Sovereign (43 page)

Radwinter gave me a look of sheer evil. ‘He will say nothing to disabuse you of that.’

‘Master Shardlake does not agree with me.’

Radwinter looked taken aback. He eyed me. ‘I swear I did not poison him,’ he said. ‘God’s death, why would I place myself in such a position of suspicion?’

‘Don’t chop word for word with me, you bag of shit!’ Maleverer stepped forward, looming over the gaoler. Radwinter stepped back and for the first time I saw him look
afraid.

‘I know nothing, Sir William, I swear.’

I looked over his shoulder. The physician had forced yet more beer down Broderick’s throat and he retched again, a thin trail of yellow liquid spilling from his mouth.

‘Is it all out?’ Maleverer asked the physician.

‘I think so. It was good that soldier thought of making him sick at once.’

‘May I look in the cell?’ I asked Maleverer.

‘What for?’

‘I do not know. Only – if Master Radwinter had left the cell ten minutes before Broderick fell on the floor, what if Broderick took something himself?’

‘There is nothing in that cell!’ Radwinter snapped. ‘It is searched daily. Where would he get poison?’

‘Oh, look if you must,’ Maleverer said wearily.

I went into the empty cell. I stared at the stoneflagged floor, stained with patches of vomit. I wrinkled my nose against the smell as I paced to and fro, looking for something, anything
unusual, Maleverer and Radwinter watching me from the door like two black crows.

There was nothing on the floor apart from Broderick’s wooden bowl, spoon and cup, all empty. Dr Jibson could take those away and examine them anew, for all the good that might do. The only
furniture was a stool, the bed and an empty chamberpot. I pulled the stained blankets from the bed and felt the straw mattress.

Then I saw something white, wedged between the bed and the wall. I reached and pulled it out.

‘What’s that?’ Maleverer asked sharply.

‘A handkerchief,’ I said. To my astonishment it was a lady’s handkerchief, light and lacy and folded into a square.

‘Is that all?’

It felt unpleasant, stiff, had dark stains on it. I took out my own handkerchief, laid it on the bed, then put the folded handkerchief on top. ‘Let me take a closer look outside,’ I
said quietly. I carried it carefully to the door, picking up the stool on my way. Broderick was sprawled in the chair now, apparently insensible, Dr Jibson standing over him. I walked a little way
down the corridor, placed my handkerchief on the stool and unfolded it. The three of us bent to look at the smaller one within.

‘So,’ Maleverer growled impatiently. ‘He got a kerchief as a keepsake from some lady—’

‘He had no handkerchief,’ Radwinter said, his brow creased in puzzlement. ‘He was searched when he was taken to the castle, and again when he was brought here. He has never had
a handkerchief. And no visitors who could have brought it to him, and certainly no lady.’

I bent closer and looked at the stains. ‘You say he was searched when he was brought here from the castle?’ I asked Radwinter.

‘Yes. Stripped naked and his clothes searched.’

‘That left one place where he could conceal this.’ I pointed to the dark stains. There was a moment’s silence, then Maleverer laughed incredulously.

‘Are you telling me this man has been walking around with a lady’s kerchief stuffed up his arse?’

I looked at him. ‘Yes, he used a lady’s because it is smaller, lighter. So a woman need not have been involved at all.’

‘But why would he do that?’

‘To carry something.’ I was reluctant to touch the thing again, but I took a corner and unfolded it carefully. To my disappointment there was nothing within. I bent again. There was
a faint smell, not faeces but something else, nasty and rotten. I frowned. It was familiar – I had encountered it before, recently. I jerked upright as I remembered. It was the smell I had
caught, briefly, from the King’s bloated leg as I stood with head bent before him at Fulford Cross.

‘What is it?’ Maleverer asked sharply. ‘What have you got hold of, lawyer?’

‘I am not sure, Sir William. May we have Dr Jibson here?’

Maleverer called to the physician and he came over. I told him where I suspected the handkerchief had been hidden and that something had been inside it. Reluctantly, Jibson bent and placed his
nose close.

