Lamentation

‘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 indicate 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.’

‘That can have its disadvantages.’

‘Those names are all on one side of the religious divide,’ he said hesitantly.

‘I was once myself on that side, and as the realm has divided so my contacts have remained there. But my religious loyalties — ’ I shrugged — ‘they are gone.’

‘Surely it is enough just to believe.’

I looked at him. ‘Do you believe, Nicholas?’

He laughed uneasily. ‘Just about. I know that at heart I want to save life, not destroy it. Yours was a life I am glad to have saved,’ he added, his face reddening.

‘Thank you, Nicholas.’ Now I was embarrassed, too. Such words from pupil to barrister could have been sycophantic, but Nicholas had none of that sort of guile in him. I said gruffly, ‘Let’s see if these villains are at home.’

Stice opened the door. He wore a bandage round his forehead. ‘You.’ He looked at us with displeasure. ‘Come to discuss the mess you made last night?’

‘We all failed.’

‘My master’s here.’ He lowered his voice. ‘He’s not pleased.’

‘How is Gower?’

‘Like to die.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘My shitten arse you are.’

He led the way upstairs. Sir Richard Rich was sitting behind his desk. The shutters were drawn, making the room stifling. No doubt he did not want people in the street to see him here. He glowered at us. ‘Bowels of Judas! You made a fine butcher’s shambles of last night’s business!’

‘They were good fighters. We could not stop Vandersteyn getting away.’

‘We did our best, sir,’ Stice added. ‘Everyone did.’