Lamentation (The Shardlake Series Book 6) (71 page)

W
E ENTERED THE
T
OWER
by the main gate. The constable left me with a pair of red-uniformed Tower guards, the edges of their halberds honed to razor sharpness, the rising sun glinting on the polished steel of their helmets. I remembered the twist of fear I had felt when I entered here a few weeks ago with Lord Parr, to see Walsingham. Now the fate dreaded by all, being brought here a prisoner, had befallen me again. The ground seemed to sway under my feet as they led me across the manicured lawn of the inner courtyard towards the White Tower. Far off I heard a roaring and yelping from the Tower menagerie; the animals were being fed.

I pulled myself together and turned to the nearest guard, an enormously tall, well-built young fellow with fair hair under his steel helmet. ‘What is to happen now?’ I asked.

‘Sir Edmund wishes to see you.’

I felt a little hope. Walsingham was a friend of Lord Parr; perhaps I could get a message to him.’

I was marched through the Great Hall, then upstairs. Sir Edmund was engaged and I had to wait nearly an hour in a locked anteroom overlooking the summer lawn, sitting on a hard bench trying to gather my scattered wits. Then another guard appeared, saying brusquely that Sir Edmund was ready.

The elderly Constable of the Tower sat behind his desk. He looked at me sternly, fingering the ends of his white beard.

‘I am sorry to see you again in such circumstances, Master Shardlake,’ he said.

‘Sir Edmund,’ I answered, ‘I am no heretic. I do not know what is happening, but I must inform Lord Parr that I am here.’

He spoke impatiently. ‘Lord Parr cannot interfere in this, nor anyone else. You are brought by the authority of the King’s Privy Council, to answer questions from them. Lord Parr is not a member of the council.’

I said desperately, ‘The Queen’s brother, the Earl of Essex, is. And I was with the Queen but four days ago. I am innocent of all wrongdoing.’

Sir Edmund sighed and shook his head. ‘I had you brought here to me first as a matter of courtesy, to tell you where you will be spending today and tonight, not to listen to your pleas. Leave those for the council. My authority comes from them, under the seal of Secretary Paget.’

I shut my eyes for a second. Walsingham added, in gentler tones, ‘Best to compose yourself, prepare for the council’s questions tomorrow. As for tonight, you will be held in a comfortable cell, together with the others who will answer accusations with you.’

I looked at him blankly. ‘What others? Who?’

He glanced at the paper on his desk. ‘Philip Coleswyn, lawyer, and Edward Cotterstoke, merchant.’

So, I thought, this is Isabel’s doing. But her harebrained ravings were surely not enough to have us brought before the council. Then I remembered Philip’s fears that he was already under suspicion, and that Edward Cotterstoke was also a radical. Walsingham continued, ‘You may have food and drink brought. Is there anyone you wish to send for?’

‘I have already sent word to my assistant that I am – taken.’

‘Very well,’ he said neutrally. ‘I hope for your sake that you acquit yourself satisfactorily tomorrow.’ He nodded to the guard and made a note on his paper, and I was led away.

T
HEY TOOK ME BACK
through the Great Hall, then again downstairs, to those dank underground chambers. The same loud clink of heavy keys, the same heavily barred door creaking open, and I was led by the arm into the central vestibule, where Howitson, the big man with the untidy straggling beard, sat behind his overlarge desk. The guards gave him my name and left me in his care. He looked at me, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement for a moment at the sight of a recent visitor returned as a prisoner, before quickly adopting the blank mask of authority again. I thought of the guard Myldmore, who from what Lord Parr had said would soon be smuggled out of the country. I wondered what Howitson made of his employee’s disappearance.

He called for a couple of guards and two more men appeared from the direction of the cells. ‘Master Shardlake, to be kept till tomorrow, to go before the council. Put him with the others in the special cell for prisoners of rank.’

I knew who had occupied that cell recently; Myldmore had told me. Anne Askew.

I
WAS LED DOWN
a short, stone-flagged corridor. One of the guards opened the barred door of the cell, the other led me inside. The cell was as Myldmore had described it, with a table and two chairs, but this time there were three decent beds with woollen coverlets, not one – they must have put in the other two when they heard three were to be brought in. The chamber, though, held the clammy, damp stink of the dungeons, and was lit only by a high barred window. I looked at the bare flagstones and thought how Mistress Askew had lain there in agony after her torture.

Two men lay silent on the beds. Philip Coleswyn got up at once. He was in his robe; the shirt collar above his doublet untied, his normally neat brown hair and beard untidy. Edward Cotterstoke turned to look at me but did not rise. At the inspection of the painting I had marked his resemblance to his sister, not only physically but in his haughty, angry manner. Today, though, he looked frightened, and more than that, haunted. He was dressed only in his shirt and hose. From those protuberant blue eyes, so like Isabel’s, he regarded me with a lost, hopeless stare. Behind me the door slammed shut and a key turned.

Philip said, ‘Dear Heaven, Matthew! I heard you were being brought in. Isabel Slanning must have done this – ’

‘What have they told you?’

‘Only that we are to appear before the Privy Council tomorrow, on heresy charges. I was taken by the constable at dawn, as was Master Cotterstoke.’

‘So was I. It makes no sense. I am no heretic.’

Philip sat on the bed, wiping his brow. ‘I know. Yet I – ’ he lowered his voice – ‘I have had reason to fear. But I have been careful not to speak heresy in public. Edward, too.’

‘And your vicar? Has he spoken carelessly?’

‘Not to my knowledge. If he had, surely he would have been arrested, too.’

I nodded at the sense of this. ‘The only thing that connects the three of us is that wretched case.’

