C. Sansom - Lamentation

When I arrived at their house Jane Marris let me in, then went up to wake Barak and Tamasin from a late morning in bed. I had to sit uncomfortably in the parlour, listening as they clumped about getting dressed overhead, murmuring irritably. Jane brought George down. He was grizzling, and gave me a sad, tear-stained look. She took him to the kitchen, where I heard her starting to prepare breakfast.

Eventually Barak and Tamasin came down. I stood. ‘I am sorry to disturb you so early.’

Tamasin smiled. ‘It was time we were up. Will you have breakfast with us?’

‘Thank you, I have eaten. How do you fare, Tamasin?’

‘The sickness seems to have ended, praise be.’

‘Good. I will not stay, I must get back to Lincoln’s Inn, to church.’

‘We don’t bother any more than we have to,’ Barak said. I knew both of them had had enough of religion for a lifetime.

‘It’s soon noticed if I stay away from the chapel too long,’ I said. ‘Besides, I have promised to see Bealknap.’

‘You should leave him to rot, after all the harm he’s done you,’ Barak said. ‘You’re too soft.’

Tamasin nodded agreement. ‘He is the worst of men.’

‘Well, I confess I am curious to see what he has to say.’

‘Curiosity killed the cat, sir,’ Tamasin pressed.

I smiled sadly. ‘Cats have nine lives, and perhaps mine are not all used yet. Jack, I wonder if I might have a quick word with you. It concerns — a work matter.’

Barak and Tamasin looked at each other knowingly. Perhaps they, like Rowland, could see the strain on my face. Tamasin said, ‘I must see to Georgie. He is teething. He shall have a chicken bone to suck.’

Barak looked at me shrewdly as she left us. ‘Young Nicholas was very subdued yesterday afternoon. He wouldn’t say where you’d been, said you’d instructed him not to. I got the impression you’d told him off. Not that he doesn’t need it sometimes.’

‘I am sorry to have to leave so much to you.’

‘We’ll be all right for a few days. I’ve got Nicholas working hard. As I said, he seems quiet. Not his usual boisterous self.’ Barak raised an eyebrow. He had guessed something serious was afoot.

I took a deep breath. ‘Jack, I am afraid I have got myself involved in a piece of — delicate business. For Lord Parr, the Queen’s Chamberlain.’

He frowned, then spoke with angry puzzlement. ‘What is it that keeps drawing you back there? With all the rumours there have been about the Queen these last months, surely you should stay clear.’

‘Too late now. The matter concerns a stolen jewel.’ There, the lie was told.

Barak was silent a moment, then spoke quietly. ‘You want my help? In times gone by, yes; but — ’, he nodded at the doorway. Yes, I thought. Tamasin, George, the new baby.

I bit my lip. ‘There is one small aspect where your expertise might be of help. I did not suggest it, the idea came from Lord Parr. I am sorry.’

‘I still have a reputation in certain quarters?’ His voice sounded surprised, but I detected some pleasure in it, too.

‘So it seems. There is a chest at Whitehall Palace from which a valuable ring was stolen. Yet there is only one key, which the owner wore round her neck constantly, and there is no sign of forced entry.’

‘You’ve seen this chest?’

‘Yes. I spent much of yesterday at Whitehall Palace.’

‘Whose is it?’ he asked bluntly. ‘The Queen’s?’

‘I must not say. It is being taken to the Queen’s Wardrobe at Baynard’s Castle for us to examine at nine tomorrow. Could you be there to look at it for me, see what you think?’

He gave me a long, hard stare. ‘And that’s all that is wanted of me?’

‘Yes.’

‘For myself, I wouldn’t mind. But if Tamasin thought for a second that I was putting myself in peril again, she — ’ he shook his head — ‘she’d be furious. And she’d be right.’ He sighed. ‘But if it’s an order from the Queen’s Chamberlain — ’

‘It is. And I promise, I will keep you from further involvement.’

‘I sensed trouble from your face when I came downstairs. So did Tamasin. You spoke of a cat having nine lives. Well, you must be on number nine by now. So must I, come to that.’

‘I am bounden to the Queen.’

‘All over a stolen jewel?’ He gave me a sidelong look. ‘If you say so. Anyway, I’ll come. I won’t tell Tamasin, though I don’t like misleading her.’

‘No, this must be kept confidential.’

He nodded, then looked at me hard again. ‘But remember. Only nine lives.’

Lies, lies, I thought, as I approached Bealknap’s chambers, which stood more or less opposite to mine. Then I heard a voice behind me, calling my name. I turned round irritably; what now? To my surprise, I saw Philip Coleswyn, the lawyer acting for Isabel Slanning’s brother, whom I had seen at the burning. I doffed my cap. ‘Brother Coleswyn, God give you good morrow. You have not been at the Gray’s Inn service?’

‘I attend my local church,’ he said a little stiffly. I thought, a church with a radically inclined vicar, no doubt. ‘I came here after service, because I wished to speak with you.’

‘Very well. Shall we go to my chambers? They are just at hand. Though I have another appointment. .’ I glanced up at Bealknap’s shuttered window. ‘I cannot tarry long.’

‘It will take but little time.’

We walked to my chambers. I unlocked the door and led Coleswyn into my room, threw off my robe and invited him to sit. He was silent a moment, looking at me with his clear blue eyes. Then he said hesitantly, ‘Occasionally, Serjeant Shardlake, a case comes up where it can be — useful — to talk to the other side’s representative, in confidence.’ He hesitated. ‘If I think that, like me, the representative would wish to avoid an unnecessary degree of conflict.’

‘The Cotterstoke Will case?’

‘Yes. When we met two days ago, Serjeant Shardlake, at that dreadful event at Smithfield — ’ he blinked a couple of times — ‘I thought, here is a man of probity.’

‘I thank you, Brother. But strictly, probity means we must each represent our clients’ interests, however troublesome they are. Their wishes must come first.’

‘I know. But is it not a Christian thing to try to resolve conflicts where one can?’

‘If it is possible.’ I remembered Guy’s assertion that some conflicts could never be resolved. I remembered, too, what Isabel had said: If you knew the terrible things my brother has done . ‘I will hear what you have to say.’ I added, ‘And I promise it will go no further.’

‘Thank you. We have the inspection of the wall painting on Wednesday. Your expert, of course, will be briefed to look for any ways in which the painting may be removed without damaging it.’

‘While yours is likely to say it cannot be brought down.’

‘My expert is an honest man,’ Coleswyn said.

‘So is mine.’

‘I do not doubt it.’

I smiled. ‘Yet both men are working to a brief, for a fee. I fear stalemate is the most likely outcome.’

‘Yes,’ Coleswyn agreed. ‘It is in the nature of the system.’ He sighed. ‘And so the experts’ charges will be added to the bills, and both the debt and the paperwork will grow.’

I replied wryly, ‘What is the saying? “Long writing and small matter.”’

‘Yes.’ And then Coleswyn laughed. I do not think he meant to; it was a release of tension. It made his hitherto serious face look quite boyish. I found myself laughing, too. We both stopped at the same moment, looking guiltily at each other.

‘We cannot prevent them from fighting,’ I said. ‘Though I would happily be rid of this. Tell me, in confidence, does Master Cotterstoke hate Mistress Slanning as much as she does him?’