Sovereign (18 page)

She turned round, facing me. ‘It’s all your fault!’

‘Why – why, what is?’

‘They won’t let me walk with them! They say my clothes smell, I’m dirty, I’ve no more manners than a tinker! And it’s all because I spent my time playing with you
instead of learning girlish things! Gilly Baldwin tells me I should make eyes at my hunchback friend!’ Her voice rose, became tearful; her mouth was like a great angry ‘O’ in her
scarlet face.

I looked up the lane. The troop of lads and girls had come to a halt and were watching the scene. The boys looked uneasy but there was a ripple of nasty laughter from the girls.
‘Suzy’s rowing with her swain,’ one called.

Suzanne rounded on them. ‘Don’t,’ she screamed. ‘He’s not! Don’t! Stop it!’ As the laughter redoubled she turned and ran off into a field, still
howling, striking out at the ears of young wheat with her branch like one possessed. I looked after her for a while, then turned and walked back the way I had come. I would resume my way home once
the boys and girls had gone. I had long ago learned that keeping silent and walking away was the best way to avoid mockery. Yet despite Suzanne’s own cruelty to me, despite knowing that it
was her family, not me, that had made her an outcast, whenever I saw her afterwards, always alone, always giving me vicious looks when she acknowledged me at all – I felt guilty, as though I
was indeed partly responsible for her fate. I left for London a few years later and never saw her again, though I heard that she had never married and in later years had become a fierce reformer,
denouncing neighbours for popery. And Jennet Marlin, though she came from a different class, had that same air of being consumed by anger against a world that had done her wrong. And with her, too,
I had the same odd urge to appease. I sighed and lay back on my pillow, reflecting on how strange were the ways of the mind. And then, at last, I slept.

B
ARAK HAD SET HIMSELF
to wake at six and shortly after that he knocked softly at my door. I felt unrefreshed by such sleep as I had had, but rose and
dressed in the chill damp air. I put on Wrenne’s coat again rather than my own; it would remind me to return it to him when we met at the rehearsal. We slipped out quietly so as not to wake
the men sleeping all round us. Outside dawn was only just breaking and everything was deep in shadow. We took the path alongside the church, where we had found poor Oldroyd the morning before, and
made our way to the gate, where young Sergeant Leacon was on duty again.

‘Up again early, sir?’ he asked me.

‘Ay, we have to go into town. You have been on night duty again?’

‘Ay, and for another two days until the King comes.’ He shook his head. ‘That was a strange business yesterday, sir, with the glazier. Sir William Maleverer questioned me about
it afterwards.’

Him too, I thought. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You are right, it was a strange matter. When that horse charged out of the mist I did not know for a second what it was – something
from hell perhaps.’

‘They say it was an accident, sir. Do you know?’

I could see from his sharp look that he doubted that, perhaps thinking Maleverer was taking a lot of trouble over an accidental death. ‘That is what they say.’ I changed the subject.
‘I expect you have seen a few strange things happen on the way from London.’

‘None as strange as that. Until I was sent here from Pontefract it was all walking and riding alongside the Progress, through thick mud when it rained and great clouds of dust when it
didn’t.’ He smiled. ‘Though there was great to-do near Hatfield, when a monkey one of the Queen’s ladies had brought escaped and made its way to a local village.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘The poor heathen folk there thought it was a devil, fled to the church and called the priest to go and send it back to Hell. I was sent with some men to take it. It was sitting in a
cottager’s outhouse, happily working its way through his store of fruit.’

Barak laughed. ‘That must have been a sight!’ ‘It was. Sitting there in the little doublet its mistress dressed it in, its tail sticking out behind. Those villagers were all
papists, I’d swear they thought the King’s Progress had its own legion of devils in attendance.’ He paused and shook his head.

‘Well, we must be on our way, we have business.’ We passed through the gate and walked to Bootham Bar. ‘Sharp young fellow, that,’ I observed.

Barak grunted. ‘Soldiers should ask no questions.’ ‘Some people cannot help asking questions.’ He gave me a sidelong look. ‘Don’t I know it?’ We arrived
at the gate. It was shut, the curfew not yet lifted, and the guard was unwilling to let us through. I felt in my pocket for my commission, then cursed as I realized I had left it in my cubicle.

‘Can’t let tha in without it, sir,’ the guard said firmly. I asked Barak to go back to Sergeant Leacon and see if he could send someone to vouch for us. He returned in a few
minutes with another big Kentishman, who peremptorily ordered the guard to let us through. Grumbling, the man opened the huge wooden gates and we slipped out.

We walked to Stonegate as the sun rose and the city came to life, keeping under the eaves as people opened their windows and threw the night’s piss into the streets. The shopkeepers
appeared in their doorways and the noise of their shutters banging open accompanied our passage.

‘You are quiet this morning,’ I said to Barak. I wondered if he had been thinking about our conversation.

‘You too.’

‘I did not sleep well.’ I hesitated. ‘I was thinking about Broderick, among other matters.’

‘Ay?’

‘You know my instructions are to make sure he is safe and well when he is delivered to London?’

‘Is the gaoler making that difficult?’

‘He likes to visit Broderick with pinpricks, but I think I can stop that. No, it is Broderick himself. He says I am keeping him healthy so the torturers can have a better time with
him.’

‘It is harder to break a fit man.’

‘He says nothing will make him talk. He will die under the torture.’

Barak turned to me, his face impassive. ‘Lord Cromwell said most men talk in the end. He was right.’

‘I know, but this Broderick is not most men.’

