Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (80 page)

‘I am still trying to discover who put that item on the council agenda. But I make no progress, and Paget is as close-mouthed as any man can be.’

‘He was fair at the council,’ I observed. ‘He seemed genuinely concerned to find the truth or otherwise of the allegations.’

‘Ay, perhaps.’ Lord Parr sighed deeply. ‘I am getting too tired for all this. After the admiral leaves next week the King and Queen are going on a short Progress to Guildford, so I must move these old bones yet again.’ He looked out over the river for a moment, then spoke quietly. ‘The King is taking none of the traditionalist councillors with him, not Gardiner, nor Wriothesley, nor Norfolk. Lord Hertford and Lord Lisle, though, will be accompanying him.’ He looked at me, a keenness now in his bloodshot eyes. ‘The tide is shifting fast in our favour. The King has not seen Bertano again; he is cooling his heels somewhere in London. Rumours are beginning to spread of a papal emissary here. And if I can prove that Rich has been playing some double game, perhaps seeking to damage the Queen through you, it will anger the King, and help the Queen. And the Parr family,’ he added. ‘But before I do anything with that man Stice, I must know more. No sign of those others, I take it, the men who killed Greening?’

‘Daniels and Cardmaker? No, the printer Okedene saw them about the town, but I have not.’

‘Who did they take the Queen’s book for? Not Rich, I am sure, he would have used the
Lamentation
at once.’

‘Could its release still harm the Queen?’

‘I think so.’ He paused, then made a fist with his bony hand. He shook his head. ‘It is her hiding the book from him that would anger him most, I know.’

‘The disloyalty, rather than the
Lamentation
’s theology?’

‘Exactly. Though her stress on salvation by faith alone would hardly help. And the King’s illness makes him all the more unpredictable. One never knows how he may turn, or in what direction.’ For a second Lord Parr seemed to sway, and I put out a hand. But he righted himself, taking a deep breath. ‘Give me a few days, Master Shardlake, to try and worm out some more information. And I will have a watch set on that house where Stice meets your steward.’ He turned, and we walked back to our horses.

‘I will contact you soon,’ Lord Parr said after we had mounted. ‘Keep that steward safe. Is he well frightened?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good.’ As I turned away he said, ‘I almost forgot. The Queen sends you her best wishes.’

I
RODE SLOWLY BACK
to the city. I had not gone far, though, when another horseman pulled up beside me. To my surprise I saw it was young William Cecil, his face serious as usual.

‘Brother Cecil. I had not thought to see you again so soon.’ I allowed a note of reproach to enter my voice. He had been of great help earlier, but now Lord Parr must feel his absence greatly.

‘Brother Shardlake.’ His thin lips set slightly at my tone.

‘How goes your service with Lord Hertford?’

‘Well, thank you.’ He hesitated. ‘His secretary retires soon, it is possible I will take his place.’

I inclined my head. ‘You made a good move, then.’

He pulled his horse to a halt, and I, too, stopped. The young lawyer looked at me squarely, fixing me with those large, keen blue eyes. ‘Brother Shardlake, I was sorry to leave the Queen’s service. But an offer of serious advancement came and I had to take it.’

‘As men do.’

‘Also, I confess, after that turmoil on the wharf, I did some serious thinking. About what I am – and am not – capable of. I am not a fighting man, and I have a young family to consider. My talents, such as they are, are best put to use behind a desk. Where,’ he added, ‘I can serve the cause of reform. Believe me, I am sincere in that, as in my continued love and respect for the Queen.’

I dared to say, ‘But your first loyalty now is to the Seymours, not the Parrs.’

‘Both families serve reform. And I followed you today, Brother Shardlake, to tell you something I thought you should know. Lord Parr’s health is failing. I did not know how ill he was when I left, but my purpose now is to tell you that if your involvement in the Queen’s matters continues – and I know you have appeared before the Privy Council – you must rely on your own judgement as well as his.’ He looked at me earnestly.

‘I saw just now that he was not well,’ I said quietly.

‘And under pressure, with all this – ’ Cecil cast an arm behind him at the disappearing cavalcade. ‘He has much to do at Hampton Court, the Queen is to play a prominent role at the ceremonies there.’

‘I know. I will be attending tomorrow.’

There was no need for him to have ridden up to me to tell me this. ‘Thank you, Brother Cecil,’ I said.

‘If I hear anything that may be of use to you or the Queen, I will tell you.’

‘What do you think has happened to the Queen’s book?’

‘Lord Parr thinks it destroyed,’ Cecil said.

‘Do you?’

‘I do not know. Only that the moment for the conservatives to use it to maximum advantage has passed. The wind is blowing fast in the other direction now. Perhaps whoever took it realized that and destroyed it.’ He shook his head. ‘But likely we shall never know.’

We rode on, talking of the ceremonies and the autumn Progress that was to begin afterwards, apparently going only to Guildford for a couple of weeks because of the King’s health. We parted at the foot of Chancery Lane. ‘This mystery is not yet unravelled,’ I said. ‘If you do hear anything, please inform me.’

‘I will, I swear.’

As I rode down Chancery Lane I thought, yes, you will, but only so long as it serves the Seymours as well as the Parrs.