‘What is that smell, sir?’ I asked. ‘Some poison?’

He laughed bitterly. ‘God knows, it is a familiar smell for me. Rot and decay. Something nasty.’

‘The poison,’ Maleverer said.

‘If it is, ’tis none I recognize.’

Maleverer’s eyes glinted. ‘He kept it in that safest of places until he had leisure to use it. Poisoned himself to escape what lies before him in London.’ I looked over to
where Broderick still slouched half conscious on the chair. ‘God’s wounds,’ he continued, ‘he must have been desperate.’

‘But he had no visitors,’ Radwinter said. ‘None were allowed, in all the time he was at the castle.’

‘Did he have a priest to confess him?’

‘No, it was ordered from London he was to be kept away from everyone. That has been the rule since he was first put in the castle last month. And he was taken from his house at night,
bundled to the castle in a nightshirt. Clothes and other things were brought from his house later. A kerchief full of poison would have been noticed.’

I shook my head. ‘Then it must have reached him in the castle. He tried to poison himself there once and failed. Then he brought what was left of the poison here in that extraordinary way,
and tried again. I guess he was taken ill so quickly this time, he had no time to hide the kerchief in its usual place, he just shoved it between the bed and the wall.’

‘And failed a second time,’ Dr Jibson said. ‘When the sergeant made him vomit.’

Maleverer looked over to where Broderick sprawled gasping between the soldiers. ‘So there was no poisoner here after all.’

‘No,’ I said quietly. ‘I don’t think there was.’

‘Only the person who brought the poison.’ Maleverer looked at Radwinter. ‘And got it past you, or maybe even gave it to you.’

Radwinter quailed. ‘I swear not.’

‘I am relieving you of your duties till this is resolved.’ Maleverer said. ‘Sergeant Leacon!’ he shouted, and the young Kentishman stepped round the partition. ‘I
am placing you in charge of the prisoner. You will stay here and watch him, all the time. Gaoler, give him the keys.’

Radwinter hesitated, then unhooked the keys from his doublet and handed them to Leacon. Broderick was coming to himself a little, he groaned and sat up. Leacon looked doubtfully at Maleverer.
‘Sir, I have no experience —’

‘Master Shardlake here can instruct you in your duties. Dr Jibson, take that handkerchief and examine it. I want to know what that stuff is.’ He turned to Radwinter. ‘You,
gaoler, come with me. Two of you soldiers come too. You will stay under guard, Master Radwinter, until further notice.’

Radwinter glared at me. His lips parted and I thought he would say something but a soldier took a place on either side of him and he turned away, following Maleverer. I took a deep breath and
turned to Leacon.

‘I think you should get him back inside, sergeant.’

Leacon told the soldiers to lift Broderick. The prisoner looked at me.

‘So,’ I said. ‘You poisoned yourself.’

‘Do not tell me it was a great sin,’ he croaked. ‘I was only anticipating a more painful death. Which I will have now.’

‘Who brought the poison?’ I asked.

‘The Mouldwarp brought it.’ He bent over, seized by a fit of retching and coughing, and I motioned the soldiers to return him to his cell. I stood in the cell, then started a little
as the sergeant coughed at my elbow.

‘What should I do, sir?’ he asked stiffly. ‘What is his routine?’

I explained how Broderick was to be watched constantly, how Leacon would have to oversee the making of his food and watch him eating it. ‘I suggest you seek further instructions from Sir
William when he has more leisure. Oh, and you are not to encourage him to talk. That is to be left until he gets to London.’

Leacon nodded, then looked at me. ‘Did the gaoler poison him?’

‘I don’t think so. But I don’t know.’

‘I have heard tales of the torturers in the Tower. I can see why Broderick would wish himself out of the world.’

‘Then I must close the way if I can.’ I sighed. ‘But what else could I do? I had to investigate.’

‘Investigations can cause more trouble than they solve.’ Something harsh came into Leacon’s voice.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

He hesitated, then sighed deeply. ‘Do you remember I spoke of my parents’ land case, at Waltham?’

‘Ay.’

