Chapter Thirty-six
I WALKED WITH LORD PARR through the Great Garden of Whitehall Palace. It was the next morning, the sun high in a cloudless sky. The brightness of the white gravel on the paths hurt my tired eyes, and I turned to look over the broad squares of lawn, the flowerbeds at their centre, each ablaze with its own variety of summer bloom. Gardeners in smocks laboured endlessly, weeding and trimming. Heraldic beasts stood on poles at the corners of each path, and the water in the great fountain at the centre of the garden made a relaxing plashing sound. Men, and a few women, strolled along the paths in their finery. The Great Garden was where courtiers and senior servants came to walk, but it was also a sort of enormous outdoor waiting room for would-be courtiers who were not, or not yet, allowed access to the King’s Privy Gallery. Here they strolled, and waited, and hoped it did not rain. To the south, work continued on the new quarters for the Lady Mary, the constant banging and hammering a strange counterpoint to the sound of the fountain. On the north side the garden was bounded by the King’s Privy Gallery and private lodgings; I glanced up at them nervously.
‘He could be watching us,’ I said uneasily.
Lord Parr smiled reassuringly. ‘I doubt the King even knows of your presence on the Queen’s Learned Council, nor your hunt for this elusive jewel. And I have made sure that within the Queen’s Court it is known only as a minor matter.’ He, too, glanced towards the three-storey Privy Gallery, the black-and-white chequerwork facade easily a hundred yards long. It ended at the Holbein Gate, which was twice as high as the gallery itself and spanned the public road, connecting the King’s quarters with the recreational wing of the palace on the western side. In earlier years the King would have crossed through the gate to play tennis, or joust, but that was long over now. ‘Besides,’ Lord Parr added, ‘I heard his majesty was working in his study in the Holbein Gate this morning. He likes looking down on his subjects passing along the street as he works.’
‘I did not know he did that.’ That, too, gave me an uneasy feeling.
‘As for the real issues, while we may be seen here, we have the advantage that we cannot be heard.’
He stopped at a corner under a pillar painted in stripes of Tudor green and white. A golden lion on top held an English flag, fluttering in the river breeze that also played with Lord Parr’s white beard. He leaned heavily on his stick. In the morning light his thin face was pale, dark bags visible under the eyes. He had been wakened by Cecil, who had arrived at the palace near midnight. Since my own arrival with Leeman’s body, at three o’clock, he had been busy. After I had told him all that had happened he arranged a room for me in the lodgings again to snatch a few hours’ sleep, though hard thoughts kept me awake. Four more men killed last night, including one of Lord Parr’s own servants, and a new threat to the Queen divulged, if the story about Bertano were true. At nine in the morning Lord Parr had sent for me and suggested a walk in the Great Garden.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the herbs planted alongside the path. ‘I could lie down and fall asleep here right now,’ he said quietly. ‘As could you, from your looks.’
I winced at a spasm in my back. I had pulled a muscle when Nicholas pushed me to the ground last night, but his act had saved my life. Lord Parr continued, ‘It is a great pity Leeman was killed.’ He raised a hand. ‘No, sir, I do not blame you. But I would have liked to question the villain myself.’ He clutched the silver handle of his stick hard. ‘An Anabaptist, those pestilent scum.’
‘They were a small group. In Europe too, I understand, there are but few left.’
‘They are like rats, a few in the sewers of the common streets may breed and at a time of hardship or discontent become thousands. They can bring fire and death to us all.’ He waved his free hand in a gesture of anger. ‘They should be extirpated.’
‘Have you told her majesty what Leeman said?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I wakened the Queen early to tell her the latest news. I thought it best. She wept and trembled, she is much afraid. She is worried that the book remains unfound, and now even more about Bertano. But – ’ he paused to look me in the eye – ‘she is brave, and well-practised in assuming a composed and regal manner, whatever she feels inside.’
