It was the third letter, Isabel’s reply, that was dangerous. It was dated a week before and was, by her standards, short.
Master Treasurer,
I have received your letter saying that my allegations of collusion between Master Shardlake, Master Coleswyn, and my brother, to defeat my just claims, are unsubstantiated. On the contrary, they are just, and the heresy of these men clear and patent. Master Shardlake, taking farewell of Master Coleswyn after going to his house for dinner, said in my hearing that the way to salvation is through prayer and the Bible, not the Mass. I am sending a copy of this letter to his majesty’s Privy Council, so the heresy of these men may be investigated.
So that was why Rowland had been avoiding me: he wanted no association with matters of heresy if they became official. I had been concerned that Isabel had overheard Coleswyn’s words on the night of the dinner. Yet she had misremembered or falsified what happened: that evening Philip had adjured me to pray and study the Bible, as the only sure path to salvation. I had made no reply. And neither of us had mentioned the Mass. What Philip had said marked him as a radical reformer but not a heretic; just as, from what I had been told was contained in the Lamentation, the Queen’s views marked her. They were risky views to express, but not illegal. I frowned. Paget’s office must receive a dozen such letters a week, written from malice by quarrelling family members, former lovers, business enemies. At most, the accuser would be questioned by an official from the council. Why indeed had such nonsense been brought here?
Another door opened and Isabel, dressed in her finery as usual, entered. Behind her came the tall, black-robed figure of Vincent Dyrick. He looked uneasy.
Edward stared at his sister, a long, unfathomable look. Isabel, whose expression a moment before had been haughty as always, seemed to quail a little at the sight of these great men. She glanced quickly at her brother, who only stared back at her stonily. Then she curtsied. Dyrick bowed, rising to look at the men behind the table, his eyes scared, calculating slits.
Hertford said bluntly, ‘It is not customary for those brought before the Privy Council to be allowed lawyers.’
Paget answered firmly, ‘Two of the accused are lawyers themselves. In the circumstances it is reasonable to allow the witness her legal representative.’
I looked at the Secretary, the King’s Master of Practices; it was still impossible to discern whose side he was on. But someone had made a miscalculation if he thought Vincent Dyrick would help Isabel. He was obviously here under pressure; he was not a man who would willingly appear before such a powerful group to plead a pack of nonsense.
Paget addressed Dyrick. ‘We have been discussing the correspondence. You have copies?’
‘We do. And Mistress Slanning knows them by heart.’ That I could imagine.
Paget grunted, and looked at Isabel. ‘You say there was a conspiracy between these three men to cheat you, motivated by their being heretics?’
Isabel turned to Dyrick. ‘You must answer yourself, mistress,’ he said quietly.
She swallowed, then replied, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. ‘Master Coleswyn and my brother attend the same church, where the preacher is known to be radical. Coleswyn and Master Shardlake dine together, and once I heard them speaking heresy afterwards. And Master Shardlake knowingly chose an expert who would look at my painting and undermine my case.’ She was speaking rapidly now. I wondered, could she actually believe what she was saying? I knew from experience how people could twist facts to suit what they wanted to believe, but this was a very dangerous forum for such self-delusion. She continued, ‘Edward will do anything to thwart my case, he is wicked, wicked – ’
Edward answered, quietly, ‘No more than you.’
Paget glanced at him sharply. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
Philip spoke up. ‘Only that the conflict between my client and his sister goes back to events when they were children.’ Isabel’s face took on an expression of fear as she realized that Philip had just referred obliquely to what she and Edward had done near half a century before and that he might refer to it openly now. Her face paled, the wrinkled flesh seeming to sink. She looked terrified.
‘And this expert?’ Paget looked at Dyrick.
‘His name is Master Simon Adam, an expert on house construction. My client says there are – rumours – that he may have radical sympathies.’
‘More than rumours,’ Isabel said boldly. ‘A friend told me her servant knew the family – ’
‘That is third-hand hearsay,’ I said flatly.
Isabel turned to Dyrick for support. He was silent. Edward Seymour said, ‘Master Shardlake advised you to pick this Master Adam?’
