C. Sansom - Lamentation

So that was why Rowland had been avoiding me: he wanted no association with matters of heresy if they became official. I had been concerned that Isabel had overheard Coleswyn’s words on the night of the dinner. Yet she had misremembered or falsified what happened: that evening Philip had adjured me to pray and study the Bible, as the only sure path to salvation. I had made no reply. And neither of us had mentioned the Mass. What Philip had said marked him as a radical reformer but not a heretic; just as, from what I had been told was contained in the Lamentation , the Queen’s views marked her. They were risky views to express, but not illegal. I frowned. Paget’s office must receive a dozen such letters a week, written from malice by quarrelling family members, former lovers, business enemies. At most, the accuser would be questioned by an official from the council. Why indeed had such nonsense been brought here?

Another door opened and Isabel, dressed in her finery as usual, entered. Behind her came the tall, black-robed figure of Vincent Dyrick. He looked uneasy.

Edward stared at his sister, a long, unfathomable look. Isabel, whose expression a moment before had been haughty as always, seemed to quail a little at the sight of these great men. She glanced quickly at her brother, who only stared back at her stonily. Then she curtsied. Dyrick bowed, rising to look at the men behind the table, his eyes scared, calculating slits.

Hertford said bluntly, ‘It is not customary for those brought before the Privy Council to be allowed lawyers.’

Paget answered firmly, ‘Two of the accused are lawyers themselves. In the circumstances it is reasonable to allow the witness her legal representative.’

I looked at the Secretary, the King’s Master of Practices; it was still impossible to discern whose side he was on. But someone had made a miscalculation if he thought Vincent Dyrick would help Isabel. He was obviously here under pressure; he was not a man who would willingly appear before such a powerful group to plead a pack of nonsense.

Paget addressed Dyrick. ‘We have been discussing the correspondence. You have copies?’

‘We do. And Mistress Slanning knows them by heart.’ That I could imagine.

Paget grunted, and looked at Isabel. ‘You say there was a conspiracy between these three men to cheat you, motivated by their being heretics?’

Isabel turned to Dyrick. ‘You must answer yourself, mistress,’ he said quietly.

She swallowed, then replied, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. ‘Master Coleswyn and my brother attend the same church, where the preacher is known to be radical. Coleswyn and Master Shardlake dine together, and once I heard them speaking heresy afterwards. And Master Shardlake knowingly chose an expert who would look at my painting and undermine my case.’ She was speaking rapidly now. I wondered, could she actually believe what she was saying? I knew from experience how people could twist facts to suit what they wanted to believe, but this was a very dangerous forum for such self-delusion. She continued, ‘Edward will do anything to thwart my case, he is wicked, wicked — ’

Edward answered, quietly, ‘No more than you.’

Paget glanced at him sharply. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Philip spoke up. ‘Only that the conflict between my client and his sister goes back to events when they were children.’ Isabel’s face took on an expression of fear as she realized that Philip had just referred obliquely to what she and Edward had done near half a century before and that he might refer to it openly now. Her face paled, the wrinkled flesh seeming to sink. She looked terrified.

‘And this expert?’ Paget looked at Dyrick.

‘His name is Master Simon Adam, an expert on house construction. My client says there are — rumours — that he may have radical sympathies.’

‘More than rumours,’ Isabel said boldly. ‘A friend told me her servant knew the family — ’

‘That is third-hand hearsay,’ I said flatly.

Isabel turned to Dyrick for support. He was silent. Edward Seymour said, ‘Master Shardlake advised you to pick this Master Adam?’

Isabel hesitated, then said, with obvious reluctance, ‘No. But I asked him for a list of experts. This man’s name was first on the list. He put it first so I should pick it, I am sure.’

‘Mistress Slanning insisted on my providing a list of experts, and chose Master Adam against my advice.’ Could she really be misremembering what had happened to this extent? Looking at her, I realized she could.

And then William Parr, Earl of Essex, did something which shifted the whole balance of the interrogation. He laughed. ‘Sound choice,’ he said. ‘Nobody comes before Adam, not since the world began.’

Hertford and Rich laughed too, and a wintry smile lifted the corner of Paget’s mouth. Isabel’s face was like chalk. Gardiner, however, banged his fist on the table. ‘This is no matter for levity. What of the heresy spoken among these men?’

Philip said, clear and steady, ‘My Lords, there was no heresy. And it was not Master Shardlake who spoke the words referred to in Mistress Slanning’s letter. It was I, as I took farewell of him at my door.’ I gave him a glance of gratitude. ‘And I did not mention, let alone argue against, the Real Presence.’

‘Well, madam? Is that right?’ Edward Seymour asked sharply.

Isabel looked genuinely confused. ‘I thought — I thought it was Master Shardlake who spoke about the Bible, but it may have been Master Coleswyn. Yes, yes, I think it was.’ For a second she looked embarrassed, but rallied. ‘Either way, those were the words.’

‘And the Mass?’ Paget asked.

‘I–I thought they said that. I am sure — I thought — ’ Flustered, she turned to Dyrick, but he said flatly, ‘You were there, madam, not me.’ Isabel looked at him, helpless for once in her life. She began to tremble. It was known that Dyrick would take on anyone as a client, the more blindly aggressive the better. But Isabel Slanning had proved too wild a card even for him.

Then Rich said, his voice contemptuous, ‘This woman is wasting our time.’

Gardiner glared at him again, then said to Philip, ‘But you did speak those words about faith coming through study of the Bible, and prayer?’

‘Yes. But that is no heresy.’

Blustering now, Gardiner went on, ‘All know the King mislikes this endless talking over religion. As he said in his speech to Parliament last Christmas, though the Word of God in English is allowed, it is only to be used for men to inform their consciences.’

‘And that is what Master Shardlake and I were doing, informing our consciences.’ Philip looked at Isabel. ‘Rather it is Mistress Slanning who makes light use of God’s Word, to further her personal quarrels.’

He had spoken well, and left a silence behind him. After a moment Wriothesley said to him, ‘You swear neither of you denied the Real Presence when you met?’

‘I did not,’ I answered.

‘Nor I,’ Philip said.

Paget looked at Isabel. ‘What were you doing at Master Coleswyn’s house that evening, Mistress Slanning? You were not at the dinner?’

She swallowed. ‘I see it as my duty, when I suspect heresy, to watch and wait for it. That I may inform the authorities.’

‘You spied on them,’ Lord Hertford said flatly.

Paget leaned forward, his voice hard. ‘Yet you did not see fit to inform the authorities of this alleged collaboration between heretics until the Lincoln’s Inn Treasurer rejected your accusations.’

‘I–I did not think at first. I was so angry at my brother’s lawyer conspiring with mine — ’ She looked at Edward, who stared at her strangely, his expression blank yet intense.