C. Sansom - Lamentation

William Parr said, ‘Is it not manifestly clear to all that this woman’s claims are those of an ill-natured litigant — unfounded, motivated by mere spite — and that these men are guilty of nothing?’

Lord Paget looked between us, then inclined his head. ‘Yes. I think it is. Mistress Slanning, you are a vicious and vexatious creature. You have wasted our time.’ Isabel gasped, fighting now to control her emotions. Paget turned to us. ‘Gentlemen, we will discuss this a little further between ourselves. All of you wait outside until council business is finished.’ He made a signal to the guards and we were led away.

We were returned to the room where we had waited before. As soon as the door was closed I spoke to Philip in heartfelt tones. ‘Well done, and thank you. You answered well.’

He replied sorrowfully, ‘One must speak more with the wisdom of the serpent than the innocence of the dove, where matters of faith are concerned. Jesus Christ said so.’ He looked at me. ‘Do you think we will be released now?’

‘I have every hope. Isabel made a fool of herself. We are lucky I have friends on the council, and Rich has his own reasons not to see me brought down. Paget, too, seemed won over to our side.’

‘Yes.’ He frowned. ‘Gardiner and Wriothesley would have taken the chance to examine us further about our beliefs, which for me at least would have been — a concern.’

Edward had sat down on the windowsill, his back to the magnificent view of the river, and put his head in his hands. I said to him, ‘You did well too, sir.’

He looked up. It was as though all the energy had drained from him once more; he seemed again the exhausted, tormented figure of the day before. He spoke quietly, ‘You told me I must stand firm, lest they use these allegations to build a case against the Queen’s friends. But now it is over- the other matter remains: what Isabel and I did.’ He looked at Philip. ‘And I know I must pay.’

Before Philip could answer, the door opened. Richard Rich entered. He looked at Philip and Edward, who stood hastily. ‘You two,’ he snapped, ‘outside. Wait in the corridor with the guards. I want to talk to Shardlake.’

Philip and Edward did as he ordered. Rich pushed the door shut and turned to me. His face wore a strange expression, half-admiring, half-angry. ‘Well, Master Shardlake, you got out of that one. With my help. It was a strange thing to give it, sitting between Wriothesley and Gardiner, who, knowing our history, thought I would be glad to see you burned.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘A strange feeling.’

I looked back at him. He deserved no thanks, for like Dyrick he had sought only to protect his own skin. I kept my voice low. ‘Who wanted that matter brought before the Council, Sir Richard? Normally such a silly accusation would surely not have gone there? And why? Was it to do with the Queen? Gardiner said-’

Rich waved a hand dismissively. ‘Gardiner seizes every chance that comes his way to take a tilt at the Queen. He’s wasting his time; he should realize by now that ship has sailed.’ Rich took off his cap, revealing his thick grey hair. ‘But you are right about it being silly, and I have been trying to find out who pressed for it to be included on the council agenda. I was not consulted. Paget decides, on the basis of advice from many quarters. I dare not press the matter too closely.’ His thin face was momentarily pinched with worry, reminding me how he had looked at Anne Askew’s burning. How he must dread her book appearing on the streets.

‘So it could have been anybody?’

‘Gardiner, Wriothesley, the Duke of Norfolk, though he was not present today — anyone — ’ His voice rose angrily. ‘Lord Hertford, for all I know. He and his brother Thomas were with Paget yesterday, and shouting was heard, I know that.’

‘But Hertford is on the reformist side. He helped me.’

‘He seemed to, I grant you. But on the council people may take one line in public and another in private.’ Rich’s voice lowered to an angry whisper. ‘The Parrs and Seymours would both like the Regency of little Edward when the King dies, and Seymour and his brother quarrel constantly. Sir Thomas Seymour thinks he should have a place on the Privy Council, but the King knows he has not the ability. More knives are sharpened every week.’ He gave me a look of hatred. ‘And as for my private feelings, do not think I will help you again, crookback. Unless it is in my own interest. I would gladly see you burned. And watch with pleasure.’

I smiled wryly. ‘I have never doubted that, Sir Richard.’

‘Then we understand each other.’ He bit off the words. ‘Now, the council says you can go, the guards will take you out.’ Then, with those grey eyes burning, he said, ‘You have been lucky. If you have any sense left you will keep well away from here. Do not think the time of crisis is over.’ Then, in an undertone — more to himself than me — he added, ‘Of late sometimes I have wished I, too, could run like a rabbit.’

We were led to the Common Stairs. The guards got into their boat, leaving us in the midst of all the removals. As a large, ornate cabinet was heaved out of the door by four men a drawer fell open and a little mouse jumped out onto the landing stage. It stood for a moment in the forest of legs, not knowing where to run, till someone saw it and kicked it into the river.

I managed to hail a passing wherry. We sculled downriver, away from Whitehall; I hoped for ever. The three of us sat in silence, still recovering from our ordeal. I noticed a tear on Edward’s cheeks: he was weeping, silently. The boatman looked between us curiously.

I spoke quietly to Philip. ‘Can you look after him?’

‘I will take him to my home, do what I can.’ He looked sadly at his client. ‘Will you come with me, Edward?’

Edward looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I know what must be done now.’ He shook his head in anguish. ‘The disgrace, the disgrace to my wife and children.’

‘We can talk about that later. When you are rested. About what God requires of you.’

He shook his head violently. ‘I shall never rest again. I do not deserve it.’

I said to Philip, ‘I must go to my house.’ I needed to speak to Timothy; I could not imagine that he had betrayed me, but I must know.

We rounded the bend in the river. In the distance, past the riverside houses and the docks, the square solid shape of the Tower was visible. I turned away.

I found Timothy at his accustomed place in the stables, sitting on an upturned pail eating bread and cheese. He jumped up as I entered, astonishment and relief on his face. ‘Sir! Thank the Lord you are back! We thought you-’ He broke off.

I stood, weary and dishevelled, looking down at him. ‘I am released,’ I said quietly.

‘We none of us knew why — ’

‘I have been questioned by the King’s Privy Council. Do you know how serious that is?’

‘All know that,’ he answered quietly.

‘It was, among other things, about an allegation that I owned forbidden books.’

Timothy stepped backward, his eyes widening, and my heart sank as I began to believe that, after all, he had given me up. But I kept my voice low. ‘Do you remember an afternoon, about three weeks ago, when Martin and Agnes and Josephine were out? I told you to turn visitors away, as there was something I needed to do.’

He backed away another step, up against the wall. He looked frail and thin, his arms and legs like twigs. Genesis looked round, sensing something strange between us. I asked, ‘Did you watch me that afternoon, Timothy? Did you see what I did in the garden?’

The boy nodded, misery on his face. ‘You burned some books, sir. I came into the house and watched you, from a window. I know I shouldn’t have, but I–I wondered what was so secret, sir.’