C. Sansom - Lamentation

Elias looked back at me directly. ‘’Tis my mother’s birthday.’

‘What did you do when you saw the men?’

‘What any good apprentice would do. Shouted “Clubs!” to let the other lads in the street know there was trouble. A few came out, though they weren’t quick — it was early, they were probably hardly awake. They will confirm the date if you doubt me. The two men were already gone, they went over the garden wall behind Master Greening’s shed, the same way as the other two. Some fellows went in pursuit, but they lost them.’ So these men, too, had probably surveyed Greening’s place before attacking it, to find the best escape route. ‘I stayed to knock up my master.’

‘How did Master Greening react when you told him?’

‘He was alarmed, what do you think?’ Elias replied curtly. Nicholas gave him a warning look, but he ignored it.

‘Did your master have any idea who the men could have been?’

‘Casual thieves, he thought. But they must be connected to the men who came later, and killed him. Mustn’t they?’

I caught a slight tremor in his voice; under his bravado Elias was seriously afraid. I thought, if Greening had his premises attacked a week before his murder, why did he let the two killers in when they knocked? Had he perhaps been reassured by a request to enter from two men with cultivated accents; one with a silk shirt under his jerkin? I looked at Elias again. I thought, did he know about the book? If he did, he was in danger. Yet he had not gone to ground, as it seemed Greening’s three friends had, and he had taken a job at the works next door. I asked, ‘What do you know of your master’s friends? I have the names McKendrick, Vandersteyn and Curdy.’

‘I have met them.’ The apprentice’s eyes narrowed. ‘Good, honest men.’

‘They were all able to give account of their movements on that night,’ I said with a reassuring smile. ‘Though they have not been seen for some days.’

‘I haven’t seen them since the murder.’

‘McKendrick is a Scotch name,’ Nicholas said bluntly. ‘Until just recently we were at war with them.’

Elias glared at him. ‘The papists threw Master McKendrick out of Scotland for calling the soul of the Pope a stinking menstruous rag. As it is.’

Okedene snapped, ‘Elias, I will not have such language in my shop!’

I raised a pacifying hand. ‘Was there any woman Master Greening was close to? Your master was still a young man.’

‘No. Since his poor wife died he devoted himself to his work and the service of God.’

I was considering how to broach the question of Elias’s involvement in the religious discussions between his master and his friends, when Nicholas asked him suddenly, ‘What about this Jurony Bertano that I heard my master mention as I came upstairs? Did your master know him?’

An expression of utter fear came over Elias’s face, his ill-mannered surliness vanishing. He took a step back.

‘How do you know that name?’ he asked. He looked at Okedene. ‘Master, these men are agents of Bishop Gardiner!’ Before Okedene could reply, Elias shouted at me, his face red with fear and anger, ‘You crawling crouchback papist!’ And with that he punched me hard in the face, making me stagger. He threw himself on me, and with his size could have done me damage had not Nicholas put an arm around his throat and dragged him off. The boy twisted, grasped Nicholas, and the two fell grappling to the floor. Nicholas reached for his sword, but Elias threw him off and ran through the open door of the print-shop, his footsteps crashing down the stairs. I heard Okedene’s wife call out, ‘Elias!’ The front door slammed.

Nicholas was on his feet in a second, running downstairs after him. Okedene and I looked from the window to see my pupil standing in the crowded street, looking up and down, but Elias had already disappeared. The boy would know these streets and alleys like the back of his hand.

Okedene stared at me in amazed horror. ‘Why did that name cause him such terror? I never saw Elias react like that before.’

‘I don’t know,’ I said quietly as I wiped blood from my cheek.

Nicholas came back upstairs. ‘He’s gone,’ he said. ‘Are you hurt, master?’

‘No.’

Okedene’s face darkened with anger. ‘Elias was terrified. I doubt he will return.’ He glared at Nicholas. ‘Now I will have to find a new apprentice in the middle of a print run. All because you blurted out that name. Master Shardlake, I have done enough. I wish to have no more to do with this matter. I have a business, and am responsible for my wife and children.’

‘Master Okedene, I am sorry.’

‘So am I. Sorry, and sore afraid.’ He looked out of the window again, breathing hard. ‘And now, please go. And I beg you, involve me no more in this.’

‘I will try to ensure you are not troubled again. But if Elias returns, can you send word to me at Lincoln’s Inn?’

Okedene did not look round, but nodded wearily.

‘Thank you,’ I said again. ‘I am sorry.’ I turned to Nicholas. ‘Come, you,’ I snapped.

I began walking fast down Paternoster Row. My cheek stung where Elias had struck it. I would have a nice bruise soon. ‘We should go to the constable,’ Nicholas said. ‘For an apprentice to run away from his master is an offence.’

‘We don’t know that he’s run away yet,’ I answered. I was not going to involve the authorities in this without first consulting Lord Parr. I stopped and turned to Nicholas, ‘What did you think you were doing, mentioning that name?’

‘I heard you and Master Okedene discussing it as I came to the door. It seemed important. I thought it might be a good thing to scare that insolent boy into answering.’

‘Could not you see that beneath his surliness was fear?’

‘I saw only that he spoke to you as a lumpish apprentice should not to one of your rank.’

‘Yes, Nicholas, you are full of your rank and class, and Elias annoyed you, so you thought to put him in his place. I was trying to soothe him, in order to gain his confidence. Do you not know the saying, never prick the stirring horse more than he needs? You have just lost us our most important witness.’

He looked crestfallen. ‘You said I could ask questions.’

‘Only after careful consideration. You didn’t consider, you just reacted. The worst thing a lawyer can do.’ I jabbed a finger on his doublet. ‘Do not ever play the lusty-gallant gentleman again in my service.’

‘I am sorry,’ he said stiffly.

‘So am I. So is poor Master Okedene.’

‘It seems this murder touches the most delicate matters of religion,’ he said quietly.

‘All the more reason to be delicate ourselves,’ I snapped back. ‘Now, return to Lincoln’s Inn and ask Barak what needs doing there. And do not say one word about where we have been. I think even you will realize the importance of confidentiality here. And now I will leave you. I have business elsewhere.’

I turned my back on him and walked away, down to the river, to get a boat to Whitehall.

When I reached the Thames Street stairs there were plenty of boatmen waiting along the riverside, calling, ‘Eastward Ho!’ or ‘Westward Ho!’ to indicate whether they were going up- or downriver. I called to a man who was going upriver, and he pulled into the steps.

We rowed past Whitehall Palace; I had asked the boatman to take me to Westminster Stairs, just beyond. At the Whitehall Common Stairs servants were unloading great armfuls of firewood from a boat, presumably destined for the palace kitchens. I thought again of yesterday’s burning, and shuddered. The boatman gave me an odd look. I lowered my eyes, watching him pull the oars in and out. He was a young man but his hands were already hard and knotted; I knew that older boatmen often got painful arthritis, the joints in their hands frozen into grasping claws. And all to take rich folk like me where they wanted to go.