Lamentation

Mary Odell was a tall, plump woman in her early thirties, dressed in black silk livery, the Queen’s badge fixed to the cap atop her fair hair. She had soft features, and something of a motherly air, although she wore no wedding ring. Her green eyes were keen and alert. I stood and bowed, inviting her to sit. She did so, folding her hands in her lap, looking at me with curiosity and, I thought, a touch of speculative amusement.

‘I am Serjeant Matthew Shardlake.’

‘I know, sir. The Queen has spoken of you. She believes you an honest and most clever man.’

I felt myself blush. ‘I apologize for troubling you, Mistress Odell, but I must speak with everyone who was in the Queen’s privy lodgings the night her ring was stolen.’

‘Certainly. Her majesty asked me to do all I could to help you.’

‘Lord Parr says you have been chamberer and friend to the Queen for some time.’

‘We are related. I knew her majesty before she was Queen.’ Mary Odell smiled slightly, with that hint of secret amusement the Queen herself had so often shown in happier days. ‘Poor relations do well when a person reaches such exalted status.’ She paused, and then continued, her voice serious now. ‘But my loyalty to her majesty goes far deeper than gratitude for my post. She has favoured me with her trust and good friendship, and I tell you frankly I would die for her.’ Mistress Odell took a deep breath. ‘She has told me much of what has happened these last months. Her — troubles.’

‘I see.’ But not about the Lamentation. That would be too dangerous.

Mistress Odell looked at me quizzically. ‘The Queen seems extraordinarily upset over the loss of her ring. She loved the good Margaret Neville, but even so seems somehow stricken very hard by the theft.’ I could see this intelligent woman had guessed that more was involved here than a stolen jewel. But of course I could not comment.

‘I understand you were on duty as chamberer that night. And that you — pray, excuse me — share the Queen’s bed on occasion.’

‘I do sometimes. For company, when my mistress is feeling lonely, or troubled.’

‘Could you tell me everything that happened when you came to prepare the Queen’s bedchamber the night the ring was stolen? Anything even slightly unusual that you saw or heard might help.’

She nodded, seeming to approve that I was getting down to business. ‘I have two rooms in the lodgings by the gatehouse. That evening I left them perhaps ten minutes early, a little before nine; I was tired and wanted to get my duty done and out of the way. I crossed the courtyard to the Royal Apartments. The routine is that the pages clean the rooms, and then I go in to prepare the bed, make sure all is in order in the bedchamber, and lay out the Queen’s nightgown and hairbrushes.’

‘One of the pages always cleans the bedchamber first?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are the pages obedient? Boys are prone to mischief.’

‘Once or twice I have caught them playing cards in the Queen’s Gallery and reported them to the gentleman usher, but they would not dare to make any real trouble in the Queen’s quarters. The boys on duty that evening had done a good enough job. One of the guards told me her majesty was with the King that evening. Sometimes when she returns she likes to talk with me, so as I went back to my lodgings I told the guard I would be there if she wanted me. I have to say, Serjeant Shardlake, it seemed a very ordinary evening. Nothing unusual, nothing out of place. Only — ’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘There was a slightly unpleasant smell in the bedchamber. So slight you could barely catch it.’

‘What sort of smell?’

‘Begging your pardon, of ordure. I thought perhaps it had come from the river, and closed the window. I looked round the room closely with my lamp as well, but could see nothing amiss. As I said, the smell was very faint.’

‘And did you notice anything about the Queen’s private chest? Where the ring was kept?’

‘The page had laid the linen on top of it as usual. There was nothing untoward.’ She paused. ‘I wish I could help you more with this, sir, given the Queen’s distress.’ She spoke now with feeling. ‘But there was nothing.’

‘You will have seen inside the chest?’

‘A few times. The Queen has sometimes taken out her jewels, or a half-finished letter in front of me; she always kept the key round her neck.’ Her voice grew sad. ‘But not these last few months. Recently her majesty has seemed reluctant to let me see inside it.’

I had to deflect her from this path, even if it meant lying. ‘Sometimes when a person has been under strain for a while, as I know the Queen has, some final event, such as the loss of a ring from a loved one, can unbalance their humours.’

She nodded. ‘True.’ But she looked at me keenly.

‘You are quite sure, then, there was nothing unusual that night.’

She thought hard, then something seemed to occur to her. ‘Apart from the smell, which soon vanished, there was only one thing, something so small I hesitate to mention it.’

‘What?’ I leaned forward over Lord Parr’s desk. ‘Anything might help.’