move. The excited voices of the crowd faded to whispers as a beautifully decorated stage was revealed. Backcloth curtains had been painted to resemble a sylvan glade, with blue sky and a bright rainbow just visible behind painted mountains beyond. Paper clouds suspended by invisible wires from the canopy slid back and forth. The musicians had gathered in a semicircle round the choirboys. ‘Those are the city waits,’ Wrenne told me. He smiled sadly ‘I have loved the York Mystery Plays since I was a child. Yet there are reformers who would have them banned as yet another superstitious ceremony.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It is sad.’

‘What better way to reveal the stories of the Bible, of their Saviour, to the unlettered?’ I realized that Wrenne was something I could hardly call myself these days, a man of faith.

The musicians tuned their instruments. The whispering ceased and in the sudden silence I heard Lady Rochford’s voice, on a high, excited note. ‘ ’Tis true! Anne of Cleves was so innocent she thought a mere kiss—’ I turned, as others did, and saw her redden and bite her lip. What a loud-mouthed foolish creature she was. I saw that Barak was in animated talk with Tamasin. Then I saw Sir Richard Rich’s eyes upon me, his expression speculative. I turned away as the music began.

The players were skilful, producing a selection of merry tunes. Then the boys began to sing:

Moved by their wires, the paper clouds parted and a bright yellow sun was revealed as the rainbow lifted higher and higher.

‘Let’s hope they’re not playing this in another downpour tomorrow,’ Wrenne whispered.

Other songs followed, all extolling Yorkshire’s loyalty, its regret for its past sins and its delight the King had come to bring justice and prosperity. I glanced round the crowd. Many stood watching eagerly, enjoying the spectacle, but others, especially the big Dalesmen, stood with folded arms and cynical smiles. After half an hour there was an interval, the curtain descended and pie sellers appeared, carrying their wares on trays that made me think of Craike’s little desk. I turned to find Wrenne looking at me seriously.

‘Brother Shardlake, do you know how long the King is to be here? They have announced the Scotch King is coming to York, yet no one has heard of any party leaving Scotland.’

‘I do not know.’

He nodded. ‘Perhaps some days then. I wished to know because I have arrangements to make.’ He took a deep breath, then looked at me seriously. ‘May I confide in you, sir?’

‘Of course.’

‘You see, I plan to return to London with the Progress. To visit the Inns of Court, see if I can find my nephew, Martin Dakin.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘Might it not be better to write first? If there was a family quarrel?’

He shook his head vigorously. ‘No. This may be my last opportunity. Already I am too old to travel to London alone. I have done many favours for people in York over the years. Including friend Maleverer, in his less exalted days. I think I may work a place for myself on the Progress.’

‘Even so. After a family quarrel . . .’

‘No! I must see him.’

I was startled by the sudden passion in Wrenne’s voice, normally so evenly modulated. He winced, his strong face racked by a sudden grimace. I took his arm. ‘Brother! Are you all right?’

He gave me a serious look, then to my surprise grasped my hand. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Press my belly. On the side, there.’ Astonished by his request, I let him put my hand to his lower stomach. I felt something strange there, a little hard lump. He let my hand go.

‘There. I have a growth inside me; it gets bigger every week and now it starts to give me pain. My father had the same thing and in a year he died of the wasting sickness such lumps can bring.’

‘A physician —’

He waved a hand impatiently. ‘I have seen physicians. They know nothing, they can do nothing. But I remember how it passed with my father. I shall never see another spring Mystery Play.’

I looked at him, aghast. ‘Brother Wrenne, I am sorry.’

‘No one knows, only Madge. But . . .’ He sighed deeply, then resumed in his usual even tone. ‘You see why I do not feel I can travel to London on my own. If I could go with the Progress to Hull, then on to London by easy stages or even by boat, it would be easier. And if you would accompany me, help me should I fall ill, it would be a great comfort.’ He looked at me pleadingly. ‘It is much to ask, sir, but I had a feeling you might be willing to help me.’

