C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘Thank you, your majesty.’

Henry gave him a sharp look. ‘And you know on which side your bread is buttered, eh? Always you act to further my will, never go down your own road, like Wolsey and Cromwell?’

Paget bowed deeply. ‘I serve only to implement your majesty’s chosen policies.’

‘Yet I would be rid of this man,’ the King repeated. He gave me a long stare, unblinking as a snake’s. I knew my life, and Nicholas’s, hung in the balance. An eternity seemed to pass before he spoke again. ‘Paget is right. You are a serjeant and it is known that you have been working for the Queen. Your disappearance would make a stir.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I will let you go, Master Shardlake, you and your boy. For policy reasons alone. But take note of this.’ He leaned forward, his voice rising again. ‘You will never, ever, again come anywhere near the Queen, or any royal palace, or do anything that might, even possibly, bring you to my notice. Do you understand? I do not wish to hear of you, still less see you, ever again. And if I do see you, it will not be your bent back I see, but only — your — head!’ The last words were accompanied by the King banging on the arms of his chair. He leaned back, breathing hard. ‘Now, Paget, get him out of here. And send in Will Somers, I need distraction.’

Master Secretary bowed and then, beckoning me, walked backwards to the door; it was forbidden to turn one’s back on the King. I followed, dreading to hear the King summon me again. Paget knocked on the door, it was opened from outside by a guard, and we backed through safely. Will Somers, the monkey still perched on his shoulder, stood outside with the guards. Paget inclined his head sharply to the door. Somers and the guard who had been with the King slipped back in. The sound of the door closing brought me an overwhelming rush of relief.

Paget led me back up the corridor. Then I felt the floor sway and slide under me again and had to lean against the wall, breathing hard. Paget looked at me, his face expressionless. ‘A narrow escape, I think,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘You were lucky, Master Shardlake.’

I felt steadier now. ‘Will he — could he — call me back?’

‘No. He has made up his mind now. You spoke very well, all things considered,’ he added reluctantly. He inclined his head. ‘Was it truly you that persuaded the Queen to let you search for the book?’

I did not answer. Paget gave a little smile. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It does not matter now.’

I looked at him gratefully, despite myself. Given all that had happened, it was a strange paradox that it was Paget who had saved me at the end, for without his intervention I knew I would already be on my way to the Tower, Nicholas as well: he would not be the first innocent caught in the King’s net. I took a deep breath. ‘Did the King come all the way from Hampton Court for this?’

Paget gave a quiet, mocking laugh. ‘You flatter yourself, lawyer. No, he and Admiral d’Annebault are going hunting in St James’s Park tomorrow. He came here unofficially to spend the evening in peace. He is tired, he had to do much standing today, he wanted a little time away from them all.’ Paget looked out of the window, down at King Street, deserted at this hour. ‘His study is always kept ready for him. Here he can rest, work, watch the doings of his realm from the window.’ He added quietly, ‘It is not easy, being a King.’

I dared not answer, and Paget continued in a strangely dispassionate tone. ‘I think, you know, your search for the Lamentation these last few weeks may have saved the Queen.’

I stared at him. ‘Do you?’

He stroked his long forked beard. ‘Yes. When I first brought him that book, Bertano had not yet arrived. The King indeed found no evidence of heresy in the Lamentation — it sails close to the wind in places, but as he said, it does not deny the Mass. But the Queen had hidden its existence from him and that rankled seriously.’

‘Disloyalty,’ I murmured.

‘Quite so. The Queen could have been in trouble there and then. For several days he considered arresting her. But then your hunt for the book, and Rich’s for Anne Askew’s writings, caught his attention and he ordered me to let the matter play itself out, although of course those Anabaptists had to die.’

‘Curdy was your spy.’

‘Yes. And when the allegations from that Slanning woman came before me, I decided you should be brought before the Privy Council, so I could see for myself whether there might indeed be a chance you were a heretic.’

‘So we were all moved like puppets,’ I said bitterly.

‘Be grateful that you were. That allowed time for Bertano’s mission to fail, and the King’s mind to turn finally and decisively against the conservatives.’

I looked at his slab of a face and thought, you enjoy all this; you would side with radicals or conservatives alike to keep your position. Another of those great men in the middle, bending with the wind.

Paget spoke again, his voice stern now. ‘Of course, you will forget everything that was said in there, not least what the King let slip about authorizing strong measures against Anne Askew.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Of course, Master Secretary.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And you heard what the King said. Make sure he has no more trouble from you. Do not cross me again, either. And now, fetch your boy; then get out of here. And, as the King said, never, ever, return.’

Paget beckoned a guard, then without further word led the way back through the King’s Gallery, then to the Presence Chamber. He crossed the room to speak briefly with one of the guards standing there. I looked again at the Holbein mural, the King in his prime; the swagger, the square hard face, the ferocious little eyes and mouth. The candlelight caught Jane Seymour’s face, too: demure, placid. Paget returned with the guard. ‘Take him to the boy, then get them both out of the palace. Quickly.’ And then Master Secretary turned and walked away, without so much as a nod or a backward glance, his long black robe swishing round his legs. He was done with me. The mind of the King’s Master of Practices had probably already returned to its coils of conspiracy.

Nicholas was crouched in the corner of a small, bare receiving room, his long arms folded round his bent knees. When he stood I saw spots of blood on his doublet. Barak’s blood. ‘Come, Nicholas,’ I said quietly. ‘We are free, but we must go quickly.’

The guard led us along the dark corridors to the Guard Chamber, then down the stairs again, across the cobbled court, and through the gates. As soon as we were out in the street Nicholas said, ‘I thought we were undone.’

‘I, too. But I think we are safe, so long as we never come here again.’ I looked upwards at the Holbein Gate and its windows, wondering if the King were watching. I turned away hastily; it was dangerous now even to glance in that direction.

‘Stice and his men, are they —?’

‘Free as air,’ I answered bitterly, looking at him. His face looked haunted. ‘But do not ask me to tell you more, ever.’

He ran a hand through his red hair, then gave a little choking laugh. ‘I was told before I came to London how magnificent the royal palaces were. And I have seen for myself, it is true. And yet — fear and death stalk there, even more than in the rest of the world.’

I smiled with desperate sadness. ‘I see you are beginning to learn.’

‘In there — I felt it.’ He gulped. ‘What now? What of — Jack?’

‘We must go back to get him at once,’ I said, though I was terrified of what we would find there.

We reached the lane near an hour later, the clocks striking one shortly before we arrived. It was easy to find the place. I half-ran to the rubbish heap, full of dread at what I might see, then drew up abruptly. Barak’s body was gone.