Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (23 page)

I took a deep breath. ‘Jack, I am afraid I have got myself involved in a piece of – delicate business. For Lord Parr, the Queen’s Chamberlain.’

He frowned, then spoke with angry puzzlement. ‘What is it that keeps drawing you back there? With all the rumours there have been about the Queen these last months, surely you should stay clear.’

‘Too late now. The matter concerns a stolen jewel.’ There, the lie was told.

Barak was silent a moment, then spoke quietly. ‘You want my help? In times gone by, yes; but – ’, he nodded at the doorway. Yes, I thought. Tamasin, George, the new baby.

I bit my lip. ‘There is one small aspect where your expertise might be of help. I did not suggest it, the idea came from Lord Parr. I am sorry.’

‘I still have a reputation in certain quarters?’ His voice sounded surprised, but I detected some pleasure in it, too.

‘So it seems. There is a chest at Whitehall Palace from which a valuable ring was stolen. Yet there is only one key, which the owner wore round her neck constantly, and there is no sign of forced entry.’

‘You’ve seen this chest?’

‘Yes. I spent much of yesterday at Whitehall Palace.’

‘Whose is it?’ he asked bluntly. ‘The Queen’s?’

‘I must not say. It is being taken to the Queen’s Wardrobe at Baynard’s Castle for us to examine at nine tomorrow. Could you be there to look at it for me, see what you think?’

He gave me a long, hard stare. ‘And that’s all that is wanted of me?’

‘Yes.’

‘For myself, I wouldn’t mind. But if Tamasin thought for a second that I was putting myself in peril again, she – ’ he shook his head – ‘she’d be furious. And she’d be right.’ He sighed. ‘But if it’s an order from the Queen’s Chamberlain – ’

‘It is. And I promise, I will keep you from further involvement.’

‘I sensed trouble from your face when I came downstairs. So did Tamasin. You spoke of a cat having nine lives. Well, you must be on number nine by now. So must I, come to that.’

‘I am bounden to the Queen.’

‘All over a stolen jewel?’ He gave me a sidelong look. ‘If you say so. Anyway, I’ll come. I won’t tell Tamasin, though I don’t like misleading her.’

‘No, this must be kept confidential.’

He nodded, then looked at me hard again. ‘But remember. Only nine lives.’

L
IES
,
LIES
, I thought, as I approached Bealknap’s chambers, which stood more or less opposite to mine. Then I heard a voice behind me, calling my name. I turned round irritably; what now? To my surprise, I saw Philip Coleswyn, the lawyer acting for Isabel Slanning’s brother, whom I had seen at the burning. I doffed my cap. ‘Brother Coleswyn, God give you good morrow. You have not been at the Gray’s Inn service?’

‘I attend my local church,’ he said a little stiffly. I thought, a church with a radically inclined vicar, no doubt. ‘I came here after service, because I wished to speak with you.’

‘Very well. Shall we go to my chambers? They are just at hand. Though I have another appointment . . .’ I glanced up at Bealknap’s shuttered window. ‘I cannot tarry long.’

‘It will take but little time.’

We walked to my chambers. I unlocked the door and led Coleswyn into my room, threw off my robe and invited him to sit. He was silent a moment, looking at me with his clear blue eyes. Then he said hesitantly, ‘Occasionally, Serjeant Shardlake, a case comes up where it can be – useful – to talk to the other side’s representative, in confidence.’ He hesitated. ‘If I think that, like me, the representative would wish to avoid an unnecessary degree of conflict.’

‘The Cotterstoke Will case?’

‘Yes. When we met two days ago, Serjeant Shardlake, at that dreadful event at Smithfield – ’ he blinked a couple of times – ‘I thought, here is a man of probity.’

‘I thank you, Brother. But strictly, probity means we must each represent our clients’ interests, however troublesome they are. Their wishes must come first.’

‘I know. But is it not a Christian thing to try to resolve conflicts where one can?’

