Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (51 page)

Lord Parr shook his head. ‘We may know the limits of Rich’s involvement, but someone else who bears the Queen ill will at the court could still be hiding the book, and could have employed one of the group as a spy.’ He shook his head again. ‘If so it would almost certainly be a member of the Privy Council, I am sure. But which one? And where is the book now?’

‘We still have no idea,’ Cecil said.

Lord Parr took a deep breath. ‘All right. Shardlake, you liaise with Rich via this man Stice. You and Cecil can work with his people on trying to find the missing men, and keeping an eye on the docks.’ He bent forward and scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘These are our men at the customs house there. Give this to Stice, and get the names of their agents in return. Our men know only that we are looking for someone trying to smuggle out some writings.’

Cecil looked uneasy. ‘There are murderers involved. There could be trouble. We may have to deal with the missing men if they try to escape, and if Stice calls on us we shall need help. We may have to deal with more of Rich’s people, too, if the
Lamentation
is found. How many fit young men do you have?’

‘There are four in my household whom I would trust with this,’ Parr said. ‘Though naturally I will tell them nothing about the
Lamentation
.’

The Queen said, ‘I would have no violence.’

‘There may be no alternative, niece,’ Lord Parr answered sadly. ‘Shardlake and Cecil may need to defend themselves, and should have help available.’ He looked at me closely. ‘How much does your man Barak know?’

‘All of it now.’ Lord Parr raised his eyebrows. ‘I had to tell him,’ I explained, ‘when I asked him to watch for me at Needlepin Lane.’

He considered, then said, ‘Then we can use him. And what of your pupil who was kidnapped?’

‘He knows only a little. He has shown himself courageous, but he is very young. And Barak has responsibilities. I would not wish to put either into any further danger.’

‘Do they want to help?’

I hesitated. ‘Yes. They are good men.’

‘Then we need them.’

Cecil asked, ‘I know of Barak, but this boy, this –’

‘Nicholas –’

‘Is he truly fit to be trusted with this? To whom does he owe his loyalties?’

I considered. ‘Nobody other than me, I think.’

‘Would you vouch for him on that basis?’

‘Yes, certainly.’

‘What of his background? His religious loyalties?’

‘He is of Lincolnshire gentry stock. He has no links to anyone at court. As for religion, he told me once he wishes only to worship as the King requires, and believes others should be allowed liberty of conscience.’

‘Even papists?’ There was a hint of disapproval in Cecil’s voice now.

‘He said only that. I do not see it as my place to interrogate my servants as to their religious views.’

Lord Parr fixed me with his eyes, bloodshot and tired now, but still keen. Then he came to a decision. ‘Include the boy,’ he said. ‘Tell him the story. He has shown himself useful. But this is a new responsibility; make him swear that he will keep knowledge of the Queen’s book secret. Barak as well.’

‘This Nicholas sounds like a boy of little faith,’ the Queen said sadly.

I replied with an unaccustomed boldness. ‘As I said, your majesty, I have not sought to weigh his soul. I do not have the right. Nor, in fact,’ I continued, ‘do I have the right to involve him, or Barak, in more danger.’

She coloured slightly. Lord Parr frowned and opened his mouth to reprove me, but the Queen interrupted. ‘No. Matthew has the right to speak. But – if he and Cecil are to do this, surely there is safety in numbers.’ She looked at me. Slowly and reluctantly, I nodded agreement.

Lord Parr spoke brusquely. ‘So. Rich knows the heresy hunt is over but believes the reformers have not yet won. The Queen’s brother was at the Privy Council meeting today; he tells me that Gardiner and Wriothesley and Paget were whispering together again in corners. He heard them muttering about someone who was about to arrive in London.’

‘This Bertano, whose name ever haunts us?’ I asked keenly.

‘We’ve no idea,’ Lord Parr answered impatiently. ‘But if Paget knows, the King knows. He turned to his niece. ‘Did his majesty say anything to you tonight of this?’

