Sovereign (67 page)

I looked down the deck, beyond the billowing sails, to where the captain was running between the sailors, shouting and looking over the side. I wondered if something was wrong. I turned as the
hatch to the lower decks banged open and Barak, swathed like me in a heavy coat, emerged and came over, grasping at the rails as the ship bucked and heaved. He sat beside me.

‘How is Master Wrenne?’ he asked.

‘Still in bed. He says he’s all right, but he looks weak to me. I worry this voyage may be too much for him.’

Barak sighed. ‘He’ll make it or he won’t. There’s not much we can do. Poor old arsehole.’ We were silent a moment as he looked down the deck to where the captain
was still pacing. ‘There’s a problem with the rudder. They think they’ve broken a pintail, it’s some sort of a bolt.’

I looked at him. ‘Serious?’

‘It needs attending to. We’re putting in at Ipswich now. We’ll be later than ever, just when we’ve got a favourable wind. The sailors are even more convinced this voyage
is cursed.’

‘Sailors are a superstitious lot. What day is it? I lose track.’

‘October twenty-third. We’ve been out seven days already. The sailor said Rich is furious, he’s going to leave the ship at Ipswich and ride back to London.’

‘The King will be back before us at this rate. Though with Broderick dead I suppose that matters little now.’

He nodded, screwing up his eyes against the spray as a large wave crashed over the side of the boat. I looked at him. ‘Thank you for standing by last night,’ I said.

‘That’s all right.’

I hesitated. ‘How is Tamasin?’

‘Fine.’ He looked down a moment, then back at me. ‘But I have told her she must stop mourning for Jennet Marlin. That however kind she was to Tamasin, the woman was a
murderess. And she can’t blame you for resenting her sorrow for her. Jesu, Jennet Marlin would have killed Tamasin if she had got in her way.’

‘Yes. She would.’

He smiled sadly. ‘Tamasin has so little security in her life, she cleaved to Jennet Marlin. As she cleaved to the idea of her father having good blood. If it turns out he hasn’t,
I’ll say nothing.’

‘Even if he has, he probably wouldn’t want to know her.’

‘No.’ He looked at his feet for a moment. ‘It’s a pickle.’ He looked up again. ‘But I care for her. I am sorry, though, for what I said to you in
Hull.’

‘It is all right. We have been cooped up together too long.’ I thought of the rosary, but our reconciliation was too fragile to mention that now.

‘I suppose Radwinter will go to the Tower when we land,’ Barak said.

‘Yes. To be questioned.’

‘The way Broderick would have been questioned?’

‘Probably.’ I shook my head. ‘I do not believe Radwinter killed him. Maleverer is wrong. He is so bull-headed, he sees only what is straight ahead, like a blinkered
horse.’

‘Yet it all points to Radwinter. He was the only one with Broderick at the time, he said he was knocked on the head but there was no sign of a blow.’

‘You know it is possible to knock someone out without leaving a mark. Then there’s motive. Why on earth would Radwinter do it?’

‘Maleverer thinks he’s gone mad, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes. That was partly my fault.’ I sighed. Maleverer had questioned me after Broderick’s body had been taken away, railing with furious anger against Radwinter. Leacon had told
him I had said Radwinter was mad, and Maleverer had seized on that, believing the erosion of his authority had sent the gaoler out of his wits until he went berserk and killed Broderick. I had
protested that I had not meant I thought Radwinter would kill his prisoner, but Maleverer had been in no mood to listen.

‘Maleverer has more reason than just what you said to think Radwinter mad,’ Barak said. ‘I’m told he’s collapsed since he was locked up in the cell, shrieking and
crying and calling down plagues on Maleverer. And who can tell what goes on in a man’s mind when it runs mad?’

‘It still doesn’t add up to me. How could he have done it alone?’

‘Perhaps he knocked Broderick out, then hanged him.’

‘I can’t see him taking Broderick unawares.’ I paused. ‘You know what I think happened?’

‘Go on.’

‘When I last saw him, Broderick seemed calm, almost resigned. What if someone had already been to see him, to offer him this way out if he still wanted to kill himself?’

Barak whistled.

‘Then when Leacon sent those drunken soldiers away and went to report to Maleverer, that someone was waiting in his cabin. You can hear what’s going on outside. He knocked Radwinter
out —’

‘Took his keys, strung Broderick up, then pulled on his feet and broke his neck.’

‘Yes.’

Barak looked out at the heaving, bitterly cold sea. ‘It’s an awful way to choose to die. Broderick must have had some courage.’

‘We knew that.’ I followed his gaze. Broderick’s body was under those heaving waves now. The captain had refused to take a dead body back to London, fearing even more bad luck.
He had said the burial service over the corpse and then it had been thrown overboard, tied in a sheet, landing with a splash among the grey waves then disappearing for ever.

‘So someone here on board killed him?’

‘Oh, I think so. Someone he knew already, I would guess.’

‘The person who knocked you out at King’s Manor?’

‘Yes.’ I told Barak what Broderick had said the day before. ‘I am sure he knew who knocked me out at King’s Manor and took the papers. If he hadn’t, he would have
denied it. He was different yesterday, quieter. No longer afraid of the Tower, which I think he always was before, however he tried to hide it. I think he had already made arrangements.’

‘But how? He was guarded all the time.’

‘That’s the one thing I can’t work out.’

‘Have you told Maleverer what you suspect?’

