Dark Fire (43 page)

‘Because the Tudors made England safe.’ I smiled sadly. ‘There’s an irony.’

I
FELT ENCOURAGED
as I rode down to the river bank to meet Lady Honor. Here was some possible progress at last: I would go to Barty’s again
tomorrow. I would have to invent some story for being there. I turned possibilities over in my mind as I left Genesis at an inn stables and walked down a crowded lane to Three Cranes Wharf. The big
cranes which gave the place its name came into view over the rooftops, outlined against a sky where white clouds were scudding along. They gave no promise of rain, but provided welcome moments of
shade as they passed beneath the sun. Flower sellers were doing a brisk trade at the bottom of Three Cranes Lane, where Marchamount’s party was to meet. I had left off my robe for the
occasion, donning a bright green doublet that I seldom wore and my best hose.

The Thames was alive with wherries and barges. Innumerable tilt boats passed up and down, some of the passengers playing lutes and pipes under the canopies, a merry sound across the water. All
London seemed to have come to the river to savour the breeze. A raucous crowd was waiting at the wharf for boats to take them across to the bear-baiting, and I saw Lady Honor standing with
Marchamount at the centre of a group by the river steps. Today she wore a black hood and a wide yellow farthingale. She smiled at some remark of Marchamount’s, making those engaging dimples
round her mouth. How well she can disguise her feelings when she needs to, I thought: one would think him her best friend.

I recognized some of the other guests as mercers who had attended the banquet; a couple had brought their wives. Lady Honor’s two attendant ladies and a pair of servants stood beside her,
together with young Henry, who was looking nervously around at the crowds. Armed men kept the throng waiting to cross to the bear ring at a distance, watchful for cutpurses.

Lady Honor saw me and called out, ‘Master Shardlake! Quick! The boat is here!’

I hurried across and bowed. ‘I am sorry, I hope I have not kept you waiting.’

‘Only a few minutes.’ Her smile was warm.

Marchamount bowed briefly to me, then began ushering people officiously towards the river steps. ‘Come along, everyone, before the tide turns.’

A large tilt boat with four oarsmen was waiting, its bright blue sail flapping gently in the breeze. The party was in good spirits, all chattering merrily as they stepped aboard. ‘Tired of
your robe, Shardlake?’ Marchamount asked as I settled myself opposite him. He was wearing his serjeant’s robe, and sweating mightily.

‘A concession to the heat.’

‘I’ve never seen you dressed so brightly.’ He smiled. ‘It looks quite extraordinary.’

I turned to Lady Honor’s cousin, who was sitting beside me. ‘Are you enjoying London better, Master Henry?’

The boy reddened. ‘It is hard to get used to after Lincolnshire. So many people crowded together, they give me a headache.’ His face brightened. ‘But I have been to dine with
the Duke of Norfolk. His house is very splendid. I hear Mistress Howard is often there, that they say may be queen soon.’

I coughed. ‘I’d be careful what you say about that in public.’

Marchamount laughed. ‘Come, Shardlake, it’s as certain as can be. Cromwell’s days are numbered.’

‘I hear Lord Cromwell is a great rogue, of no breeding,’ Henry said.

‘You really
should
be careful where you say that,’ I warned him.

He gave me an uncertain look. Lady Honor was right, this boy had not the wit to make a path for his family at court. I glanced at the head of the boat, where Lady Honor sat looking out over the
river, her face thoughtful. Ahead, on the Southwark side, the high circular arena of the bear-baiting ring loomed up. I sighed inwardly, for I had ever disliked watching the huge, terrified animals
torn apart to the roars of the crowd.

I felt a touch on my arm. Marchamount beckoned me to lean down so he could whisper to me. I felt his hot breath in my ear.

‘Are you any closer to finding those missing papers?’ he asked.

‘My investigations continue—’

‘I hope you will not be troubling Lady Honor further about them. She is a woman of great delicacy. I like to think she looks on me as a counsellor now that her poor husband is
dead.’

