Sovereign (33 page)

‘Jesu,’ I said.

‘The Progress at camp. It was my idea to make this belltower a watching place, the officials and captains can come up here from time to time to see what is going on. Though thank God I am
responsible only for the courtiers’ and gentlemen’s accommodation, not all this.’

‘Such organization,’ I said quietly. ‘It is a marvel. Somehow terrifying.’

He nodded slowly, the sun catching the wrinkles in his plump face. ‘The Royal household has been organizing progresses for years, of course. Armies too, for this is an army as well. But to
have done all this in weeks! It cost much effort. And money,’ he added, raising his eyebrows. ‘You have no idea how much money.’

I looked at the rows and rows of carts. ‘It astounded me this morning, how much was being carried.’

‘Oh, yes. All the tents, for there have been country places along the way where even privy councillors have had to make do with canvas. And a thousand other things, from stores of food and
fodder to the Privy Council records and the King’s greyhounds for when he goes hunting.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘And extra weapons, in case there was trouble in the north and
the carriers and drivers had to be pressed as soldiers.’

I pointed to a row of gaily coloured tents a little distance apart from the others, where a straggling queue was waiting. ‘What is happening there?’

Craike flushed and cleared his throat. ‘Those are the – er – followers.’

‘The what?’

‘The whores.’

‘Ah.’

‘Only single men have come on the Progress, apart from the noblewomen and the Queen’s household. We could not let the men run amuck in the towns along the way. So necessity meant
–’ He shrugged. ‘It is not pleasant. Most of these queans were picked in London and carefully examined, for we did not want to spread the French pox across the land. You can
imagine what a state some of them are in by now.’

‘Ah well, men have their needs.’

‘Yes, they do. But I am not used to dealing with such a rabble as the Royal Household’s servants. You should see them on the road: insulting the villagers, getting drunk, shitting
wherever they list in the fields; they would have stolen everything in the carts if we did not have the soldiers. And their insolence – they blow their foul breath on the courtiers, claw
their cods in front of you.’ He shook his head. ‘The new learning has made common men arrogant.’ He turned to me, the sharpness back in his eyes. ‘But perhaps you have a
different view? I heard you became a supporter of reform.’

‘In the early days,’ I said. ‘I am nobody’s partisan now.’

Craike sighed. ‘Do you remember our student days, before Nan Boleyn turned the country upside down? Peaceful times, season following season at Lincoln’s Inn, the future as certain as
the past.’

‘One may view those times through rose-coloured spectacles,’ I said.

He inclined his head. ‘Perhaps. Yet they were better days. When I first went to work at court the old nobility still ruled. But now – these commoners, these new men. Cromwell has
gone but there are so many others.’

‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘I saw Richard Rich earlier.’

I was surprised at his reaction to that name. He jerked away and stared at me with a scared, angry look. ‘You know Rich?’

‘As an adversary in the law. I have a case in London where he is backing my opponent.’

‘He is a serpent,’ Craike said with passion.

‘That he is.’ I waited for him to say more, but he changed the subject. ‘I meant to ask, is any more known of the person who attacked you in the manor?’

‘No.’ I looked at him keenly. ‘But he will be found.’

‘You may not know, security has been greatly increased since the attack on you. And people say poor Oldroyd’s death was not a natural one. That for some reason he was
murdered.’

‘Do they?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Those in charge of security are worried. On every progress checks are kept to weed out those who batten on to the household, pretend to be servants so they can steal food and other
trifles. But tonight I am told every man’s papers are being checked thoroughly, and anyone who is not authorized to be in camp is questioned, not merely turned out.’ He looked at me.
‘What is going on, sir?’

Is he fishing for information, I wondered. Yet he seemed genuinely puzzled. ‘I know nothing, Master Craike.’

‘It was frightening, being searched by Maleverer the day I found you.’

‘But you have nothing to fear. He let you go. Or have you been questioned again?’