‘If it is possible.’ I remembered Guy’s assertion that some conflicts could never be resolved. I remembered, too, what Isabel had said:
If you knew the terrible things my brother has done
. ‘I will hear what you have to say.’ I added, ‘And I promise it will go no further.’

‘Thank you. We have the inspection of the wall painting on Wednesday. Your expert, of course, will be briefed to look for any ways in which the painting may be removed without damaging it.’

‘While yours is likely to say it cannot be brought down.’

‘My expert is an honest man,’ Coleswyn said.

‘So is mine.’

‘I do not doubt it.’

I smiled. ‘Yet both men are working to a brief, for a fee. I fear stalemate is the most likely outcome.’

‘Yes,’ Coleswyn agreed. ‘It is in the nature of the system.’ He sighed. ‘And so the experts’ charges will be added to the bills, and both the debt and the paperwork will grow.’

I replied wryly, ‘What is the saying? “Long writing and small matter.”’

‘Yes.’ And then Coleswyn laughed. I do not think he meant to; it was a release of tension. It made his hitherto serious face look quite boyish. I found myself laughing, too. We both stopped at the same moment, looking guiltily at each other.

‘We cannot prevent them from fighting,’ I said. ‘Though I would happily be rid of this. Tell me, in confidence, does Master Cotterstoke hate Mistress Slanning as much as she does him?’

He nodded sadly. ‘Edward Cotterstoke is never happier than when telling me what a wicked, vicious and evil-minded woman his sister is. Oh, and he also says she is a traitor, a popish Catholic who observes the old ceremonies in secret. He was introduced to me through my church congregation; I have just come from him.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘My appeals to his Christian charity go unheard.’ I nodded sympathetically.

‘And Mrs Slanning tells me her brother is a heretic whom she would happily see burned.’ I paused, then added, ‘And, I fear, you also.’

He frowned. ‘They should both be careful with their tongues in these times.’ He took a deep breath, then looked at me. ‘Edward Cotterstoke will listen to no reason. I know his wife and children have tried to dissuade him from this battle with his sister. Without success.’

‘Isabel is a childless widow, but even if she had family, I doubt they could move her either. Tell me, Master Coleswyn, have you any idea why they hate each other so?’

He stroked his short beard. ‘No. Edward will only say that his sister has been a bad creature since they were children. And yet, though he enjoys abusing her – and we have both seen them standing in court glaring mightily at each other – I have a sense Edward is afraid of her in some way.’ He paused. ‘You look surprised, Brother.’

‘Only because Mistress Slanning said some words that made me think
she
was afraid of
him
. How strange.’ Though it was strictly a breach of confidence, I was sure of Coleswyn’s honesty now, and I decided to tell him what Isabel had said about her brother –
the things he has done
.

When I had finished he shook his head. ‘I cannot think what that might mean. Master Cotterstoke is very much the respectable citizen.’

‘As is Mistress Slanning. Has it struck you how the wording of the old woman’s Will was very odd? The specific reference to wall paintings.’

‘Yes. It is almost as though old Mistress Cotterstoke wished to provoke a quarrel between her children, laugh at them from beyond the grave.’ He shivered.

‘She must have known they loathed each other. Perhaps there were not two members of this family hating each other because of Heaven knows what old grievance, but three. The mother, too,’ I finished sadly.

‘Possibly. But I know nothing of their early days. Only that their father, a Master Johnson, who can be seen in the picture, died not long after it was painted. And that their mother soon remarried, to Cotterstoke, who took over her late husband’s business. But he, too, soon died, leaving everything to his widow. There were no other children, and Edward and Isabel took their stepfather’s name.’

‘That tallies with what I know,’ I answered. ‘It does not sound as though there was an evil stepfather in the picture.’

‘No.’ Coleswyn stroked his beard again. ‘If we could find what has brought them to this – ’

‘But how? Have you noticed that, though the two of them constantly abuse each other, it is always in general terms; nothing is ever specified.’

‘Yes.’ Coleswyn nodded slowly.

