Authors: C. J. Sansom
Inside a number of gentlemen were already waiting. They looked down their noses at our lawyer’s robes. Craike bowed to us. ‘I must get back, my staff will doubtless have messed up
the allocations. It is a nightmare.’ He turned and left.
‘Not the friendliest of men,’ Wrenne observed.
Barak, leaning on his crutch, grinned wickedly. ‘He has things on his mind.’
B
ARAK AND
I
HAD
a pleasant room at the back of the inn, Wrenne the one next to us. There was a fire, and a view over red-roofed
houses sloping down to the muddy banks of the smaller river. The rain had started again, large drops streaking the little diamond-paned window. Barak sat down on the bed with relief. I looked at my
panniers, unsure how much to unpack. Then I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. The door opened without a knock and Maleverer strode in. He looked around the room.
‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said sardonically. ‘I came to tell you Broderick is in Hull gaol. With Radwinter. One wing has been cleared of prisoners.’ He
ran his hand along the edge of his coal-black beard in that habitual gesture of his. ‘I have new orders about him from the Privy Council. We don’t know when we’ll get back to
London with this weather.’
‘There may be delay?’ I asked.
‘There may. So the King has ordered that Broderick is to be groped here in Hull. There’s a rack at Hull gaol. I’m supervising the racking myself.’
I had hoped, all this time, that somehow Broderick might escape what was coming to him. And now it would be done tomorrow.
‘He is weak,’ I said.
Maleverer shrugged. ‘It has to be done. We don’t think he knows exactly what was in that damned box of papers, but he may. And he may know the names of the London conspirators. We
always knew there were London lawyers at the heart of the conspiracy, but we’ve not been able to lay them by the heels.’ Maleverer cracked his fingers noisily. ‘So, we’ll
see what can be got out of him tomorrow. And meanwhile they’ll be getting information about Mistress Marlin’s mission from Bernard Locke, in the Tower.’
I looked into his heavy, heartless face. For him it was just a task, another job. He gave me another quick, harsh smile, then left. Barak looked at the closed door. ‘Jesu. He’s a
hard one. Hard as Lord Cromwell.’
I
SLEPT LITTLE
that night. I lay awake thinking of what was coming to Broderick, remembering his mocking accusations that I was keeping him alive for the
torturer. And for Bernard Locke it would have come already. Maleverer’s heartlessness made me shudder. In the small hours I got up, quietly so as not to wake Barak, who was snoring gently,
and crossed to the window. The night was pitch dark, a high wind hammering raindrops against the panes. I wondered if Broderick was awake in his cell, perhaps trying to steel himself for the rack.
A wet beech-leaf blew against the glass. Curled up on itself, it looked like an accusing finger.
M
ALEVERER CAME TO
the inn again after lunch. Once again Barak and Giles and I were playing cards. We were all in gloomy mood, for it was raining and
blowing hard as ever, a real autumn gale. The innkeeper had said it was unusual for the wind to blow strongly from the southeast in October; but as long as it did, we could not set sail.
‘Leave us,’ he said curtly to the others. ‘I would speak with Brother Shardlake alone.’
They went out. Maleverer threw himself into Barak’s chair. It creaked loudly. He gave me that cold smile.
‘You were right about Broderick,’ he said without preliminaries.
‘How?’
‘He was in a weak state. I could see that when they brought him in. I had a room set up in the gaol, the rack in a corner and irons heating in the fire, so he could see what was
coming.’ He spoke as though he were describing preparations for a dinner. ‘Radwinter brought him eagerly. Yet Broderick hardly looked at the implements, and when I said he’d feel
their bite and singe unless he talked he only urged me to get it over. He’s not short of courage.’ Maleverer compressed his lips. ‘So I did, I put him on the rack and because I
couldn’t trust any of the gaolers to hear what he might spill I sent them out, and Radwinter and I turned the wheels ourselves. Broderick was silent for a good minute, then he screamed and
passed out, fainted clean away.’ Maleverer shook his head. ‘It took us several minutes to rouse him. I was worried, and Radwinter suddenly turned nervous, he said we should
stop.’
‘He had a prisoner die from his attentions once,’ I said. ‘Archbishop Cranmer was not pleased with him.’
‘If Broderick died under my care before he talked, the King would have my balls.’ Maleverer looked at me hard. ‘What do you think is the matter with him?’
‘Weakness and exhaustion. From his imprisonment, the poisoning, then being stuck in that carriage for days.’
He grunted. ‘You were supposed to make sure he was in good health.’
‘I did all I could.’
‘Well, I’ll take care of him myself now so he’s in a better state when we get to the Tower. Feed him up. Radwinter won’t dare defy
me.
Your job there is
over.’
‘Archbishop Cranmer—’
‘My orders come from the Privy Council.’
‘I see.’ So that was it. My duties were over. I could wash my hands of Broderick. Like Pontius Pilate.
‘Sir William,’ I ventured. ‘Do you know how long we will be in Hull?’
