Sovereign (51 page)

‘Any developments on the Bealknap case?’ said Barak.

‘No. I wrote to London, telling the council we should proceed, that I had hopes of the matter now. I doubt it will have got there; Rich will have ordered letters from me be intercepted
before they leave with the postboy.’

‘Then why write it?’

‘So he could see my resolve stays firm.’

Barak raised his eyebrows, but said no more. I risked a backward glance. Rich had gone from the doorway.

T
HE WEATHER STAYED FINE
but grew colder; the leaves continued to fall in the courtyard and were burned in big smoking piles. I went to visit Giles again
the next day. He had rallied but I could see his square cheeks had fallen in a little more. I dined alone with him, and he told me stories of the cases he had dealt with in York over the past fifty
years; lawyer’s tales, some funny and others tragic. Yet I sensed he had things on his mind.

‘Giles?’ I asked him at one point. ‘Have you thought of writing to your nephew? You could send a letter by fast messenger.’

He shook his head firmly. ‘No. Our quarrel was bitter, Matthew. He might ignore a letter. I need to see him face to face. Besides, I do not have his address.’ He looked at me keenly.
‘You think I am not up to the journey.’

‘You know best, Giles.’ I hesitated. ‘By the way, what chambers did Martin Dakin practise in, before your quarrel?’

He looked at me. ‘Garden Court. Why?’

‘It will help us find him. He is probably still there.’ I thought, the same chambers as Bernard Locke. That was a damned mischance. Or was it just a coincidence; there were not that
many chambers at Gray’s Inn, and I knew the northern lawyers tended to stick together. But I would not tell him, would not worry him unnecessarily.

At ten Barak called as arranged to accompany me home. As Giles saw me to the door he laid his hand on my arm.

‘Thank you for your care,’ he said. ‘You watch over me like a son.’

‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Only as a friend should. Thank you for a pleasant evening, Giles. It has taken my mind from my troubles.’

‘Is your father’s estate settled yet?’

‘Soon. I have written to the mortgagee, told him I will have the balance of the funds when I get paid for my work here.’

‘It will be sad, though, letting your father’s farm go.’

‘Yes.’ And yet I had hardly thought of the farm at all. The realization I had no feelings for my childhood home made me guilty. I had a sudden vision of my father’s face. He
looked sad, disappointed.

‘Is that all that troubles you, Matthew?’ Giles asked. ‘That girl and Barak looked mighty worried when she called the other day. And you seem – strained.’

‘Official matters, Giles,’ I said with an apologetic smile.

He raised a hand. ‘Well, if you feel you can talk of them at any time, I shall be glad to listen.’ He opened the door. I looked out at the dark narrow street. Barak, waiting outside,
bowed. Giles looked between him and me. ‘Come over on Sunday, both of you, and I will show you round the Minster. I think you have not seen it yet?’

‘No.’ With all that had passed, I had forgotten my wish to see inside.

‘Bring that comely wench of yours, young Barak. It does me good to see her.’

‘Thank you, Master Wrenne.’

‘Good, then that is settled. Goodnight, Matthew, till Sunday.’

‘Goodnight, Giles.’ We walked away. As ever when walking in the dark I tensed, my eyes alert for a shadow in a doorway, a stealthy footstep behind.

I told Barak Giles’s nephew had practised in the same chambers as Bernard Locke. ‘When we get back to London,’ I said, ‘I am going to go to Gray’s Inn privately
before taking Giles there, find out what the position is.’

‘If we ever get out of York,’ Barak answered gloomily.

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY
we had an unwelcome reminder of our meeting with Lady Rochford. I had spent the morning with Barak checking the orders made in the
arbitration hearings before delivering them to Maleverer’s office; that was my last task in connection with the petitions. I walked across to King’s Manor with Barak and delivered the
papers to a clerk; we had arranged to meet Tamasin outside and go to the refectory to lunch. As the three of us walked away from King’s Manor, my heart sank at the sight of Lady Rochford
approaching with a group of courtiers. Culpeper was not there, but Francis Dereham was with her. We bowed our heads and hurried by, hoping they would ignore us.

‘Mistress Reedbourne!’ Lady Rochford’s sharp voice behind us made us halt and turn. Barak and I bowed, and Tamasin curtsied deeply, as Lady Rochford approached us.

‘What are you doing away from the manor, mistress?’ Lady Rochford asked sternly. Her eyes raked Barak’s face and mine, too. The other courtiers looked on with interest.

‘I am going to the refectory, my lady. Mistress Marlin gave me permission.’

Lady Rochford gave us a haughty look. ‘Mistress Marlin allows her servants too much latitude. Still, I daresay it will do no harm.’ She stared at me. ‘You are lucky to have a
gentleman for a patron to accompany you. Though I hear you had an encounter with an escaped bear, Master Shardlake. That would have been most sad, if it had got you. You would have had to take all
your lawyer’s secrets to the grave.’ She gave a harsh, nervous laugh.

I eyed her narrowly. Was this some sort of threat? But I thought, no, it has been put about the bear escaped by accident. She is only reminding us she has her eye on us. And, of course, she
believed I had a record of what Tamasin and Barak had seen. I had written nothing down, but the threat was enough. ‘Be assured, my lady,’ I said steadily, ‘I take care to keep all
my secrets where they are most safe.’