‘Brother Wrenne,’ I said warmly, ‘I will aid you in any way I can.’

‘And perhaps in London, you could guide me to Gray’s Inn, smooth my path. I have not been there in fifty years and they say London is far bigger now. Forgive me telling you this, sir, but –’ he smiled at me sadly – ‘I fear the time has come when I must ask for help.’

‘It will be done. I am so sorry.’

‘No!’ he said fiercely. ‘No pity, I cannot bear that. I have lived far beyond the age of most men. Though it is always better not to see your end walking down the road towards you. I would like to see Martin again, make up with him. It is the one important thing I have left undone.’

‘Of course.’

In front of us the singing rose to a new crescendo, but I had no ears for it now. Wrenne sighed as the voices descended the scale again. ‘My father was a farmer, out towards Holderness. He had great hopes for me, worked hard so he could send me to law.’

‘Mine was a farmer too. In Lichfield. I buried him just before we came to York. I – I did not take good care of him in his old days.’

‘I cannot believe you were not a good son.’

‘I left him to die alone.’

Wrenne’s eyes became unfocused for a moment, as though looking deep within himself, then his face set in firm resolve. ‘When my son died and no more children came, for a time I was not easy to live with and perhaps that was why I quarrelled with my poor wife’s family. I want to make it up with Martin; he is the only family I have left.’

I took his arm. ‘We will find him, sir. Barak can find anyone in London.’

He smiled. ‘I did not know you were a farmer’s son. Perhaps that is why we seem to rub along so well,’ he added awkwardly.

‘Perhaps it is.’

‘I am sorry to throw my troubles at your head.’

‘I am humbled you have confided in me.’

‘Thank you. From now on, please call me Giles. As a friend.’

‘Matthew,’ I said. I extended my hand, and he took it. His grip was so strong that I thought, perhaps he will not die, perhaps it is a mistake. He patted my arm, then turned back to watch as the curtains parted again and a choirboy, rouged and dressed as a noblewoman, began to sing plaintively of love.

I WALKED BACK TO St Mary’s alone, for after what Giles had told me, I had no wish for company, whatever danger I might be in. I thought of poor Wrenne’s family quarrel. I had a sense it had been serious. What had his dead wife’s feelings been about it, I wondered?

‘Fine singing, eh?’ I jerked round to find Barak at my elbow. He was in a cheery mood, young Tamasin walking by his side. I saw her look up at him, her pretty face flushed. Yes, I thought, you’ve got what you wanted, as a pretty girl often will. Jennet Marlin walked on her other side, looking as though she was chewing sour cheese, the brown curls bobbing on her forehead making her look oddly childlike at the same time. Yes, she reminded me of my childhood friend Suzanne.

‘’Twas well enough,’ I acknowledged.

Tamasin smiled. ‘The King will be happy to see it, I am sure. Perhaps they will perform it at St Mary’s too for the Scotch King. Though ’tis a pity the preparations turn out to be for him. We had thought the Queen pregnant, that there might be an announcement and perhaps a coronation for her. She is very pretty, sir.’

‘Is she?’

‘Very much. I have seen her several times, though of course I have never spoken to her.’ Tamasin was trying to ingratiate herself with me. Barak looked at me then, no doubt gauging my mood, then nudged her arm. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We block the way standing four abreast.’ He steered her in front of me, leaving me with Mistress Marlin, who gave me a smile that contained no warmth at all.

‘Well, mistress,’ I asked, ‘did you enjoy the performance?’

‘Not really,’ she answered. She fixed me with her large dark eyes. ‘I must speak with you.’ She nodded ahead, at Tamasin and Barak’s backs. ‘I am disturbed your man is still courting Mistress Reedbourne. She is my responsibility in York. And after being brought before Sir William like that.’

‘It was Mistress Reedbourne’s behaviour that caused the trouble, not Barak’s.’

‘He is a man, he is the one with the authority.’

