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.
THE 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.’
WE 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.
We stood in a little group, waiting to go aboard. Myself and Giles, leaning on his stick and eyeing the boat keenly; Barak and Tamasin next to Giles. I had still not told Giles his nephew might be in danger. I feared the shock it might be to him.
‘Soon be off,’ Giles said to Barak and Tamasin. Barak nodded and Tamasin smiled tightly. She stood by Barak’s side, ready to give assistance should he fall, for he still limped heavily.
My attention was drawn by a carriage that trundled over the docks to the water’s edge. Curious heads turned everywhere as the door opened and Sergeant Leacon stepped out, accompanied by two red-coated soldiers. They were followed by Radwinter, who stood on the dockside looking around him. Then the two soldiers helped Broderick from the carriage. A coat had been thrown over his shirt; he pulled it round him as he felt the keen wind from the sea. I saw he cradled his left arm in his right and winced with pain as he moved. Even a few minutes on the rack, I knew, could leave a man with a dislocated limb.
He looked at the little crowd on the dockside. His eyes fixed on my little group and he stared straight at us for a long moment, his face set hard. Then he nodded slowly, as though to say, here, see what has become of me. The soldiers nudged him towards the planks that led from the docks to t
he ship. I saw his feet were still shackled, the chains rattling as they guided him onto the boat, Radwinter following. They crossed the deck and went below.
‘So that is Broderick,’ Wrenne said quietly. He looked at me intently. ‘He will die in London?’
‘Yes,’ I answered bleakly. ‘If he survives his torture he will die a traitor’s death, disembowelled at Tyburn.’
‘I had not realized he was so young.’
The clerk in charge of the arrangements spoke to one of the courtiers. They began going aboard, several getting their servants to help them across the planks, looking down nervously at the water. Then the clerk came over to us. He was a plump, bustling fellow. He reminded me of Master Craike, well on his way back to London with the Progress by now. He had not said goodbye before he went.
‘If you would go aboard, sirs.’
Giles stepped forward. I turned to Barak, essayed a smile. ‘Well, here we go at last.’
‘Ay. Goodbye to Yorkshire. And good riddance,’ he added as Tamasin led him aboard by the hand.
Chapter Thirty-nine
THE FOUR OF US – me, Barak, Tamasin and Giles – each had tiny cabins in the stern, no bigger than cupboards, with space only for a narrow bunk nailed to the floor. Across the way I caught a glimpse of a servant unpacking his master’s bag in a larger cabin. A little further down the two soldiers that had brought Broderick aboard stood guard outside a heavy door; the ship’s lock-up, no doubt. I wondered if Radwinter was in there with the prisoner. We four went back on deck. It was cold even with the sea calm and the skies clear. I dreaded to think what it would be like in rough weather.
The crew were busy with the sails, under the eye of the mate, a stocky man with a weatherbeaten face. Satisfied, he marched off, boots ringing on the planks. There was a bump, a creak and the ship began moving away from the wharf. Giles, who was wearing a cap, doffed it at the Yorkshire shore as we moved away.
‘I should keep that off,’ I said. ‘Or you’ll lose it in the wind. You should really be below.’
‘I’ll manage.’ But as he pulled his coat tightly round him I noticed his face seemed drawn. He went to sit down on a bench nailed to the deck, while Barak, Tamasin and I watched as Hull faded slowly from view, a light swell in the Humber estuary making the ship rise and fall. I felt a little sick, and recalling what someone had told me once I fixed my eyes on the mudbanks on the horizon.
I heard a murmur behind me. ‘That was him, at Fulford. The King made him bare his back to the crowd.’ I turned to see a pair of clerks looking over their shoulders at me. I frowned at them and they turned away. So the story of what had happened at Fulford Cross was already growing in the telling, I thought bitterly, as stories do. Would I never be allowed to forget my humiliation by King Henry? I wondered what they would say if they knew he might be no more than a Kentish archer’s grandson.
‘Oh, God.’ Barak lurched abruptly, then bent forward and vomited on the deck. He lost his balance, pitched forward and fell with a thud on the boards. There was a burst of laughter from the clerks, and the sailors working at the mast looked over and grinned. I helped him to his feet. Tamasin took his other arm and we led him to sit down next to Giles. The acid smell of vomit made my own stomach heave. Barak’s face was white as paper. He put his head between his knees and groaned, then lifted it and looked at me.
‘I hate being ill, and having only one fucking leg that works properly!’ he burst out. ‘I hate it!’ He glared at the clerks. ‘I’d make those arseholes laugh if I was fit!’
‘You’ll be back to normal soon.’
‘You can rest when you get back to London, Jack,’ Tamasin said. She looked at me appealingly behind Barak’s back. ‘Perhaps Master Shardlake will let you stay at his house for a while, so his housekeeper can look after you, speed your recovery.’
‘Yes,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Yes, we can do that.’
‘I don’t want any favours. Oh, God.’ He put his head between his knees again.
I walked to the rail to escape the smell of vomit. I felt annoyed at Tamasin’s request; the calculating little piece had made it when I could least refuse. But she was right, he could not yet cope on his own; he would try to do too much and injure himself again.
