Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (49 page)

‘A house near the river.’ I turned to Stice. ‘Well, are you going to let him go?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. There’s someone wants to talk to you, then if he’s happy we’ll let you both go. Leonard will take Nicky boy out back in the meantime.’ Stice, sword still in hand, leaned against the wall, waiting.

Nicholas still sat. ‘For mercy’s sake,’ he cried. ‘May I have some water?’ He swallowed uncomfortably and grimaced with pain.

‘Poor baby,’ Stice replied with a mocking laugh. ‘Not much forbearance for a gentleman. Oh, get him some water from the barrel, Leonard.’

As Gower went through a door to the back of the house, Nicholas stood, shakily. I heard a creak from the floorboards above, and remembered there was another man in the house. Well, we had been here for five minutes; fifteen more and Barak and the constable would come with his men. In the meantime I would have to dissimulate well. Nicholas stood, stretching, and feeling his bruises. Stice still leaned against the wall, hand on his sword hilt, watching him with amusement.

Suddenly Nicholas launched himself at Stice, clearing the few feet between them with one leap, a hand closing on Stice’s wrist before he could grasp his sword. Caught off guard, Stice let out a yell of anger as Nicholas grasped his other wrist and pinned him to the wall, then kneed him hard in the crotch. He cried out and bent over.

‘Stop, Nicholas!’ I shouted. A fight now was the last thing I wanted, and it was one we could not win. At that moment Gower came back with a pitcher of water. With a shout he dropped it on the floor and reached for his dagger, raising it high to bury it in Nicholas’s back. I threw myself at him and knocked him off balance, but he did not fall, and turned on me with the dagger just as Stice managed to push Nicholas away from the wall and raised his sword. His face was white with anger.

Then rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs and a voice called out, ‘Cease this mad brawling!’ Not a loud voice, but sharp as a file; one I recognized. It was enough to stop Gower in his tracks, and make Stice pause, too. Confident footsteps walked into the room. I turned and beheld, dressed in sober black robe and cap, his thin face frowning mightily, his majesty’s Privy Councillor, Sir Richard Rich.

Chapter Twenty-nine

R
ICH STRODE IN
,
SCROWLING
. He was the smallest man in the room, but instantly commanded it. He pulled off his black cap and smacked Stice round the face with it. The young man’s eyes flashed for a moment, but he lowered his sword. Rich snapped: ‘I told you they were not to be harmed. You’ve already dealt with that boy more roughly than I wanted – ’

‘He went for me when he woke up—’ Gower ventured.

‘Quiet, churl!’ Rich then turned to me, his voice quiet and serious. ‘Shardlake, I want no violence. I took the boy because I knew it would bring you here, and I need to talk to you. I knew that if I made contact with you any other way you would go yowling straight to the Queen’s people, and what I have to say needs to be kept secret. It may even be that this time we can be of use to each other.’

I stared at him. This was the anxious Richard Rich I had seen at Anne Askew’s burning. His long grey hair was awry, the thin face with its neat little features stern, new lines around the mouth, and his normally cold, still grey eyes roamed around the room.

I said nothing, for the moment lost for words. Nicholas stared in astonishment at the Privy Councillor who had suddenly appeared in our midst. Rich’s two men watched us closely. Then there was a knock at the door, making everyone jump except Rich, whose expression changed to a more characteristic, sly smile. ‘Answer it, Gower,’ he said. ‘Our party is not yet quite complete.’

Gower opened the door. Outside stood the constable with his assistant. Between them, looking furious, was Barak. I saw the dagger was gone from his belt. They pushed him in. Rich nodded at Barak and addressed Stice and Gower. ‘Watch that one, he’s trouble. Master Barak, let me tell you that violence will not help you or your master.’ Rich then walked over to the constable, who bowed deeply. ‘There’s no one else?’ Rich asked.

‘No, sir, only this one.’

‘Good. You and your man will be rewarded. And remember, keep your mouths shut.’

‘Yes, Sir Richard.’

The constable bowed again, and waved his assistant back outside. Rich shut the door on them and turned back to us. He shook his head, the sardonic smile on his face showing his straight little teeth. ‘Barak, I would have expected better from you. Did you not consider that if I used a house I would bribe the local constable first? They can be bought, as you know, and I pay well.’