‘Mistress Reedbourne strikes me as well able to look after herself. You know her, Mistress Marlin, you must see that. She dresses very well,’ I added, looking at her fine green dress.

Her disapproving look intensified. ‘I do not think their association wise. And your man looks to me like a lecherous monkey. Tamasin is still young, with no one to protect her in the world. Her mother is dead. It is my duty to look after her.’ She looked at me fixedly. ‘From those who might seek to use association with her to find a way into court employment. As for her clothes, her grandmother who was her guardian left her a little money. She is not extravagant, merely likes to turn out well.’

‘You do my assistant an injustice,’ I said abruptly.

‘Do I? Royal servants are a great catch, they earn so much.’ Again that pursing of the mouth as though a bad tooth stabbed at her.

‘I doubt Barak has given that a thought. He earns a good enough wage with me,’ I added.

‘I see much greed about the court, sir.’

‘No doubt. But we have nothing to do with the court. We are London lawyers.’

She gave me a sharp look. ‘But you have contacts in the court as well, I believe. They say you will go before the King tomorrow.’

‘With the petitions, yes.’ I wished she had not reminded me.

‘And I hear you have been working directly for Sir William Maleverer.’

I frowned. ‘Where did you hear that?’

She shrugged. ‘The world of the royal servants is a small one.’

‘Legal matters,’ I said brusquely. ‘And what has that to do with Barak and Mistress Reedbourne?’ Ahead of us Barak leaned close and said something to Tamasin, making her trill with laughter. Mistress Marlin watched them, then turned and gave me a look that had something like hate in it. It took me back over twenty years, to Suzanne standing in that country lane – it was the same look of ferocious, unreasoning anger.

‘You are one of those have spent your life climbing towards profit in the service of the state,’ Mistress Marlin said viciously. ‘And like master, like servant.’

‘How dare you!’ I replied hotly, angry now. We had almost slowed to a halt, people were barging past us. She faced me.

‘I believe you are one of those who has used reform as a ladder for ambition. Like Maleverer.’

‘By my oath, lady. You have an accusing tongue for a stranger. What do you know or care of my life?’

She did not quail, merely looked me hard in the eye. ‘I have heard Tamasin and your man talking of your history. How you were a reformer in the old days, how Lord Cromwell was your patron. But you have no zeal left in you now, anyone may see that. Like so many, you care only to guard your wealth.’

Yorkers passing turned to look at us. One called, ‘Slap thy scolding wench, maister!’

‘Do you know why my poor Bernard lies in the Tower?’ Mistress Marlin went on regardless. ‘Because people in London would like him convicted of conspiracy and papacy, so that they may have his lands! His lands!’ Her voice was almost hysterical.

‘Then I am sorry for you, mistress,’ I said evenly. ‘But that has nothing to do with me. Do not dare to assume you know my mind or history. That is an insolence and I will not have it. I will not be your scapegoat!’ And with that I turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the street.

I RETURNED TO St Mary’s half an hour later. The tent was up again, workmen brushing it down by candlelight to remove every speck of mud. I went into the manor house. It was very quiet there now, everything standing ready for the King’s arrival, the few servants and courtiers walking with an air of quiet reverence, practising the demeanour they must use when the King was in residence. A guard took me up to Maleverer’s office. He was still working, his big black-bearded face white in the candlelight. He looked up angrily.

‘What now?’

‘I thought of something, sir.’

‘Well?’

I told him of my work in Ashford, my recollection of the name Blaybourne. ‘I thought you should know, sir. With so many Kentishmen among the guard.’

He grunted. ‘So he was from Kent, was he? Well, that fits with what we know. Interesting.’ His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. ‘But not useful. Edward Blaybourne died long before you or I were born, Master Shardlake. I have been with the Privy Council this afternoon. I have learned much about him.’ He shot me a hard look. ‘Secret matters.’

‘Then I am sorry to disturb you.’