‘Be sure you do,’ she said, then turned away quickly. We walked on, but after a few yards I heard footsteps behind me. Before I could turn I felt a hand laid on my shoulder and was
yanked round. Francis Dereham was glaring at me, a savage frown on the saturnine features above his black beard.

‘You hunchback churl!’ Dereham hissed at me. ‘I heard your words. How dare you speak to Lady Rochford with such disrespect. God’s death, you get above yourself for a
lawyer. I should hammer you into the ground for your insolence.’

I did not reply. Fortunately, Dereham made no move to further violence; no doubt remembering that violence within the precincts of the royal court carried serious consequences.

‘You annoy me, crookback,’ he said. ‘And for someone of your rank to annoy someone of mine is not wise. Now, crawl on your knees to Lady Rochford, and apologize.’

I breathed hard. All around the courtyard people had stopped to watch the scene. I looked at Lady Rochford. She stood at the front of the group of courtiers and for once looked uncertain what to
do. Then she stepped forward and laid a hand on Dereham’s arm.

‘Leave him, Francis,’ she said. ‘He is not worth the trouble.’

Dereham turned to her, anger turning to puzzlement. Reasonableness, I imagined, was not a quality Lady Rochford often showed. ‘Would you let him get away with answering you back?’ he
pressed.

‘It does not matter!’ She reddened.

‘What is between you and these people?’ Dereham asked.

‘It is you who forgets your place now, Francis,’ Lady Rochford said, her voice rising. ‘Do not question me.’

‘Fie!’ Dereham released my shoulder and stalked off without a word. Lady Rochford gave me a savage look that showed what she would have liked to do had I not had a hold over her, and
walked off with a swish of skirts. The others followed.

‘They say Dereham suspects there is something the Queen is keeping from him,’ Tamasin said in a low voice.

‘Then let us hope for all our sakes he does not find out what it is,’ I said. ‘Or at least, our connection to it.’

B
Y SUNDAY THERE WAS
still no word of King James; we had been in York now thirteen days. After lunch I met Barak and Tamasin in the courtyard to go to
Master Wrenne’s. The sky was dark and there was a thin, biting wind; we had wrapped ourselves warmly in our coats.

‘I am looking forward to this,’ Tamasin said cheerfully.

‘It will get us out of St Mary’s for a while,’ Barak agreed.

We walked down Petergate to the Minster. I looked at the great east window of the cathedral that dominated the view as we approached, one of the largest stained-glass windows in Christendom.
Strange how I had got used to seeing it, how it had become merely part of the view. Services were over, the streets quiet, but there were many soldiers about and more standing before the gates to
the precinct. As we approached two of them crossed their pikes to bar our way.

‘The King is visiting the Minster. What business have you here?’

The three of us exchanged glances. I would have preferred to turn back there and then, but that would have been discourteous to Giles. I showed the guard my commission and explained we had an
appointment to visit a lawyer who lived in the precinct. The guard allowed us to enter, but warned that if the King’s train approached, we must stand well out of the way and keep our heads
bowed till he passed. I wondered if it was just my imagination or whether the guard cast a look at my back as he let us through, whether he had heard about Fulford.

The precinct was quiet, though many more soldiers were posted around, wearing half-armour over their red tunics and plumed helmets, and carrying pikes. I hurried Barak and Tamasin over to
Wrenne’s house. Madge, who greeted me pleasantly these days, showed us into the solar where Master Wrenne stood before the fire, staring sadly at the falcon’s perch.

‘Ah, Matthew. And Master Barak, and Mistress Reed-bourne.’ He smiled at Tamasin. ‘It is a long time since I have welcomed a pretty maid as my guest.’

‘Where is your falcon, Giles?’ I asked.

‘Poor Octavia is dead. Madge came in this morning and found her lying on the floor. She was very old. Yes, I had promised myself we should go out hunting together again, to see her fly
once more and feel the sun. How easy it is to leave things undone until they are too late.’ He gave me a sudden look of intense sorrow. He must be thinking of his nephew, I thought.

He forced a smile. ‘Come, have some wine. We will have to wait awhile before we can go into the Minster, the King is there. So common mortals must wait.’ Giles walked over to the
table with his slow steady gait, poured us wine and bade us sit. He asked Tamasin about her time on the Progress, and she told stories of the Queen’s servants and attendants and their
problems in keeping up cleanliness while camping in muddy fields in the rain. She avoided mention of Lady Rochford. Wrenne encouraged her stories, he clearly enjoyed having her there. At length we
heard voices outside, and a guard shouting, ‘Fall to!’ Giles crossed to the window.

‘The soldiers seem to be going, the King’s visit must be over. I think we may make our way across to the Minster now.’

‘I would have liked to see the King,’ Tamasin said. ‘I only glimpsed him for a moment when he came to York.’

‘You do not see him in the course of your duties?’ Giles asked.

‘No. Only the Queen occasionally, and I have never spoken with her.’

‘Well, seeing His Majesty once can be enough, eh, Matthew?’