The Queen frowned at her uncle. ‘He spoke only of the preparation for Admiral d’Annebault’s visit. Then we had the players in, and I sang to him. He was in much pain from his leg.’ She looked away. The Queen hated reporting on what the King had said. But these last months she had needed allies.

Lord Parr stood. ‘Very well, Shardlake. Get a message to Rich. Cecil will talk to our people at the customs house. And now I must go to bed.’

He bowed to the Queen. ‘Thank you, Uncle,’ she said quietly. ‘And you, Master Cecil. Master Shardlake, stay. I would talk with you. We can walk a little in my gallery. Mary Odell can accompany us.’ A bitter little smile. ‘It is always safest for me to have a chaperone when I talk alone with any man not my relative.’ Lord Parr gave me a sharp look; I knew he would rather any confidences went through him. Nonetheless he and Cecil left us, bowing deeply to the Queen. As he opened the door I saw Mary Odell and the Queen’s sister still waiting outside. The Queen went out and spoke to them for a moment, leaving me alone in the room. Then she returned and said, ‘Come with us.’

I stepped outside. Lady Herbert had gone but Mary Odell remained. The Queen spoke quietly. ‘You remember Mary, Matthew. You asked her some questions last week.’

‘Indeed. God give you good evening, mistress. Your information was most helpful.’

Mary Odell nodded. Her plump face was serious; those who served the Queen as closely as she would have divined that a new danger was afoot.

The Queen led us down the corridor, past her privy lodgings, through a door to a large vestibule where two or three guards stood at each of the four doors leading from it. They saluted the Queen as she walked to the door opposite. The guards opened it, and we passed through into a beautiful gallery, perhaps two hundred feet long, dark but for a view of the river from the long glass windows on one side. One guard took a torch from a bracket in the vestibule and at a signal from Mary Odell hurried down the gallery, lighting the sconces of candles standing at intervals on tables covered with colourful turkey-cloths. I looked around as the details of the gallery became dimly visible: the roof beautifully decorated in blue and gold, paintings of biblical and classical scenes lining the walls, occasional tapestries flashing with cloth-of-gold thread. At intervals large birdcages stood on poles, cloth over the cages for the night. The guard bowed and left. The Queen let out a long breath and visibly relaxed. She turned to Mary Odell.

‘Walk a little behind us, Mary. There is something I would discuss with Master Shardlake.’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

We walked slowly down the gallery. There were alcoves at intervals, each filled with rare treasures displayed on tables or stone columns: a box of gold and silver coins of strange design, stones and minerals in many colours, and several ornate clocks, their ticking an accompaniment to our progress. The Queen stopped at a desk where there was an open book and some sheets of paper with notes in her handwriting. I stared at it and she gave me a sad smile. ‘Do not worry, Matthew. I am learning Spanish, it is a diversion, and useful for diplomatic meetings. These are only my notes.’ She looked round the gallery. ‘This is my favourite place in this palace. Where I can walk undisturbed, and rest my eyes on its treasures.’

‘There is much beauty here.’

‘The clocks remind me that however frantically courtiers plot and plan beyond these doors, time ticks by regardless.’ She looked at me directly with her hazel eyes. ‘Taking us to our judgement.’

Nearby a bird stirred and cheeped, woken by the noise. The Queen went over and lifted the cover of its cage; a pretty yellow canary-bird looked out at us between the bars. ‘A shame to see it caged,’ I dared to say.

The Queen looked at it. ‘We are all caged, Matthew, in the prison of this earthly world.’

I did not answer. She said, ‘I wish you would seek salvation, Matthew. I feel sure God must call to you.’

‘I do not hear Him, your majesty.’ I hesitated. ‘I have recently become acquainted with another lawyer, a man called Philip. He is what would be called a radical. A good man. Yet in some ways – blinkered.’

‘Is it blinkered to seek faith, to have faith?’

‘Perhaps I am too cross-grained, too contrary, to know faith as you and he would understand it.’ I asked quietly, ‘Does that mean, do you think, that I am damned?’

Taken by surprise, she stood still, her face pale in the candlelight. Then she answered me softly. ‘Only God can answer such questions in the end. But He holds out the joys of true faith, for those who would take them.’