‘Someone from the Privy Council has been deputed to see you tomorrow. To go over what you know, remind you to keep silence, twist your tail for your foolishness.’ He seemed to have recovered his confidence; no doubt he had been able to convince the Privy Council that everything was my fault.

‘You still have charge of Broderick. Visit him before you go to bed. I want you to see him at least once every day, check on his welfare. Get one of the guards to take you to his cell.’

‘Yes, Sir William.’

‘And I have had words with Master Radwinter, told him to make no more mistakes.’ He waved a hand in dismissal and gave me a look of amusement, a cruel look.

A GUARD LED ME deep into the complex of monastic buildings grouped round the church. Here the monks of St Mary’s had lived and worked; now the rooms were mostly empty and stripped of furniture, though some had been fitted out with beds to accommodate the host who would be coming tomorrow. The guard led me down a narrow, stone-flagged corridor at the heart of the warren, stopping at the end where a wisp of candlelight came though a barred window in a stout door. Two of Sergeant Leacon’s men, who had accompanied us to the castle earlier, stood guard.

‘How does he fare?’ I asked.

‘Just lays there quietly, sir. The physician has been again, says he is improved.’

‘Thank Jesu for that. Where is Radwinter?’

‘With him now, sir. Shall I let you in?’

I nodded. He unlocked the door. Broderick lay on his blankets, asleep. Radwinter sat on his haunches beside him, looking into the prisoner’s sleeping face, his expression one of concentrated, malevolent anger. He looked round when I entered, then rose to his feet with a suppleness I envied.

‘I hear he is better,’ I said quietly.

‘He sleeps. And I have to sleep with him. I must even share his pisspot. ’Tis Sir William’s way of showing his discontent.’

‘Has he said anything?’

‘No. He was conscious earlier. I asked him what happened, but he only repeated his nonsense about the King having poisoned him. If only I had a free hand, I would have the truth out of him, I’d have him humbled.’

‘If it was that easy, they would not be taking him to London.’

He gave me that icy, glittering-eyed look of his. ‘There is a way to scare and humble every man, Master Shardlake. It is merely a question of finding it.’

I MADE MY WAY back to our lodgings. Again a few clerks sat playing cards. I nodded at them curtly, then knocked at the door of Barak’s cubicle.

‘Ay?’

‘ ’Tis I. I would talk.’ I went into my cubicle and sat down on the bed, suddenly exhausted. Barak entered. He had a jaunty air about him.

‘You’re back, then,’ I said. ‘I thought you might have found a quiet spot with Mistress Reedbourne.’

‘Not with Mistress Marlin guarding her. She had a fierce look after you left her. I wondered where you had gone, so suddenly.’

‘I have been to see the prisoner while you have been dallying.’

‘How is he?’

‘Radwinter stands guard over him like the midwife of Hell. As for Mistress Jennet Marlin, she thinks you are after Tamasin to find a position as a court servant.’

He laughed. ‘A murrain on her. She fears to lose Tamasin.’

‘Why does she value the girl so?’ I asked. ‘They seem unlikely friends.’

‘I asked Tamasin about that. Mistress Jennet likes Tama-sin’s merry ways, it seems. Says they take her mind from her troubles. Her swain in the Tower.’ He shrugged impatiently. ‘Who can fathom the hearts of women?’

‘I had the pleasure of her company on the way back. She seems to dislike me very much. Thinks I am one of those who would do anything for office and profit. She was so fierce, I am not sure she is not a little brainsick.’

‘I asked Tamasin about Lady Rochford,’ Barak said. ‘Apparently the women are all afraid of her, she does nothing but gossip maliciously about everyone. They say she was paid to bring gossip to Lord Cromwell about the wives she served as lady’s maid. Jane Seymour, then Anne of Cleves.’

‘And Catherine Howard?’

‘Apparently she and Queen Catherine have become close, but Tamasin says the Queen should not trust her one inch. Mistress Marlin does not like Lady Rochford either. Says she has no morals.’

