C Sansom - Sovereign

‘Why is Lady Rochford there? Has she been arrested?’

‘Looks like it. Perhaps they know about Culpeper.’

‘If they don’t now,’ I said grimly, ‘they will soon.’

‘This means we’re safe,’ Barak said eagerly.

‘Yes. Culpeper’s doings will come out now anyway. What we know ceases to matter.’

‘What will happen to the Queen?’

‘The axe, I’d think. Poor silly girl.’ The tears welled up again, and I wiped at my face with my sleeve, wincing as I brushed my damaged jaw.

Barak looked at me anxiously.

‘Are you fit to go before Cranmer?’

‘I must know what he wants.’ I took a deep breath. ‘You did it then, you got to him?’

He nodded, droplets flying from his soaking hair. ‘I went to the Guildhall first and saw your friend Master Vervey. You were right: the day you were taken, one of Rich’s men came and told the council you were under arrest, they’d be advised to drop the case and drop you. They were scared silly to hear their lawyer was in the Tower. They’ve agreed to drop the case against Bealknap on the basis each side pay their own costs. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m past caring.’ I sighed. ‘You were right after all about that. I have paid for my obstinacy.’

‘Then I went back to Whitehall, tried to get permission to visit Cranmer at Hampton Court. But there was no chance, the place is sealed off. My Whitehall contact told me the Queen’s under arrest there, though that’s not generally known yet. I don’t think I could have got there but for an old friend of yours.’

‘Who?’

He smiled. ‘Master Simon Craike.’

‘Craike?’

‘I was hanging about the corridors, looking in an ill-humour no doubt, when he came up and asked what the matter was. I told him about your arrest. And what you suspected about Rich. He was horrified. He said he hated Rich and he owed you one, and wrote me out a letter to take to the Chamberlain’s office at Hampton Court.’

‘But the deputy warden told me a servant of Craike’s said he’d overheard me telling Dereham to bed the Queen-’

Barak laughed. ‘I can just see you saying that.’

‘So Rich set that up without reference to Craike.’

‘He’s not such a bad old arsehole, even if he does like to have women beating him. He said to tell you how sorry he was for everything.’

‘So Craike came right in the end. And you saw Cranmer?’

‘His secretary. Jesu, things are buzzing at Hampton Court, I had soldiers with me all the time. I told him the story. He went in to see the Archbishop, then came back with an authority to fetch you from the Tower.’ He looked at my face again. ‘I worked as quick as I could, I had no sleep last night.’

‘I will never forget this, Jack.’ My voice shook. ‘Thank you.’

THE BOAT ROWED steadily on through the rain. I huddled inside my blankets as we passed Westminster and Lambeth Palace. I looked up at the Lollards’ Tower. ‘Radwinter is dead,’ I said. ‘He hanged himself yesterday, in the cell.’ ‘Good riddance,’ Barak said bluntly.

‘I felt sorry for him at the end.’

‘You feel sorry for too many folk. That’s your trouble.’

‘Perhaps. How is Master Wrenne?’

‘Better. I’ve had the old Moor up to see him.’

‘Guy?’ My face lightened at the thought of my old friend.

‘He looked at my leg, says it’s nearly mended. He says Master Wrenne was exhausted, but he should be up again in a few days with rest and good food.’ His face became serious. ‘I asked him how long Master Wrenne might have. He said, only months, and his pain and weariness will get worse.’

‘I pray we find his nephew.’

‘Why shouldn’t we?’

‘He’s a northerner and a religious conservative. You remember I said they showed me Bernard Locke before they executed him?’

‘Ay.’

‘I asked him if he knew Martin Dakin and he said he did, and he was safe. There was something strange, mocking, in the way he said it.’

‘I heard the Privy Council have had men around the Inns, questioning people. Mainly Gray’s Inn.’

‘Anyone arrested?’

‘Not that I heard. I told the old Moor where you were, by the way. I had a job to stop him coming straight down to the Tower.’

‘He is a good man.’ I smiled.

‘There’s a bit of competition going on at your house, I am afraid. Joan does not approve of Tamasin very much.’

‘You don’t have her in your room, I hope?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s the competition for nursing old Wrenne Joan doesn’t like. Two women in one house never works. But she is kind to him. She is kind.’

I suppressed a frown; I did not like the idea of Tamasin having the freedom of my house. ‘She will domesticate you in the end,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘She can try. By the way, I’m going to see my old mate tomorrow. He has some news, I’ve had a message.’

‘About Tamasin’s father? What does he say?’

‘Only that he’s got a good lead.’

We rowed on in silence, my jaw throbbing painfully, the gyve cold against my wrist. At length the towers of Hampton Court appeared in the distance, and my heart began thumping again.

THERE WERE SOLDIERS at the wharf, checking everyone’s documents. Barak showed them Cranmer’s letter, the one he had brought to the Tower. We were told to wait and escorted to a little wooden shelter with other arrivals, water dripping on to the boards. I put my torn shirt and doublet on properly, and pulled down the cuffs of my shirt to cover the damned manacle. I winced at the chafing, and the throbbing from my jaw. The soldier from the boat waited with us. I am still a prisoner, I thought.

A clerk arrived, the same soft-footed little fellow who had taken me to see Cranmer at that first meeting more than two months before. His eyes widened at the sight of my swollen, bloody face. The soldier following, he led us across the wide lawn, through a door at the back of the palace, then along dim back-corridors. Looking through a window into a courtyard I saw a familiar figure among the many soldiers posted at the doors. Sergeant Leacon, standing on his own in the yard, looking downcast.

The official halted before a little door. ‘You are to wait here, Master Shardlake, till the Archbishop is free.’ At least, I thought, I am ‘Master’ again. He turned to Barak. ‘Come with me please, you shall wait elsewhere.’

‘I’ll see you soon, sir.’ Barak followed the clerk reluctantly. The soldier opened the door and ushered me in. He closed the door behind me, and I guessed he would be standing guard outside. I looked around me. A room with tapestries of scenes of ancient Rome on the walls, distant views of pillared buildings. A fire in the grate. There was a heap of cushions by the fire and I sank gratefully on to them, not even bothering to remove my wet coat. My eyes closed instantly.

I woke feeling I was not alone. I opened my eyes. Archbishop Cranmer was standing above me, in his white robe and black stole. He was looking at me, an anxious expression on his austere tired face.

I scrambled to my feet. As I moved my head a fresh spasm shot through my jaw, making me groan. He put out a hand. ‘Not so fast, Master Shardlake, you will faint. Here, take this chair.’ He pulled a chair out from the card-table, and I sank heavily into it.

‘What happened to your face?’ he asked quietly. His cheeks had a grey look and there were bags of exhaustion under his eyes.

‘I was taken to the torture, your grace, in the Tower. Barak did not arrive quite in time. They broke a tooth off.’ I realized how muffled my voice sounded.