‘No. Only – I did speak with Oldroyd, probably more than anyone else at St Mary’s.’ He sighed. ‘I confess when I was sent ahead of the Progress to York, to arrange
the accommodation, I was a little afraid of what the Yorkers would be like, we had heard such stories of them as savage rebels. And indeed they were very guarded with me, not friendly. But Master
Oldroyd seemed happy to talk. He was a friendly face, that was all.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I fear some may try to make more of it. Master Shardlake, you must have seen, beneath
the pomp everyone here, everyone, Yorkers and southrons, walks on eggshells. It makes one nervous.’

You are keeping something back, I thought, I smell it. I remembered Barak’s story of him going to a tavern in a poor part of town late at night.

‘I can understand it must have been lonely for you when you first came,’ I said.

‘It was. Master Oldroyd was someone to talk to.’

‘You will be glad when all this is over, I’ll warrant. To get back to your family in London. Seven children, eh?’

‘Ay. All alive and well by God’s grace. And their mother. My Jane.’ To my surprise, his face clouded. ‘Ah, she did not want me to come on the Progress.’ He fiddled
nervously with the buttons on his robe. ‘We have been away longer than was expected, and no one seems to know when we will be leaving York. I fear I will have a mighty tongue-lashing when I
return. Held four months in reserve.’ He laughed nervously. I realized the picture I had formed of his contented family life was perhaps wrong. I wondered whether to tackle him directly about
his visit to the tavern, then thought, no, that will put him on his guard. I will go there with Barak.

‘Well, sir,’ I said. ‘It is growing dark. We should go back down while we can still see. Thank you, Master Craike, for showing me the camp. I think I shall go and look at
it.’

‘A pleasure, sir.’ He smiled, and led the way down.

I
WALKED THROUGH
to the far end of the church. I saw a stream of people passing through the side-gate beside the church, which I had heard was called St
Olave’s; like me no doubt going to look at the great camp. I felt reluctant to face the crowds, some among them must have been at Fulford. A little way off I saw a big copper beech, the grass
underneath thick with dark purple leaves. There was a bench set against the trunk and I went over and sat down. The sun was setting now and it was a dim, shadowed spot. I watched the people passing
in and out of the gate, listening to the ticking sound of the leaves falling around me.

My thoughts returned to Fulford. They had been circling round it all afternoon and now they went back to the scene as a dog will return to its vomit. Had I really gone chalk-white, had I really
given the Queen a look of desperate appeal? I wondered what it must be like for that girl, married to that gross old man with his stinking leg. I remembered the King’s eyes, cruel as
Radwinter’s. And that was the King of England, the man Cranmer believed had been appointed by God himself as guardian of our souls. We had all learned, from childhood, to see the monarch as
no ordinary mortal man, and in recent years as a sort of demigod. I had never believed that; but nor had I believed that the cloak of majesty covered such physical and moral ugliness. Surely others
must see it too; or were they dizzied by the panoply, his power? I wondered what Giles had made of the meeting, Giles whom the King had called a fine fellow in contrast to me. I thought again that
I would have expected him to wait, give me some comfort. I had not thought he was one to disappear and avoid embarrassment.

‘There you are. Thank heaven.’

I looked up to see Barak standing in front of me.

‘Yes, here I am. I fear I have been thinking treasonous thoughts.’

‘Is it safe to be out alone?’

‘I have been in no mood to care. Did you hear what happened at Fulford?’

‘Ay. That fellow Cowfold was in the lodging house when I went there just now, making a great joke of it.’

‘I gave him a few choice words earlier. Probably a mistake.’

‘I told him if he didn’t shut his mouth I’d bang his head against the wall till it was soft as a baked apple. I think I’ve shut him up.’

I smiled then. ‘Thank you.’ I noticed Barak’s face was anxious. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Ay, it is. I have been looking all over this damned place for you. Maleverer wants to see us both, at King’s Manor.’

