Sovereign (47 page)

‘He would never have died. That filth was so strong his body just rejected it at once.’ Barak looked at me. ‘You sound as though you admire him.’

‘In a way I do. Jesu, that stink reminds me of the smell that came from the King’s leg.’ I laughed. ‘Mould from the Mouldwarp.’

T
HE AFTERNOON WITH ITS
succession of petitioners passed much like the morning. There was one case, though, which troubled me, and brought me as close as
I had come to a disagreement with Giles. It was a petition from a supplier of wood to St Mary’s, which had gone into the building of the pavilions. He had provided the materials months ago
and according to the terms of his contract with the Council of the North he should have been paid long before. He invoked the King’s justice in seeking payment now.

‘This is a difficult one,’ Master Waters said uncomfortably as we studied the papers before the petitioner was admitted.

‘Why?’ Giles asked. ‘It seems clear enough Master Segwike’s payment is overdue. I know him, his business is small, he cannot afford to continue unpaid.’

The young official shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘The problem is, if his petition is granted, the council will be deluged with demands for payment. Our clerks have had some
difficulties in managing the – er – flow of cash.’

‘You mean they’ve made a mullock of things, ordering more than they can pay for?’

‘Sir Robert Holgate is in discussions with the King’s treasury.’ Waters looked between us. ‘I have been generous on other matters concerning the council. I am instructed
to continue to be: provided this petition is dismissed. Master Segwike
will
be paid, and the others, but we need time.’

Giles nodded and smiled softly. He looked at me.

‘We are here to do justice,’ I said. ‘We should not be subject to pressure from a member of our panel on individual cases.’

‘When was justice ever divorced from politics?’ Giles asked quietly.

‘Under the constitution of England, the answer to that is “always”.’ I knew it sounded priggish, but I would not let this go by unchallenged.

‘Then I will be less accommodating with other petitioners,’ Master Waters said. ‘I’m sorry, but those are my instructions.’

‘We are stuck with this, Matthew,’ Giles said. I shrugged angrily, but said no more. Justice for this one man would mean less justice for others. The woodsman was called in. An
elderly fellow, nervous to be before us, stated his case haltingly.

‘But you cannot doubt the Council of the North will meet its debt,’ Giles said when he had finished. ‘They are the King’s representatives.’

‘But
when
, sir?’ the old man asked. ‘I have debts to meet myself.’

Giles raised his eyebrows at Waters, passing the problem over to him.

‘Soon, fellow,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It is in hand.’

‘But my creditors —’

‘Must wait a little too,’ Giles said in a grave voice. ‘Then all will balance out. You can tell them this tribunal has confirmed payment will be made –’ he paused
– ‘soon.’

The woodsman was dismissed. I watched him go, his shoulders slumped in dejection. Giles took a deep breath and looked at Waters. ‘I hope it
will
be soon, sir,’ he said.

‘It will be. We can’t afford to have York full of discontented traders for too long. Not with the mood as it is.’

I looked at Giles. ‘You overawed the poor fellow.’

He shrugged. ‘Lawyers must ever be good actors and play their part boldly for the greater good.’ Yet he frowned, and was sharp with the petitioners who followed. The cases came and
went, while outside the wind had risen to a gale. We heard shutters banging around the castle keep.

‘Well, that is done,’ Giles said when the last petitioner had gone. He looked at Waters. ‘Another day should finish matters.’

‘You have proceeded with admirable dispatch, sir,’ Waters said. ‘If we meet at noon tomorrow, that should be enough time to finish the business.’

I found myself thinking sadly of my arbitration of the Kent land disputes, and the injustice that had been done to Sergeant Leacon’s family as a result. ‘Barak will draw up the
orders for us,’ I said. ‘Shall we send you copies, Master Waters?’

‘Ay.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘How goes it at King’s Manor? I hear Sir William Maleverer is in charge of the King’s security.’

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘No, I work in the administration. But he is known as a fierce fellow. All fear his swaggering ambition.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘But men are often like that where
there’s a taint of bastardy.’

‘I heard that story.’

‘ ’Tis said he has decided not to marry till he has accumulated so much land people will not care about his origins. They say he was much in love with a Neville girl when he was
young, but she would not have him. With their Yorkist blood they are a proud old family. She turned him down because of that whiff of bastardy.’

‘Really?’ It reminded me of Maleverer’s comment when I had mentioned Cecily Neville’s name on that family tree. ‘Everything starts with Cecily Neville,’ he
had said.

‘That would make him bitter,’ I observed.

Waters nodded. He looked at me. ‘Sir William’s mother and father – well, his supposed father – went as part of the train that accompanied Queen Margaret to Scotland, when
she married the Scotch King’s father forty years ago. Sir Martin Maleverer had to return early. His wife came back with the ladies many months later with a baby, and he doubted it was his.
Not even born in this country.’

I sat up, for Waters’ words had rung a bell. What the
Titulus
had said about Richard III: ‘Ye be born within this land; by reason whereof you may have more certain knowledge
of your birth and filiation.’ I drew a sharp breath. That must mean one of his siblings was not. Someone had a taint of bastardy. I tried to remember how the lineage ran.

‘Brother Shardlake?’ Waters asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘You were in a brown study,’ Giles said with a laugh.

‘I am sorry —’ I broke off at the sound of a great shout from outside, the sound of running feet. ‘What on earth?’

