C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘I think you are right,’ I answered. ‘I think Daniels and Cardmaker were employed by someone important, but whoever it was has covered his tracks utterly.’

His eyes fixed on mine. ‘And that book? The one called Lamentation of a Sinner ?’

‘It has not been found, though — ’ I hesitated — ‘at least it has not been used to damage the Queen.’

Okedene shook his head. ‘It is all terrible, terrible.’ I felt a stab of guilt, for I had scarcely thought of him recently. An ordinary man whose life had been turned upside down by all this. ‘I fear more troubled times may be coming,’ he added, ‘for all the heresy hunt has ended. People say the King may not last long, and who knows what will happen then?’

I smiled wryly. ‘One must be careful what one says about that. Forecasting the King’s death is treason.’

‘What is not treason these days?’ Okedene spoke with sudden fierce anger. ‘No, my family is better out in the country. The profit we will make on our crops may be little, with the coinage worth less every month, but at least we can feed ourselves.’

‘I am sorry my enquiries brought such trouble to you,’ I said quietly.

Okedene shook his head. ‘No, the fault lies with those who killed my poor friend.’ He stood up and bowed. ‘Thank you, sir, and goodbye.’ He went to the doorway, then turned back and said, ‘I thought I might have had some word, perhaps some thanks, from Lord Parr, for going to tell him privately what had happened that night.’

‘He is not best known for gratitude,’ I said sadly.

Later that morning my work was disturbed again, unexpectedly. From the outer office I heard Nicholas’s voice call out, ‘No!’ followed by a tinkling sound.

I hurried out. I found Barak and Skelly staring in astonishment at him. He stood red-faced, his long body trembling, staring at a letter in his hand. On the floor at my feet I saw a golden coin, a half-sovereign: others were scattered around the room.

‘What has happened?’ I asked.

‘He has just had a letter delivered,’ Skelly said.

Nicholas stared at me then swallowed, crumpling the letter in his hand. Skelly stepped out from behind his desk and began going round the room, picking up the scattered coins.

Nicholas spoke coldly. ‘Leave them, please, John. Or put them in the Inn chapel poor-box. I will not take them.’

‘Nicholas,’ I said, ‘come into my office.’

He hesitated, but followed me in slowly, his movements strange and stiff. I gestured him to a chair and he sat down. I took my place on the other side of my desk. He looked at me with unseeing eyes. His face, which had been red, turned slowly white. The boy had suffered a shock. ‘What has happened?’

He slowly focused on me, then said, ‘It is over. They have disinherited me.’ He looked at the letter, which he still held. His face worked, and I thought he might break down, but he took a deep breath and set his features stiff, hard. I reached out a tentative hand to the letter, but he clutched it all the tighter. I said again, ‘What has happened? Why did you throw those coins away?’

He answered coldly, ‘I am sorry for my outburst. It will not happen again.’

‘Nicholas,’ I said, ‘do not treat me like this. You know I will help you if I can.’

His face worked again for a moment. ‘Yes. I am sorry.’ He fell silent, staring out of the window at the quadrangle, then, his head still turned away, said, ‘I told you my parents had threatened to disinherit me in favour of my cousin, because I would not marry a woman I did not love.’

‘That is a hard thing to do.’

‘My mother and father are hard people. They — they could not bend me to their will, so they found someone more amenable.’ He gave a sad half-smile. ‘The duel was the last straw; I did not tell you about that.’ He turned and looked me in the face, his expression half-fierce, half-desperate.

‘What duel?’

He gave a harsh little laugh. ‘When my father was trying to get me to marry this poor girl against both our wishes, I made the mistake of confiding in a friend who lived nearby. Or friend I thought he was; certainly a gentleman.’ He spoke the word, which signified so much to him, with sudden bitterness. ‘But he had been overspending and his family had put him on short commons. He said if I did not give him two sovereigns he would tell my father that I did not intend to marry her. ’

‘What did you do?’

Nicholas spoke with a sort of bleak pride. ‘Challenged the churl to a duel, of course. We fought with swords, and I cut him in the arm.’ He clutched the letter again. ‘Wish I’d taken half his ear off, like that rogue Stice. His parents saw he had been injured and came complaining to mine. When they confronted me I told them why we had fought, and that I would not marry.’ He took a deep breath, and ran a hand down his face. ‘It was then they decided to send me to law, and threatened to disinherit me. I did not think they would go through with it, but they have.’

‘What does the letter say? May I see it?’

‘No,’ he answered quietly. ‘I shall keep it, though, as a reminder of what parents can be. My father calls me undutiful, uncontrollable. The duel and my refusal to accept their choice of wife have undermined their position locally, my father says. Neither he nor my mother want to see me again. He sent this letter by special messenger, with five pounds. He says he will send me the same sum every year.’ He fell silent again, then said, very definitely, ‘I think it cruel, and wrong.’ A fierce look came onto his face. ‘Who do you think, sir, has done the greater wrong here?’

‘They have.’ I answered without hesitation. ‘When you first told me about the girl I, too, thought that perhaps they would get over their anger. But it seems not.’

I knew that Nicholas would have liked to rage and shout, but he kept himself under control. He took more deep breaths, and I was glad to see colour returning to his face. ‘I already have in my possession barely enough to pay for my pupillage with you, sir,’ he said, his voice sad. ‘I think I must leave.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You have learned almost enough now to earn your keep.’ He looked at me and I could see he knew that was not true: he was still learning, and for a while at least I would spend as much time teaching and correcting him as benefiting from his labours. ‘Or at least you will soon, if you continue to work hard, as you have during these last difficult weeks.’ I smiled. ‘And you have helped me in much more important ways.’

‘I will not be a burden,’ he burst out angrily. ‘I will fend for myself from now on.’

I smiled sadly. ‘The Bible tells us, Nicholas, that pride goes before a fall, and a haughty spirit before destruction. Do not leave me — us — because of pride, do not make that mistake.’

He looked down at the crumpled letter. I had an uneasy feeling that if he did follow his pride and anger he would end badly, for there was a self-destructive element to his nature. There was silence for several seconds. Then a knock, and the door opened. Barak entered, not with a flourish but quietly. He, too, held something in his hand. He came up to the desk and laid a neat little stack of half-sovereigns on the desk. Nicholas looked at him.

‘Done it, then, have they?’ Barak asked roughly. ‘Your parents?’

Nicholas answered thickly, with a dark look, ‘Yes.’

‘I feared they might. They — can do bad things, parents.’ Nicholas did not answer. Barak said, ‘I know all about it. But I know another thing, too. Money is money, wherever it’s from. There’s as much here as five poor men would earn in a year. Take it, spend it, put two fingers up to them.’