C Sansom - Sovereign

‘He couldn’t have had anything to do with Oldroyd’s death,’ Barak said. ‘He was with us when we heard that door creak open in the church.’

‘True. But he was abroad very early, he came up to me right after that horse charged into the courtyard. There could have been more than one person involved. You’ve seen how secure this place is, Barak. Whoever killed the glazier was already at St Mary’s. It was a resident.’

‘But there are hundreds here.’

‘There are.’

We walked on to our lodgings. The cattle and sheep stood dripping in their pens; the fowls were huddled up against the walls, seeking some protection from the rain. Inside the building a group of clerks was standing talking round the fire, which was blazing merrily, and passing round a big leather pouch of wine. The young lawyer we had met earlier, Master Kimber, stood a little apart from them, warming his hands.

‘Good evening, sir,’ he greeted us. ‘You have been caught in the rain?’

‘Ay, we have been in the city. And you fellows, have you finished work?’

‘Yes, sir. The clerks here and I have been sorting through the bills for all the food that has been bought.’ He pointed to a young man. ‘Master Barrow here made an entry for fifty pigs where he should have put five hundred this afternoon. The cofferer threatens to send him back to London. Have you any need of a clerk for your counting house?’

Master Barrow scowled at him. I laughed. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Someone was asking for you a little while ago.’ Kimber turned and called out, ‘Hey, Tom Cowfold, are you there?’ A round-faced man, young but already balding, put his head out of a nearby cubicle. ‘Here is Master Shardlake,’ Kimber said importantly.

‘Ah, yes, sir.’ The clerk approached us. ‘ ’Tis about the rehearsal tomorrow, for the presentation to the King -’

‘Come to my room,’ I said, aware the clerks were listening with interest. I led him into my cubicle, Barak following.

‘Now, sir.’ Master Cowfold looked at me self-importantly. ‘You are asked to come to my master’s office at nine, for the rehearsal for the presentation. Sir James Fealty, of the steward’s office. Master Wrenne is to be there too, with the petitions. My master will take you through the manner in which they are to be offered to the King.’

‘Who is actually to make the presentation?’

‘Master Wrenne.’ I was relieved to hear that. ‘Er, and you should be in the clothes you will wear at the presentation.’ The clerk was looking at my ill-fitting, voluminous coat.

‘Very well.’

‘Until tomorrow then, sir.’ He bowed and left.

‘Let’s change,’ I said to Barak, ‘and get some supper. That Mistress Reedbourne said she’d meet you at the hall at six, it’s near that now.’

‘All right. I’ll go and ask those lads where it is.’ He stepped outside. A moment later I heard Cowfold greet him. ‘Here’s the crookback lawyer’s clerk.’

My heart lurched with anger; the churl might have lowered his voice.

‘Shut up, you arsehole,’ I heard Barak say quickly. There was a moment’s silence, then the conversation continued more soberly. I changed my wet hose, took a deep breath and stepped out, self-conscious now in Wrenne’s big coat. I wished God had not made the old man so tall. The clerks had dispersed, and Barak was standing alone by the fire. He gave me an uneasy look; he knew that overheard insults did not improve my temper.

‘Where is the dining hall, then?’ I asked curtly.

‘The clerks say it is set up in the old monks’ refectory. Everyone’s together apart from the high officials at the abbot’s house.’

‘Come on, then.’

OUTSIDE A NUMBER OF people were heading for the long row of claustral buildings running alongside the church. A large door stood open. We followed a group of carpenters, covered in wet sawdust, towards it. Standing in the archway, in the expensive-looking yellow dress we had first seen her in and a blue French hood that set off her eyes, was Tamasin. To my surprise Jennet Marlin stood beside her, wearing the slight frown that seemed to be her habitual look. Tamasin greeted us with a curtsy, though Mistress Marlin merely nodded coldly. Tamasin passed us two strips of paper. Mine had my name and the words ‘Lawyer for the King’s petitions’, stamped by the Chamberlain’s office.

‘Thank you, Mistress Reedbourne,’ Barak said. ‘You’ve saved us a wait in a draughty tent.’

‘Yes. Thank you,’ I added. I disapproved of the girl’s forwardness, but she had gone to trouble for us. I determined to make myself pleasant, though I did not feel much like it. ‘We are hungry,’ I said. ‘You must be, too. No doubt the Queen’s servants have their own dining place.’

‘Oh no, sir,’ Tamasin said. ‘We have to eat in the common hall too.’

‘With the rabble,’ Mistress Marlin added in her sharp voice. ‘Thank the Lord the Queen’s dining quarters will be set up tomorrow, we can eat in peace.’ She gave Barak a sour look. ‘Tonight I thought I would accompany Tamasin, she should not be dining alone.’

I could think of nothing to say to that, so I bowed for the women to precede us inside. We mounted a wide staircase, the cornices ornamented with beautifully carved angels. Waiters were running up and down the stairs bearing trays and leather pitchers of wine. We entered the monks’ old refectory. Rows of trestle tables were set out, packed together so closely there was scarcely enough room for the waiters to pass. I estimated there were places for two hundred people. Most seats were occupied by tired-looking workmen and carpenters. I saw the clerks sitting together in a little group some distance off. At the next table a little group of women sat together. One of them looked at Mistress Marlin, then nudged her fellows. They looked at her and giggled. Jennet Marlin’s face reddened. I felt for her.

A man in the black robe of an usher bustled over to us. We handed him our dockets and he led us to a table with four vacant spaces. I was glad it was some distance away from those clerks. Mistress Marlin wrinkled her nose as we sat down, for the tablecloth and napkins were stained. A waiter dumped down a flagon of ale and hurried off. I poured for the others.

‘At least the bowls and cups at this table are pewter,’ Mistress Marlin said. Glancing round, I saw the carpenters were drinking from wooden cups.

‘So some of the proprieties are being observed,’ I said. Another waiter appeared, bearing a big bowl of pottage. He set it down hurriedly, spilling a little on the cloth. Mistress Marlin sighed, but Tamasin laughed, passing the bowl down to her.

‘We must bear with it, mistress,’ she said, and to my surprise Jennet Marlin gave her a quick, affectionate smile.

‘How came you to be in the Queen’s service?’ Barak asked Tamasin when we were all served.

‘My mother served in the royal kitchens before me. I have been there two years, working for the Queen’s confectioner. They asked me to accompany the Progress for my experience with sweetmeats,’ she added proudly. ‘I was sent ahead with Lady Rochford and Mistress Marlin to help prepare for the Queen and her household, and ensure she may have the pretty comfits she likes so much. Expensive doucets of marzipan and almonds and ginger.’

I turned to Jennet Marlin. ‘And you, mistress, have you served Lady Rochford long?’

She gave me her haughty look. ‘No, sir. I served Lady Edgecombe when the Lady Anne of Cleves was Queen. I moved to Lady Rochford’s service last summer.’

‘And you are from the north?’

‘Originally I come from Ripon. But I was sent to court at sixteen.’