Sovereign (64 page)

‘You could perhaps tell Cranmer what you suspect about Jennet Marlin never having the papers,’ he mused. ‘It might be of some help to them in unravelling the
conspiracy.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You should do it.’

‘I’ll think on it,’ I repeated irritably. I realized that despite the fact they were mostly papists, part of me was with the conspirators. ‘Anyway, Jesu knows when
we’ll get back,’ I added, nodding at the window. It had started raining again, a high wind blowing big drops against the pane.

‘We’ll get there eventually, I suppose. Back to Lincoln’s Inn.’

I looked at him. ‘You are still coming back to work with me? You haven’t changed your mind?’

He nodded. ‘I still want to come back. It’s time to settle down. I shall be seeing Tammy,’ he added, giving me a challenging look.

I hesitated. ‘I know she still blames me in some way for that woman’s death. Oh, she is making herself friendly again, it would not do to make an enemy of the man who employs you,
but I can see she still blames me. It is not fair.’

Barak looked uncomfortable. ‘Tammy finds it hard to accept Jennet Marlin is dead. She knows you are not to blame, but – women are illogical.’

I grunted. ‘Tamasin can be clever enough when it suits her. Like faking that robbery. Like making up to me now, because she knows on which side her bread is buttered.’ I wondered
whether to tell him about the rosary, but thought, he will only believe the story that she has it because it was her grandmother’s. True or not, he will take her side, for that is what people
in love do.

He was frowning at me. ‘Tammy has been in tears many nights since Jennet Marlin died. I wish she’d curse the woman as she deserved, but she won’t. Between that and her worry
over the Queen and Culpeper, she is finding things hard.’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘It seems when we return to London I must get used to her ways.’

‘Yes,’ he answered boldly, then added quietly, ‘You know what your trouble is?’

‘What?’

‘You don’t understand women.
Normal
women, ordinary
feminine
women. when you do like a woman, it’s some fierce malapert creature like Lady Honor last year
—’

I stood up. ‘I wonder how much
you
understand. Tamasin seems to have you wrapped round her little finger, which is a thing I thought I would never see.’ I wished as soon as I
said it that I had not spoken; apart from anything else, we were both fractious from being cooped up together.

Barak’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know what your
other
problem is? You’re jealous. Jealous of what Tammy and I have. Perhaps you need to find another fine lady to moon
over.’

I stood up. ‘You have said enough!’

‘Hit a nerve, have I?’ he asked sardonically. ‘I am going to see Master Wrenne.’ I walked out, slamming the door like a silly child.

R
ELATIONS BETWEEN
B
ARAK
and me remained strained over the following days. The weather continued windy with hard blustery showers,
the wind still from the southeast so there was no question of setting sail. The innkeeper grumbled that if this went on, Hull would be ruined for lack of trade. Tamasin was cool with me again.
Barak had probably told her of our quarrel; I wondered if she had told him about the rosary.

I was glad, though, that under this regime of enforced rest Giles’s health had remained stable, though sometimes I sensed from his drawn expression that he was in pain. I spent much time
with him, exchanging stories of our time in the law, and he told me much of life in York and the town’s decline during his lifetime. I understood more and more how the north had been
neglected and oppressed under the Tudors. I knew that, short as our acquaintance had been, when Giles died it would be like the loss of my father over again. But I would be with him at the end, I
had decided, even if it meant coming back to York with him after he had visited London.

The Progress, meanwhile, had left Hull. On the fourth of October there had been a break in the weather; even some watery sunshine, the first we had seen in that place. Word went round that the
Progress would be crossing the Humber next day, on the first leg of the long journey home. Giles and I walked down to the shore of the great estuary and watched as hundreds of boats ferried the
vast retinue across the river to Barton on the Lincolnshire shore. It went on for hours. Boats must have been brought from all over Yorkshire, the water was thick with white sails.

As we walked back to the town it felt strange, empty. The Progress seemed to have been the centre of my life for so long that it was hard to realize that, so far as I was concerned, it was over.
I felt a great relief, an uplifting of my heart, not least because every day that passed took King Henry and Queen Catherine another few miles further away. And Dereham and Culpeper and Lady
Rochford too – I would never have to see any of them again. The Queen’s secret would probably not be discovered now; she and Culpeper had had a nasty scare and I doubted she would see
him again. That just left Rich to deal with in London, over the Bealknap case. And I was feeling more confident about that, almost looking forward to it.

T
HE RAIN AND GALES
returned the evening the Progress left, and the weather did not change for another ten days. Not until the fifteenth of October, when
we had been there a fortnight, did I realize, walking back from Brother Davies’s library, that there had been no wind or rain to speak of for two days. I had spent much of my time talking
with, or rather listening to, old Brother Swann. Perhaps now at last we might set sail. I thought of Broderick. He had been two weeks in Hull gaol, and I wondered how he fared.

