C. Sansom - Lamentation

Gawger took another deep breath. ‘About three weeks ago, sir — it was at the start of the month — one of my fellow guards approached me in lodgings. Michael Leeman. I did not know him well — he had not made himself popular, he was one of the radicals, always telling us to amend our souls.’

‘Really?’ I leaned forward with interest.

‘He said the palace soldiery were mired in sin and that when his term was done he would go to new friends he had, godly friends.’

‘Do you know who they were?’

Gawger shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. But they lived somewhere around St Paul’s, I think. He was always off there during his free time. But I steer clear of talk about religion. It’s dangerous.’ He stopped, breathing rapidly now, perhaps realizing that he was in deep danger. The rules governing the Queen’s Guard were strict, and I had little doubt that what Gawger was about to confess to constituted treason. I took a deep breath.

He continued, a whining, desperate note in his voice now. ‘I–I have had money troubles, sir. I have been playing cards with some of my fellows. I lost money. I thought I could win it back, but lost more. I appealed to my father; he has helped me before, but he said he had no more to spare. If I did not find the money soon I knew there would be a scandal, I would lose this post, have to return home in disgrace — ’ Suddenly he laughed wildly. ‘But that was nothing to what will happen now, is it sir? I gambled everything on this throw, and lost.’

‘And exactly what was this throw Leeman wanted you to make?’

‘He was in the middle of a fortnight’s evening duty. He told me he had had a dalliance with one of the chamber servant women and had left a pair of monogrammed gloves, that could be traced to him, in the Queen’s Long Gallery. He had taken this girl in there when no one else was around. If the gloves were discovered both of them would be dismissed.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘And him such a man of God?’

‘I was surprised, sir, but men who lust fiercely after religion can often turn out to have strong lusts of the flesh as well, can they not?’ He gulped again, then added, ‘Leeman showed me a bag with ten sovereigns, old ones of pure gold.’ The man’s eyes lit up for a moment at the memory. ‘He said it was mine if I would take his place as guard outside the door to the privy lodgings, just for a few minutes, while he fetched his gloves. We would both be on duty in the Presence Chamber for several days, and could change places when the Queen and her servants were absent. He said it needed to be done as soon as possible. But it was many days before we were able to do it.’

‘So the switch happened on the sixth?’

‘Yes, sir.’

I leaned back in my chair. It all fitted. Somehow Leeman had found out about the Lamentation , and had decided — why, I had no idea to steal it. He had looked for an accomplice, found the wretched Gawger, and taken his opportunity when it came on the 6th of July. He was a religious radical. He had friends by St Paul’s. Was he a member of Greening’s group? I looked at Gawger. Such a young man as this could easily be won over with the promise of gold. And Leeman’s story was plausible; even in July, carrying silk gloves of fine design was common round the court as yet another symbol of status. But how had Leeman learned of the book? Why had he stolen it? And how had he got a key to that chest?

I asked Gawger, ‘How would Leeman know for sure when the Queen’s lodgings were unoccupied?’

‘Everything runs according to routine in this place, sir. In the evenings, the servants arrive and depart at fixed hours. If the Queen is called to the King, as she frequently is in the evenings, her personal attendants go with her and for a short time nobody is present in her apartments. I was on duty, but in reserve rather than at post. My arrangement with Leeman was that I would remain in the guardroom — the room you came through just now — and if the Queen was called away he would run across to tell me. Then I would take his place while he went inside for a few minutes. That would not be noted; there is always someone in reserve in case a guard is taken ill or has to relieve himself and cannot wait. And at that time of night, if the Queen was with the King, there was normally nobody in the Presence Chamber either. There wasn’t that night.’

‘Go on.’

Gawger took a deep breath. ‘Just before nine, Leeman came into the Guard Chamber. I was the only one there. I remember how set his face was. He nodded to me, that was our signal. Then the two of us went back to the Presence Chamber and I took his position by the door while he slipped inside. I waited at the door — in a sweat, I may say.’

‘Had you had a drink?’ I asked.

‘Just a little, sir, to give me courage. But I had only been there a minute when Mistress Odell arrived. I tried to delay her — ’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘You pretended her name was not on the list, and when she insisted on going in, as you opened the door you said loudly that everything must be done properly, no doubt to alert Leeman. She told me. It was that which first aroused my suspicions.’

Gawger lowered his head. ‘Leeman must have hidden somewhere till Mary Odell had passed by him. Then he came out again.’

‘Was he carrying anything?’

‘Not that I could see.’

I thought, the manuscript was small, he could have concealed it under his voluminous cloak. Suddenly I felt angry. ‘What if Leeman had been unbalanced? What if he had planned to murder the Queen, who you are sworn to protect? What then, master gambler?’

Gawger bowed his head again. ‘I have no answer, sir,’ he said miserably.

I went across to the door. Mitchell was waiting outside. I let him in and told him all that Gawger had told me; both, of course, thought that at issue was a stolen ring. ‘It seems you have your answer, Serjeant Shardlake,’ Mitchell said bleakly.

‘I would rather have Leeman as well,’ I answered curtly. ‘Now I will report back to Lord Parr. Do not have this man publicly accused yet. Is there somewhere you can keep him?’

‘Surely now he should be imprisoned and tried for conspiracy in this theft, and for endangering the Queen’s person.’

‘Lord Parr must say,’ I answered firmly.

Mitchell stood up, grabbed the wretched guard, and thrust him back into the antechamber. He returned and sat behind his desk again, looking haggard. I said, ‘I want this kept quiet till you receive further orders.’

‘I place myself in the hands of the Queen. It is my responsibility Leeman is gone.’ Mitchell shook his head. ‘But it is hard sometimes, having to take on these young country gentlemen because their fathers have influence. And these last months have been terrible. All the rumours — I have served the Queen loyally these three years, but since the spring I have never known when I may be ordered to arrest her.’

I did not answer. I could feel no sympathy for him. However well organized, however disciplined a system of security might be, it only took one slip from a man in a crucial position for the line to be broken. ‘Tell me more about Leeman,’ I said eventually.

‘His father is a landowner in Kent. He has some distant connection to the Parrs through their Throckmorton cousins, one of whom petitioned for a post for him. I interviewed young Leeman last year. I thought him suitable; as a gentleman, he was well trained in the arts of combat and he is a big, handsome young fellow, well set up. Though even then he struck me as a little serious. And godly; he said his main interest was the study of religion. Well, being a reformer was no hindrance then.’ He sighed. ‘And he was a good and loyal guard for two years. Never a hint of trouble, except that twice he had to be warned against evangelizing among his fellow guards. It annoyed them. I warned him early this year such talk was becoming dangerous.’ Mitchell leaned forward. ‘He is the last one I would have expected to have concocted a plot to steal one of the Queen’s jewels. And Leeman is not rich, his family are poor and distant cousins of the Queen, delighted to have a son in such a post. How could he have come by such a huge sum as ten sovereigns to offer Gawger?’