Lamentation

Lord Parr gave him a look of contempt. ‘No. I imagine you would not, for fear of being hanged. But Michael Leeman was a thief. And you are deep in the mire.’ He looked at me. ‘I will have this man held close at my house for the moment. Come with us, Master Barwic. I’ll put you in the charge of a guard, as a man suspected of conspiracy to rob the Queen. And you don’t say a word about keys. Leeman, and his confederate, are discovered, but Leeman has escaped and you’ll keep all this quiet till he is captured.’

Barwic sank to his knees again. His voice shook. ‘Will — will I hang, sir? Please, would you ask the Queen to show mercy? I have a wife, children — it was all the expenses of being Guild Chairman, the taxes for the war — ’

Lord Parr bent over him. ‘You’ll hang if I have any say,’ he said brutally. ‘Now, come.’

Barwic was put in the charge of a guard and led away, sobbing, across Baynard’s Castle yard. Another man whose life now lay in ruins. Some men lifting bolts of silk from a cart turned to look at the weeping prisoner being taken away under guard.

‘Well,’ Lord Parr said quietly. ‘You have taken us far, Serjeant Shardlake. We have the whole story of the theft, the how and the who. But still not the why. And who has the damned manuscript now? And why are they keeping quiet about it?’

‘I do not know, my Lord. My young assistant is trying to trace the maker of that piece of torn sleeve he found near Greening’s print-shop, but for now there are no other leads. We need to catch Greening’s friends.’

He stirred the dust of the courtyard with his foot. ‘I will send Cecil a detailed description of Leeman; I’ll get it from Captain Mitchell. He can add it to those who are to be watched out for.’

‘They will likely try to leave under false names.’

‘Of course they will,’ he said impatiently. ‘But the customs house has the descriptions, and if any of them try to board a ship they will be arrested and held close till I can question them.’ He shook his head. ‘Though they may try to go via Bristol, or Ipswich.’

‘That leaves our enquiries in the Tower,’ I reflected. ‘It may be possible we could find that it was another radical who leaked the truth about Anne Askew. Possibly someone linked to the others.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I certainly smell some sort of radical conspiracy here. I wish I knew what it was about.’

‘Whatever it was, that original group has been attacked and blown apart.’ I looked at him. ‘By internal dissension, or perhaps it could even be that someone in the group was a spy, maybe for someone in the conservative camp.’

His eyes widened. ‘By God, you could be right. Secretary Paget has the main responsibility for employing spies to watch for internal dissension. But others could be doing the same, on their own account. Someone perhaps with a taste for plotting.’

He looked at me. ‘Who are you thinking of?’ I asked. ‘Sir Richard Rich?’

‘He has been assiduous in the heresy hunt.’

I paused, then said, ‘My Lord, I am worried about Greening’s neighbour, the printer Okedene.’

He inclined his head. ‘I think we have got all the information we can out of him.’

‘I was thinking of his safety. Two men have been killed already. I wondered if Okedene might also be at risk; whether our enemies, whoever they are, might try to stop his mouth for good.’

‘He has told us all he knows. He has no further use.’

‘All the same, much is owed to him. Could you not arrange some protection, perhaps a man to lodge in his house?’

‘Do you not understand?’ Lord Parr burst out. ‘I’ve already told you, I do not have the resources! I cannot help him!’ I did not answer, did not dare provoke him further, and he continued. ‘Now, the Tower is next.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Until he retired recently, the Queen’s Vice Chamberlain, my immediate junior in the Queen’s household, was Sir Edmund Walsingham. He has also been Constable of the Tower of London for twenty-five years.’

‘He combined both jobs?’ I asked in surprise.

‘Both are ceremonial rather than administrative roles. At the Tower the Constable, Sir Edmund, is a very old friend of mine; in fact he is almost as old as me.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Naturally he knows how everything works there. I have arranged to visit him tomorrow at eleven; I could not obtain an earlier appointment, though I tried.’ He looked at me. ‘Now, this is what we shall do. On the pretext that some information is needed for a legal case, we will see if you can get sight of the duty rosters that cover the period when Anne Askew was tortured. Between the twenty-eighth of June, when she was taken there, and the second of July when the rumours first began to fly around London. It will not be easy; I imagine the Tower authorities will be very reticent about what happened. My nephew William, Earl of Essex, tells me no investigation has been ordered by the Privy Council, which is strange. In any event, a good meal and good wine can loosen tongues between friends.’