That night when I returned to the inn I found a message to go to the King’s house, where Maleverer wished to see me. So he had not returned to York yet. Wondering anxiously what he wanted
now, I went round at once. The old de la Pole family mansion was an enormous courtyard house, the finest building in the city. I was led to Maleverer’s latest office at the back of the
building. As always, his room was dominated by a large desk covered with documents; the image he set forth was ever that of the indispensable official.

He studied me with that heavy, stony look of his, twirling a quill in his big hand. ‘Well, Master Shardlake,’ he said abruptly. ‘The waiting is over. We set sail tomorrow. The
sea has been pronounced safe at last. The way things have turned out, we might have been better riding after all, but we never knew when the weather would end.’

‘And you said you are going to London too, Sir William?’

‘Yes. I have to account for what happened in York, as well as deal with certain property purchases.’

‘I see.’ And Rich blackmailed Craike so you could have them cheaply, I thought.

‘Be at the dock tomorrow at ten. You and Barak, the Reedbourne girl and that old man who goes with you. Your little entourage.’

‘We shall be there.’

‘I may need to call you for questioning in London, about Mistress Marlin. Your horses will be taken back to London by road.’

So maybe it is not over yet, I thought.

‘How long will the voyage take, Sir William?’

‘Depends on the weather. Less than a week, if it holds. We will still be home before the King.’

‘How is Broderick?’ I asked hesitantly.

‘Well enough. I’ve had some good fare taken to him and told him if he didn’t eat he’d be fed forcibly with a tube down his throat. He’s fattening up nicely, like a
Christmas fowl.’ He smiled, a slash of white in his black beard. ‘By the way, I have had a letter by a fast rider from London. Bernard Locke has confessed. He confirmed Jennet Marlin
was working on his instructions.’

‘How did he get her to do it?’ I asked quietly.

Maleverer shrugged his heavy shoulders. ‘Apparently she was besotted with him. It was as she told you, he knew there was a box containing papers that could do damage to the King. He told
her to find it, if need be kill anyone who stood in the way. He admitted he told her to get the box but to destroy it, not bring it back to London to give to a conspirator there, which is what
Locke had been instructed to do if the northern rising failed. He told her he had repented, but he admitted in the Tower that it was to save his own skin.’

‘I see,’ I said neutrally.

‘Apparently there was a letter among the papers authorizing Oldroyd to give them up to Locke if he called, giving a description of him. To Locke, not a woman. That was why Jennet Marlin
had to kill Oldroyd to get the box, and that was why the box incriminated Locke.’

‘Did he . . .’ The question stuck in my throat for a moment as I thought of how the answer would have been obtained. ‘Did he give the names of any other
conspirators?’

‘No. That’s where the bastards have been clever. I told you before how well they were organized: in cells, no one person knowing more names than he needed. And Locke wasn’t
told what else was in the box either, only that it contained important papers. His contact in London was one of the rebels who escaped – he’s probably in Scotland now, helping King
James plan trouble for us. Locke was supposed to have given the box to someone else, a fellow barrister who would make himself known to him.’

‘From Gray’s Inn?’

‘He didn’t know who. I believe him.’ He set his mouth hard. ‘But we’ll find him, if we have to have every lawyer from the north brought to the Tower.’
Wrenne’s nephew, I thought with sudden alarm.

‘How did Bernard Locke react when he learned Jennet Marlin was dead?’ I asked quietly.

He shrugged. ‘Didn’t believe it, till the Tower warden waved his engagement ring, which I prised off her finger and sent down there, in his face.’

‘Was he sorry?’

‘I don’t know. Who cares?’ He walked across to me, standing close so that he looked down on me from his great height and I could smell his rank breath. ‘You’ll keep
this quiet, you understand. You worked for Lord Cromwell. You know the value of a shut mouth and the penalties for opening it.’

‘Yes, I will.’ I thought, Martin Dakin is in trouble now if he wasn’t before. They will have Garden Court inside out.

Maleverer was looking at me narrowly. He smiled, his cold knowing smile. ‘Another acquaintance of yours will be on the boat, by the way. Sir Richard Rich.’

‘He did not go back with the Progress?’

‘No, he has a place on the boat. He wanted to return to London as soon as he could.’ He smiled again. ‘Have you given up that case against him?’

‘No, Sir William.’

He smiled again. ‘I hope you know what you are doing.’

W
E WERE AT
the docks early. The first sunny day since we got to Hull, the water calm, seabirds wheeling and crying. Our ship dominated the harbour, a
seventy-foot caravel, with big square sails adapted for speed. The huge stern rose twenty feet above the waterline. ‘The Dauntless’ was painted in white letters on its side. Blocked-off
gunports showed it had once been a warship. I guessed the lower decks would have been partitioned into rooms and fitted out comfortably, for I could see by their expensive clothes that the half
dozen or so officials waiting to go aboard, each attended by a servant, were senior people. Rich was among them, talking to Maleverer, but neither gave us a glance.