Giles and Waters looked at each other in surprise, then rose and went out. Barak and I also exchanged a glance. I shuddered. The commotion had brought back the cries and yells in the church the
night before.

‘Shall we see?’ Barak asked.

We descended the steps to the castle bailey. There servants and clerks were standing around, heedless of the rain, watching as soldiers spilled from the guardhouse. They ran up the mound to
where the castle keep stood. At the bottom of the keep I saw a pile of chains and bones strewn across the grass. Master Waters crossed himself. ‘Jesu. Aske’s skeleton. The wind has
brought it down.’ I watched as the guards ran to the white bones and began picking them up, making them safe from relic hunters.

‘That this should happen while the King is here.’ Wrenne laughed softly, then raised his eyebrows at me. ‘People in York will take this as an omen.’

M
ALEVERER STARED
when, an hour later, I explained how Broderick had worked his own poisoning. Then he shook his head and
gave a bark of laughter. He looked at me across his desk, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he ran his finger along the edge of his beard, as he liked to do.

‘By Jesu, you’re a clever fellow. So Broderick outwitted Radwinter.’ He laughed again. ‘God’s body, that gaoler’s reputation will never be the same when this
gets out. I told him to keep to his room. Well, now we know nobody else was involved I suppose he can go back on duty. You have rescued him from suspicion, Brother Shardlake.’

‘I would not have anyone under false suspicion. Even Radwinter.’

Maleverer’s smile turned into a cruel smirk. ‘Jesu, sir, you are a righteous prig. I wish I could afford your scruples.’

I said nothing. He turned and stared out of the window, to where workmen were tying thick ropes across the royal tents to secure them against the wind. I studied his heavy dark face, wondering
if it was angry shame at the taint of bastardy that drove this relentless, cruel man. Strange to think that he too knew mockery and heard the laughter behind his back.

‘Those tents can’t stand there for ever,’ he said. ‘Damn the Scotch King.’

‘Still no word of his arrival, sir?’

‘That’s not your business.’ He changed the subject. ‘I’ll tell Radwinter he can go back to work. And you’re still to keep an eye on Broderick. Visit him at
least once a day, without fail. He might try something else.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘If Broderick’s poisoning was all his own doing, that means it’s only you
someone is trying to kill.’

‘It seems so.’

‘Make sure you do as I ordered, keep your randy clerk with you. That’s all.’ He waved a quill dismissively, and I bowed and left. As I walked away I felt more determined than
ever to say nothing to Maleverer about what had happened with the Queen and Culpeper; I could not trust him a single inch. He disliked me strongly; he would do me ill if he could.

O
UTSIDE THE WIND WAS
dropping, though still blowing hard. Barak was waiting for me. As we walked past the pavilions I saw a familiar plump figure going
into the church: Master Craike, his robe billowing round his ankles.

‘Here’s the chance to resolve another mystery,’ I said.

The church was a hive of activity. Grooms went to and fro, straw and dung lay everywhere, and forges flared red in every side-chapel. In the daylight I saw the walls were smeared with dirt and
graffiti, crude drawings of bare-breasted women and men with gigantic penises.

‘Where is he?’ Barak asked.

‘He’s probably gone to the belltower.’ I paused and looked at a charred heap of straw that had been piled against the wall; the bear’s body was long gone.

Craike had disappeared by the time I reached the door to the belltower, but the guard confirmed he had gone up. We found him sitting on a stool, a picnic meal on his knee, staring out of the
window. He looked up at me in surprise. ‘Why, Master Shardlake, what brings you up here?’ His greeting was cheerful but his eyes, again, were watchful. He smiled at the bread and cold
meat spread on a cloth on his lap. ‘I have had a busy day, I thought to escape up here and have some food. I never tire of looking out over the camp. It is a strange thing to watch it from up
here, like a bird on the wing.’

I looked from the window, screwing my eyes up against the wind that whistled round the belltower. I saw again, in the fading light, the hundreds of men sitting before the tents, playing cards or
watching cockfights. Campfires were lit, the wind blowing the smoke in all directions. A large group of workmen were digging fresh latrines near the ranks of carts. Craike came and joined me.

‘They are having problems with the sewage,’ he said. ‘You can imagine, with more than two thousand in the camp it becomes disgusting if they stay in one place more than a few
days. There’s fields along the route so choked with filth they’ll not be able to use them for years. They’re worried about it all getting into the river, killing the fish. Filth
will seep out, you see. It seeps out.’

I looked at his plump, bland face, then took a deep breath. ‘Master Craike, there is something I must discuss with you.’

‘Indeed. You sound serious, sir.’ He looked from me to Barak and laughed nervously.

‘It is serious.’

He went and sat back down on his stool.

‘You remember those papers?’ I asked. ‘That were stolen from me, in your old office?’

‘I am hardly likely to forget, sir.’

‘You know it was important.’

‘I know I was roughly searched by Maleverer’s men. He told me to say no more about the matter, and I have not.’

‘Barak saw you a few nights ago, going into an inn in York. To the White Hart.’

He looked at Barak and I caught a flicker of fear in his eyes.

‘What has that to do with the hunt for those wretched papers?’ There was a tremor in his voice.

‘We were there last night. And I learned the innkeeper there can arrange to provide – well, certain women . . .’