C Sansom - Sovereign

I pointed to a row of gaily coloured tents a little distance apart from the others, where a straggling queue was waiting. ‘What is happening there?’

Craike flushed and cleared his throat. ‘Those are the – er – followers.’

‘The what?’

‘The whores.’

‘Ah.’

‘Only single men have come on the Progress, apart from the noblewomen and the Queen’s household. We could not let the men run amuck in the towns along the way. So necessity meant -’ He shrugged. ‘It is not pleasant. Most of these queans were picked in London and carefully examined, for we did not want to spread the French pox across the land. You can imagine what a state some of them are in by now.’

‘Ah well, men have their needs.’

‘Yes, they do. But I am not used to dealing with such a rabble as the Royal Household’s servants. You should see them on the road: insulting the villagers, getting drunk, shitting wherever they list in the fields; they would have stolen everything in the carts if we did not have the soldiers. And their insolence – they blow their foul breath on the courtiers, claw their cods in front of you.’ He shook his head. ‘The new learning has made common men arrogant.’ He turned to me, the sharpness back in his eyes. ‘But perhaps you have a different view? I heard you became a supporter of reform.’

‘In the early days,’ I said. ‘I am nobody’s partisan now.’

Craike sighed. ‘Do you remember our student days, before Nan Boleyn turned the country upside down? Peaceful times, season following season at Lincoln’s Inn, the future as certain as the past.’

‘One may view those times through rose-coloured spectacles,’ I said.

He inclined his head. ‘Perhaps. Yet they were better days. When I first went to work at court the old nobility still ruled. But now – these commoners, these new men. Cromwell has gone but there are so many others.’

‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘I saw Richard Rich earlier.’

I was surprised at his reaction to that name. He jerked away and stared at me with a scared, angry look. ‘You know Rich?’

‘As an adversary in the law. I have a case in London where he is backing my opponent.’

‘He is a serpent,’ Craike said with passion.

‘That he is.’ I waited for him to say more, but he changed the subject. ‘I meant to ask, is any more known of the person who attacked you in the manor?’

‘No.’ I looked at him keenly. ‘But he will be found.’

‘You may not know, security has been greatly increased since the attack on you. And people say poor Oldroyd’s death was not a natural one. That for some reason he was murdered.’

‘Do they?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Those in charge of security are worried. On every progress checks are kept to weed out those who batten on to the household, pretend to be servants so they can steal food and other trifles. But tonight I am told every man’s papers are being checked thoroughly, and anyone who is not authorized to be in camp is questioned, not merely turned out.’ He looked at me. ‘What is going on, sir?’

Is he fishing for information, I wondered. Yet he seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘I know nothing, Master Craike.’

‘It was frightening, being searched by Maleverer the day I found you.’

‘But you have nothing to fear. He let you go. Or have you been questioned again?’

‘No. Only – I did speak with Oldroyd, probably more than anyone else at St Mary’s.’ He sighed. ‘I confess when I was sent ahead of the Progress to York, to arrange the accommodation, I was a little afraid of what the Yorkers would be like, we had heard such stories of them as savage rebels. And indeed they were very guarded with me, not friendly. But Master Oldroyd seemed happy to talk. He was a friendly face, that was all.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I fear some may try to make more of it. Master Shardlake, you must have seen, beneath the pomp everyone here, everyone, Yorkers and southrons, walks on eggshells. It makes one nervous.’

You are keeping something back, I thought, I smell it. I remembered Barak’s story of him going to a tavern in a poor part of town late at night.

‘I can understand it must have been lonely for you when you first came,’ I said.

‘It was. Master Oldroyd was someone to talk to.’

‘You will be glad when all this is over, I’ll warrant. To get back to your family in London. Seven children, eh?’

‘Ay. All alive and well by God’s grace. And their mother. My Jane.’ To my surprise, his face clouded. ‘Ah, she did not want me to come on the Progress.’ He fiddled nervously with the buttons on his robe. ‘We have been away longer than was expected, and no one seems to know when we will be leaving York. I fear I will have a mighty tongue-lashing when I return. Held four months in reserve.’ He laughed nervously. I realized the picture I had formed of his contented family life was perhaps wrong. I wondered whether to tackle him directly about his visit to the tavern, then thought, no, that will put him on his guard. I will go there with Barak.

‘Well, sir,’ I said. ‘It is growing dark. We should go back down while we can still see. Thank you, Master Craike, for showing me the camp. I think I shall go and look at it.’

‘A pleasure, sir.’ He smiled, and led the way down.

I WALKED THROUGH to the far end of the church. I saw a stream of people passing through the side-gate beside the church, which I had heard was called St Olave’s; like me no doubt going to look at the great camp. I felt reluctant to face the crowds, some among them must have been at Fulford. A little way off I saw a big copper beech, the grass underneath thick with dark purple leaves. There was a bench set against the trunk and I went over and sat down. The sun was setting now and it was a dim, shadowed spot. I watched the people passing in and out of the gate, listening to the ticking sound of the leaves falling around me.

My thoughts returned to Fulford. They had been circling round it all afternoon and now they went back to the scene as a dog will return to its vomit. Had I really gone chalk-white, had I really given the Queen a look of desperate appeal? I wondered what it must be like for that girl, married to that gross old man with his stinking leg. I remembered the King’s eyes, cruel as Radwinter’s. And that was the King of England, the man Cranmer believed had been appointed by God himself as guardian of our souls. We had all learned, from childhood, to see the monarch as no ordinary mortal man, and in recent years as a sort of demigod. I had never believed that; but nor had I believed that the cloak of majesty covered such physical and moral ugliness. Surely others must see it too; or were they dizzied by the panoply, his power? I wondered what Giles had made of the meeting, Giles whom the King had called a fine fellow in contrast to me. I thought again that I would have expected him to wait, give me some comfort. I had not thought he was one to disappear and avoid embarrassment.

‘There you are. Thank heaven.’

I looked up to see Barak standing in front of me.

‘Yes, here I am. I fear I have been thinking treasonous thoughts.’

‘Is it safe to be out alone?’

‘I have been in no mood to care. Did you hear what happened at Fulford?’

‘Ay. That fellow Cowfold was in the lodging house when I went there just now, making a great joke of it.’

‘I gave him a few choice words earlier. Probably a mistake.’

‘I told him if he didn’t shut his mouth I’d bang his head against the wall till it was soft as a baked apple. I think I’ve shut him up.’

I smiled then. ‘Thank you.’ I noticed Barak’s face was anxious. ‘Is something the matter?’