Sovereign (75 page)

‘It is not important,’ I said with a smile. ‘Now, Master Leacon, why have you come to see me?’

‘Sir, you may think it an impertinence, after I arrested you, but —’

‘Your parents’ land case. Of course.’ I had forgotten all about it.

‘They are in London. And now I am dismissed, I have no money for a lawyer.’

‘I will see them. A promise is a promise. But I have been away two months, I need a few days to straighten my affairs. Bring your parents to my chambers next Wednesday. Have they their
papers with them?’

‘Yes, sir.’ His face relaxed with relief. ‘Thank you, sir. I knew you were a gentleman.’

I smiled wryly. ‘I shall have had a shave before then, I will look more presentable.’

‘I am grateful to you, Master Shardlake.’

‘Here is your sword.’ I looked out of the window. The rain was teeming down again. ‘I fear you will have a wet journey back.’

I watched him walk down my path from the little window by the front door. Dutiful soldier, I thought, dutiful son. Surely Leacon had nothing to do with any of what had happened. But what of
Maleverer? Bad judgement? Or had he shut Broderick’s mouth to stop him naming him as connected to the conspiracy? Did he have the papers? Yet Maleverer could not have struck me down at
King’s Manor – he had been away.

I climbed the stairs again to Giles’s room. He was asleep but as I came in he stirred and opened his eyes.

‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘I sleep too much.’ He heaved himself into a sitting position. ‘I shall get up for supper this evening.’

‘Guy said you should have a few more days in bed.’

He laughed. ‘I shall take root here.’ He looked at me. ‘You still look tired yourself.’

‘I am. I have just had a visitor. Young Leacon. He seeks my help on a legal matter.’

Wrenne raised his eyebrows. ‘After arresting you on the wharf? I would have sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

I sighed. ‘I promised him help in York. And as I told him, a promise is a promise.’

‘That is true,’ he said emphatically. ‘There is nothing more important.’ He looked at me. ‘Unless you are the King, who breaks them all the time.’

‘Ay,’ I answered inattentively.

‘You seem preoccupied, Matthew.’

‘I am sorry. Only I still wonder who really attacked me at King’s Manor, and helped Broderick die. Who is it who has been scurrying and slipping through our midst all this time? And
if the person was on the boat, he is in London now.’

‘Do you think you could be in danger?’ Giles asked.

I shook my head. ‘No. If I was, something would have happened long before now.’ I gave him a wry smile. ‘I should forget about it. I have told Cranmer I want only to live
quietly as a lawyer from now on.’

‘ ’Tis a sensible policy these days.’

‘For the rest of my life. Barak feels the same.’

‘A lawyer’s life is a good one,’ Wrenne said. ‘I found it so.’ He sighed deeply. ‘But that is over, now I must find my nephew, make my dispositions. I shall
go to Gray’s Inn, perhaps not tomorrow but the next day.’ He leaned back on his pillow and his eyes closed. I thought, he is still weak, is he fit even to go up Chancery Lane to
Gray’s Inn?

I thought again about Bernard Locke’s strange words to me in the Tower. He had said Martin Dakin was no conspirator, and he was safe. But if he was not a conspirator, what had Locke meant
by safe? I decided I would go to Gray’s Inn tomorrow, seek Martin Dakin out.

B
ARAK AND
T
AMASIN
returned in the afternoon. Barak came to my room where I was resting. He looked
exhausted.

‘I haven’t been able to lay hold of my mate on Cheap-side,’ he said. ‘He’s on a job out of town. He won’t be back till tomorrow.’

I put a hand to my sore jaw. I must visit Guy soon, have it looked at. ‘Not breaking into a house, I hope.’

‘No. He’s a locksmith, as it happens. Fitting locks for a new house in the country. Why d’you always assume all my contacts are criminals?’

‘I am sorry.’ I pulled back my sleeve, displaying the rusty manacle. ‘I’ve put some grease on it to ease the chafing, but it stinks and makes my shirt messy. I
won’t feel properly free of the Tower till this thing is off.’

‘I’ll try him again tomorrow. I was told he would be back then.’

‘Thank you.’ I looked at his tired face, his wet hair. Outside it was still raining. ‘Did Tamasin go to Whitehall?’

‘Yes. She was told there were to be rearrangements in the Queen’s household, she should go back in a few days.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘She is afraid to return, given
that questions are being asked of the Queen’s ladies.’

‘Not the servants, like Tamasin?’

‘No, but she fears it may come to that, considers it better just to melt away into the background. I think she’s right.’

‘But she will lose the chance of getting a job in the household. The best-paid work in the land for a servant.’

He shrugged. ‘She’s afraid, especially after seeing what they did to you. She’ll find something else. And she still has a little of her grandmother’s money left, she
says.’

‘That has lasted her well.’

‘Ay.’ He sighed. ‘I spoke with my old mate.’

‘Any luck?’

He frowned. ‘Seems there’s a possible candidate. I’ve got to go back tomorrow.’

‘Who?’

‘He wouldn’t say. But I was told he is a professional man, whatever that might mean.’ He broke off at a knock on the door. Tamasin came in.

‘I am sorry you have lost your place, Tamasin,’ I said gently.

‘Yes.’ She stood there, looking exhausted.

