C. Sansom - Lamentation

He nodded sadly. ‘Edward Cotterstoke is never happier than when telling me what a wicked, vicious and evil-minded woman his sister is. Oh, and he also says she is a traitor, a popish Catholic who observes the old ceremonies in secret. He was introduced to me through my church congregation; I have just come from him.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘My appeals to his Christian charity go unheard.’ I nodded sympathetically.

‘And Mrs Slanning tells me her brother is a heretic whom she would happily see burned.’ I paused, then added, ‘And, I fear, you also.’

He frowned. ‘They should both be careful with their tongues in these times.’ He took a deep breath, then looked at me. ‘Edward Cotterstoke will listen to no reason. I know his wife and children have tried to dissuade him from this battle with his sister. Without success.’

‘Isabel is a childless widow, but even if she had family, I doubt they could move her either. Tell me, Master Coleswyn, have you any idea why they hate each other so?’

He stroked his short beard. ‘No. Edward will only say that his sister has been a bad creature since they were children. And yet, though he enjoys abusing her — and we have both seen them standing in court glaring mightily at each other — I have a sense Edward is afraid of her in some way.’ He paused. ‘You look surprised, Brother.’

‘Only because Mistress Slanning said some words that made me think she was afraid of him . How strange.’ Though it was strictly a breach of confidence, I was sure of Coleswyn’s honesty now, and I decided to tell him what Isabel had said about her brother — the things he has done .

When I had finished he shook his head. ‘I cannot think what that might mean. Master Cotterstoke is very much the respectable citizen.’

‘As is Mistress Slanning. Has it struck you how the wording of the old woman’s Will was very odd? The specific reference to wall paintings.’

‘Yes. It is almost as though old Mistress Cotterstoke wished to provoke a quarrel between her children, laugh at them from beyond the grave.’ He shivered.

‘She must have known they loathed each other. Perhaps there were not two members of this family hating each other because of Heaven knows what old grievance, but three. The mother, too,’ I finished sadly.

‘Possibly. But I know nothing of their early days. Only that their father, a Master Johnson, who can be seen in the picture, died not long after it was painted. And that their mother soon remarried, to Cotterstoke, who took over her late husband’s business. But he, too, soon died, leaving everything to his widow. There were no other children, and Edward and Isabel took their stepfather’s name.’

‘That tallies with what I know,’ I answered. ‘It does not sound as though there was an evil stepfather in the picture.’

‘No.’ Coleswyn stroked his beard again. ‘If we could find what has brought them to this — ’

‘But how? Have you noticed that, though the two of them constantly abuse each other, it is always in general terms; nothing is ever specified.’

‘Yes.’ Coleswyn nodded slowly.

I heard the Inn clock strike twelve. ‘Brother, I must go to my appointment. But I am glad you came. Let us each consider what we may do.’ I stood and offered a hand. ‘Thank you for speaking to me. So many lawyers would happily drive this witless matter on to Chancery, for the profits.’ Bealknap would have, I thought, except that he would never have had the patience to deal with Isabel’s carping and sniping. He had ever preferred some crooked land deal where everything was done in the dark.

Coleswyn smiled shyly. ‘And to seal our little agreement, perhaps you would do me the honour of dining with my wife and me. Perhaps on Wednesday, after the inspection.’

The rules prevented barristers on opposing sides from discussing their clients behind their backs, but dining together was not prohibited. Otherwise, what would have become of our social lives? ‘I would be glad to. Though I have a separate matter that is taking much time just now. May I take the liberty of agreeing subject to the possibility I may have to cancel at the last moment?’

‘Certainly.’

I sighed. ‘This other matter makes the Cotterstoke case look — trivial.’

‘It is trivial.’

I smiled sadly. ‘Yes. Though not to our clients, unfortunately.’

I showed him out, and through the window watched his trim stocky figure as he walked away to the gate. Then my eyes turned to Bealknap’s shuttered chambers, and I took a deep breath.

I went across the courtyard to the building that housed Bealknap’s chambers, remembering his odd behaviour at the end of last year, those unexpected overtures of friendship, which I had rejected because he was not to be trusted. I knocked at the door and a porter answered. ‘I have called to see Brother Bealknap.’

He looked at me gloomily. ‘According to his nurse this may be the last day anyone will visit him. I will take you up.’

We climbed a long wooden staircase, passing other chambers, empty on the Sabbath. Very few barristers, save Bealknap, lived in chambers. I had not been inside his rooms for years; I remembered them only as untidy and dusty. He was rumoured to keep his great chest of gold there, running his fingers through the coins at night.

The porter knocked and the door was opened by an elderly woman in a clean apron, a short coif over her grey hair.

‘I am Serjeant Matthew Shardlake.’

She curtsied. ‘I am Mistress Warren. Master Bealknap has employed me to nurse him. He received your note.’ She continued in the same cool, disinterested tone, ‘He has a great growth in his stomach, the doctor says he has little time left now. The end will come in the next day or two.’

‘Has he no family who might be summoned?’

‘None he wished to contact. I think there was some falling-out, many years ago. When I asked him, he said he had not seen his family since the old King’s time.’

I thought, that was near forty years past. Bealknap must have been only in his teens at the time. Another old family quarrel perhaps, such as the one I had just been discussing.

The old woman looked at me curiously. ‘You are the only one he has asked to see. Other than the doctor and the builder, no one has been to visit.’ Builder? I thought. ‘Apart from the priest,’ she added. ‘Master Bealknap received the last rites this morning.’ His death, then, was truly close. ‘I will take you in,’ Mistress Warren said, leading me along a dusty hallway. She lowered her voice. ‘He refuses to have his shutters open, I do not know why. I warn you, his room smells bad.’

She spoke true. As she opened the door to a half-dark chamber a fusty smell of unwashed skin and diseased, rotten breath hit me like a blow. I followed her in. The room was poorly furnished, with a chest for clothes, a couple of wooden chairs, a bed and a crowded table filled with bottles and potions. The bed, at least, was large and comfortable-looking.

Bealknap had always been thin, but the figure under the covers was skeletal, the skin stretched tight over his skull, his ears and big nose prominent, the hands that lay on the sheet like white claws.

‘I think he is asleep,’ Mistress Warren said quietly. She bent over the dying man. ‘Yes, asleep. Each time I think to find him gone, but he still breathes.’ For the first time I heard a note of human sympathy in her voice. She shook Bealknap’s shoulder gently. His eyes opened, those forget-me-not-blue eyes that had always roved around, never quite meeting yours. But today he stared right up at me, then smiled effortfully, showing his yellow teeth.