К Сэнсом - Heartstone

‘I understand.’ I respected Warner. He had worked as an attorney in the Queen’s household for over twenty years, since Catherine of Aragon’s time, and I knew he had come to have a particular affection for Catherine Parr, as most did who worked for her.

‘You have been given a hard task,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Only five more days to the hearing, and no witnesses apart from Mistress Calfhill that we know of.’

‘With the end of the law term I have time.’

He nodded slowly. ‘The Court of Wards still sits. There are wards and money to be gathered in.’ Like any lawyer with integrity, he spoke of Wards with contempt.

‘I will do what I can to find witnesses,’ I told him. ‘There is that vicar who worked with Michael six years ago. My clerk will help me, he is skilled in such matters. If there is anyone, we will find them. But first I must go to Wards, see what Michael’s Bill of Information said.’

‘And you will need to talk to Dyrick.’

‘After I’ve seen the papers, and found what witnesses there are.’

Warner said, ‘I have met Dyrick.’ The legal world of London was small, everyone knew everyone else by reputation at least. ‘A strong opponent. No doubt he will say the case is a meaningless accusation from a madman.’

‘That is why I wish to see more of how the land lies before visiting him. Tell me, what do you make of Mistress Calfhill?’

‘Full of grief. Confused. Maybe looking for a scapegoat for her son’s death. But I am sure you will do everything possible to root out the truth of it.’ He smiled sadly. ‘You were afraid it was politics. I saw that on your face when you came in.’

‘Yes, Brother Warner, I fear I was.’

‘The Queen always honours her promises, Brother Shardlake,’ he answered reprovingly. ‘And will always help an old servant in trouble.’

‘I know. I should have trusted.’

‘Queen Catherine holds old friends in more kindness than any since the first Queen Catherine.’

‘Catherine of Aragon.’

‘Yes. She, too, was kind, though she had her faults.’

I smiled. ‘Her Catholicism.’

He looked at me seriously. ‘More than that. But come, I say more than I should. Talk of politics is dangerous, even though the great men of the realm have no time for intrigue just now. Hertford, Norfolk, Gardiner – all away on military assignments. But if we get through this war, I have little doubt it will all begin again. The Catholic party does not like Queen Catherine. You have seen her book?’

‘ Prayers and Meditations ? Yes, she sent me a copy last month.’

He looked at me keenly. ‘What did you make of it?’

‘I did not know she had such sadness in her heart. All those prayers urging us to put up with the shafts of ill fortune that come to us in this world, in the hope of salvation in the next.’

‘Her friends had to advise her to leave out certain passages – with a flavour of Luther. Fortunately she listened to us. She is always careful. For example, she will not stir from her chamber today because Sir Thomas Seymour is at Hampton Court.’

‘That rogue,’ I said feelingly. I had met Seymour at the time the King was pressing Catherine Parr to marry him; she had wanted to marry the dashing Seymour instead.

‘The King has had him chasing round the south of England inspecting the armies. He’s come to report to the Privy Council.’

‘I am glad the Queen has loyal friends such as you,’ I said sincerely.

‘Ay, we’ll watch out for her. Someone has to do the politics,’ he added.

I STEPPED OUT into the sunlit courtyard. The astronomical clock over the arch in front of me showed four o’clock. The red-brick buildings cast barely a shadow on the courtyard; the paving stones shimmered in the heat. Sweat pricked at my brow. A messenger in the King’s livery rode fast through the courtyard, under the opposite arch, perhaps with some message for the military commanders.

Then I saw two men standing in a doorway, looking at me. I recognized both, and my heart sank. Warner had said Sir Thomas Seymour was at Hampton Court and here he was, in a bright yellow doublet, black hose on his long shapely legs, the handsome face above his dark red beard as hard and mocking as I remembered. He stood with hands on hips in a pose of courtly arrogance; the stance in which Holbein had painted the King. Beside him, short and neat in his lawyer’s robe, stood Sir Richard Rich, his fellow member of the Privy Council, the King’s willing tool in the dirtiest pieces of State business these last ten years. I knew Rich had been involved in the financial administration of the invasion of France the year before; rumour said he had been in trouble with the King for lining his pockets a little too heavily.

The two did not speak or move, just stood looking at me, Seymour with a contemptuous stare and Rich with his cold, still gaze. They knew a man of my rank could not simply ignore them. I took off my cap and approached, trying to keep my legs steady. I bowed low.

Seymour spoke first. ‘Master Shardlake, it is a long time since we met. I thought you had gone back to the courts.’ He smiled mischievously and waved a hand in an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. ‘Gathering gold from the quarrels of poor silly folks, while strong true Englishmen fight to save their country from its enemies.’ He pointedly looked me up and down, even glancing round a little at my back.

‘God has given me my limitations.’

He laughed. ‘Ay, that he has.’

I did not reply. I knew Seymour would soon tire of mocking me and allow me on my way. But then Rich spoke, quietly, in his sharp voice. ‘What business have you here? I would not have thought you would dare come near the King’s court again. After last time.’

He was referring to when he had had me put in the Tower on false charges to win a court case. Rich had then been in charge of the Court of Augmentations, which controlled the monastic lands seized by the King. I had brought a case on behalf of the City of London and, had I won, it would have reduced the value of some of the lands. Rich had used lying witnesses to have me imprisoned on false charges of treason. He would happily have seen me executed, but the charges had been proved false. Nonetheless the City Council had been so frightened they had withdrawn the case.

I begged my legs to be still. ‘I am here on legal business, Sir Richard. For Brother Warner.’

‘The Queen’s lawyer. I hope she has not set you to defending heretics, as Warner did last year.’

‘No, Sir Richard. Merely a civil case. For one of the Queen’s old servants.’

‘Which court?’

‘Wards.’

Rich and Seymour both laughed, Seymour’s bellow contrasting with Rich’s rasp. ‘Then I wish you a merry time,’ Rich said.

‘I hope you have a full purse for the officials,’ Seymour said. ‘You will need it.’

I expected that to earn a rebuke from Rich; he was a law officer and they took offence at mention of corruption in the courts. But Rich only smiled thinly. ‘But who will fill that purse, Sir Thomas?’ he asked. ‘The Queen’s servant, I hope. Were the Queen to pay herself that would be maintenance of someone else’s case, which is not lawful.’

‘You may be sure the Queen will see the proprieties observed,’ I replied. ‘She is a woman of probity.’ It was a bold answer, but it was time to remind him who my patron was.

Rich inclined his head. ‘I know this is not the first time her majesty has instructed you in legal matters. I find it a little strange, given the opinion the King showed of you at York.’ He turned to Sir Thomas, smiling. ‘Master Shardlake annoyed him there, and he suffered a public humbling for his pains.’ He cast his neat little head on one side, and I saw that beneath his cap his hair was greying.