He fell silent as a couple of black-robed officials wearing the King’s badge passed. They bowed to us. I had sent for my robe after arriving at Whitehall; Timothy had brought it round and I wore it now. Such things mattered greatly here. The two walked on, stopping briefly to admire a peacock with its huge multicoloured tail as it crossed the lawn. ‘I have one servant less,’ Lord Parr continued soberly. ‘Poor Dunmore, who died last night, was a good and useful man.’
‘I never even learned his name.’
‘Who is it?’ Lord Parr banged the white gravel with his stick. ‘Who masterminded the theft of her book, employed those two men of whom we can find no trace – to kill everyone in that Anabaptist group? I do not believe the theory that whoever took the book from Greening would intend to wait until Bertano was about to arrive before revealing it. Not if they know the King. They would show it to him immediately, let his anger against the Queen and the reformers burst out at once, make him more receptive to whatever proposals this wretched emissary of the Pope brings.’
‘Would it be so bad as that?’
He spoke quietly. ‘The King still loves the Queen, of that I am sure. But that would only make him even angrier at her disloyalty. And hurt. And when he feels hurt – ’ Lord Parr shook his head. ‘The existence of the book itself is a lesser matter; Cranmer says it is not heretical, though it sails close to the wind.’
I did not reply. I had never heard Lord Parr talk so openly of the King before. ‘His majesty has always been suggestible, vain. He listens to the endless whispers in his ear, especially when they concern the loyalty of someone important to him. And once he has made his mind up he has been betrayed, then – ’
‘How is his health?’ I asked.
‘A little worse each week.’ He fell silent for a moment, perhaps reflecting that he had said more than was wise, then burst out angrily, ‘Why keep it for near a month, Shardlake? I cannot work it out, and nor can Cecil.’
‘I cannot either, my Lord. You know far more of the court than I.’
‘We have to find that Scotchman, God rot him—’
I placed a hand on the arm of his silk robe to quiet him. He frowned at my presumption, but I had seen what his aged eyes had not: two slim figures with long beards approaching us. Edward Seymour, Lord Hertford, Prince Edward’s uncle and a leading figure among the reformers on the Privy Council; and his younger brother, Sir Thomas, who had been the Queen’s suitor before her marriage to the King. So, I thought, Lord Hertford is back in England.
The brothers halted before us. They had been arguing with quiet intensity as they approached, but now Sir Thomas’s large brown eyes fastened on mine. We had crossed swords in the past.
I had seen them together years before, and reflected anew how alike they were, yet how different. Above his light brown beard Lord Hertford’s oval face was pale, and not handsome, with slightly knitted brows that gave him an air of half-suppressed impatient anger. He exuded power, but not authority, or not enough. As a politician he was formidable, but they said he was henpecked and embarrassed by his wife. He wore a long brown robe with a fur collar, and a splendid gold chain round his neck befitting his status as a senior Privy Councillor. Sir Thomas Seymour was more sturdily built, his face another oval, but with regular features and compelling brown eyes above that long coppery beard. While Lord Hertford wore a plain robe, Sir Thomas sported a green doublet of finest silk, slashed at the shoulders and sleeves to show a rich orange lining. He too wore a gold chain, though a smaller one.
The two men removed their jewelled caps and bowed, the links of their chains clinking. We bowed in turn.
‘Master Shardlake,’ Sir Thomas said, a mocking note in his rich deep voice. ‘I hear you are sworn to her majesty’s Learned
Council now.’
‘I am, sir.’
Lord Hertford cut across him, addressing Lord Parr. ‘I trust the Queen is in good health, my Lord.’
‘Indeed. She is viewing the Lady Elizabeth’s new portrait this morning, before it is shown to the King. Master Scrots has painted a good likeness.’
‘Excellent. Lady Elizabeth should have a portrait, it is fitting for her high estate.’ He inclined his head meaningfully to where Mary’s new quarters were being built. ‘I am sure the portrait will be a pleasure to his majesty.’
‘Indeed. He loves both his daughters, of course, but now Elizabeth is growing, she needs more – exposure.’
I recognized the coded exchange for what it was. Lord Parr and Lord Hertford were both on the reforming side, and Elizabeth, her father’s least favourite child, was being brought up a reformer, unlike the traditionalist Mary, who had been raised a Catholic before the break with Rome.