I heard the Inn clock strike twelve. ‘Brother, I must go to my appointment. But I am glad you came. Let us each consider what we may do.’ I stood and offered a hand. ‘Thank you for speaking to me. So many lawyers would happily drive this witless matter on to Chancery, for the profits.’ Bealknap would have, I thought, except that he would never have had the patience to deal with Isabel’s carping and sniping. He had ever preferred some crooked land deal where everything was done in the dark.

Coleswyn smiled shyly. ‘And to seal our little agreement, perhaps you would do me the honour of dining with my wife and me. Perhaps on Wednesday, after the inspection.’

The rules prevented barristers on opposing sides from discussing their clients behind their backs, but dining together was not prohibited. Otherwise, what would have become of our social lives? ‘I would be glad to. Though I have a separate matter that is taking much time just now. May I take the liberty of agreeing subject to the possibility I may have to cancel at the last moment?’

‘Certainly.’

I sighed. ‘This other matter makes the Cotterstoke case look – trivial.’

‘It
is
trivial.’

I smiled sadly. ‘Yes. Though not to our clients, unfortunately.’

I showed him out, and through the window watched his trim stocky figure as he walked away to the gate. Then my eyes turned to Bealknap’s shuttered chambers, and I took a deep breath.

Chapter Thirteen

I
WENT ACROSS THE COURTYARD
to the building that housed Bealknap’s chambers, remembering his odd behaviour at the end of last year, those unexpected overtures of friendship, which I had rejected because he was not to be trusted. I knocked at the door and a porter answered. ‘I have called to see Brother Bealknap.’

He looked at me gloomily. ‘According to his nurse this may be the last day anyone will visit him. I will take you up.’

We climbed a long wooden staircase, passing other chambers, empty on the Sabbath. Very few barristers, save Bealknap, lived in chambers. I had not been inside his rooms for years; I remembered them only as untidy and dusty. He was rumoured to keep his great chest of gold there, running his fingers through the coins at night.

The porter knocked and the door was opened by an elderly woman in a clean apron, a short coif over her grey hair.

‘I am Serjeant Matthew Shardlake.’

She curtsied. ‘I am Mistress Warren. Master Bealknap has employed me to nurse him. He received your note.’ She continued in the same cool, disinterested tone, ‘He has a great growth in his stomach, the doctor says he has little time left now. The end will come in the next day or two.’

‘Has he no family who might be summoned?’

‘None he wished to contact. I think there was some falling-out, many years ago. When I asked him, he said he had not seen his family since the old King’s time.’

I thought, that was near forty years past. Bealknap must have been only in his teens at the time. Another old family quarrel perhaps, such as the one I had just been discussing.

The old woman looked at me curiously. ‘You are the only one he has asked to see. Other than the doctor and the builder, no one has been to visit.’
Builder?
I thought. ‘Apart from the priest,’ she added. ‘Master Bealknap received the last rites this morning.’ His death, then, was truly close. ‘I will take you in,’ Mistress Warren said, leading me along a dusty hallway. She lowered her voice. ‘He refuses to have his shutters open, I do not know why. I warn you, his room smells bad.’

She spoke true. As she opened the door to a half-dark chamber a fusty smell of unwashed skin and diseased, rotten breath hit me like a blow. I followed her in. The room was poorly furnished, with a chest for clothes, a couple of wooden chairs, a bed and a crowded table filled with bottles and potions. The bed, at least, was large and comfortable-looking.

Bealknap had always been thin, but the figure under the covers was skeletal, the skin stretched tight over his skull, his ears and big nose prominent, the hands that lay on the sheet like white claws.

‘I think he is asleep,’ Mistress Warren said quietly. She bent over the dying man. ‘Yes, asleep. Each time I think to find him gone, but he still breathes.’ For the first time I heard a note of human sympathy in her voice. She shook Bealknap’s shoulder gently. His eyes opened, those forget-me-not-blue eyes that had always roved around, never quite meeting yours. But today he stared right up at me, then smiled effortfully, showing his yellow teeth.

‘Brother Shardlake.’ His voice was scarce above a whisper. ‘Ah, I knew if I sent you the gold, you would come.’