Edward, from his bed, spoke softly. ‘Isabel has undone us all.’ Then to my surprise he curled up his legs and lay hunched on the bed, like a child. It was a strange thing to see in a grown man.

Philip shook his head. ‘I fear you have been caught up in this because of suspicions against me and Edward.’

‘But Isabel’s conspiracy charge is ridiculous, easily disproved! Surely we would not be hauled before the council on Isabel’s word alone. Unless,’ I took a deep breath, ‘unless her complaint is being used by someone else, someone who wishes to see me undone.’

Philip frowned. ‘Who?’

‘I do not know. But Philip, I have been involved, perhaps against my better judgement, in matters of state. I could have enemies on the Privy Council. But friends, too, powerful friends. Why would I be attacked now?’ My mind was in a whirl. Could this be the moment after all when whoever was the holder of the
Lamentation
had decided to expose it? And question me about the hunt to find it? I had never spoken with the Queen or Lord Parr about what we would do with the
Lamentation
should we recover it; but I knew Lord Parr would almost certainly have the book destroyed. To ensure the King never saw it.

‘Listen.’ I grasped his arm. ‘Have you ever specifically denied the Real Presence of Christ’s body and blood in the Mass to someone who might have reported it?’ I spoke quietly, lest a guard be listening at the door.

Philip spread his arms wide. ‘Given what has happened this summer? Of course not.’

‘And you, sir – ’ I turned to Edward, still curled up on his bed – ‘have you said anything that could be dangerous? Have you kept forbidden books?’

He looked at me. ‘I have spoken no heresy, and I handed in my books last month.’ He spoke wearily, as though it did not matter.

I turned to Philip. ‘Then we must cleave to that, and tell the council the accusations against us are false. If someone is trying to use Isabel’s accusations to get at me, we must show them up as nonsense.’ I remembered, my heart sinking, how Treasurer Rowland had avoided making an early appointment with me to discuss Isabel’s accusations further. Had someone got to him?

Edward sat up, and with great weariness, as though his body were made of lead, leaned back against the stone-flagged wall. He said, ‘This is the vengeance of the Lord. Isabel is his instrument. It was all foreordained. Given what I have done, I cannot be saved. I am damned. All my life has been a fraud. I have lived in pride and ignorance – ’

I looked at Philip. ‘What does he mean?’

Philip spoke quietly, ‘Two days ago I confronted him with what the servant Vowell told us. He thinks this is a judgement on him. He told me that he did indeed kill his father.’

‘So it was true.’

Philip nodded despairingly.

Then we all jumped at the sound of keys in the door. The guard held it open. I was overjoyed to see Barak step inside. Beside him, carrying a large bundle, was Josephine. She looked terrified. With them came Coleswyn’s wife, Ethelreda, with whom I had dined that fateful evening when Isabel surprised us. She, too, was clutching a bundle. Her face looked ghastly, her hood askew. ‘Ten minutes,’ the guard said, and slammed the door on us.

Barak spoke, his gruff tone belying the worry on his face. ‘So, you’ve landed yourself here again. Josephine insisted on coming. Nicholas wanted to come too, but I wouldn’t let him. State he’s been in, he’d probably break down and start crying like a big girl.’

‘He’d come at you with his sword if he heard that,’ I said. In the midst of this horror, Barak had made me laugh for a second. I turned to Josephine. ‘Thank you for coming, my dear.’

She gulped. ‘I – I wanted to.’

‘I am grateful.’

‘She insisted,’ Barak said. ‘Brought a great pile of food for you.’

‘Does Tamasin know what has happened?’

‘In her condition? You must be fucking joking. Thank God when Josephine came to the house she had the sense to ask to speak to me on her own; Tammy thinks there’s some crisis on at chambers. What the hell’s happening?’

‘I don’t know. Isabel – ’

I broke off at the sound of an angry voice. Ethelreda was leaning over Edward Cotterstoke, berating him angrily. ‘Answer me, sir. Why did you tell the Tower authorities your wife and children were not to be admitted under any circumstances? I have had your good lady at my house; she weeps and weeps, it is cruel.’

Edward answered in a miserable voice. ‘It is best my wife and the children never see me again. I am an unclean thing.’

Ethelreda stared at him, then at her husband. ‘Has he gone mad?’

Philip looked at his client sorrowfully. ‘Leave him, my love.’ He sat on the bed and pulled her down to sit beside him. They clung together.

I spoke to Barak, urgently. ‘Listen, I want you to go to Whitehall Palace, get a message to Lord Parr.’

He answered impatiently, ‘I’ve just come from there. I got a wherry as soon as Josephine brought the news. I knew that was what you’d want. But they wouldn’t let me in. It’s chaos at the Common Stairs, stuff being moved out by the boatload, to Greenwich for when the King meets the admiral, and to Hampton Court where they’re all moving afterwards. They wouldn’t even tell me whether Lord Parr was there.’

‘The Queen – ’

‘I tried that one, too. The guards didn’t want to know. All I got was, “The Queen is not here. The Queen is going to Hampton Court.”’ He took a deep breath. ‘It strikes me your friends in high places have abandoned you.’

‘No!’ I answered fiercely. ‘Lord Parr perhaps, but never the Queen. Besides, this matter could have implications for them. There’s no rumour of anything having happened to the Queen, is there?’ I asked anxiously.

‘No.’

‘Listen, I will write a message. Get it to the Queen’s servant, Mary Odell.’ I spoke feverishly. ‘Find out whether she is at Whitehall still or Hampton Court, and get it to her. Tell the guards they will be in trouble with the Queen if the message does not reach her.’