‘Who does, in that court? Our self-righteous Mistress Marlin is a naïve woman, I think.’ I sighed. ‘Well, what will you do while I am greeting the Progress tomorrow? See Tamasin again?’

‘She will be busy preparing for the Queen’s arrival. I might walk into town, see the Progress enter.’ He looked at me. ‘Tamasin thought you were a little sharp with her, when we were talking about the Queen.’

‘I cannot forget her trickery. But also, I had had bad news.’ I told him of Giles Wrenne’s illness, his request that I help him find his nephew.

‘Poor old arsehole.’ Barak shivered. ‘That’s hard.’

‘I said you would help him too, when we get back to London.’

‘Ay. All right. I wish we were there now.’

‘Me too.’ I paused. ‘When Mistress Marlin was talking about Tamasin, she mentioned the girl had no one in the world. She said her mother was dead, but made no mention of her father. She has a little money, apparently, from her grandmother.’

‘Tamasin does not know who her father was. Her mother would never tell her. Someone around the court, though, for that was the only world her mother knew, working in the Queen’s sewery. She has some ideas, but does not know.’

‘Oh?’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘Girlish fancies.’

I smiled. ‘Fancies she is a nobleman’s daughter, perhaps?’ He shrugged, and I saw I had hit the mark. ‘Will you see more of Tamasin, when we are all back home?’ I asked with deliberate casualness.

‘Perhaps.’

I think you will, I thought. I think you are smitten, perhaps for the first time in your roisterous life. I wondered if this meant he would stay with me.

‘Tamasin has seen the Queen, you know,’ he said.

‘Yes, she told me.’

‘Says she is more like a girl than a woman. There is some trouble because she has given her old friend Dereham a job and now he has come here trying to give Lady Rochford orders about the arrangements. Tamasin says it has put the old witch in a fine temper.’

I shrugged. I was not interested in the gossip that went on in the royal household.

Barak was silent a moment, then said in more serious tones, ‘I have been thinking about Master Craike, wondering what he was up to last night.’

I nodded slowly. ‘Yes. If anyone has a free run of St Mary’s it is him. And he was up and about when Oldroyd was killed. And in his post he could get keys easily. Like the keys to the chapterhouse.’

‘Yet as you said, nothing was found when he was searched.’

‘What if he had an accomplice? What if they spoke to Oldroyd and he refused to give up the papers? They kill him. Then I turn up with them at King’s Manor.’

‘And the accomplice hit you and got away, while Craike stayed there. But why not kill you, knowing you’d seen some of the papers at least?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said heavily. ‘And somehow I can’t see Craike involved in the conspiracy. I can’t see him having the nerve for dangerous work. And what’s the connection to Broderick? Is it the same people trying to poison him?’

‘Why? If they’re on the same side, the side of the conspirators?’

‘Perhaps he asked for poison to be brought,’ I said slowly. ‘At the moment he is speaking in riddles. If he was given a way to kill himself, that would stop him ever talking. But how was it done?’ I sat frowning a moment. ‘These damned papers, I think they hold something of value to the conspirators. They must do, to have the Privy Council involved. People involved in the conspiracy, seeking the papers and also trying to put Broderick out of the way so he can’t tell what he knows.’

‘If they were conspirators, why did Oldroyd not give up the papers to them?’

‘Perhaps he was unsure of them. Jesu, they gave him a dreadful death. And yet spared me. By accident or design. By God, I hope they meant to spare me.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Someone from the Privy Council is to interview me tomorrow, no doubt after the presentation to the King. That I am not looking forward to.’

‘They might send us home,’ Barak said.

I smiled wryly. ‘That’s what I hope. I’d not mind that, even if it’s in disgrace. I want no more of this matter. A pox on Cranmer for involving me with Broderick.’ I stretched my arms above my head. ‘Dear God, Barak,’ I said passionately. ‘I wish tomorrow was over.’