‘A lot may happen between now and the Tower. He may decide to talk, or some new information may appear that makes his interrogation less important. Who knows? He may yet be grateful for
your attentions.’

I shook my head. ‘No. Cranmer stressed his great importance. He will be tortured, and if he does break in the end it will be after much agony.’

Barak gave me the impatient look that came over his face sometimes. ‘Didn’t you think of that at the start?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but I was much preoccupied with my father then, and his estate. I will profit from this,’ I added heavily.

‘You’re stuck with it now.’

‘I know. By God,’ I said forcefully, ‘I will be glad to see London again.’

‘Me too.’

As we passed along Petergate we heard an altercation and saw, a little way ahead, two beggarmasters with their staves urging half a dozen ragged lads along. As we came close I stopped, for among
them I recognized the lad with the big wen on his nose who had grabbed Tamasin Reedbourne’s basket two days before. His companion was there too. I saw from Barak’s face he recognized
him too. I stepped quickly over to the beggarmasters.

‘Excuse me, sirs. Are you taking those lads from the city?’

‘Ay, maister.’ The beggarmaster who replied was an older man, with a thin hard mouth. ‘No beggars or Scotch in the city for the King’s visit.’

I pointed to the boy with the warty nose. ‘I would like a quick word with him.’

‘Is he known to thee? He hasn’t robbed tha, has he?’ The boy was looking anxiously at Barak and me, obviously recognizing us.

‘No, but he may be able to answer a question on a matter I am concerned with.’ I raised a hand with a sixpence in it.

The beggarmaster eyed it greedily. ‘I don’t mind letting you have him for a few moments. The City doesn’t pay us much, do they, Ralph?’

‘No,’ his companion agreed. With a sigh, I produced another sixpence for him, nodding to Barak to take the boy’s collar. The lad looked frightened as we led him to the side of
the street, out of earshot of the beggarmasters and their wretched charges, who stood looking on.

‘I want to ask you about two days ago.’ I looked into the boy’s dirty face. He stank mightily. He was even younger than I had thought, no more than thirteen or so. ‘Just
information, you are not accused of anything. It could be useful to me.’ I produced another sixpence from my purse.

‘What is this about?’ Barak asked, puzzled. ‘He tried to rob Tamasin.’

‘What is your name, lad?’ I asked, ignoring Barak.

‘Steven Hawkcliffe, maister.’ The boy’s accent was so thick it was hard to understand him. ‘It weren’t a real robbery,’ he said. ‘She asked us to
pretend to steal her basket.’

‘The girl?’

‘Ay, ay. My friend John and I were begging in the streets, trying to get what we could before we were thrown out of t’city. The girl came up to us and asked us to pretend to rob her.
Her bodyservant that was with her, he wasn’t happy but she made him go to a shop and pretend to buy something. It weren’t robbery, maister.’

Barak jerked the boy round to face him. ‘You’d better tell the truth, or I’ll chop you smaller than herbs for the pot. Why would the girl do that?’

‘She said she wanted to attract the attention of a man who would be passing soon. ’Tis true, maister,’ he added, suddenly tearful. ‘She bade us wait in the mouth of the
ginnel till she called. She did, and I pretended to try and take her bag, but I didn’t pull it hard. Then you came rushing over with your sword. That scared us and we ran.’

Barak frowned mightily. He could see the boy was telling the truth.

‘Where are you from, lad?’ I asked.

‘Northallerton, maister. There’s no work there, my mate John and I came to York but ended by begging.’

‘Where are the beggarmasters taking you?’

‘We’re being put on the road. We’ve to be ten miles from York by Friday. The infirm are hidden away at Merchant Taylors Hall but all who can walk are to go out. And not even
any houses of religion left where we can claim doles.’ He looked at me, dark blue eyes wide in his grimy face. I sighed, but replaced the sixpence and brought out a shilling, making sure my
back was to the beggarmasters. ‘Here. Don’t let them see.’

‘Thanks, maister,’ the boy muttered. I waved the beggar-master across and handed the boy over.

‘What the fuck was Tamasin playing at?’ Barak asked after they had gone. His face was furious.

‘I don’t know. I felt something was not right, but held my tongue.’ I looked at him. ‘Now, though, I will have to ask her. In case this was a ploy to get to know
me.’

Barak looked surprised. ‘You? But it is me she has been after.’

‘It is me who is responsible for the welfare of an important prisoner. I have to discover what this is all about, Barak.’

He nodded. ‘May I ask one thing? Don’t report her to that Marlin woman. Not yet. Question her yourself —’

‘I intend to. Mistress Marlin herself has connections to a suspected conspirator.’

‘Shit. You don’t think . . .’

‘I don’t know what to think. But I must find out. Now come, let us see what has happened at Oldroyd’s house before too many people are abroad.’ I fingered the key in my
pocket, glad Maleverer had not asked for it back.

T
HE SHOPS WERE OPENING
as we walked down Stonegate. The shopkeepers glanced at us coldly and I felt eyes following us down the street. I wondered if a
guard might have been left at the house but there was no one outside. Shutters had been drawn across the windows. The door was locked; Maleverer must have found another key inside the property. I
unlocked it.

With the shutters closed it was dim inside. Barak stepped across the room and threw them open wide. Then we both jumped convulsively at a loud yell of distress from behind us.

In the light we saw the room was in chaos. The buffet had been pulled away from the wall, chairs and settles and table lay overturned. In the midst of all, in a truckle bed before the hearth, a
plump middle-aged woman in a white nightcap and nightgown sat up. She screamed again, fit to shake the rafters.