Barak did not answer. Rich shrugged. ‘Sit at the table. You too, boy. I want a word with your master, and if it concludes well I will let you all go. Understood?’

Barak and Nicholas did not reply, but at a nod from me they allowed Stice and Gower to lead them to the table. They all sat. ‘Watch Barak carefully,’ Rich said. ‘He’s as full of tricks as a monkey.’ He crossed to the staircase, crooking an imperious finger to indicate I should follow. ‘Come up, Master Shardlake.’

I had no alternative. Once upstairs, Rich led me to a room which was as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house, containing only a desk with a sconce of lit candles, and a couple of chairs. He motioned me to sit, then regarded me silently, his expression serious again. In the candlelight it seemed to me his thin face had more lines and hollows now. His grey eyes were little points of light. I said nothing, waiting. He had said we might be of use to each other; let him say how. I wondered, did he know of the missing
Lamentation
? At all costs I must not be the first to mention that.

He said, ‘You are working for the Queen again.’ It was a statement, not a question. But it had been clear from his note that he knew that.

I said, ‘Yes. And there will be more trouble for you if I disappear. Remember the things her majesty knows about you.’ The ‘
more
trouble’ had been a guess, but Rich’s eyes narrowed. ‘She will not be pleased, for example, to learn that your man Stice once tried to suborn one of her pages – as I know for a fact.’ Rich frowned at that. Then I asked, ‘Is it really true, as you said in your note, that you have a spy in her household?’

Rich shrugged. ‘No. But I spotted you at Whitehall a few days ago, in the Guard Chamber.’

‘I did not think you saw me,’ I replied, truly alarmed now.

He leaned forward. ‘There is very little that I miss.’ His tone was both threatening and vain. ‘You would hardly be coming to see the King. I thought then, so he is working for her once more, after all this time; I wonder why. And then right afterwards you began your enquiries into the murder of a certain Armistead Greening, printer.’

‘On behalf of his parents only.’

‘Do not take me for a fool, Shardlake,’ Rich said impatiently. ‘You are acting for the Queen on this.’ I did not reply. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Let me guess what you have found. Greening was part of a little group of religious fanatics, probably Anabaptists. One of their members, Vandersteyn, is a Dutch merchant, and we know that Anabaptism still festers over there. And another is Curdy, a merchant from an old Lollard family – and we know how many of them have been seduced by the Anabaptists in the past.’ He raised a slim hand and ticked off a series of names on the fingers of the other – ‘Vandersteyn, Curdy, Elias Rooke, apprentice, McKendrick, a Scotch soldier turned preacher, and – ’ he leaned forward – ‘Leeman, a member of the Queen’s guard, no less. And finally – ’ he took a deep breath – ‘it seems, a gaoler from the Tower, called Myldmore. Six of them, all vanished into thin air.’

I took a deep breath. He knew much, then, but not that Elias had been murdered or that Lord Parr had Myldmore in custody. There were four missing men, not six. I said, ‘So you, too, are seeking Greening’s murderer?’

He leaned forward, linking his hands. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I am looking for a book. An important book to me, and perhaps to her majesty the Queen.’

A
book. One book. But I had learned from Myldmore there were two – the
Lamentation
and the
Examinations of Anne Askew
. And the
Examinations
spoke of Rich’s torture of her. What if he did not know about the
Lamentation
? ‘A book by Anne Askew,’ I ventured. ‘About her time in the Tower?’

Rich leaned back. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘We have it out in the open. Yes, the lies and ravings of that wretched woman. So you know about it. How?’

‘I spoke to the apprentice Elias before he disappeared, and he told me Greening had it,’ I lied. ‘Tell me, was it because of that book that your men attempted to break into Greening’s premises before he was murdered?’

Rich frowned. ‘Where did you get that information from? Oh, the boy Elias, I would guess. Yes, those two were trying to break in and retrieve Askew’s writings, but they were disturbed. And shortly after someone else killed Greening.’

‘How did
you
know Greening had it, Sir Richard?’

‘The gaoler Myldmore. Who has disappeared as well now. He knew certain things about Anne Askew’s time in the Tower, never mind how, and I had him followed.’