‘I had a letter a few days ago. You remember their case hinges on whether certain old woods were truly in the gift of the local priory? It seems they were.’

‘Then surely that is good news?’

He shook his head. ‘It would be, save for a matter of boundaries. A boundary settled between the old priory lands and those of the lord, four years ago. My parents’ farm is on the
wrong side, they owe service to the lord after all. The matter was settled by arbitration by a lawyer.’ He took another deep breath. ‘It was you, sir, the records in Ashford show it. My
uncle, who can read, looked at them for my parents.’

I stared at him. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That work I did —’

‘The lands whose boundaries you settled belonged in part to my parents’ lord. You may have settled it fairly between him and the man who bought the abbey lands, but it has left them
penniless.’

I was speechless. The sergeant turned away. ‘Ay, well, poor folk are never considered,’ he said with quiet bitterness. ‘I had best go and care for my ward.’

H
ALF AN HOUR LATER,
Barak and I sat on the bench under the copper beech. It was a safe spot, with a good view all around. It was late afternoon now; a
cold wind had risen and we sat muffled in our coats. Leaves pattered down around us, adding to the thick carpet under the tree.

‘Autumn’s well and truly here,’ Barak said. ‘Looks like the King’s visit was the last fine day.’

‘Yes.’ I stared at the tower of St Olave’s church, frowning hard.

‘Still wondering how the poison got to Broderick?’ he asked. I had told him of the events at the gaol.

‘Yes, I want to go to the castle tomorrow, look at his cell again.’

‘That cook was put there.’

‘He’ll be released now. Now we know the poison wasn’t in his food.’

‘You did well there,’ Barak said. ‘Maleverer should be grateful.’

I laughed. ‘That’s not in his nature.’ I sat up. ‘Barak, I have been trying to think, draw all the threads together.’

‘So have I. Till my head aches.’

‘Try this,’ I said. ‘Assume Broderick’s poisoning has no direct connection with the other events – the murder of Oldroyd, the attack on me when those papers were
stolen and again the other night.’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘It’s possible. Let’s assume so for now.’

‘Well – all right.’

‘Look at those other matters. Oldroyd’s death first. Who was about that early morning when he was killed? Craike, to begin with.’

He looked at me and laughed uneasily. ‘Tamasin was about, for that matter.’

‘She said she had been asked to meet Jennet Marlin.’ I looked at him meaningfully. ‘Who apparently was not at the place they had arranged to meet. Mark that for the
moment.’

‘It was a foggy morning, anyone from St Mary’s could have gone down to where Oldroyd was working and tipped over his ladder.’

‘Yes, they could. Craike, Lady Rochford, even young Leacon who came running up afterwards.’

‘Who in God’s name
was
it we disturbed in the chapterhouse?’ he asked, kicking at the leaves in frustration.

‘I caught only the glimpse of a black coat, or robe, as they ran out. Someone fleet of foot.’

‘Everyone is fleet of foot when their life’s at stake.’

‘Let us move on to when I was attacked and the papers stolen.’

‘That again could have been anyone with freedom to wander about King’s Manor unnoticed.’

‘And who saw us bring the box in. Craike again. Jennet Marlin again.’

‘Lady Rochford. Leacon again. And half a hundred people we don’t know, who could have seen us come in.’

‘Yes. Leacon, for instance, always seems to be around, but we notice him because we know him. There could have been a dozen soldiers around when we brought the box in, whom we
haven’t noticed because to us they’re just another red uniform.’ I sighed.

‘By the same token Craike is the only official we know. And you’ve missed one person who saw us with that box.’

‘Who?’

‘Master Wrenne.’

I frowned. ‘Giles? But he was not at King’s Manor when Oldroyd was killed.’

‘How do we know? He has authority to be here. Who would notice another black-robed lawyer? He could have come in early that morning and killed Oldroyd. Sir, I know you have become good
friends with that old man, and I do not blame you for there are few enough friendly faces here. But if you are looking for someone who has links to the town, who knew Oldroyd and has access to St
Mary’s, he does.’