Sir Thomas looked bored. He turned to me again. ‘I see, Shardlake, you are on the list of those attending on Admiral d’Annebault.’
‘Indeed, Sir Thomas.’
‘I have a large role on the committee organizing the ceremonies,’ he said self-importantly. ‘There is much to be done. The admiral is bringing a thousand men with him.’ He smiled. ‘It will be a magnificent chivalric celebration of reconciliation after honest combat between soldiers.’
I did not reply. I thought again of my soldier friends who had gone down with the Mary Rose and all the others killed in that failed, unnecessary war.
Seymour raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you not agree? Well – ’ he laughed and squared his broad shoulders – ‘some of us are built and fitted for war, while others are not.’ He glanced ostentatiously at my back.
It was an appalling insult. But Sir Thomas was in a position to make it, and I did not reply. His brother, though, looked at Sir Thomas fiercely as he now turned to Lord Parr and said mockingly, ‘Beware of Master Shardlake, my Lord, he is too clever for his own good. He will be after your job.’
‘I hardly think so, Sir Thomas.’ Lord Parr glared at him.
Hertford snapped, ‘You are ever ready with your nips and quips, Thomas. You will nip yourself into trouble one day.’
Sir Thomas’s face darkened. Lord Parr gave him a sardonic smile, then turned to his brother.’
‘Is there much foreign business now on the Privy Council, my Lord? My nephew William says the French and Spanish treaties are settled.’
Hertford nodded seriously. ‘Indeed, though it has been a mighty labour these last months.’ He looked across at the Holbein Gate. ‘Well, I am due to attend the King in his study. I must not be late.’ He gave me an awkward nod, bowed to us both, and walked on with his brother. Lord Parr watched them go.
‘Thomas Seymour is a fool and a bully,’ he said. ‘But Lord Hertford is our ally. His return, and Lord Lisle’s, have shifted the balance of the council towards the reformers. And Cranmer is seen more these days.’
‘And Sir Thomas?’ I added. ‘What role does he play?’
He gave me a considering look. ‘I know from my niece that you and he worked together once, and dislike each other. I am not surprised, Thomas Seymour is as full of bluster and empty display as that peacock over there. He did not distinguish himself in the positions he held in the war. Sitting on a committee to organize this ceremonial will test the limits of his ability.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘When he returned in the spring he made great play of how he’d escaped some pirates in the Channel. Made himself a laughing stock by telling the story over endlessly.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘He wants the power his older brother has on the Privy Council. He feels that, as he is also Jane Seymour’s brother and Prince Edward’s uncle, he should have equal authority. But he lacks judgement and intelligence, with him all is empty show and bluster. The King knows it. He only ever chooses men of ability for the council. Thomas is a drag on his brother.’
‘What is Sir Thomas’s position on reform?’
Lord Parr shrugged. ‘I do not think he has any religion. Some even say he is an atheist. It is extraordinary that the Queen loved him once, they are such opposites in nature.’
‘Extraordinary indeed.’
He shook his head. ‘I would never have thought Kate was one to be taken in by such a creature; but we have seen how – emotional – she can be. It is the way of women,’ he concluded with a sigh.
I spoke suddenly. ‘I suppose there is no motive for anyone on the reformist side of the council to steal the Lamentation?’
He shook his head. ‘None. The reformist group at court, like every faction, is an alliance of family interests – between the Parrs, the Seymours and the Dudleys, whose foremost figure is John Dudley, Lord Lisle. When, in course of time – ’ he stressed those words carefully – ‘his majesty is gathered to God, the various family interests may find themselves in conflict. But for the present we are united by our common faith. If Henry does agree to take England back under the authority of the Pope, we shall all be in danger, and must run and fetch our rosaries or face a grim death.’ He sighed with unexpected emotion. ‘When I think of that, I thank God I am a sick old man.’