I leaned back and stared at him. He nodded complacently. Remembering what Lady Honor had told me, I had to resist an urge to laugh in his face. I glanced at Henry Vaughan and saw he was staring
over the water, lost in his own gloomy thoughts. I leaned in to Marchamount’s large, hairy ear.

‘I have had my eye on you, Serjeant, by the authority of Lord Cromwell. I know you have had certain conversations with Lady Honor, involving matters of interest to yourself and to the Duke
of Norfolk.’ At that his head jerked aside and he gave me a startled look.

‘You have no right—’ he blustered, but I gave him a set look and crooked a finger so that, reluctantly, he bent his head again.

‘I have every right, Serjeant, as well you know, so don’t piss me about pretending an authority you do not have in this matter.’ I was surprised at my own crudity; I was
picking up Barak’s ways.

‘That’s a private matter,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing to do with – with the missing papers. I swear.’

‘Your interest is of a romantic nature, I believe.’

His face reddened. ‘Please say nothing about that. Please. For her sake as well as mine. It is – it is embarrassing.’ His look was suddenly pleading.

‘She did not tell me willingly, Marchamount, if that is any consolation. But, be assured, I will say nothing. Nor about the duke being after her lands.’

His eyes widened briefly for a moment in surprise. ‘Ah, yes, the lands,’ he said a little too quickly. ‘A privy matter.’

I had to lean back then because the boat hit the Bankside steps, making us all jerk slightly. The ladies laughed. The boatman began helping them out. Looking at Marchamount’s broad back
as he clambered ahead of me, I thought, he was surprised when I spoke of the duke being after Lady Honor’s lands. Was it something different that Norfolk really wanted of her? I remembered
her hand on the Bible as she swore the duke had never asked her to discuss Greek Fire, and my doubts about her faith.

The bank was crowded with people, mostly of the common sort, heading for the baiting. A man in a jerkin brushed against Lady Honor’s broad skirts. One of her attendants gave a yelp and a
servant shoved him away. Lady Honor sighed.

‘Really, one wonders if coming here is worth it with all this crush and noise.’ I saw there was a sheen of perspiration on her lip.

‘It will be, Lady Honor,’ Marchamount said. ‘There is a fine bear from Germany called Magnus being baited today. He’s over six feet tall, killed five dogs yesterday and
ended the day alive. I’ve a shilling on him going down today, though, he was much bloodied.’

Lady Honor looked over at the high wooden amphitheatre. A great crowd was waiting by the gates, and shouting and cheering could already be heard from within: the old blind bears were already in
the ring, the dogs loosed on them. She sighed again.

‘When is the great Magnus to be brought on?’

Marchamount did not appear to notice the ironic emphasis in her voice. ‘Not for an hour or so.’

‘I will join you then, I think. I don’t think I can stand that dreadful kerlie-merlie of noise right now. If you will forgive me, I will take a walk along the bank with my
ladies.’

Marchamount looked crestfallen. ‘As you wish, Lady Honor—’

‘I will join you by and by. Would any of the other ladies care to join me?’ She looked around. One of the mercers’ wives looked as though she would have, but when she glanced
at her husband he shook his head.

‘I’ll join you, Lady Honor,’ I said.

She smiled. ‘Excellent. Company would be pleasant.’

Marchamount shook his head. ‘Surely you don’t prefer the companies of ladies over manly sport, Brother Shardlake?’

‘When has the company of ladies not been preferable to that of bears and dogs?’

Lady Honor laughed. ‘Well said! Lettice, Dorothy, come along.’ She turned and began walking upriver along the Bankside path. I stepped to her side. Her two women walked a few paces
behind, with the pair of sword-carrying servants.

Lady Honor’s wide skirt brushed against my legs and I felt the wickerwork frame underneath, which held the farthingale out from her legs. I thought of the legs underneath the frame and
blushed momentarily.

She made a moue of distaste as another loud roar came from the stadium. ‘A manly sport indeed. It’ll be manly when they set a man on the bear instead of dogs.’ She turned to me
with a wicked smile. ‘Gabriel Marchamount perhaps, how d’you think he’d fare?’