After a few minutes I went back to where Barak still sat with his head between his knees, Tamasin’s arm round him. On his other side Giles was slumped heavily on the bench. His stillness sent a momentary chill down my spine, until I touched him and his eyes opened.
‘Giles?’ I asked gently. ‘Are you all right?’ He winced with pain.
‘I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Barak has been sick, he fell over. Did you not hear?’
He looked tired, tired to death. He essayed a smile. ‘Not a good sailor, eh? It is a long time since I was at sea, but fortunately I have never got sick.’ He looked over to the mudbanks in the distance. ‘We are still in sight of Yorkshire, then.’
‘I gather it will be many hours before we are out of the estuary.’
‘I wonder how Madge is coping, without me to fuss over.’
‘When we get to London, Giles, my first task will be to help you find your nephew. Barak will help too.’
Giles lowered his voice. ‘How are things between you and him?’
‘Ah. You have noticed something was amiss.’
‘It has been hard not to, these last days. Something to do with the girl?’
‘In a roundabout way.’ I looked at the coastline, a little further off now. ‘But do not worry about that. We will be all right once all this is over, once we are back in our routine at Lincoln’s Inn.’ I smiled at him. ‘And then we will find your nephew.’
He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘How will you go about it? Finding Martin?’
‘We can go to Garden Court, and if he is not there, the Inn Treasurer can tell us where he practises.’
He nodded. ‘So it should be quite simple.’
‘Yes.’ I said, hoping to God it would be.
FOR THE NEXT three days the weather stayed calm and bright, and though it was uncomfortable sitting around on deck or cramped in those tiny cabins, it could have been a great deal worse. We saw nothing of Rich or Maleverer; doubtless they were in comfortable quarters below decks. Giles too spent most of his time in his cabin, in his tiny bunk. He lay quietly, seeming withdrawn. I suspected he was in much pain, and worried about him.
Although the weather made life easier for the passengers, we heard the captain was unhappy, for in place of the gale there was now only the lightest of winds and the ship had to tack endlessly. On the fourth day the news went round that we would have to pull in at Great Yarmouth on the Norfolk coast, for we had not enough supplies left to complete the voyage. I saw Maleverer arguing fiercely with the captain, saying enough time had been lost, but the captain stood his ground.
We were at Great Yarmouth two days, taking on supplies. We learned the Progress had now dissolved at Lincoln. The King was hurrying south as fast as possible, for he had had word that Prince Edward was ill.
‘The life on which the Tudor dynasty depends,’ Giles said as we sat together on the deck, watching as the ship pulled away from Great Yarmouth. He had come up for some air, saying he felt better, though to me he still looked ill and frequently made those little winces of pain that cut me to the heart. Barak, who had found his sea-legs, was standing at the rail with Tamasin. We had spoken little in the last few days.
‘Unless Queen Catherine becomes pregnant,’ Giles ruminated. ‘But they’ve been married over a year now, and nothing. Perhaps the King can father no more children.’
‘Perhaps,’ I said hesitantly. Knowing what I knew about the Queen, I did not want to get involved in a discussion along those lines.
‘If the Prince dies,’ Giles continued, ‘who then will be heir to the throne? The Countess of Salisbury’s family wiped out, both the King’s daughters disinherited. What confusion King Henry would leave us then.’ He gave a bitter little laugh.
> I got up. ‘I must stretch my legs, Giles, they are stiff.’ He wrapped the rug he had brought up more tightly around his big frame. ‘It will get cold now we are out at sea,’ I told him. ‘Perhaps you should go down again,’ I added, hesitantly for I knew how he disliked being treated like an invalid. But he said, ‘Yes, I will go below. Help me, would you?’
I saw him down to his cabin and returned to the deck. Tamasin and Barak were still talking at the rail, laughing. I felt excluded. I saw Barak incline his head to where a sailor was walking along the deck. To my astonishment, half a dozen rats swung by their tails from one hand, their long black bodies dripping blood on to the deck.
‘The ship’s ratcatcher,’ Barak said to Tamasin with a grin. She screwed up her pretty face and turned her head away. He nudged her. ‘D’you know what the main perk of his job is?’
‘No. I don’t want to.’
‘He gets to eat the rats.’
‘Sometimes you are disgusting,’ she said.
‘Better than the weevilly old biscuits they get.’ He laughed.
Just then the two soldiers climbed out of the hatchway leading below deck. They waited as Broderick followed them up, his hands and feet chained, a scrawny pitiful figure beside the two big men. He was followed up by Sergeant Leacon, and then Radwinter.
The soldiers led Broderick across to the rail. He stood there, looking out to sea, a man on either side in case he thought to jump over the rail. Sergeant Leacon looked out over the deck, taking deep breaths of fresh air. Radwinter, seeing me, came over.
‘Master Shardlake.’
His face had a tired, pinched look, and his hair and beard were longer, unkempt. He must have been below decks with Broderick nearly all the time since we left Hull. It struck me it was a long time since he had been as neat and dapper as when I first saw him at York Castle.
‘Well, Radwinter,’ I said. ‘Not long now to London, let us hope.’
‘No.’ He looked up at the sails. ‘I fancy there is more of a wind. I heard the captain say this was an unlucky voyage.’