Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (43 page)

He looked genuinely puzzled. ‘No, sir.’

‘An Italian one, perhaps?’

‘The Pope, you mean? They mentioned the Pope only to curse him.’

I realized that if the group had decided this Bertano was the Antichrist they would not mention his name to someone they did not fully trust. I said quietly, ‘And this whole group has disappeared now. Why do you think that may be?’

A muscle in Myldmore’s cheek twitched for a moment. Then he said, ‘I think perhaps they have fled because of the book.’

I looked at his anguished, worried face. Then I took the plunge. ‘You mean the book which Michael Leeman took?’

He stared at me blankly. ‘Leeman? No, it was I who smuggled the book from the Tower and gave it to Greening. Anne Askew’s account of her examinations.’

For a moment my head span. We stared at each other. As calmly as I was able, I said, ‘Tell me about Anne Askew’s book, Thomas.’

He frowned. ‘Do you not know? I thought that was why you were at the Tower yesterday.’ He shifted in his seat, and for a moment I feared he might panic and run.

‘You are right,’ I lied. ‘I am concerned with Anne Askew’s book. But I was misinformed about who gave it to Greening.’ I continued calmly, ‘You have told me much, Thomas. Best tell me the rest now. I swear to you, I am no enemy.’

He looked at me again, then bent his head. ‘It seems I have no choice.’

I did not reply.

He took a deep breath, then he recounted the next part of his story in quiet, even tones, without looking up at me; his voice trembling occasionally so that I had to bend to catch his words.

Chapter Twenty-five

‘I
T WAS ON THE
twenty-ninth of June, a Tuesday. Three weeks ago, though it seems a year. Anne Askew and those three men had been condemned to death for heresy at the Guildhall the day before. Everyone was talking of it. We expected she would lie in Newgate prison with the others till she was taken to be burned. That afternoon I was on duty in the Tower, checking on the prisoners in the dungeons and giving food to those allowed it. Afterwards I went to report on how they fared to Master Howitson – you met him yesterday.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘While I was with him at the desk I heard footsteps outside, several people coming down. The outer door opened and Master Ardengast, the senior guard, entered, accompanied by a couple of guards holding a young woman. She wore a blue dress of good quality, but to my astonishment she had a dirty sack over her head, so her face could not be seen. She was breathing hard, poor creature, very frightened. It was dreadful to see a woman treated so. Another couple of men followed, carrying a large trunk. Then Master Ardengast told Howitson and me this woman was to be lodged down here, and none of the other prisoners were to know of her presence. He said as we were on duty we must perform a double shift, for the fact she was here was to be known to as few as possible.’

Myldmore’s voice fell to little more than a whisper. ‘You would think one would protest at such a thing, but you get used to the worst in that place. And I am a weak, sinful creature. I only answered, “Yes, sir.” The woman was led away, to a cell within, a place called the “special cell”, better appointed than the others, for prisoners of gentle birth. But it is near the room where the rack and the other instruments of torture are kept.’ He looked up at me. ‘I have seen them.’

So have I
, I thought, but did not say.

‘After that, all the men left, leaving Howitson and me staring at each other. I began to ask who the woman was, but Howitson said we should not talk about it. So I went about my duties. Then, a couple of hours later, Master Ardengast returned. With him were the Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Anthony Knevet, and two other men, in fine silk gowns with gold chains of office and jewelled caps. One I did not know, he was thin with a ruddy face and a little jutting red beard. The other I recognized, for I have seen him on business in the Tower before. The King’s councillor, Sir Richard Rich.’

I stared at him hard. Rich, and by his description the other man was Lord Chancellor Wriothesley, who at the burning had been worried lest the gunpowder round the victims’ necks send burning faggots flying at the councillors. And Knevet, who was in bad odour with his superior Walsingham. So, Richard Rich was deep in this business, as I had suspected.

Myldmore looked back at me now, his eyes frightened. ‘Should I go on now, sir?’

I think he feared that at the mention of those names I might call on him to desist, and decide to get involved no further. But I said, ‘No, continue.’

‘They said nothing to me or Howitson, though Rich frowned when he saw that I recognized him. They passed on, through the door to where the woman was kept.’

‘You still had no idea who she was?’