‘By Stice?’ I asked.

‘No, it was Gower. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but following people surreptitiously is something he excels at. And he reported back that Myldmore had called on Greening, with a small satchel on his shoulder that was full when he went in and empty when he came out.’

‘I see.’

Rich shifted in his chair. ‘I had Anne Askew questioned again she was out of the Tower then, held in a private house under my watch until the day of her burning. She readily admitted she had written a scurrilous account of her time in the Tower, accusing me and Wriothesley of torturing her, among other things, and had it smuggled out. She would not say how, or to whom it was delivered. But she did not need to; having Myldmore followed had given me the answer to that.’ Rich frowned and a muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘She laughed in my face, cackled triumphantly that she had got her writings out of the Tower.’ His voice rasped angrily. ‘Oh, Anne Askew loved nothing more than to be the one to have the last word. I wondered if she might say something awkward at the burning; there was a moment when I thought she might, but then – ’

He paused, and I ended his sentence, ‘The gunpowder exploded. I remember.’

‘Yes, I saw you there.’

‘What is it you fear she might have said, and written, Sir Richard?’ I asked quietly.

‘Things about me. And about another. All lies, but in these days of heretic propaganda – ’

‘If you knew Greening had those writings, why did you not have him arrested? And Myldmore?’

‘It was better dealt with as a private matter,’ Rich answered shortly. I thought, that is why he is frightened, the King is already angry with him for torturing Anne Askew to obtain information about the Queen, and he fears that if it becomes public knowledge it would be the end of his career. It was clear he knew nothing of the
Lamentation
, thank goodness.

Confidence returned to his voice again. ‘Of course, just as I have concerns about Anne Askew’s writings being discovered, so – since she employed you – must the Queen. Perhaps Anne Askew wrote something about her own connections with her majesty or her radical friends.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But the Queen matters nothing to me now.’

‘Sir Richard, I can hardly believe that. When you and Wriothesley have spent the last several months trying to entrap her, no doubt at the bidding of Bishop Gardiner.’

‘Gardiner’s plan failed,’ Rich said bluntly. ‘It depended on finding evidence against the Queen and none was discovered, as you no doubt know. The King warned us at the start that we must bring him firm evidence: he was annoyed with her for lecturing him, but he still loves the woman. Now he is angry with all those involved, and the Queen is back in favour. I have no more interest in whether she is a heretic or not.’

‘So,’ I began. ‘It remains important to you to find Anne Askew’s writings. You are interested in saving your own position. Perhaps even your skin.’

‘Who does not want to do that?’ A threatening tone had entered his voice. ‘The Queen does, I am sure, and as you are involved, now my guess is that there are things in Askew’s writings that could still endanger her.’

I did not answer. Rich sighed, then continued wearily. ‘It is only the Askews and Gardiners of this world who would risk their lives over such questions as the nature of the Mass.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘Working to preserve himself before all else is what any man endowed with reason does. You are right, Master Shardlake, I want to ensure I am safe, just as the Queen does. I have reached a dead end trying to find these missing people. I think you have, too. I have a spy at the docks, and from what he tells me, others are also there, watching for someone trying to get books out. Those people I suspect are working for the Queen.’ Again I did not answer. ‘I have limited resources, as do you,’ he went on in an irritated tone. ‘My suggestion is that the Queen and I work together to recover Askew’s book.’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘There have been stranger alliances these last fifteen years.’

‘I cannot forget the outcome when last I made a bargain with you,’ I said finally. ‘You tried to kill me.’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I would like you dead, have no doubt. But larger matters are involved. I offer you limited cooperation for a specific end. And you have the Queen’s direct protection, of course.’

I sat back. ‘I would need a little time to consider.’ My feelings about Rich were violent; a mixture of disgust, loathing, and complete distrust. And yet I confess I also felt a certain pleasure sitting there dealing with him on equal terms for the first time, and pleasure, too, at the fact that I knew more than he did. And, in terms of reason, Rich was right. His proposition made sense. Furthermore, working with him would give me the opportunity to try and prevent the worst from happening – that he might get hold of the
Lamentation
as a by-product of retrieving Anne Askew’s writings. For that was truly explosive material. This time, it would be me playing a double game with Rich.