Heartstone (8 page)

‘Have you seen a copy of Michael's actual application? It is called a Bill of Information. I need to know what he said.'

‘No, sir. I know only what I have told you.'

I looked at Bess and the Queen. I decided to be direct. ‘Whatever the application says, it is Michael's, based on facts within his knowledge. But Michael is dead, and the court might not hear the case without Michael there to give evidence.'

‘I know nothing of the law,' Bess said, ‘only what happened to my son.'

The Queen said, ‘I did not think the courts were sitting, I heard they were dissolved early because of the war.'

‘Wards and Augmentations are still sitting.' The courts that brought revenue to the King, they would sit all summer. The judges there were hard men. I turned to the Queen. ‘Sir William Paulet is Master of the Court of Wards. I wonder if he is sitting himself, or has other duties connected with the war. He is a senior councillor.'

‘I asked Master Warner. Sir William goes to Portsmouth soon as governor, but he will be sitting in court next week.'

‘Will they make Master Hobbey come?' Bess asked.

‘I imagine Dyrick will attend on his behalf at the first hearing. What the court will make of Michael's application will depend on what it says and whether any witnesses can be found to help us. You mentioned that when Master Hobbey applied for the wardship Michael sought the help of the Curteyses' vicar.'

‘Yes. Master Broughton. Michael said he was a good man.'

‘Do you know whether Michael saw him recently?'

She shook her head. ‘I asked him that. He said not.'

‘Did anyone else know about this application?' I asked. ‘A friend of Michael's perhaps.'

‘He was a stranger in London. He had no friends here. Apart from me,' she added sadly.

‘Can you find out?' the Queen asked. ‘Can you take the case? On Bess's behalf?'

I hesitated. All I could see here was a bundle of intense emotional connections. Between the Queen and Bess, Bess and Michael, Michael and those children. No facts, no evidence, maybe no case at all. I looked at the Queen. She wanted me to help her old servant. I thought of the boy Hugh who was at the centre of it all, only a name to me, but alone and unprotected.

‘Yes,' I answered. ‘I will do the best I can.'

I LEFT THE QUEEN an hour later, with the suicide note and the summons in my pocket. I had arranged with Mistress Calfhill for her to call on me later in the week so that I could take a full statement.

Warner was waiting in the presence chamber. He led me up a flight of winding steps to his office, a cramped room with shelves of papers and parchments tied in pink ribbon.

‘So you will take the case,' he said.

I smiled. ‘I cannot refuse the Queen.'

‘Nor I. She has asked me to write to John Sewster, the Court of Wards attorney. I will say next Monday's hearing should go forward, even though Calfhill is dead. I will say the Queen wishes it, in the interests of justice. He will tell Sir William so, and that should stop him from throwing the case out. Paulet is a man for whom political advantage is all - he would not wish to upset her.' Warner looked at me seriously, fingering his long beard. ‘But that is as far as we can go, Brother Shardlake. I do not want to press the connection to the Queen too far. We do not know what lies at the bottom of this case. Maybe nothing, but if Michael Calfhill did find something serious, it may be a matter the Queen should not be publicly involved in.'

‘I understand.' I respected Warner. He had worked as an attorney in the Queen's household for over twenty years, since Catherine of Aragon's time, and I knew he had come to have a particular affection for Catherine Parr, as most did who worked for her.

‘You have been given a hard task,' he said sympathetically. ‘Only five more days to the hearing, and no witnesses apart from Mistress Calfhill that we know of.'

‘With the end of the law term I have time.'

He nodded slowly. ‘The Court of Wards still sits. There are wards and money to be gathered in.' Like any lawyer with integrity, he spoke of Wards with contempt.

‘I will do what I can to find witnesses,' I told him. ‘There is that vicar who worked with Michael six years ago. My clerk will help me, he is skilled in such matters. If there is anyone, we will find them. But first I must go to Wards, see what Michael's Bill of Information said.'

‘And you will need to talk to Dyrick.'

‘After I've seen the papers, and found what witnesses there are.'

Warner said, ‘I have met Dyrick.' The legal world of London was small, everyone knew everyone else by reputation at least. ‘A strong opponent. No doubt he will say the case is a meaningless accusation from a madman.'

‘That is why I wish to see more of how the land lies before visiting him. Tell me, what do you make of Mistress Calfhill?'

‘Full of grief. Confused. Maybe looking for a scapegoat for her son's death. But I am sure you will do everything possible to root out the truth of it.' He smiled sadly. ‘You were afraid it was politics. I saw that on your face when you came in.'

‘Yes, Brother Warner, I fear I was.'

‘The Queen always honours her promises, Brother Shardlake,' he answered reprovingly. ‘And will always help an old servant in trouble.'

‘I know. I should have trusted.'

‘Queen Catherine holds old friends in more kindness than any since the first Queen Catherine.'

‘Catherine of Aragon.'

‘Yes. She, too, was kind, though she had her faults.'

I smiled. ‘Her Catholicism.'

He looked at me seriously. ‘More than that. But come, I say more than I should. Talk of politics is dangerous, even though the great men of the realm have no time for intrigue just now. Hertford, Norfolk, Gardiner - all away on military assignments. But if we get through this war, I have little doubt it will all begin again. The Catholic party does not like Queen Catherine. You have seen her book?'

