C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘What’s going on?’ I asked sharply. I had thought him a decent young man. If he had done something to upset her -

‘It is Goodwife Brocket, sir,’ Brown said hastily. ‘I came back with Josephine and we found her distraught in the kitchen. Forgive me waiting in your hallway, sir, but Josephine sent me out.’

‘Very well.’ I went to join the women. Agnes Brocket sat at the table, her coif removed, her head in her hands. Josephine sat beside her. Agnes looked up as I entered, wisps of nut-brown hair falling over her face.

‘What is amiss?’ I asked.

Josephine answered. ‘Mistress Brocket has had some upsetting family news, sir. I found her crying when Edward and I got back. She will be all right, I will take care of her.’

Agnes looked up. ‘Forgive me, I am but a silly woman — ’

‘Where is Martin?’

‘Gone into town, sir.’ Agnes made an effort to pull herself together, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes. ‘He’s not happy with the bread delivered by Master Dove, he has gone to complain. Please don’t tell him you saw me thus, Master Shardlake.’

‘I would like to know what is amiss, Agnes.’

She took a deep breath and turned to Josephine, who looked uncertain. Then she answered me quietly, ‘We have a son, sir. John. Our only child, and he is in deep trouble. Some business matters went wrong, and he is in the debtors’ prison in Leicester.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

She shook her head. ‘He was such a handsome, charming boy. He had such plans to rise in the world.’

I sat down opposite her. ‘Nothing so wrong in that.’

For the first time since I had known her, Agnes frowned. ‘Martin does not think so. He believes everyone should keep to their appointed place in the social order. He was always severe with John; I think that was why the boy left home early.’ She looked up quickly. ‘But I do not mean to speak ill of my husband, sir. Despite his severity he has always doted on John.’

‘How did your son end in prison, Agnes? Perhaps, as a lawyer, I may be able to assist you.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘It is too late for that, sir. John managed to persuade some investors in Leicester to lend him money to buy up some of the land belonging to the old monasteries. He planned to hold on to it until land prices rose.’

‘They lent money without security?’ I said in surprise.

Agnes smiled sadly. ‘John can charm the birds out of the trees when he wants.’ Then her face fell. ‘But the price of land continued to fall, they sued for debt and for the last year he has sat in Leicester gaol, where he will remain until the debt is paid. Martin and I send him money — if you cannot provide food and clothing for yourself, you are left to starve in that dreadful place. And he tries to pay off his debts, little by little. But it is twenty pounds. Now John has written saying what we send does not cover the interest, and his creditors say the balance is larger than ever.’ She shook her head. ‘I fear he will die in the prison now. Last winter he had a congestion in his lungs, and another winter in there. .’ Her voice tailed off for a moment. ‘Please do not tell Martin I have spoken with you, sir. It is shameful, and he is so proud, and does not like others knowing our trouble — ’

I raised a hand. ‘If you wish, Agnes. But perhaps I may be able to do something — ’

‘No, sir, please. We have already consulted a lawyer, he said there was nothing to be done. Do not tell Martin,’ she pleaded urgently. ‘He will be — distressed.’

‘Very well. But consider what I said. I will help if I can.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ But her tone told me she would say nothing to her husband.

I went into chambers early next morning, for there was work to catch up on. The weather was hot and sunny again. Martin Brocket attended me as usual on rising, no sign on his face of anything unusual, and I guessed Agnes had not told him of our conversation.

As I was leaving, Josephine asked to speak to me. I took her into the parlour. ‘Agnes Brocket asked me to thank you for your kindness yesterday. She asked me to speak for her as she is — well, ashamed.’

‘It is not her shame.’

‘She thinks it is. And Martin would be angry if anyone else knew. It would hurt his pride,’ she added, a note of contempt in her voice.

‘I have been thinking how seldom the Brockets go out, except for walks.’

‘And Agnes never buys clothes.’

‘All their money must be going to their son. And, Josephine, that makes me think again about the time you found Martin going through the drawers of my desk. I wonder whether, in a moment of desperation, he considered turning to theft.’

‘I wondered the same thing yesterday, sir.’

‘It would be an explanation. But I have found nothing missing, and you do not think he has done such a thing again.’

‘No, sir, I don’t. And I have been watching him.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘I think he knows that. I think that is why he dislikes me.’

‘Well, if it was a moment of madness, then no harm done — but it must not happen again. Go on keeping an eye open, will you? I have other matters on my mind just now, but when I have a little more time I will have to decide what is best to do about him.’

Josephine smiled, pleased at the responsibility. ‘You can rely on me, sir.’

In chambers I found everyone already at work; Barak and Skelly at their desks, Nicholas doing some much-needed filing. Apart from the disapproving looks Skelly cast at Nicholas’s puffy face, it was like any normal day, spent working with my staff on preparing cases for the new court term in September.

The quiet did not last long. At noon Barak came in and closed the door to my office behind him, his expression serious. ‘Stice has turned up.’

I laid down my quill. ‘Here?’

‘Yes. Says he has news. Shall I bring him in?’

‘Yes. Fetch Nicholas as well.’

Stice walked confidently into the room. He was well dressed as ever, sword at his hip, every inch the young gentleman. I did not invite him to sit and he surveyed the three of us with a cynical grin.

‘All together again, hey?’ He looked at Nicholas. ‘That’s a fine pair of shiners you have.’

‘They’re fading. At least in a few days my face will look normal, which yours never will.’

Stice laughed, but put a hand to his ear. ‘Well, I am keeping my part of the bargain,’ he said to me. ‘There’s news from the customs house. I think some birds may be about to fly into our trap.’

‘The missing men?’ I could not keep the eagerness from my voice.

‘Four of them, at least,’ Stice said. I exchanged a look with Barak. There were only four survivors of Greening’s group, but Stice did not know that.

He continued, ‘A balinger arrived yesterday from Antwerp, with a cargo of silks for the peace celebrations. A Dutch crew. They’re loading up a cargo of wool now to take back tomorrow, spending the night moored at Somers Key Wharf. Meanwhile my man at the customs house says four men presented themselves there this morning, claiming they had business in Antwerp, and had passage booked on that ship. One Dutch, one Scotch, and two English. He sent word to me. The four answer the descriptions of Vandersteyn, McKendrick, Curdy and Leeman from the Queen’s household.’ Stice’s thin face lit up with excitement. ‘Though they gave false names, of course. No sign of Myldmore or that apprentice. They’ve been told they can go aboard at ten this evening.’ He smiled. ‘So, we beat your associate Cecil to the quarry.’

‘It’s not a competition,’ I answered calmly. ‘If the coming of these four has been recorded at the customs house I have no doubt the news will get to our people today.’