‘Oh.’ Suddenly my head was clear, my self-indulgent gloom chased away.

‘A representative of the Privy Council is there. He wants to talk to us about the missing papers. Now.’

W
E STOOD AGAIN
before Maleverer’s desk. A pair of guards had escorted us through King’s Manor, where richly
dressed servants and officials walked in decorous silence. The King and Queen would be upstairs now, in the royal apartments. I remembered the men that morning, labouring to get the King’s
giant mattress upstairs.

Maleverer sat behind his desk, dressed in a red silk doublet, a chain of office round his neck. He motioned Barak and me to stand before his desk and sat surveying us.

‘Well, sir lawyer, I told you the Privy Council would be sending someone to talk to you.’ He smiled evilly as footsteps were audible outside. ‘You will be interested to see
whom they have sent.’

I did not reply. There was a peremptory knock at the door. Maleverer stood up and in the instant before he bowed deeply his expression was transformed from hulking bully to fawning courtier as
Sir Richard Rich, swathed in a magnificent beaver-lined robe of dark-green velvet, walked in.

‘Sir Richard. This is an honour. Please take my chair.’

‘Thank you, Sir William,’ Rich replied smoothly. He sat down, Maleverer taking up a respectful position beside him. Rich looked at me, his pale features puckering into an acid
smile.

‘Master Shardlake, my brother in the law. I saw you in York the other night. I know Master Shardlake, Sir William.’

‘He is a great nuisance,’ Maleverer said.

‘I know that well.’ Rich’s cold grey eyes scanned my face. ‘We had several – encounters – last year, and have another pending in Chancery.’

‘Indeed?’

‘But did you know, Sir William, the King did Brother Shardlake the honour of speaking to him this afternoon. Or at least, speaking
of
him.’

‘I gathered something had happened.’

‘It is the talk of all the law clerks. Brother Shardlake was appointed to present the gripes and whines of the York petitioners to His Majesty at Fulford Cross, together with a Yorker
lawyer —’

‘Old Wrenne.’

‘Is that his name? You should have seen Brother Shardlake and this Wrenne standing before the King. Wrenne is a very tall and straight old fellow, and from a distance they looked like some
proud old pensioner out with his bent crone of a wife.’ Rich laughed. ‘The King remarked they breed fine fellows in the north, finer than some of the creatures the south can
produce.’

Maleverer looked at me, then smiled. ‘His Majesty ever knew the value of a timely jest. That will have gone down well with the Yorkers.’

‘So it did. They stood there cackling with laughter.’

Maleverer gave me an evil grin. ‘You see, Master Shardlake, you have helped the King a little in bending the north to his will.’

I fought to keep my voice under control. ‘Then I am happier for it.’

Maleverer laughed. ‘Well answered, eh, Sir Richard?’

Rich grunted. ‘Sarcastically answered, if I know the mind of our friend.’ He made a steeple of his fingers and leaned forward. ‘But now, there are other matters on hand. Master
Shardlake, you had possession of a cache of papers – very important papers, more than you can know. And you let them be stolen. Sir William has told me what happened, but I want the story
from your own lips.’

‘Very well, Sir Richard.’

I told him of our visit to Oldroyd’s house, the discovery of the secret panel in the wall and the papers, and how I had been struck down. Rich frowned mightily when I told him how Barak
had tried to open the box.

‘You had no right to open that casket. Your duty was to leave it till Sir William returned.’

‘I am sorry, Sir Richard.’

‘And I,’ Barak said.

Rich snorted, then turned his gaze to Barak. ‘You seem to think you can still take liberties, you churl, as though Lord Cromwell were still alive. Well, he is not. You are a pair of
meddling fools.’ He frowned thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Who saw you bring the casket to King’s Manor?’

‘When we came into the house, Lady Rochford and her lady Mistress Marlin were with secretary Dereham. They looked over at us. My coat was dusty.’