Sovereign (9 page)

‘A stern fellow, Sir William,’ I observed quietly.

‘A harsh man, like all those on the Council of the North,’ Craike replied. ‘I am grateful I have little to do with him. Now, sir,’ he looked at me apologetically,
‘I have taken the liberty of giving you and your assistant adjoining cubicles. Otherwise Master Barak would have to go into the servants’ tents. With so many people of such varying
ranks, it is hard to give everyone an appropriate place.’

‘I do not mind,’ I said with a smile. Craike looked relieved. He scrabbled on his little desk, found a piece of paper and led us past the row of stalls. The doors were numbered.

‘Eighteen, nineteen – yes, those are yours.’ He made a mark on the paper, then smiled. ‘Well, sir, it has been good to see you again, but I must leave you now.’

‘Of course, sir. But I hope we may meet for that cup of ale while we are here.’

‘If time allows, I would be pleased. But all this –’ he waved a hand towards the courtyard – ‘a nightmare.’ He gave a quick bow and then, with another glance
at his list, he was gone.

‘Well, let’s see what we’ve got,’ I said to Barak. There was a key in the lock of the cubicle door and I turned it. Inside, apart from a small chest for storage, a
truckle bed was the only furniture. I eased off my riding boots and lay down with a groan of relief. After a few minutes there was a knock and Barak came in, barefoot and carrying my pannier. I sat
up.

‘God’s wounds,’ I said. ‘Your feet stink. But I dare say mine do too.’

‘They do.’

I noted the tiredness in his voice. ‘Let us take the chance to rest this afternoon,’ I said. ‘We can sleep till dinner-time.’

‘Ay.’ He shook his head. ‘What a scurry. I’ve never seen so many goods and animals in one place. And whatever secret pageantry they are planning out there to be catered
for.’

I clicked my fingers. ‘Those pavilions reminded me of something,’ I said. ‘I’ve just realized it. The Field of the Cloth of Gold.’

‘When the King went to Calais to meet the French King?’

‘Ay. Twenty years since. There’s a painting of the pageant in the Guildhall. They built huge pavilions of just those designs, and giant tents all gilded with cloth of gold, which
gave the occasion its name. Of course, Lucas Hourenbout is using those designs as a precedent.’

‘For what?’

‘I don’t know. Some very great celebration. But perhaps we should restrain our curiosity, just get on with our business.’

‘Dun’s the mouse.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And Lady Rochford’s here. God’s death, she’s one to avoid.’

I looked at him seriously. ‘Ay. She was part of your old master’s darkest scheme.’

Barak shifted uncomfortably. Jane Rochford had been one of those used by Thomas Cromwell to discredit Queen Anne Boleyn through accusations of sexual misconduct five years before. Lady
Rochford’s evidence had been the most terrible: that George Boleyn, her own husband and Queen Anne’s brother, had had incestuous relations with the Queen. I had reason to know for
certain what most people believed, that the charges against Queen Anne had been fabricated for political reasons.

‘She has made herself a byword for the worst treachery,’ I continued. ‘And was well rewarded for it. Made Lady of the Privy Chamber to Jane Seymour, then Anne of Cleves and now
Catherine Howard.’

‘Didn’t look very happy on it, though, did she?’

‘No, she didn’t. There was something underneath her angry bluster. Well, it cannot be much fun knowing the whole world hates you. Let’s hope we don’t have to see her
again.’

‘But you’ve to meet the King.’

‘So it seems.’ I shook my head. ‘Somehow I cannot quite take that in.’

‘And you have to be involved with the prisoner at the castle. No choice there.’

‘No. But again, I’m going to ask as few questions as I can.’ I told Barak the details of what had passed at York Castle, Radwinter’s cruelty and Broderick’s sudden
lunge at him, though I left out what the gaoler had said about my having sympathy for the prisoner. At the end he looked thoughtful.

‘Those skilled in dealing with dangerous prisoners, guarding and watching them, are rare. Earl Cromwell prized such men greatly.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘I think
you’re right. Don’t get involved with either of them any more than you have to.’

He left me, saying he would call me in time for dinner. I heard a creak and a sigh as he lay down on the bed next door. I closed my eyes and was soon asleep. I dreamed I heard my father calling
to me from outside the room, his voice clear and vivid, but that when I rose from the little bed to join him the cubicle door had been replaced by one as thick and heavy as the one in
Broderick’s cell, and it was locked.

B
ARAK HAD THE ENVIABLE
gift of being able to tell himself, before he went to sleep, when he wanted to wake, and he seldom failed to do so at his allotted
time. His knock at my cubicle brought me from my troubled dreams. The room was gloomy, and glancing from the window I saw the sun was low in the sky. I joined him in the hall. There were other
people there now, clerks and two lawyers in black robes, young fellows. One of them, a small thin man who stood warming his hands by the fire, caught my eye and bowed.

‘You have newly joined us, sir?’ he asked, studying us with large curious eyes.

‘Yes. Brother Shardlake of Lincoln’s Inn and my assistant Barak. We are here to assist with the petitions to the King.’

‘Ah.’ He looked impressed, and smiled ingratiatingly. ‘Paul Kimber, sir. I am also from Lincoln’s Inn.’ He bowed again.

‘What work are you doing with the Progress?’

‘Supervising the drawing up of contracts with suppliers along the way, in the Purveyor’s office. Well, helping to. I have come all the way with the Progress, and hard work it has
been negotiating with these northern barbarians.’ He laughed contemptuously.

‘Do you know where we might find some dinner?’ I asked.

‘At the common dining hall. We have to eat all hugger-mugger with the clerks and carpenters. You’ll need a docket, though, to show you are entitled to bouche of court.’