For answer he nodded at the window. ‘There’s a boat waiting, and as well as Broderick there’s several officials who need to get back to London faster than they can ride. We
must wait till the weather clears, though, for we’d be no faster on the roads in this rain, especially with Broderick in a carriage.’ He glowered at the rain-spattered window.
‘May I still go on the boat?’ Now my escort duties were over there was no need for me to return to London quickly, but I desperately wanted to go home, and there were Giles and Barak
to think of. I thought he would refuse, and was surprised when he nodded.
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder, sir, when we go, might Master Wrenne go with us?’ I hesitated as I remembered an earlier promise. ‘And Mistress Reedbourne?’
He shrugged. ‘I care not. Talk to the Chamberlain’s office if you want. There are places, but the officials will want paying.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me till you’re safe in London,’ he said. There was something secret and mocking in his look as he went out. He left me feeling uneasy.
T
HE BAD WEATHER
continued. Often it was raining hard and even when it was dry a strong wind blew, sending clouds scudding
across the sky, always from the southeast. No boat could set out. We heard the King was visiting the mudflats on the other side of Hull river in pursuit of his idea of fortifying the city. He would
be wet and windblown; he cannot command the weather after all, I thought sourly.
We became bored, for all that the inn was comfortable. It was worst for Barak. Still limited in how far he could walk, he was morose and irritable, only cheering up when Tamasin called. Then,
from tact, I would leave the room and sit with Giles awhile. Since our talk in Leconfield Tamasin had been cold with me, and with Giles too; she seemed to blame us for Jennet Marlin’s death,
murderess though the woman had been. When Giles and I went to the Chamberlain’s office, he had paid a great deal of money to secure places on the boat for Tamasin and Barak as well as
ourselves, but although Barak had been effusively grateful, Tamasin had only thanked us in a cold voice.
Giles had taken to going for little walks around the town on the rare occasions when the weather was dry, and one evening as we sat in his room he told me what he had been doing. He had seemed
well for some time now; the restful life here was good for him, for all it bored us.
‘I have been getting to know some of the local lawyers,’ he said. ‘They live in a district down by the river. They even have a little library there.’
I looked up with interest. These last few days I had often wished I had something to read.
‘It isn’t up to much,’ Giles continued. ‘But they have a lot of old casebooks. I have been looking through them to pass the time. It is in one of the barrister’s
houses, other lawyers may use it for a small fee.’
‘Even the barrister’s opponents?’
‘Ay. They must make such shift as they can up here, far from London. It is strange; I will never practise again and now I can read cases with interest and even amusement at the fumes and
scratchings men make between each other.’
‘It is hard,’ I said gently. ‘What you must face.’
He looked at me seriously. ‘Not so hard now. I raged when I first realized what was wrong with me but I have had months to come to terms with what must be. I will be content so long as I
can resolve matters in London. Mend that old quarrel with Martin. Ensure that when I die my name and family will not be forgotten, that I can leave a legacy to my kin.’ Unconsciously he
clenched a big fist, his emerald ring glinting.
‘We will find Martin Dakin,’ I said soothingly, although I was uncomfortably reminded of what Maleverer had said.
Giles nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He looked out of the window. ‘The rain has stopped. Come, put on your lawyer’s robe and I will take you to the library.’
‘Jesu, I hope the weather will change soon. How I want to leave!’
He looked at me curiously. ‘You will see that prisoner again on the boat? Broderick.’
‘Ay.’ I had told Giles that Maleverer had relieved me of my duties there. ‘I hope he is not in too bad a state.’
‘And then in London, he goes to the Tower.’
‘Ay.’
‘Well, let us not think of that.’
We went outside. It was a relief to smell fresh air. Many others from the Progress had taken advantage of the break in the endless bad weather to take a walk, and I saw a group of the
lawyers’ clerks coming towards us, including the fellow who had mocked me at the lodging house. I frowned and averted my face as they passed.
‘Master Shardlake!’ I jerked round at the sound of my name. If they dared to call after me in the street —. But my brow cleared as I saw it was Sergeant Leacon who had
addressed me. He was dressed in civilian clothes, a blue doublet and hose. With his blond hair and athletic frame he looked a handsome fellow.
‘Sergeant. How are you? You remember Master Wrenne?’
‘I do, sir.’ He bowed to Giles.
‘You are out of uniform, sergeant?’
‘Ay, I am off duty. I have come out for a walk, since for once it is not pissing with rain.’
‘We too. Walk with us,’ I added, for I saw that he wished to speak to me. ‘Any news on your parents’ case?’
‘Nothing good, sir. My uncle, that was helping my parents with their paperwork, he has had a stroke.’
‘I am sorry to hear it.’
‘Sir, will you still help us, when we return to London? If I can get my parents to come there?’ There was a look of desperate appeal in his blue eyes.
‘I will. Bring them to Lincoln’s Inn.’
‘They fret, for I do not know when we will get back. I have a place on the boat.’
‘Have you?’
‘Ay. To help guard Broderick. But heaven knows when it will leave.’