I laughed. ‘Not well. I do not like bear-baiting either. The taking of pleasure in another creature’s suffering.’

‘Oh, it’s the noise I can’t stand. You sound like one of those extreme reformers, sir, that would ban all pleasures.’

‘No, I have always felt thus.’

We walked slowly on. ‘They’re naught but dumb brutes.’ Lady Honor sighed. ‘But no, you do not see humanity at its most edifying at the baiting. To be honest I was afraid
I might faint, it would be so hot in there today, and smelling of blood. Ah, this is better. Goodwife Quaill looked as though she’d have liked to join us, but she wouldn’t speak unless
her husband allowed her.’

‘The advantages of a widow’s independence,’ I said.

She smiled broadly, showing her white teeth. ‘You remember our conversation. Yes indeed. I am widening my business interests, you know. I have bought a workshop for the sewing of silk
garments down by St Paul’s. Gabriel helped me, he’s good at that sort of thing.’ She smiled again. ‘But I dare say you are too.’

‘I could do with some new clients,’ I said ruefully. ‘Mine are abandoning me.’

‘More fool them. Why is that?’

‘I do not know.’ I changed the subject. ‘You hire women to do the sewing?’

‘Yes. Silk is such a difficult material; many ladies prefer to have their clothes made up for them now. I have six seamstresses working there, all ex-nuns.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. From St Clare’s, St Helen’s, Clerkenwell nunnery. Some of the nuns were happy enough to leave the cloister, I’ve heard one or two of them have ended up down there
– ’ she nodded back at the Southwark stews – ‘but my women are older. Pitiful creatures, afraid to walk in the streets. They’re happy enough to work at
sewing.’

‘It must be hard for them,’ I said.

‘The poor old things like working together again. I feel it is important the ex-religious are found places where they feel secure. Everyone should have their settled place in society. If
proper attention was given to that, we should not have all these masterless men roaming the streets.’ She shook her head. ‘It must be a troubling thing to have no place. One must feel
very insecure.’ For the first time it struck me that for all Lady Honor’s sophistication there were whole areas of the world, indeed of the very city in which she lived, of which she
could have no conception.

‘It is better that people should have the chance to rise if they have the merit.’ I said.

‘But so few have, Matthew, so few.’ Her use of my Christian name gave me an unexpected frisson. ‘I think you do, but you are not ordinary.’

‘You compliment me, Lady Honor,’ I said, bowing hastily to cover my confusion.

‘There is such a thing as natural nobility.’

I blushed, and thought suddenly: I must not let my feelings get the better of me. I must not. ‘The king’s government is full of new men,’ I said hastily. ‘Cromwell.
Richard Rich.’ I dropped that name to see how she would react, but she only laughed.

‘Rich. A cruel brute in a velvet doublet. Did you know, his wife is a mere grocer’s daughter?’

‘She is mistress of Barty’s now.’

By now we had walked some distance up the bank, as far as the Paris garden, the houses starting to give way to open countryside. Lady Honor stopped and looked across the river at the bulk of
Bridewell Palace. Her ladies and servants halted at the same moment, ten paces behind. A cloud passed across the sun, softening the light and easing the heat.

She looked at me seriously. ‘Matthew, I do hope I am not in trouble with Lord Cromwell. It preys on my mind. Did you talk with him?’

‘I repeated what you said. He spoke of you admiringly.’

She looked relieved. ‘Yes, they all like coming to my banquets, Lord Cromwell and the duke and all the courtiers. But in these times – well, I know each side wonders if my sympathies
lie with the other. When in truth – ’ she gave a little laugh – ‘I am with neither. I know if the duke learned I was helping Lord Cromwell in connection with secret
enquiries, he would not be pleased.’ She smiled sadly. ‘You see how I am trapped. Yet I only ever wanted good conversation round my table.’

I grimaced. ‘In these times it is hard to avoid getting caught in the tangles of the great. Often I think I would like to retire to the country.’

‘I am thinking of escaping to Lincolnshire, to my family estates. Though I love London, unlike my nephew. But I suppose the earl would want me to stay while this business is on.’