Isabel hesitated, then said, with obvious reluctance, ‘No. But I asked him for a list of experts. This man’s name was first on the list. He put it first so I should pick it, I am sure.’
‘Mistress Slanning insisted on my providing a list of experts, and chose Master Adam against my advice.’ Could she really be misremembering what had happened to this extent? Looking at her, I realized she could.
And then William Parr, Earl of Essex, did something which shifted the whole balance of the interrogation. He laughed. ‘Sound choice,’ he said. ‘Nobody comes before Adam, not since the world began.’
Hertford and Rich laughed too, and a wintry smile lifted the corner of Paget’s mouth. Isabel’s face was like chalk. Gardiner, however, banged his fist on the table. ‘This is no matter for levity. What of the heresy spoken among these men?’
Philip said, clear and steady, ‘My Lords, there was no heresy. And it was not Master Shardlake who spoke the words referred to in Mistress Slanning’s letter. It was I, as I took farewell of him at my door.’ I gave him a glance of gratitude. ‘And I did not mention, let alone argue against, the Real Presence.’
‘Well, madam? Is that right?’ Edward Seymour asked sharply.
Isabel looked genuinely confused. ‘I thought – I thought it was Master Shardlake who spoke about the Bible, but it may have been Master Coleswyn. Yes, yes, I think it was.’ For a second she looked embarrassed, but rallied. ‘Either way, those were the words.’
‘And the Mass?’ Paget asked.
‘I – I thought they said that. I am sure – I thought – ’ Flustered, she turned to Dyrick, but he said flatly, ‘You were there, madam, not me.’ Isabel looked at him, helpless for once in her life. She began to tremble. It was known that Dyrick would take on anyone as a client, the more blindly aggressive the better. But Isabel Slanning had proved too wild a card even for him.
Then Rich said, his voice contemptuous, ‘This woman is wasting our time.’
Gardiner glared at him again, then said to Philip, ‘But you did speak those words about faith coming through study of the Bible, and prayer?’
‘Yes. But that is no heresy.’
Blustering now, Gardiner went on, ‘All know the King mislikes this endless talking over religion. As he said in his speech to Parliament last Christmas, though the Word of God in English is allowed, it is only to be used for men to inform their consciences.’
‘And that is what Master Shardlake and I were doing, informing our consciences.’ Philip looked at Isabel. ‘Rather it is Mistress Slanning who makes light use of God’s Word, to further her personal quarrels.’
He had spoken well, and left a silence behind him. After a moment Wriothesley said to him, ‘You swear neither of you denied the Real Presence when you met?’
‘I did not,’ I answered.
‘Nor I,’ Philip said.
Paget looked at Isabel. ‘What were you doing at Master Coleswyn’s house that evening, Mistress Slanning? You were not at the dinner?’
She swallowed. ‘I see it as my duty, when I suspect heresy, to watch and wait for it. That I may inform the authorities.’
‘You spied on them,’ Lord Hertford said flatly.
Paget leaned forward, his voice hard. ‘Yet you did not see fit to inform the authorities of this all
eged collaboration between heretics until the Lincoln’s Inn Treasurer rejected your accusations.’
‘I – I did not think at first. I was so angry at my brother’s lawyer conspiring with mine – ’ She looked at Edward, who stared at her strangely, his expression blank yet intense.
William Parr said, ‘Is it not manifestly clear to all that this woman’s claims are those of an ill-natured litigant – unfounded, motivated by mere spite – and that these men are guilty of nothing?’
Lord Paget looked between us, then inclined his head. ‘Yes. I think it is. Mistress Slanning, you are a vicious and vexatious creature. You have wasted our time.’ Isabel gasped, fighting now to control her emotions. Paget turned to us. ‘Gentlemen, we will discuss this a little further between ourselves. All of you wait outside until council business is finished.’ He made a signal to the guards and we were led away.
WE WERE RETURNED to the room where we had waited before. As soon as the door was closed I spoke to Philip in heartfelt tones. ‘Well done, and thank you. You answered well.’