We stood in silence for a moment. Then I said thoughtfully, ‘But if Sir Thomas is one of those who has no religion, and seeks only power, he might see an advantage in taking the Lamentation to the King – ’
Lord Parr looked at me, frowning. ‘Why? From ambition?’
‘That, and perhaps because he courted the Queen before her marriage, and was rejected. Proud men harbour thoughts of revenge. And finding the Lamentation could give him the status in the King’s eyes that he longs for.’
Lord Parr considered for a moment. ‘Earlier in the summer, though few know of it, there were attempts to unite the reformist and traditionalist factions through a marriage between the Duke of Norfolk’s daughter and Thomas Seymour. The negotiations came to nothing, partly because the Duke’s daughter did not want him.’
‘That surely proves he will bend any way to gain power.’
Lord Parr shook his head decisively. ‘No. Thomas Seymour does not have the intelligence, nor the resources, to send spies into the radical groups. I think your dislike of him, Master Shardlake, justified though it may be, is colouring your judgement.’
‘Possibly,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘But who in court would have motive and money to do that?’
‘Paget, of course, as Master Secretary. But if he had a spy in the Anabaptist camp, whether Curdy or McKendrick or both of them, that would have been in an official capacity, and as soon as they had taken Askew’s book, or the Queen’s, he would have had to arrest everyone in the group and report to the King. And I am sure Paget has no loyalty to either faction. He survives, the Master of Practices, by taking orders only from the King. But the other courtiers – Gardiner and his hirelings Wriothesley and Rich – yes, if they got wind of an Anabaptist group, they have the resources to infiltrate it. It is just the sort of business Rich would be good at. But how would they get wind of it? It seems Rich got lucky only in finding that the gaoler Myldmore had Askew’s book. Unless Rich was lying,’ he added slowly, turning to me.
‘I still think Rich knows nothing of the Lamentation.’
‘We must find that Scotchman,’ he said again emphatically. ‘It is very likely he was the spy.’
I considered. ‘My assistant suggested there could have been some sort of double agent, working for a master at court while keeping his Anabaptist beliefs. In that case, it is likely he would seek to keep the Lamentation safe.’
‘Anything is possible. Only finding McKendrick will solve that mystery.’
‘Thinking of Rich, if his only interest was Anne Askew’s book, since that is now gone I do not think he would put any more resources into finding McKendrick.’
‘No. That would indeed be shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted.’
I looked at him. ‘But if he is interested in finding the Scotchman, that would indicat
e he is interested in something more – the Lamentation, perhaps.’
Lord Parr considered, then nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Either way, Rich will be sweating in his shoes, dreading the day Anne Askew’s words appear in print in London, smuggled back from Flanders.’
‘Yes, he will be.’ I could not help but feel satisfaction.
‘Go and see Rich now,’ Lord Parr said. ‘Find out how the land lies. I must go to the Queen, see how she fares.’ He bowed and then turned, in his abrupt way, and walked slowly back towards the Queen’s chambers, leaning on his stick. I took a deep breath. A little way off I heard laughter and saw a couple of ladies throwing seed to the peacock.
LATER THAT DAY I went again to the house in Needlepin Lane to see Stice. I asked Nicholas to attend me. As we walked down Thames Street I thanked him for saving my life. ‘I shall not forget it,’ I told him.
He replied with unaccustomed seriousness. ‘I am glad to have saved a life, sir, when so many have been lost in this business. Leeman – I felt hot with anger against him last night, with his mad beliefs. I was starting to say too much, wasn’t I?’
‘Yes. He needed to be gentled along.’
‘And I remember I was the cause of Elias fleeing,’ he said quietly. ‘And then later he, too, was murdered. That has been on my conscience ever since.’
‘It need not be. We have all made mistakes in this business.’
He shook his head. ‘I knew London was a place of violence and murder, but this – ’
‘It is not my normal trade, though over the years certain people high in the realm have made it seem so.’
He hesitated, then asked, ‘Her majesty?’
I hesitated. ‘Yes. And others before her. Cranmer and Cromwell, too.’
He looked impressed. ‘You have truly known the great ones of England.’