К Сэнсом - Revelation

‘I told her you had saved her. She would like to receive you to thank you. She is a lady to remember favours a long time.’

‘I am honoured.’ Indeed I was, but at the same time apprehensive that someone else near the summit of the court had taken notice of me now. I looked again at Lord Hertford. He was smiling, he was happy.

‘I do not know when she will send for you. She will have many calls on her time these next few months, for she has consented to marry the King.’

‘She has?’

‘She has accepted that it is God’s will.’

‘When will it be?’ I asked.

‘Not till full summer. The King plans to have Bishop Gardiner marry them.’ He laughed. ‘How he will hate that, marrying the King to a reformer.’

‘But why is the King marrying her?’ I had to ask. ‘When his own sympathies grow ever more strongly against reform?’

‘She has attracted him for some time. Since before her husband died. And he is old, and ill, and lonely.’

‘His sixth marriage. Will she survive, do you think?’ I could not help the question.

‘It will be as God ordains. The Parr family can look forward to high places at court now. They are all reformers. And Archbishop Cranmer is out of danger.’

‘He is?’ I was glad to hear that at least.

‘Yes. The King realized Gardiner’s accusations about his staff amounted to nothing. He has set a commission to investigate the matter – and put Archbishop Cranmer himself at the head of it. Gardiner’s plot is unravelled. And Bishop Bonner’s campaign against the godly men of London has likewise uncovered little that even he could call heresy. People are being released. They will have to be careful for a while. But the tide is starting to turn again in our favour.’

‘What of Dean Benson?’

‘Back at his post, told by the Archbishop to keep his mouth tight shut.’

‘If he had stopped Goddard and Lockley using the dwale to get those beggars’ teeth, lives might have been saved.’

‘We could not afford to make a scandal about that now. Think of what might come out if we did.’ He looked at me steadily for a moment, fingering his long beard. ‘You have proved your worth, Master Shardlake. Would you work for me as once you did for Lord Cromwell?’

‘Thank you, my lord, but all I want is a peaceful life. My work at the Court of Requests. Trying to organize a hospital for the poor subscribed by the Lincoln’s Inn lawyers.’

‘My brother Thomas is shortly to leave England, to take up his position as ambassador to the Spanish Netherlands. I know he was cruel to you. I am sorry. You would not have to see him again.’

‘I can take jibes. I have taken enough in my life. That does not matter.’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘I too am keenly interested in bettering the lot of the poor. It has been harsh indeed in these last years. I may be able to help you with your plans. My patronage could be useful to you in many ways, as your skills could be to me.’

‘I am sorry, my lord, but I’m not fitted for a public life, for the harsh decisions people feel they must make.’

He gave me a long, hard look, then nodded.

‘Well,’ he said quietly. ‘You been through much of late. You need time to recuperate. But think of what I have said.’

‘Coroner Harsnet would have drowned me,’ I said. ‘I thought he might visit me, but he has not.’

‘I am sure he did not decide lightly to open those gates.’

‘I am sure he decided it was God’s will. Were the houses in the square flooded?’

‘Some were, yes.’

‘How was Harsnet so sure we were down there?’ I asked curiously.

‘The bolt in the hatch leading to the sewer had not been closed properly, though Cantrell thought it had. We could see someone had gone down there. But Master Shardlake, if Harsnet and his men had come down there after you, Cantrell would surely have killed you before they reached him.’

‘There was a chance of that, yes. But Harsnet must have known that letting that great flood go would kill both of us. It was sheer chance I managed to press myself into an alcove, and that the water level fell before I drowned.’

‘The coroner felt it was necessary.’

‘My lord, it is these necessary things which those who work at Whitehall do, that mean I will remain a lawyer.’

He got up, defeated for now. I wondered if he would be back. He was an ambitious man; he was building up a network of people under his patronage. A principled man, too, as Cromwell had been. But Lord Hertford, capable as he was, would never be another Cromwell, for he indulged weaknesses, like his affection for his brother.

‘How is your man Barak?’

‘He is all right. He was struck a nasty blow, but his head is thick.’

‘I would like to see him before I go. To thank him, from the Archbishop too.’

I called Joan to fetch Barak. He arrived looking pale, hollow-eyed. He bowed deeply to Lord Hertford, who thanked him for all his efforts. ‘I have been trying to persuade your master to work for me,’ he said. ‘There would be a place for you, too, as his assistant. I could promise you an exciting life. See if you can persuade him.’ Lord Hertford rose, bowed deeply to both of us and left the room. As his footsteps faded down the stairs, Barak turned to me. ‘Persuade you my arse,’ he said. ‘I’ve lost enough myself this time.’

‘I know,’ I said sympathetically.

We had returned from the Charterhouse to find Tamasin’s things gone, a note for Barak. The old friend she had gone to when she left had been employed in the late Queen Catherine Howard’s privy kitchen. Tamasin had been working with her, helping to prepare the sweetmeats Queen Catherine loved, when Barak and I met her in York two years before. Barak had refused to show me her note, but had told me Tamasin had been offered her old job; now the King was to marry Catherine Parr a new Queen’s Household was to be established and the chamberlain was looking for experienced servants. Tamasin had taken the post, and the accommodation at Whitehall that went with it. She said she felt she and Barak needed time apart, and asked him not to contact her. He had been struck to the heart, and it had taken much persuasion to prevent him from going down to Whitehall. He had agreed to wait a little before contacting her, though now she was gone he realized he wanted her with him more than anything.

‘Can we get back to work soon?’ he asked. ‘I need something to occupy my mind.’

‘In a few days, Jack. First there are two people I must go and see.’

BY THE END OF the week I was up and about again, albeit still stiff and sore. I sent Barak to inform the Court of Requests that I could return to work the following Monday, and he returned with a sheaf of new cases. It was a pleasure to read them, to feel my old life returning. But on the Sunday before I went back to work I saddled up Genesis and rode into town.

It was to Guy’s that I went first. It was the twenty-second of April, four weeks to the day since Roger died and the horrors began. I rode through London on a quiet, peaceful spring Sunday. Even the grimy city felt clean and bright, the greys and browns of the streets relieved by patches of green from the trees in the churchyards, for the mixture of warm weather and rain we had had recently had brought fast growth everywhere.

I had guessed Guy would be home on Sunday afternoon, after going to church in the morning, perhaps studying. I had heard nothing from him in ten days, though I had sent him a note from my bed saying the killer had been discovered and was dead.

As I tied Genesis to the rail outside Guy’s shop, my heart was full of trepidation. What if he rejected me, told me our long friendship was over? I stepped to the door of the shop, and was surprised to find it was ajar. I heard voices coming from the back room, voices I recognized. I entered the shop quietly, treading carefully towards the half-open inner door. I saw Guy’s copy of Vesalius lying shut on the table.