He replied sorrowfully, ‘One must speak more with the wisdom of the serpent than the innocence of the dove, where matters of faith are concerned. Jesus Christ said so.’ He looked at me. ‘Do you think we will be released now?’
‘I have every hope. Isabel made a fool of herself. We are lucky I have friends on the council, and Rich has his own reasons not to see me brought down. Paget, too, seemed won over to our side.’
‘Yes.’ He frowned. ‘Gardiner and Wriothesley would have taken the chance to examine us further about our beliefs, which for me at least would have been – a concern.’
Edward had sat down on the windowsill, his back to the magnificent view of the river, and put his head in his hands. I said to him, ‘You did well too, sir.’
He looked up. It was as though all the energy had drained from him once more; he seemed again the exhausted, tormented figure of the day before. He spoke quietly, ‘You told me I must stand firm, lest they use these allegations to build a case against the Queen’s friends. But now it is over– the other matter remains: what Isabel and I did.’ He looked at Philip. ‘And I know I must pay.’
Before Philip could answer, the door opened. Richard Rich entered. He looked at Philip and Edward, who stood hastily. ‘You two,’ he snapped, ‘outside. Wait in the corridor with the guards. I want to talk to Shardlake.’
Philip and Edward did as he ordered. Rich pushed the door shut and turned to me. His face wore a strange expression, half-admiring, half-angry. ‘Well, Master Shardlake, you got out of that one. With my help. It was a strange thing to give it, sitting between Wriothesley and Gardiner, who, knowing our history, thought I would be glad to see you burned.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘A strange feeling.’
I looked back at him. He deserved no thanks, for like Dyrick he had sought only to protect his own skin. I kept my voice low. ‘Who wanted that matter brought before the Council, Sir Richard? Normally such a silly accusation would surely not have gone there? And why? Was it to do with the Queen? Gardiner said—’
Rich waved a hand dismissively. ‘Gardiner seizes every chance that comes his way to take a tilt at the Queen. He’s wasting his time; he should realize by now that ship has sailed.’ Rich took off his cap, revealing his thick grey hair. ‘But you are right about it being silly, and I have been trying to find out who pressed for it to be included on the council agenda. I was not consulted. Paget decides, on the basis of advice from many quarters. I dare not press the matter too closely.’ His thin face was momentarily pinched with worry, reminding me how he had looked at Anne Askew’s burning. How he must dread her book appearing on the streets.
‘So it could have been anybody?’
‘Gardiner, Wriothesley, the Duke of Norfolk, though he was not present today – anyone – ’ His voice rose angrily. ‘Lord Hertford, for all I know. He and his brother Thomas were with Paget yesterday, and shouting was heard, I know that.’
‘But Hertford is on the reformist side. He helped me.’
‘He seemed to, I grant you. But on the council people may take one line in public and another in private.’ Rich’s voice lowered to an angry whisper. ‘The Parrs and Seymours would both like the Regency of little Edward when the King dies, and Seymour and his brother quarrel constantly. Sir Thomas Seymour thinks he should have a place on the Privy Council, but the King knows he has not the ability. More knives are sharpened every week.’ He gave me a look of hatred. ‘And as for my private feelings, do not think I will help you again, crookback. Unless it is in my own interest. I would gladly see you burned. And watch with pleasure.’
I smiled wryly. ‘I have never doubted that, Sir Richard.’
‘Then we understand each other.’ He bit off the words. ‘Now, the council says you can go, the guards will take you out.’ Then, with those grey eyes burning, he said, ‘You have been lucky. If you have any sense left you will keep well away from here. Do not think the time of crisis is over.’ Then, in an undertone – more to himself than me – he added, ‘Of late sometimes I have wished I, too, could run like a rabbit.’
Chapter Forty-four
WE WERE LED TO THE Common Stairs. The guards got into their boat, leaving us in the midst of all the removals. As a large, ornate cabinet was heaved out of the door by four men a drawer fell open and a little mouse jumped out onto the landing stage. It stood for a moment in the forest of legs, not knowing where to run, till someone saw it and kicked it into the river.