‘
Prayers and Meditations
? Yes, she sent me a copy last month.'

He looked at me keenly. ‘What did you make of it?'

‘I did not know she had such sadness in her heart. All those prayers urging us to put up with the shafts of ill fortune that come to us in this world, in the hope of salvation in the next.'

‘Her friends had to advise her to leave out certain passages - with a flavour of Luther. Fortunately she listened to us. She is always careful. For example, she will not stir from her chamber today because Sir Thomas Seymour is at Hampton Court.'

‘That rogue,' I said feelingly. I had met Seymour at the time the King was pressing Catherine Parr to marry him; she had wanted to marry the dashing Seymour instead.

‘The King has had him chasing round the south of England inspecting the armies. He's come to report to the Privy Council.'

‘I am glad the Queen has loyal friends such as you,' I said sincerely.

‘Ay, we'll watch out for her. Someone has to do the politics,' he added.

I STEPPED OUT into the sunlit courtyard. The astronomical clock over the arch in front of me showed four o'clock. The red-brick buildings cast barely a shadow on the courtyard; the paving stones shimmered in the heat. Sweat pricked at my brow. A messenger in the King's livery rode fast through the courtyard, under the opposite arch, perhaps with some message for the military commanders.

Then I saw two men standing in a doorway, looking at me. I recognized both, and my heart sank. Warner had said Sir Thomas Seymour was at Hampton Court and here he was, in a bright yellow doublet, black hose on his long shapely legs, the handsome face above his dark red beard as hard and mocking as I remembered. He stood with hands on hips in a pose of courtly arrogance; the stance in which Holbein had painted the King. Beside him, short and neat in his lawyer's robe, stood Sir Richard Rich, his fellow member of the Privy Council, the King's willing tool in the dirtiest pieces of State business these last ten years. I knew Rich had been involved in the financial administration of the invasion of France the year before; rumour said he had been in trouble with the King for lining his pockets a little too heavily.

The two did not speak or move, just stood looking at me, Seymour with a contemptuous stare and Rich with his cold, still gaze. They knew a man of my rank could not simply ignore them. I took off my cap and approached, trying to keep my legs steady. I bowed low.

Seymour spoke first. ‘Master Shardlake, it is a long time since we met. I thought you had gone back to the courts.' He smiled mischievously and waved a hand in an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. ‘Gathering gold from the quarrels of poor silly folks, while strong true Englishmen fight to save their country from its enemies.' He pointedly looked me up and down, even glancing round a little at my back.

‘God has given me my limitations.'

He laughed. ‘Ay, that he has.'

I did not reply. I knew Seymour would soon tire of mocking me and allow me on my way. But then Rich spoke, quietly, in his sharp voice. ‘What business have you here? I would not have thought you would dare come near the King's court again. After last time.'

He was referring to when he had had me put in the Tower on false charges to win a court case. Rich had then been in charge of the Court of Augmentations, which controlled the monastic lands seized by the King. I had brought a case on behalf of the City of London and, had I won, it would have reduced the value of some of the lands. Rich had used lying witnesses to have me imprisoned on false charges of treason. He would happily have seen me executed, but the charges had been proved false. Nonetheless the City Council had been so frightened they had withdrawn the case.

I begged my legs to be still. ‘I am here on legal business, Sir Richard. For Brother Warner.'

‘The Queen's lawyer. I hope she has not set you to defending heretics, as Warner did last year.'

‘No, Sir Richard. Merely a civil case. For one of the Queen's old servants.'

‘Which court?'

‘Wards.'

Rich and Seymour both laughed, Seymour's bellow contrasting with Rich's rasp. ‘Then I wish you a merry time,' Rich said.

‘I hope you have a full purse for the officials,' Seymour said. ‘You will need it.'

I expected that to earn a rebuke from Rich; he was a law officer and they took offence at mention of corruption in the courts. But Rich only smiled thinly. ‘But who will fill that purse, Sir Thomas?' he asked. ‘The Queen's servant, I hope. Were the Queen to pay herself that would be maintenance of someone else's case, which is not lawful.'

‘You may be sure the Queen will see the proprieties observed,' I replied. ‘She is a woman of probity.' It was a bold answer, but it was time to remind him who my patron was.

Rich inclined his head. ‘I know this is not the first time her majesty has instructed you in legal matters. I find it a little strange, given the opinion the King showed of you at York.' He turned to Sir Thomas, smiling. ‘Master Shardlake annoyed him there, and he suffered a public humbling for his pains.' He cast his neat little head on one side, and I saw that beneath his cap his hair was greying.

‘I know that tale,' Seymour said. ‘He called Shardlake a bent bottled spider before half of York.' He laughed again.

Rich bowed slightly, dismissing me. ‘Take care, Master Shardlake.'

I walked away, shaken, feeling their eyes on me. To meet those two together was a piece of ill luck. I had thought I was long since done with Rich. It frightened me to think his malicious eyes had been watching me all this time; but no doubt he watched all the little people, waiting to see whom he could entangle in his webs. Thank God I had the Queen's patronage. I waited till I had passed under the arch, beyond their gaze, before I wiped my brow.