‘No.’ There was anger in his voice suddenly. ‘But I knew Mistress Askew had been condemned, and that the law forbids torturing someone after sentence.’

‘Yes, it does.’

Myldmore passed a hand over his brow. ‘It was three hours before they all came out again. Rich and Wriothesley looked angry, and Rich had a sheen of sweat on his face, as though he had been at some hard labour. Sir Anthony Knevet looked worried. I remember Rich flexed his hands, little white hands they are, and winced as though he were in pain. They paused at the desk and Sir Anthony spoke to us roughly. “You two never saw these gentlemen, you understand? Remember your oath to the King.” Then they all went out, back up the stairs. I heard Rich say angrily, “Another hour, Knevet, and I would have broken her yet.”’

He paused. Outside in the quadrangle two barristers were talking, probably of some amusing incident in court, for both were laughing. Sunlight illuminated Myldmore’s head, which he bent again as he continued. ‘That evening it was again my duty to feed the prisoners. Howitson told me to take a bowl of pottage to the woman. So I went through to her cell. I knocked lest she was in a state of undress, and a voice bade me come in.

‘The room had a table, chairs and a bed with a fine cover, as well as a chest. I recognized Anne Askew at once, for I had twice seen her preach in the streets, but now she sat awkwardly in a heap on the floor, her back against the wall and her legs spread out on the stone flags. It looked almost indecent.’ Myldmore flushed, and I thought how young he was, how oddly innocent to be serving in that den of wolves.

‘I noticed her dress was torn. She had cast off her coif and her fair hair hung down in rats-tails, bathed in sweat. Her face – a pretty face – was composed, but her eyes were staring, wide.’ He shook his head, as though to try and clear it of that terrible image. ‘Despite all this, when she spoke to me it was in pleasant, gentle tones. She asked, “Would you put the tray on the floor, please, goodman gaoler. I cannot rise.”

‘I know what racking does to people. God forgive me, I have seen it, the prisoner stretched out, arms above his head, fixed to the moving table with ropes tied to his wrists and ankles, and then the ropes wound so that the muscles and joints tear; and it came to me in a rush of horror that those men – Privy Councillors – had just racked this woman. I laid the plate and spoon on the floor beside her. She bent forward to pick the spoon up but gave a little cry of pain and leaned back, breathing hard.’ Myldmore looked up at me, swallowing. ‘In a man, it would have been bad enough. But to see a woman in that state – ’ He shook his head. ‘I think my expression must have betrayed me. She asked if I knew who she was. I answered, “Yes, Madam, I have seen you preach.” Then I said, “What have they done to you?”

‘She smiled in answer. “His majesty’s noble councillors would have the Queen down, and her ladies and their husbands. They asked me what dealings I had had with them, the Countess of Hertford, Lady Denny, the Duchess of Suffolk. They wanted me to say they were all heretics who denied the Mass. But I said, truly, that I have never met any of them. So they racked me to get the answers they wanted. Sir Anthony Knevet refused to do it, so Rich and Wriothesley turned the rack.” Her eyes seemed to burn into mine as she said, “I do not care who knows; I want the story spread abroad.”’

Myldmore swallowed, looked at me. ‘I was frightened, sir, I did not want to know this. But Mistress Askew continued, shifting her position as spasms of pain went through her. She said, “It was great agony, and there will be more when they burn me. But I know that this is all but a prelude to the bliss to come.” And then she smiled again.’ The young gaoler shook his head in wonder.

‘I asked Mistress Askew, “Do you believe, then, that you are saved?” And she answered, “Truly, I believe I have God’s grace in my heart.” Her eyes were blue, bright as though from an inner light. It moved me to the heart, sir.’ Myldmore’s face worked a moment before he continued: ‘I knelt before her and said, “You have endured, as Christ did. I wish I had your courage and certainty.”’ His eyes were wet now. ‘And then she asked me to say the twenty-third Psalm with her. I did.’ Myldmore whispered, softly, ‘
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me . . .
’ Then, as she could not feed herself, she asked me to spoon the broth into her mouth. She could scarce move without terrible pain.’ He paused, then added quietly, ‘I heard she was most brave at the end.’

‘She was,’ I answered. ‘I was there.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘You were one of the godly folk who went to comfort her.’