‘Ay. He dismissed it, and me too, with oaths. He believes he’s got his man. He needs to, for he will be in disfavour now. First letting those papers be stolen, now letting Broderick
be killed.’ I smiled bitterly. ‘I doubt he will have the great career he was looking for after this. Nor does he deserve it. He’s all brute force, no time for thought, no
subtlety.’

‘Unlike Lord Cromwell.’

‘Oh yes. He could see round corners.’ I glanced at Barak. ‘You think I’m wrong?’

‘I don’t know. If you are right, whoever helped Broderick die could be anyone on this ship. Even a crewman.’

‘Yes.’ I hesitated. ‘Last night, before Broderick died, I was sitting here and Rich came up and walked the deck. He saw me, gave me one of his nasty smiles.’

‘Why would Rich kill Broderick? Deprive his master the King of his pet prisoner?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, at least we can exclude Lady Rochford this time.’

‘Yes.’ I bit my lip. ‘There is one other possibility. There is one person who had the perfect opportunity to plan with Broderick and then help him die. A man from
Kent.’

‘Sergeant Leacon?’ Barak’s voice was astonished.

‘Perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye. Since I spoke to the old lawyer in Hull I have been wondering, what of the archer Blaybourne’s family? Presumably he must have
returned to them in Kent when he came back from France. How much did they know? The confession could have been made to a relative down in the south, kept in the family, brought to London and then
up to York when the rebellion was planned.’

Barak shook his head. ‘I can’t see Sergeant Leacon as a killer.’

‘He doesn’t have to be. Whoever knocked me out at King’s Manor might have meant not to kill me, only take the papers. And he didn’t kill Broderick, he helped him kill
himself. Leacon could have knocked out Radwinter and helped Broderick die before he went to make his report to Maleverer. He could even have given those soldiers access to drink.’

Barak blew out his cheeks. ‘It fits. And yet . . .’

‘I know. He seems so unlikely a candidate. I already feel bad about my part in his parents’ problems. I have offered to try and help them.’

Barak pondered a moment. ‘He’s guarding Radwinter now, isn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Perhaps you ought to tell Maleverer.’

I shook my head. ‘He wouldn’t listen. There’s no point.’

‘You ought to.’

I sighed. ‘One day I will provoke that man too far and I will be in trouble. But you are right.’

We looked round as another big wave hit the deck amidships, splashing water over the crewmen working the sails. There came a shout from the crow’s nest high above us.
‘Land!’

W
E WERE FOUR DAYS
in Ipswich, a pretty little town. Getting the ship into dock and repairing the rudder was no easy task. It was simple enough to find an
inn, though. Giles ceased to try and hide that he felt exhausted; he took to bed and lay there, his face drawn with pain, disinclined for conversation. I decided to follow Barak’s advice, and
went to seek out Maleverer. He had turned a room in the best inn in town into yet another office, got a table from somewhere and covered it with papers. He was sitting writing. He looked tired, his
high colour turned to a greyish pallor. He greeted me, as usual, with a frown.

‘I am busy, Master Shardlake. I have a long report to prepare for the council.’

‘There was something that occurred to me, Sir William. About Broderick’s death.’

He sighed, but put down his pen. ‘Well?’

I told him my thoughts about Leacon. He looked at me impatiently.

‘Leacon could have killed Broderick any time these past few weeks,’ he answered.

‘I doubt there was another time when there were no other soldiers around. This may have been the perfect opportunity.’

‘He was careless, letting those men get drunk. That’s in my report and he’ll suffer for it. But why in God’s name would he kill Broderick?’

‘I don’t know, Sir William. It was just he had the opportunity. And – well, he comes from Kent. You remember what I told you about Blaybourne.’

‘For God’s sake, don’t mention that name! These walls are thin. Are you still ferreting about in your head over that?’

‘I wondered about Blaybourne’s family. Whether that confession I glimpsed had been passed down —’

‘You love long shots, don’t you?’ He pointed his pen at me. ‘Most of the soldiers with the Progress came from Kent, as you well know. Leacon has been with the Gentlemen
Pensioners for five years, he’s always been solid until this mistake.’

‘Is that not itself a cause for concern? That he should be careless now, of all times?’

‘You want to be careful. Those attempts on your life have made you willing to suspect anyone, blacken anyone’s name on no good evidence.’ He motioned me away. ‘Get out. I
don’t want to see you again. Go.’

A
FTER WE LEFT
I
PSWICH,
the ship’s bad luck seemed to evaporate; a fair wind set in behind us and we reached the Thames in
four days, on the first of November. I watched from the rail as the ship sailed up the broad estuary between the mudbanks. The water was calm and there were fingers of mist drifting along the
shore. Like everyone else on board I was cold and exhausted. The first buildings began to appear and the boat tacked to the shore, heading for Billingsgate Dock. On the north bank the Tower of
London loomed above us.

Barak and Tamasin appeared and stood beside me. Tamasin gave me an uncertain look. I smiled at her; there was no point in an open quarrel.

‘What are those for?’ Barak asked. Everywhere in the city church bells were ringing loudly.

‘Someone said it’s for Queen Catherine,’ Tamasin replied. ‘The King has ordered services in all the churches, to express his thanks for having found such a good wife at
last.’

‘If he knew,’ Barak said softly.

‘Well, he doesn’t,’ I said quietly. ‘And mustn’t. We forget all about that now. Disappear back into London.’

Tamasin sighed. ‘That sounds wonderful after these last six weeks.’

‘Yes. I must go and fetch Master Wrenne,’ I added awkwardly. ‘Tell him we are nearly home.’