‘Where do we get those?’

‘At the Office of the Great Hall.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Not sure where that is now. They were moving it today, to bigger premises, in anticipation of the Progress
arriving.’

‘Well, we will find it, I dare say.’

We stepped outside, into an autumnal smell of wood-smoke. I shivered a little, for the damp feel of the air was more pronounced now. A little way off, brown-smocked servants were feeding the
crowds of animals in their makeshift paddocks.

‘Let’s go through the church again,’ I said. ‘It’ll be somewhere round the manor house.’

Again we trod with echoing footsteps through the monastic church, cold and full of deep shadows as the light faded, the only sound the horses stirring in their stalls. We walked out through the
main door and stood looking out over the front courtyard. The workmen were busy as ever sawing and painting. I had never seen so many work so fast. Two servants were unloading lamps containing fat
white candles from a cart and carrying them over to the men. Many of the tents were already lit by a glow from within.

‘Do they plan to work into the night then?’ Barak asked.

‘Looks like it. Let’s hope for their sakes it doesn’t rain.’

I turned at a clinking sound. The glazier Oldroyd whom we had seen earlier walked slowly by, leading his enormous horse. It was one of those black Midland giants, the largest and strongest in
the land, and it pulled a high-sided cart, full of glass.

‘A good day’s labour, fellow?’ I asked.

‘A busy day, maister, ay,’ he said in a quiet voice. He touched his cap and I saw his hand was criss-crossed with tiny scars; from a lifetime’s cuts, no doubt. ‘They let
me keep the glass and lead as payment for my services.’

‘What do you do with it?’

‘It goes to gentlemen’s houses. A mythical beast or a ploughman at his toil makes a pretty centre-pane for a window, and cheaper than staining new glass.’ He paused. ‘But
I am commanded to melt down the figures of monks and saints. It is sad, they are often beautiful.’ He stopped suddenly and gave me an anxious look; such comments could be construed as
criticism of the King’s policy. I smiled to show I took no exception to his words. For a moment I thought he might say something more, but he lowered his head again and led his mighty horse
off towards the gate.

I looked round the tents, wondering if I might spot Lucas Hourenbout. Barak asked a couple of officials if they knew where the Office of the Great Hall might be as they scurried past, but they
only shook their heads; everyone was still in a great hurry. He sighed, and nodded in the direction of the little sentry box by the gate where the soldier who checked the papers of those coming in
and out was posted.

‘Let’s ask him.’

We walked over to the gate. A young sergeant in the scarlet livery of the King’s yeomen was checking a carter’s papers. He was in his twenties, tall and flaxen-haired, with a
handsome, open face. Glancing into his booth, I saw a Testament open upon a shelf under the window, one of those with notes to explain the words for those with little reading.

‘All in order,’ he said, handing the carter’s papers back, and the man led his horse in.

‘Know where the Office of the Great Hall is?’ Barak asked. ‘We’ve just arrived, we’re hungry.’

‘Sorry, sirs,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. I heard it’s moved.’

‘So everyone says.’

‘His pies aren’t bad.’ The young soldier nodded to where a pieman was touting his wares among the carpenters. He was doing a good trade.

‘Fancy another pie?’ Barak asked me.

‘Better than wandering among all these folk all evening.’

Barak went over to the pieman. The fellow gave him a deferential little bow; he was on royal territory now.

‘Thank you,’ I said to the soldier.

‘No trouble, sir. Everything is bustle and confusion tonight.’

‘Where are you from, sergeant?’ I asked, noting he had a southern accent.

‘Kent, sir.’

‘Ah, yes, I thought I recognized those tones. I had a job of work down there a few years ago.’

‘Most of us recruited for the Progress are from Kent. There’s six hundred Kentish archers arriving with the King on Friday. He knows we’re the best in the country, and the most
loyal.’

I nodded at his book. ‘You are improving your knowledge?’

He blushed. ‘Our chaplain says all should learn to read well.’

‘That is true. Well, good evening, sergeant.’ I went out and joined Barak. We stood eating our pies, watching the craftsmen. It was an extraordinary scene, men calling, hundreds of
lamps shining, while, above, the guards patrolled the high walls with their pikes and guns. I looked at the huge silent bulk of the church outlined against the darkening sky.

‘I could do with going back to bed,’ Barak said.

‘Ay, me too. We had no sleep last night.’

We returned to the lodging house. Our quarters were full of lawyers and officials now. We were too tired to do more than nod greetings to them as we headed for our stalls. I fell asleep at
once.

I
WOKE VERY EARLY,
surfeited at last with sleep. It was barely dawn, and all around came the snores and grunts of slumber. It was rare for me to wake
before Barak. I rose and dressed silently, rubbing my hand over stubbly cheeks; I must get a shave.

I stepped quietly outside into a misty half-light, white and still. I realized that for the first time since our arrival there was silence at St Mary’s, no calling or sawing, no tramping
feet. The animals stood quietly in their byres, their breath steaming. I crossed the courtyard towards the church, my feet silent on the grass. It was very wet; it must have rained in the night.
The roof was hidden in the mist. I reflected that only two or three years ago the monks would have been at service now, their chants rising and falling.

I decided to walk through the church and see what was happening in the main courtyard. A dim light came through the windows, but all round the side-chapels, where once candles would have been
lit before saints’ images, stood empty and dim. I went over to the horses and spoke a few words to Genesis and Sukey, then walked on. Halfway down I was puzzled to hear a scraping, chinking
noise, repeated over and over. Turning, I saw above me the shape of Master Oldroyd, already at work hacking at the lead round a stained-glass window.