‘Stay a few days longer,’ I said. ‘Both of you. Until – well, until things are clearer. Perhaps you may find work at court again.’

‘When the Queen is dead?’ She spoke in a bitter tone I had never heard. ‘Perhaps to be a servant in the household of a new Queen, watching to see how long she will last, what
secrets I may accidentally hear that could get me into trouble?’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘No, I will never go back to work there, whatever they pay.’

‘All right, Tammy,’ Barak said, but she went on.

‘They say at Whitehall Lady Rochford has gone mad in the Tower, screams and raves and can make no sensible answer. The poor Queen is held at Hampton Court, Jesu knows what state she is in.
Still, a woman must smile and be cheerful, must she not?’ She twisted her face into a parody of a girlish smile, then turned and ran from the room.

T
HAT EVENING
Giles and I dined quietly in the parlour, listening to the rain buffeting down outside. Barak had been with Tamasin in her room all
afternoon. Joan’s face had been sour but I was past caring.

It was Giles’s first meal out of bed and he seemed better. I told him about the state of the orchard and he agreed I ought to go to the Inn Treasurer the next day. ‘Otherwise they
will say you did not give them proper notice if your garden does flood.’ He smiled. ‘You know what lawyers are like.’

‘You are right. I want them to dig a trench halfway down that slope, to catch the water. It should be done now, this rain seems never-ending.’ I sighed. ‘And it is time I
showed my face.’

N
EXT MORNING
I rose early and, after breakfast, made ready to walk to Lincoln’s Inn. Tamasin and Barak had gone out together, Tamasin to look for a
room, Barak to find the lockpicker – and to find out about Tamasin’s father. It had stopped raining for now but there were pools of water everywhere in Chancery Lane, and slippery
clumps of wet leaves in the muddy roadway. I picked my way along carefully. There was a cold wind too; winter was truly begun. There was a barber in Chancery Lane and I decided to take advantage of
his services first, to make myself look presentable. I sat in his chair, conscious of that damned manacle still on my wrist, which I did my best to hide under my sleeve. His conversation was of the
strange doings at Hampton Court. Rumours were flying around now, that the Queen had been arrested, that she had been found to be a spy, or in bed with everyone from a scullery boy to Cranmer
himself. The barber retold these gems of gossip with relish. ‘ ’Tis like the days of Anne Bullen again,’ he said cheerfully. I told him I was sure it was all untrue, then went on
to Lincoln’s Inn.

It felt strange to pass under the Great Gate again, to see the solid red-brick buildings of Gatehouse Court, the barristers passing to and fro. Acquaintances nodded to me as I made my way to the
Treasurer’s office, but I was eager to press on and conclude my business. As the Treasurer disclaimed all responsibility for the flood at first, I sharply reminded him of the laws of nuisance
and before I left I had the promise that a trench would be dug on the morrow. I returned to my chambers feeling slightly more cheerful.

Two solicitors were passing by; they paused and eyed me curiously. I frowned; my hand was in the pocket of my robe, the manacle well hidden.

My clerk Skelly was busy at his desk. He greeted me with a genuine enthusiasm that disarmed me, his eyes shining behind his glasses. ‘I have prayed for you, sir,’ he said. ‘Out
among those wild heathens. And now you are returned to us. But your face is swollen, sir.’

‘A bad tooth,’ I said. And indeed it was throbbing again. So at least rumours about my imprisonment had not reached Lincoln’s Inn. They would soon enough, though. ‘How is
the work?’ I asked. I had parcelled my cases out among barristers I knew and trusted to deal with while I was away.

‘No real problems, sir. Brother Hennessy won in
Re. Cropper
last week.’

‘Did he? Good.’ I paused. ‘I have heard there have been officials from the Privy Council at the Inns, making enquiries to do with the spring conspiracy.’

‘Not here, sir.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe up at Gray’s Inn.’

I
T WAS EARLY AFTERNOON
before I brought myself up to date. Yes, I thought, there is enough business here for me to pick up and be quite busy. And the
payment Cranmer had promised would mean I could clear the debt on my father’s estate. There was a letter waiting from the mortgagee asking when he would be paid, and I wrote a terse reply
saying he would not have to wait long. Then I went over to the dining hall for lunch.

I had decided I would walk up to Gray’s Inn that afternoon, and over my meal I thought more about Martin Dakin. What if he spurned the idea of mending his quarrel with Giles, as he might,
given what family quarrels can be like. Again I wondered if my concern for the old man was linked to my guilty feeling that I had let my father down. But no, I thought, this is the only right thing
to do.

As I walked to the gate I saw Bealknap approaching from his chambers. I wondered if he had seen me from his window. ‘Brother Shardlake!’ He greeted me cheerfully. ‘I hear you
have had some adventures since we last met – some trouble with His Majesty at York, was it not? And a sojourn in the Tower.’ His eyes went to my right hand, where the damned manacle had
slipped down and was visible. ‘Goodness me,’ he said mildly.

‘My time in the Tower is not generally known about yet. Richard Rich told you, no doubt. He had me put there.’

‘Your face is swollen, Master Shardlake,’ Bealknap said with fake concern. I had a sudden memory of the torture chamber, the crack as the tooth was broken off, the terror. I blinked,
then glared at my opponent. His eyes slid away from meeting mine.