C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘On behalf of his parents only.’

‘Do not take me for a fool, Shardlake,’ Rich said impatiently. ‘You are acting for the Queen on this.’ I did not reply. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Let me guess what you have found. Greening was part of a little group of religious fanatics, probably Anabaptists. One of their members, Vandersteyn, is a Dutch merchant, and we know that Anabaptism still festers over there. And another is Curdy, a merchant from an old Lollard family — and we know how many of them have been seduced by the Anabaptists in the past.’ He raised a slim hand and ticked off a series of names on the fingers of the other — ‘Vandersteyn, Curdy, Elias Rooke, apprentice, McKendrick, a Scotch soldier turned preacher, and — ’ he leaned forward — ‘Leeman, a member of the Queen’s guard, no less. And finally — ’ he took a deep breath — ‘it seems, a gaoler from the Tower, called Myldmore. Six of them, all vanished into thin air.’

I took a deep breath. He knew much, then, but not that Elias had been murdered or that Lord Parr had Myldmore in custody. There were four missing men, not six. I said, ‘So you, too, are seeking Greening’s murderer?’

He leaned forward, linking his hands. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I am looking for a book. An important book to me, and perhaps to her majesty the Queen.’

A book. One book. But I had learned from Myldmore there were two — the Lamentation and the Examinations of Anne Askew . And the Examinations spoke of Rich’s torture of her. What if he did not know about the Lamentation ? ‘A book by Anne Askew,’ I ventured. ‘About her time in the Tower?’

Rich leaned back. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘We have it out in the open. Yes, the lies and ravings of that wretched woman. So you know about it. How?’

‘I spoke to the apprentice Elias before he disappeared, and he told me Greening had it,’ I lied. ‘Tell me, was it because of that book that your men attempted to break into Greening’s premises before he was murdered?’

Rich frowned. ‘Where did you get that information from? Oh, the boy Elias, I would guess. Yes, those two were trying to break in and retrieve Askew’s writings, but they were disturbed. And shortly after someone else killed Greening.’

‘How did you know Greening had it, Sir Richard?’

‘The gaoler Myldmore. Who has disappeared as well now. He knew certain things about Anne Askew’s time in the Tower, never mind how, and I had him followed.’

‘By Stice?’ I asked.

‘No, it was Gower. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but following people surreptitiously is something he excels at. And he reported back that Myldmore had called on Greening, with a small satchel on his shoulder that was full when he went in and empty when he came out.’

‘I see.’

Rich shifted in his chair. ‘I had Anne Askew questioned again she was out of the Tower then, held in a private house under my watch until the day of her burning. She readily admitted she had written a scurrilous account of her time in the Tower, accusing me and Wriothesley of torturing her, among other things, and had it smuggled out. She would not say how, or to whom it was delivered. But she did not need to; having Myldmore followed had given me the answer to that.’ Rich frowned and a muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘She laughed in my face, cackled triumphantly that she had got her writings out of the Tower.’ His voice rasped angrily. ‘Oh, Anne Askew loved nothing more than to be the one to have the last word. I wondered if she might say something awkward at the burning; there was a moment when I thought she might, but then — ’

He paused, and I ended his sentence, ‘The gunpowder exploded. I remember.’

‘Yes, I saw you there.’

‘What is it you fear she might have said, and written, Sir Richard?’ I asked quietly.

‘Things about me. And about another. All lies, but in these days of heretic propaganda — ’

‘If you knew Greening had those writings, why did you not have him arrested? And Myldmore?’

‘It was better dealt with as a private matter,’ Rich answered shortly. I thought, that is why he is frightened, the King is already angry with him for torturing Anne Askew to obtain information about the Queen, and he fears that if it becomes public knowledge it would be the end of his career. It was clear he knew nothing of the Lamentation , thank goodness.

Confidence returned to his voice again. ‘Of course, just as I have concerns about Anne Askew’s writings being discovered, so — since she employed you — must the Queen. Perhaps Anne Askew wrote something about her own connections with her majesty or her radical friends.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But the Queen matters nothing to me now.’

‘Sir Richard, I can hardly believe that. When you and Wriothesley have spent the last several months trying to entrap her, no doubt at the bidding of Bishop Gardiner.’

‘Gardiner’s plan failed,’ Rich said bluntly. ‘It depended on finding evidence against the Queen and none was discovered, as you no doubt know. The King warned us at the start that we must bring him firm evidence: he was annoyed with her for lecturing him, but he still loves the woman. Now he is angry with all those involved, and the Queen is back in favour. I have no more interest in whether she is a heretic or not.’

‘So,’ I began. ‘It remains important to you to find Anne Askew’s writings. You are interested in saving your own position. Perhaps even your skin.’

‘Who does not want to do that?’ A threatening tone had entered his voice. ‘The Queen does, I am sure, and as you are involved, now my guess is that there are things in Askew’s writings that could still endanger her.’

I did not answer. Rich sighed, then continued wearily. ‘It is only the Askews and Gardiners of this world who would risk their lives over such questions as the nature of the Mass.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘Working to preserve himself before all else is what any man endowed with reason does. You are right, Master Shardlake, I want to ensure I am safe, just as the Queen does. I have reached a dead end trying to find these missing people. I think you have, too. I have a spy at the docks, and from what he tells me, others are also there, watching for someone trying to get books out. Those people I suspect are working for the Queen.’ Again I did not answer. ‘I have limited resources, as do you,’ he went on in an irritated tone. ‘My suggestion is that the Queen and I work together to recover Askew’s book.’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘There have been stranger alliances these last fifteen years.’

‘I cannot forget the outcome when last I made a bargain with you,’ I said finally. ‘You tried to kill me.’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I would like you dead, have no doubt. But larger matters are involved. I offer you limited cooperation for a specific end. And you have the Queen’s direct protection, of course.’

I sat back. ‘I would need a little time to consider.’ My feelings about Rich were violent; a mixture of disgust, loathing, and complete distrust. And yet I confess I also felt a certain pleasure sitting there dealing with him on equal terms for the first time, and pleasure, too, at the fact that I knew more than he did. And, in terms of reason, Rich was right. His proposition made sense. Furthermore, working with him would give me the opportunity to try and prevent the worst from happening — that he might get hold of the Lamentation as a by-product of retrieving Anne Askew’s writings. For that was truly explosive material. This time, it would be me playing a double game with Rich.

He said, ‘You mean, you need time to consult the Queen’s people. Yes, I understand that.’