I managed to hail a passing wherry. We sculled downriver, away from Whitehall; I hoped for ever. The three of us sat in silence, still recovering from our ordeal. I noticed a tear on Edward’s cheeks: he was weeping, silently. The boatman looked between us curiously.
I spoke quietly to Philip. ‘Can you look after him?’
‘I will take him to my home, do what I can.’ He looked sadly at his client. ‘Will you come with me, Edward?’
Edward looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I know what must be done now.’ He shook his head in anguish. ‘The disgrace, the disgrace to my wife and children.’
‘We can talk about that later. When you are rested. About what God requires of you.’
He shook his head violently. ‘I shall never rest again. I do not deserve it.’
I said to Philip, ‘I must go to my house.’ I needed to speak to Timothy; I could not imagine that he had betrayed me, but I must know.
We rounded the bend in the river. In the distance, past the riverside houses and the docks, the square solid shape of the Tower was visible. I turned away.
I FOUND TIMOTHY AT his accustomed place in the stables, sitting on an upturned pail eating bread and cheese. He jumped up as I entered, astonishment and relief on his face. ‘Sir! Thank the Lord you are back! We thought you—’ He broke off.
I stood, weary and dishevelled, looking down at him. ‘I am released,’ I said quietly.
‘We none of us knew why – ’
‘I have been questioned by the King’s Privy Council. Do you know how serious that is?’
‘All know that,’ he answered quietly.
‘It was, among other things, about an allegation that I owned forbidden books.’
Timothy stepped backward, his eyes widening, and my heart sank as I began to believe that, after all, he had given me up. But I kept my voice low. ‘Do you remember an afternoon, about three weeks ago, when Martin and Agnes and Josephine were out? I told you to turn visitors away, as there was something I needed to do.’
He backed away another step, up against the wall. He looked frail and thin, his arms and legs like twigs. Genesis looked round, sensing something strange between us. I asked, ‘Did you watch me that afternoon, Timothy? Did you see what I did in the garden?’
The boy nodded, misery on his face. ‘You burned some books, sir. I came into the house and watched you, from a window. I know I shouldn’t have, but I – I wondered what was so secret, sir.’
‘There is a surfeit of secrets in
this world,’ I said, angrily now. ‘And stable-boys spying on their masters can cause grave trouble. Had you heard of the King’s proclamation?’
He looked frightened. ‘What proclamation, sir? I know only that all must obey his commands.’
‘He recently made a proclamation forbidding ownership of certain books. I had some, and that was what I burned. In the garden, that day.’
‘I – I didn’t know they were forbidden, sir.’
Standing there, the boy looked pathetic. And the thought came to me, he is but thirteen, and thirteen-year-olds are nosy. I asked, very quietly, ‘Who did you tell, Timothy?’
He hung his head. ‘Nobody, sir, nobody. Only when Master and Mistress Brocket came back, Mistress Brocket said something had been burned in her vegetable garden, it looked like papers. Master Brocket went and stirred them round, brought back a few unburned pieces. I was in the kitchen. I saw him. He knew I had been alone here that afternoon, sir, and he asked who had been burning papers. He said he would strike me if I lied, so I told him it was you.’
‘Martin,’ I said heavily. So, Josephine had been right about him all along. And he was not just a thief, he meant to do me harm. ‘You let me down, Timothy,’ I said sternly. ‘I shall talk with you again. But first,’ I added grimly, ‘I must speak to Martin.’
He called after me, ‘I didn’t mean for anything to happen to you, sir, I swear. If I had known you might be arrested – ’ His voice rose to a howl behind me as I walked away to the house.
MARTIN BROCKET was in the dining room, polishing the silver, running a cloth round a large dish which had belonged to my father. He regarded me, as usual, with cold eyes and a humble smile. ‘God give you good afternoon, sir.’ Evidently he had decided, with deferential tact, not to refer to my arrest at all.
‘Put that down, Martin,’ I said coldly. The shadow of an emotion, perhaps fear, crossed his face as he laid the silver dish back on the table. ‘I have been talking to Timothy. Apparently the boy told you he saw me burning books in the garden.’