C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘Not skilful enough to notice he had a spy in his midst,’ Barak said.

I nodded agreement. ‘No.’

Leeman was sitting on the side of the bed. He blinked in the light. ‘Are they here for me yet?’ he asked in a quiet voice, with a slight tremor. Being left alone in the darkness had given his fear time to grow.

‘No,’ I answered.

‘What will they do with me?’

‘You will be taken somewhere safe for now. I will tell them you have cooperated fully.’

He looked at me keenly. ‘Do you know, lawyer, I think perhaps you have it in you to see the light.’

‘Do you?’ I replied heavily.

‘Perhaps. Like me, you were brought up on lies and I think you see that. Read the New Testament, read Revelation. These are the last days before Christ’s return. It is foreordained.’

‘The Book of Revelation, is it? You and your people have found the key to that text?’ Anger spilled out of me. ‘You should know, Leeman, I once uncovered a killer who slaughtered several innocent people, who believed himself inspired by Revelation! I wish you could see the trail of blood and torture he left.’

Leeman did not answer. After a moment he asked, ‘Will you tell the Queen’s officials about Bertano?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then at least they will be warned.’

I looked at him. ‘They will undoubtedly want to question you further.’

He swallowed. ‘They will torture me, then kill me. I suppose I must prepare myself.’

‘You broke an oath to the Queen. Nonetheless, I shall plead with her for your sorry life. I am not even sure why.’

‘We’ll keep you with Nick to guard you for now, matey,’ Barak added in a matter-of-fact way. ‘I’m going to bind your hands together, so stretch them out. No trouble, or we’ll do it by force.’

Leeman put out his arms. Barak bound them tight with strips torn from Leeman’s own shirt. ‘Have to gag you as well, matey, though I know you love to gabble on. Nicholas’s fellow lodgers may be back sometime.’

‘Can I go to the jakes first?’ Leeman’s face reddened with embarrassment. ‘My guts trouble me.’

Barak looked at me. ‘Might as well,’ I said. Barak raised his eyebrows. I snapped impatiently, ‘We don’t want a mess in here. Where’s your jakes, Nicholas?’

‘Out the back, in the yard. But watch it’s not a trick. No noise, or I’ll knock you out again.’

‘We’ll all go, bring him back, then Jack will go home, while you and I — ’ I took a deep breath as I looked at Nicholas — ‘will wait with him for Lord Parr’s people.’

We went back downstairs, Barak and Nicholas holding Leeman between them. He was almost as tall as Nicholas and broader, the build of a royal guard. But he gave no trouble. As we descended, a church clock somewhere struck one. ‘No sign of your friends,’ I said to Nicholas, relieved.

‘They probably won’t be back at all now; they’ll have fallen drunk in a corner.’

‘I remember those student birthday celebrations. A bit rowdy for me.’

‘There’s a surprise,’ Barak said warmly.

We opened a creaking door to the little backyard, where a ramshackle wooden shed stood in a corner of an untended garden, against a stone wall separating the students’ garden from the one next door. By the smell, the cesspit beneath badly needed emptying. Nicholas opened the wooden door, and we all stepped back at the stink from within. Barak said to Leeman, ‘Get in, then.’

He hesitated on the threshold, so powerful was the stench.

That hesitation killed him. There was a thunderous noise from the neighbouring garden, and a brief flash of light. In the second before Leeman crashed to the ground I saw, by the light of the lamp, that he had lost half his head. We stood there, shocked for a few seconds, then Nicholas threw me to the ground, just as there was a second flash and a bang, and the smell of smoke. Glancing aside I saw that Barak had also thrown himself down. He kicked over the lamp he had been holding and it went out, leaving us in almost total darkness. I smelled gunpowder in the air.

‘Quick!’ Barak whispered. ‘Back inside. Before he has time to reload. Nick, you know the way in the dark!’

Nicholas scrambled to his feet and, with his long body bent over, made for the back of the building, which was visible only as a slightly deeper darkness. Barak followed, and then I, biting my lip as a muscle in my back went. There was another bang, another flash, and something hit the wall ahead of us. Then I heard the door creak open, and Nicholas pushed me unceremoniously inside. Barak followed, kicking the door shut behind him. Outside dogs had begun to bark and someone in a neighbouring house, woken by the noise, shouted, ‘Hey! What’s going on?’

Nicholas led us to the front of the house and the shelter of the stairs. We stood in the darkness, breathing hard. I said, ‘What in hell —?’

‘A gun,’ he answered. ‘An arquebus. I’ve seen them used in hunting. They’re deadly, but take an age to reload. Leeman —?’

‘Dead,’ Barak answered flatly. ‘It took his head off. So we were followed here, by someone who brought an arquebus. Clever idea to post the assassin in next door’s garden; we were bound to come out to the jakes sooner or later. Great way of killing a person from a distance. There may be more of them out the front.’ He walked cautiously to the front door and peered through the keyhole. ‘Can’t see anyone. I’d guess it was Leeman they were after. To stop him talking to us.’

‘At least they failed there,’ Nicholas said defiantly.

‘Come on, back upstairs. Thank God we kept the window of your room shuttered.’

We returned to Nicholas’s room. ‘Sir,’ he said urgently, ‘it would be dangerous for Jack to go out now. There may be more of them waiting in the streets.’

Barak shook his head. ‘I should think they’ve run, now we’re safe indoors. But you’re right. We should all wait here till Lord Parr’s men come from Whitehall.’

‘But why didn’t they follow us in when we first arrived?’ Nicholas asked me.

‘Perhaps because they thought the house might be full of students, and they’d have a fight on their hands.’

‘Tamasin will be in a state,’ Barak said. ‘but it can’t be helped — ’ He broke off, staring at my neck. I put my hand to it. My fingers came away covered in sticky red-and-grey slime. At first I thought I had been hit, then I realized what it was: I was looking at Leeman’s brains.

I walked with Lord Parr through the Great Garden of Whitehall Palace. It was the next morning, the sun high in a cloudless sky. The brightness of the white gravel on the paths hurt my tired eyes, and I turned to look over the broad squares of lawn, the flowerbeds at their centre, each ablaze with its own variety of summer bloom. Gardeners in smocks laboured endlessly, weeding and trimming. Heraldic beasts stood on poles at the corners of each path, and the water in the great fountain at the centre of the garden made a relaxing plashing sound. Men, and a few women, strolled along the paths in their finery. The Great Garden was where courtiers and senior servants came to walk, but it was also a sort of enormous outdoor waiting room for would-be courtiers who were not, or not yet, allowed access to the King’s Privy Gallery. Here they strolled, and waited, and hoped it did not rain. To the south, work continued on the new quarters for the Lady Mary, the constant banging and hammering a strange counterpoint to the sound of the fountain. On the north side the garden was bounded by the King’s Privy Gallery and private lodgings; I glanced up at them nervously.

‘He could be watching us,’ I said uneasily.