C. Sansom - Lamentation

Next morning, Monday, I went into chambers early and caught up with some work. When Barak arrived I told him of my talk with Nicholas, and my meeting with Stice. I said there was nothing to do for now but wait for news from him or Cecil.

‘How is Tamasin?’ I asked.

‘Does nothing but talk of tomorrow’s party. All our neighbours are coming. You know what women are like.’ He looked at me shrewdly. ‘I think she’s forgotten any suspicions she had about what I might be doing. Let’s hope she goes on forgetting, eh?’ He raised his hand and I saw the bandage was off and the stitches out. ‘I’m ready for action,’ he said.

Later that morning I crossed the sunlit Gatehouse Court to visit Treasurer Rowland. The old man was as usual seated behind his desk, his office shutters half-closed, and he greeted me with a curt nod.

‘I looked for you at Bealknap’s funeral on Saturday. I wondered if you would come.’

‘Actually, I forgot about it.’

‘So did everyone else. There were only me and the preacher there. Well, Brother Bealknap lies in the chapel now, under a flagstone like any other, with his name and dates of birth and death inscribed upon it. He merited no mausoleum.’

‘Poor Bealknap,’ I said.

‘Oh no,’ Rowland said. ‘ Rich Bealknap. Much good it did him in the end.’ I did not reply, and he turned to the pile of papers on his desk. ‘Secretary Paget’s people have sent me more details about the French admiral’s visit next month. It is going to be an even bigger event than I thought. I’ll show you the correspondence. But first,’ his voice deepened, ‘I’ve got to waste my time on this nonsense.’ He pulled a letter from the pile on his desk and threw it across to me: Isabel’s complaint, two pages covered in her neat, tiny writing. As expected, it accused me, along with Philip Coleswyn, her brother and the expert Master Adam, of collusion to defeat her case, ‘out of wicked spite’, as she was of honest religion while we were all heretics.

‘It’s all nonsense,’ I said. ‘She chose that architect herself.’

‘Is he a radical?’

‘No. The accusations of heresy she sent flying around at the inspection scared him out of his wits. As I said, it’s all nonsense.’

Rowland gave his laugh, a sound as though rusty hinges were opening and closing in his throat. ‘I believe you, Brother Shardlake. It is years since you associated with the radicals; we spoke not long ago of how you have been careful. Though you did not attend Mass yesterday.’

‘Urgent business. I will be there next weekend.’

He leaned back in his chair and regarded me closely, stroking his long white beard with fingers stained black from a lifetime’s working with ink, as mine were. ‘You seem to attract trouble, Serjeant Shardlake, despite yourself. How did you end up working for this madwoman?’

‘Ill luck. Every barrister has such clients.’

‘True. I am glad I am out of such nonsense. What of this Coleswyn, is he a radical?’

‘He has a reputation as a reformer.’

Rowland looked at me sharply. ‘Mistress Slanning says you went to dinner at his house.’

‘Once. We became friendly because we were both frustrated by our clients’ behaviour. Mistress Slanning’s brother is as much a vexatious litigant as she is. And Mistress Slanning found out about my visit because she sometimes passes the evening spying on Coleswyn’s house. That gives you a flavour of the woman.’

‘She says her brother met Coleswyn because they both attend the same radical church.’

‘It is a common enough way for lawyers to meet clients.’

He nodded agreement, then made a steeple of his fingers. ‘Who represents her now? Do we know?’

‘Vincent Dyrick of Gray’s Inn. He called to get the papers last week.’

Rowland frowned. ‘He has a vicious reputation. He’ll make something of this conspiracy theory in court. Probably instigated the complaint.’

‘He said he did not, it was all Isabel’s idea. Actually, I believe him there. But he won’t be able to stop her from making her allegations in court.’

‘Do you think she might complain to Gray’s Inn about Coleswyn?’

‘She’d have no right. He is not acting for her.’

Rowland considered. ‘Very well. I will try to make this go away. I will write to Mistress Slanning saying she has no evidence to back her complaints, and to warn her about the laws of defamation. That should frighten her off.’ He spoke complacently, though I feared such a letter would only anger Isabel further. ‘And you, Master Shardlake,’ Rowland continued, his voice full of angry irritation, ‘stay out of this case from now on. I don’t want you mixed up in any religious quarrels when you are to represent the Inn at the celebrations next month.’

‘I will step down from attending the ceremonies if you wish,’ I answered mildly.

Rowland gave his unpleasant half-smile and shook his head. ‘Oh no, Brother Shardlake, you will do your duty. I have already given in your name. Now, see this.’ He passed me another sheaf of papers. ‘Details of the peace celebrations.’

I looked them over, remembering what Paget and the Queen had said about the jewels ordered for her, the new clothes for the Queen’s ladies. Even so, my eyes widened at the scale of what was planned. The admiral was to sail up the Thames on the 20th of August with a dozen galleys. The King’s ships, which had met those galleys in battle exactly a year before, were to be lined up along the Thames from Gravesend to Deptford to welcome him. He would be received by the King at Greenwich, then next day go upriver to the Tower of London, before riding through the streets of the city. During this procession the London aldermen and guildsmen — and others including senior lawyers from the Inns of Court — would line the streets to cheer him, all in their best robes. I closed my eyes for a moment and remembered standing on the deck of the Mary Rose a year before, watching as those same French galleys fired at our fleet.

‘Quite something, is it not?’ Rowland said. Even he sounded a little awed.

‘It is, Master Treasurer.’

I read on. The admiral would stay in London two days, riding to Hampton Court on the 23rd. On the way to Hampton Court he would be welcomed by Prince Edward, lords and gentlemen and a thousand horses. Next day he would dine with the King and Queen and there would be enormous festivities at Hampton Court. Again my presence would be required, as one of the hundreds in the background.

I put down the papers. ‘It is all about impressing him, I see.’

‘Great ceremonial was ever the King’s way. All you will be required to do is stand around like scenery, richly garbed. Have you a gold chain for such ceremonies?’

‘No.’

‘Then get one, before they are all sold out.’

‘I will be ready.’

‘Good,’ Rowland said. ‘And I will write to Mistress Slanning.’ He made a note, then looked up at me and spoke wearily. ‘Try to keep out of trouble, Serjeant Shardlake.’

Despite Rowland’s warning, that afternoon I fetched Genesis from my house, rode up to Gray’s Inn and asked for Philip Coleswyn’s chambers. His outer office, which he shared with another barrister, was neatly organized — it made me realize that my own chambers were starting to look a mess. I was shown into Coleswyn’s office, which again was immaculate, all the papers filed neatly in pigeonholes. He laid down his quill and stood to greet me.

‘Brother Shardlake. This is an unexpected pleasure. So Mistress Slanning has dismissed you. I had a note this morning from her new representative, Brother Vincent Dyrick.’

‘Yes.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘I know Dyrick.’

‘So do I, by repute.’ He sighed. ‘His letter said Mistress Slanning plans to raise in court the nonsense about us and her brother conspiring with Master Adam, because we are all heretics. He said she has also made a complaint about you to Lincoln’s Inn.’