I did not contradict him. Myldmore took a deep breath. ‘I left after feeding her. Howitson told me that the next day she was be removed from the Tower to a house – I do not know whose – where she would be lodged to recover. He reminded me to keep my mouth shut. They hoped she would recover sufficiently to walk to the fire. I was angry, sir, more than ever before in my life.’

‘Was it you who set the news afoot she had been tortured?’

‘Yes.’ He clenched his jaw with a new stubbornness. ‘And they know it was. I was in such a fume of anger at what had been done, I told my landlady that same evening that Anne Askew had been tortured in the Tower. But I did not have the courage to name Wriothesley and Rich. My landlady is a good reformer, and also a great gossip. I wanted her to tell others. For that one evening, I did not think of my own safety. Next day it was the talk of the streets.’ He said, sorrowfully, ‘I confess when I heard the story jangled about everywhere, I began to be afraid again.’

He sighed, then continued, ‘And soon enquiries were indeed made, by Master Ardengast. Only those who saw Anne Askew in the Tower, and those in the house to which she was taken, knew what had been done to her. I was questioned by Sir Anthony Knevet himself. I confessed at once. I was so afraid I wet my hose during the interview. Anne Askew did not wet herself,’ he added quietly, in self-disgust.

‘She was a rare creature,’ I said.

‘I was sure I would be arrested, but I was told only to keep my mouth shut. Which I have, until you came yesterday. I do not understand why I have not been arrested. But Sir Anthony was very mild with me, and there have been rumours in the Tower that he was so concerned at what Rich and Wriothesley had done, that he privately told the King. But I do not know.’

I considered. Perhaps nothing had happened to Myldmore because if he were put on trial for revealing Anne Askew’s torture, that would involve admitting publicly that it had taken place.

‘Did Sir Anthony Knevet enquire about your motives?’ I asked. ‘Your religious associations?’

‘Yes. He asked about my church, my associates. But I did not tell him about Master Greening or his group. That would be the end of me because of – because of the book. And I had said nothing about that.’

‘I think it is time to tell
me
, Master Myldmore.’

He looked down at his hands, then raised his head again. ‘On the day I spoke with Mistress Askew, I was sent again, late in the evening, to take her supper, and to report on how she fared. When I went into the cell I found she was still on the floor, but had managed to drag herself half across the room. Jesu knows what that cost her. A candle had been brought in and she was sprawled next to her chest, which was open. She had managed to take out a bundle of papers, which lay on her lap, with an inkwell and a quill. She was writing, sweating and wincing with the effort. She looked up at me. There was silence for a moment, and then she said, in a strange tone of determined merriment, “Goodman gaoler! You have found me at my letters.”

‘I laid the bowl of pottage close beside her, and in so doing saw what she had written: “
. . . then the lieutenant caused me to be loosed from the rack. Incontinently I swooned, and then they recovered me again . . .
”

‘I said, “That letter will not be allowed out, madam, it says too much.”

‘“A shame,” she said. “It contains the whole truth.”

‘I asked her if she would like me to feed her again, and she said she would. She leaned back against the chest, like a helpless child, while I fed her and wiped her chin. She told me I was a good man, and a Christian. I said I wished I could be. She said then, “Will you report what I have been writing to Sir Anthony Knevet?” I did not reply and she stared at me, her eyes full of pain but somehow – unrelenting. Then she said, “This is a record, an account, of my examinations since my first arrest last year. I wrote that last piece this afternoon, though my arms sore pain me. It is strange, they have never searched among my clothes, where this testament has been hidden.” She smiled again. “The King’s councillors will tear the strings and joints of a gentlewoman’s body, yet common gaolers hesitate to search her underclothes.”

‘“It is rare for a woman to be imprisoned there,” I said.

‘Then she touched my hand and said, “They will search the chest soon, without doubt, and will find this. You are the first to have seen it, I had not the strength to put it away quickly when your key turned in the door. My fate is in your hands, sir, and if you feel you must take my journal to Sir Anthony Knevet, then you must.” Those blue eyes, glinting in the candlelight, were fixed on mine. “But I ask you, as you seek salvation, to take my writings, now, and somehow get them published. That would make a mighty storm here. Do you think you can do that?”