‘Does He?’ I asked. ‘I cannot help but wonder.’

‘Then why are you doing this for me? I ask more and more of you. It puts you and those you care for in great danger. I saw just now how concerned you are for those men who work for you.’

‘I am. But Nicholas is young and adventurous, and Barak – ’ I sighed. ‘Well, he is no longer young, but he is still adventurous, despite himself.’

She looked at me closely. ‘Are you doing all this because it is I who ask?’

‘For you, and the loyalty I owe you,’ I answered quietly. ‘And because I hope that if your side wins people may be allowed some liberty of conscience and belief; that apprentices and young gentlewomen and aged clerics will not be burned alive at the stake for their private beliefs, while men like Rich and Gardiner look on.’

She lowered her gaze. After a moment she whispered, ‘You mean when my husband is dead?’

I answered, the words suddenly rushing from me, ‘The people are sore afraid, your majesty. Afraid that any belief they hold may be approved one month, but the next may send them to the stake. It drives them to a careful, fearful orthodoxy which, whatever it is, is not faith. All fear the prison and the fire,’ I added quietly.

‘I fear it, too,’ she replied. ‘Sometimes these last months I have been so convulsed with terror I have scarce been able to rise from my bed, let alone converse and behave as the Queen must.’ She shuddered.

I would have dearly liked to touch her then, to comfort her, but that I dared not do. We stood in silence for a moment, opposite a great ornate fireplace where carved heraldic beasts sported above the empty grate. A few yards off Mary Odell waited, hands held before her demurely.

At length the Queen drew a deep breath. ‘My family hope that one day I may be Regent for Prince Edward,’ she said quietly. ‘If that happens there will be no burnings, no persecutions. The rules governing the church would change, and there would be no capital penalties.’ She smiled sardonically. ‘But the Seymours, as the King’s uncles, believe they have a better claim. Although they too, I am sure, would want to lighten the severity of the law. For the moment we stand together against Gardiner and his people, but the future – it is in God’s hands.’ She added, passion in her voice now, ‘That is my comfort, that it is in His hands. Our duty is to be His handmaidens on this poor sorry earth.’ She lowered her head again. ‘But it is a duty I failed in when, out of pride, I kept that book despite the Archbishop’s advice.’

‘And my duty is to recover a piece of property stolen from a most noble lady, and bring a pair of murderers to book. That is all I can promise, your majesty. I cannot promise to undertake a quest for faith.’

‘It is more than most would do for me.’ The Queen smiled, then raised a hand impulsively, as though to touch my arm, but let it fall. When she spoke again her tone was level, even a little formal. ‘The hour is very late, Matthew. Mary can arrange a room for you in the outer lodgings, then you can leave tomorrow morning. I know you have much to do.’

I
WAS FOUND A PLACE
near the gate, in a large room with rush matting and a comfortable bed. I slept well and woke late; the sun was already high in the sky and I heard people talking in the wide courtyard outside. It was Sunday and church bells sounded both within the palace grounds and beyond the precinct. I remembered that Bealknap’s funeral had taken place yesterday; I had forgotten about it. I wondered if any mourners had gone. And as for Bealknap’s strange deathbed gloating, perhaps that mystery had died with him, too.

I dressed hurriedly – I had a message to get to Stice, and I also wanted to talk to Nicholas. As I left the lodgings I saw people had gathered round three sides of the courtyard, facing the King’s Guard Chamber. Servants, courtiers, officials, all seemed to be congregating there. I saw William Cecil a little way off and shouldered my way through the crowd to greet him.

‘Brother Shardlake?’ he said. ‘You have been here all night?’

‘Yes. I was given lodgings as it was so late.’

‘I often need to spend the night here, too. But I miss my wife and children.’ He smiled sadly, then looked at me speculatively. ‘You spoke with the Queen?’

‘Yes. Mainly of religion.’

‘She would have all see the light which she has seen.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ I changed the subject. ‘It seems, Master Cecil, that we shall be working closely, perhaps even facing danger together.’