К Сэнсом - Lamentation

‘Is the burning over?’ Skelly ventured hesitantly.

‘Yes. But I do not want to talk about it.’

Barak looked up. ‘I have a couple of pieces of news for you. Good news, but private.’

‘I could do with some.’

‘Thought you might,’ he answered sympathetically.

‘Come into the office.’

He followed me through to my private quarters, with its mullioned window overlooking Gatehouse Court. I threw off my robe and cap and sat behind my desk, Barak taking the chair opposite. I noticed there were odd flecks of grey in his dark-brown beard, though none yet in his hair. Barak was thirty-four now, a decade younger than me, his once lean features filling out.

He said, ‘That arsehole young Overton will be the death of me. It’s like trying to supervise a monkey.’

I smiled. ‘Fie, he’s not stupid. He did a good summary of the Bennett case papers for me last week. He just needs to get himself organized.’

Barak grunted. ‘Glad you told him off about his clothes. Wish I could afford silk doublets these days.’

‘He’s young, a bit irresponsible.’ I smiled wryly. ‘As you were when first we met. At least Nicholas does not swear like a soldier.’

Barak grunted, then looked at me seriously. ‘What was it like? The burning?’

‘Horrible beyond description. But everyone played their part,’ I added bitterly. ‘The crowd, the city officials and Privy Councillors sitting on their stage. There was a little fight at one point, but the soldiers quelled it quickly. Those poor people died horribly, but well.’

Barak shook his head. ‘Why couldn’t they recant?’

‘I suppose they thought recantation would damn them.’ I sighed. ‘Well, what are these pieces of good news?’

‘Here’s the first. It was delivered this morning.’ Barak’s hand went to the purse at his waist. He pulled out three bright, buttery gold sovereigns and laid them on the table, together with a folded piece of paper.

I looked at them. ‘An overdue fee?’

‘You could say that. Look at the note.’

I took the paper and opened it. Within was a scrawled message in a very shaky hand:

‘Here is the money I owe you for my keep from the time I stayed at Mistress Elliard’s. I am sore ill and would welcome a visit from you. Your brother in the law, Stephen Bealknap.’

Barak smiled. ‘Your mouth’s fallen open. Not surprised, mine did too.’

I picked up the sovereigns and looked at them closely, lest this was some sort of jest. But they were good golden coins, from before the debasement, showing the young King on one side and the Tudor Rose on the other. It was almost beyond belief. Stephen Bealknap was famous not only as a man without scruples, personal or professional, but also as a miser who was said to have a fortune hidden in a chest in his chambers which he sat looking through at night. He had amassed his wealth through all manner of dirty dealings over the years, some against me, and also by making it a point of pride never to pay a debt if he could avoid it. It was three years since, in a fit of misplaced generosity, I had paid a friend to look after him when he was ill, and he had never reimbursed me.

‘It’s almost beyond belief.’ I considered. ‘And yet – remember, late last autumn and into the winter, before he became ill, he had behaved in an unexpectedly friendly manner for a while. He would come up to me in the courtyard and ask how I did, how my business was, as though he were a friend, or would become one.’ I remembered him approaching me across the quadrangle one mellow autumn day, his black gown flapping round his thin form, a sickly ingratiating smile on his pinched face. His wiry fair hair stuck out, as usual, at angles from his cap. ‘Master Shardlake, how do you fare?’

‘I was always short with him,’ I told Barak. ‘I did not trust him an inch, of course, I was sure there was something behind his concern. I think he was looking for work; I remembered him saying he was not getting as much from an old client. And he never mentioned the money he owed. He got the message after a while, and went back to ignoring me.’ I frowned. ‘Even back then he looked tired, not well. Perhaps that was why he was losing business; his sharpness was going.’

‘Maybe he’s truly repenting his sins, if he is as ill as they say.’

‘A growth in his guts, isn’t it? He’s been ill a couple months now, hasn’t he? I haven’t seen him outside. Who delivered the note?’

‘An old woman. She said she’s nursing him.’

‘By Mary,’ I said. ‘Bealknap, paying a debt and asking for a visit?’

‘Will you go and see him?’

‘In charity, I suppose I must.’ I shook my head in wonderment. ‘What is your other piece of news? After this, were you to tell me frogs were flying over London I do not think it would surprise me.’

He smiled again, a happy smile that softened his features. ‘Nay, this is a surprise but not a wonder. Tamasin is expecting again.’

I leaned over and grasped his hand. ‘That is good news. I know you wanted another.’

‘Yes. A little brother or sister for Georgie. January, we’re told.’

‘Wonderful, Jack; my congratulations. We must celebrate.’

‘We’re not telling the world just yet. But you’re coming to the little gathering we’re having for Georgie’s first birthday, on the twenty-seventh? We’ll announce it then. Will you ask the Old Moor to come? He looked after Tamasin well when she was expecting Georgie.’

‘Guy is coming to dinner tonight. I shall ask him then.’

‘Good.’ Barak leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, contentment on his face. His and Tamasin’s first child had died, and I had feared the misery would tear them apart forever, but last year she had borne a healthy son. And expecting another child so soon. I thought how settled Barak was now, how different from the madding fellow, who carried out questionable missions for Thomas Cromwell, I had first met six years before. ‘I feel cheered,’ I said quietly. ‘I think perhaps some good things may come in this world after all.’

‘Are you to report back to Treasurer Rowland about the burnings?’

‘Yes. I will reassure him my presence as representative of the Inn was noted.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘By Richard Rich, among others.’

Barak also raised his eyebrows. ‘That rogue was there?’

‘Yes. I haven’t seen him in a year. But he remembered me, of course. He gave me a nasty glance.’

‘He can do no more. You have too much on him.’

‘He had a worried look about him. I wonder why. I thought he was riding high these days, aligning himself with Gardiner and the conservatives.’ I looked at Barak. ‘Do you still keep in touch with your friends, from the days when you worked for Cromwell? Heard any gossip?’

‘I go to the old taverns occasionally, when Tamasin lets me. But I hear little. And before you ask, nothing about the Queen.’

‘Those rumours that Anne Askew was tortured in the Tower were true,’ I said. ‘She had to be carried to the stake on a chair.’

‘Poor creature.’ Barak stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘I wonder how that information got out. A radical sympathizer working in the Tower, it has to be. But all I hear from my old friends is that Bishop Gardiner has the King’s ear now, and that’s common knowledge. I don’t suppose Archbishop Cranmer was at the burning?’

‘No. He’s keeping safely out of the way at Canterbury, I’d guess.’ I shook my head. ‘I wonder he has survived so long. By the by, there was a young lawyer at the burning, with some gentlemen, who kept staring at me. Small and thin, brown hair and a little beard. I wondered who he might be.’

‘Probably someone who will be your opponent in a case next term, sizing up the opposition.’