Chapter Forty-seven

I
TURNED INTO MY HOUSE
, aware of the sweat stiffening on my forehead under my coif, and rode round to the stable. Now I would speak to Timothy. But the boy was not there; Martin or Agnes must have set him some task around the house. I dismounted wearily, removed my cap and coif, and went indoors.

Immediately I heard the sound of a woman crying in the kitchen; desperate, racked sobbing. I realized it was Agnes Brocket. Josephine murmured something and I heard Martin say in loud, angry tones, ‘God’s bones, girl, will you leave us alone! Don’t stare at me with those cow eyes, you stupid creature! Get out!’

Josephine stepped into the hall, her cheeks burning. I said quietly, ‘What is happening?’

‘Oh, sir, Master and Mistress Brocket – ’ She broke off as Martin stepped out, having heard my voice. His square face was angry. But he pulled himself together and asked quietly, ‘May I speak with you, sir?’

I nodded. ‘Come to the parlour.’

When the door was closed I said, ‘What is it, Martin? You have not told Agnes about your spying?’

‘No! No!’ He shook his head impatiently, then said more quietly, ‘It is our son.’

‘John?’

‘We have had a letter from the gaoler at Leicester. John has another sickness of the lungs, a congestion. They called a doctor and he said he is like to die. Sir, we must go to him. Agnes insists we leave today.’

I looked at him. I realized from the desperation in his eyes that, whatever the consequences, Agnes would go to her son. And Martin, who for all his faults loved his wife, would go, too. ‘When was the letter sent?’ I asked.

‘Three days ago.’ Brocket shook his head despairingly. ‘It may be too late already. That would kill Agnes.’ When I did not reply he said, suddenly defiant, ‘You cannot stop us. You may do what you like. Give me bad references, spread the word round London about what I did. Tell the Queen’s people. It makes no difference, we are going today.’

I said, ‘I am sorry this has happened to you.’

He did not reply, just continued staring at me with that desperate look. I considered, then said quietly, ‘I will make a bargain with you, Martin Brocket. Take one more message to that tavern, now, saying you have important news and will be at the house in Smithfield at nine tomorrow night.’

He took a deep breath. ‘We go today,’ he repeated, an edge to his voice now.

‘I do not expect you to keep the appointment. Others will do that. But to set the wheels in motion you must deliver the message, in your writing, in person.’

‘And in return?’ he asked, suddenly bold.

‘In return, I will give you a reference praising your household skills and diligence. But I will not say you are a trustworthy man, for you are not.’

‘I was honest all my life,’ Martin replied, a tremble in his voice, ‘until John’s actions brought me to this.’ Then he added spitefully, ‘I might not even have agreed to play the spy but for the fact I never respected you, Master Hunch – ’ He broke off, realizing he was about to go too far.

I answered quietly, ‘Nor did I respect you, Martin, proud, narrow man that you are. With a wife too good for him.’

He clenched his fists. ‘At least I have one.’

In the silence that followed I heard Agnes sobbing uncontrollably again. Martin winced. I spoke quietly. ‘Come to my study. Write me that note and deliver it. While you are gone I will compose a reference. I will give it to you when you return. Then you can get out.’

I
N THE STUDY
I
THOUGHT
, what is sure to bring Stice, and perhaps Rich, to that house? I told Martin to write ‘
I have urgent news concerning the visit of an Italian gentleman
’. There, that would do: Lord Parr had told me that rumours of Bertano’s presence were starting to leak out. Rich would be keenly interested. I had Martin add: ‘
Please make sure we are alone. It is all most confidential
.’

When the note was written and I had gone over it, Martin left for the tavern; I wrote out a reference for him in ill conscience. I wondered whether he might throw the note away and not deliver it, but before he left I warned him again that very senior people were involved in this, and oddly I also felt that his pride would ensure that he honoured this last promise. Josephine took Agnes upstairs to pack. I stood at my parlour window, looking out on the sunny lawn, full of sad thoughts. A wife. I would have wished the Queen for a wife. I wondered whether perhaps I was a little mad, like poor Isabel.

There was a knock at the door. Agnes Brocket entered, her face weary and tear-stained. ‘Martin has told you our news, sir?’

‘About John? Yes. I am sorry.’

‘Thank you for letting us go, sir. We will return as soon as we can. Martin has gone out on a last piece of business.’ She smiled wanly.

So Martin had not told his wife they would not be returning. No doubt he would make up some story later. Poor Agnes, so honest and hard-working, so full of goodwill. Her son in prison, her husband’s deceits kept from her. I said gently, ‘I have been looking out at my garden. You have done much good work there, and in the house.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ She took a deep breath, then said, ‘My husband, I know he is not always easy, but it is I who insisted we must go to John today – the fault is all mine.’

‘No fault to want to see your son.’ I reached for my purse which I had put on the desk. ‘Here, take some money, you will need it on the journey.’ I gave her a half-sovereign. She clutched it tightly and lowered her head. Then, with a desperate effort at her old cheerfulness, she said, ‘Make sure Timothy and Josephine stay out of mischief, sir.’

I waited till Martin returned and confirmed he had delivered the message. I gave him the reference. I did not want to watch them leave, so I left the house again and walked to Lincoln’s Inn. I needed to speak to Barak and Nicholas and take their counsel.