I looked at him with interest. ‘Where?’
‘Remember I told you the man my mother married after my father died was a law clerk? He was one of friend Bealknap’s compurgators. I remember Bealknap coming to the house and telling him to pretend he knew some rogue who’d pleaded his clerkship at the assizes and been locked up in the bishop’s palace.’
‘You remember that clearly?’ I asked eagerly. ‘Clearly enough to swear in court?’
‘Ay, now my memory’s been jogged.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Ten perhaps.’
I stroked my chin. ‘Then a court might not accept your evidence. Are you still in touch with your mother and stepfather?’
‘No.’ Barak reddened and his lips set. ‘I haven’t seen them in years.’ The corners of his wide mouth, usually upturned ready for mockery, were pushed down.
‘Even so, this gives us a hold over the rogue. Well done.’ I studied him to see how he would react to words of praise such as an employer might use to an employee, but he only nodded. I decided to venture further. ‘You know I visited the Wentworths earlier?’
‘Ay.’
‘Are you any good at picking locks?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Passing fair.’
‘I thought you might be.’ I told him what had passed at Sir Edwin’s. He whistled when I told him of the stink coming from the well.
‘I want us to break into the garden at night and get those locks off. Then I’d like you to climb down and take a look. We’ll need a rope ladder.’
He laughed. ‘God’s death, you don’t ask much, do you?’
‘Less than the earl has asked of me. Well? It was part of the bargain, Barak, that you’d help me with the Wentworths.’
‘All right. I owe you a favour; I suppose I put you out of sorts with your friend.’ I realized this was the nearest he would come to an apology.
Just then a wherry with a canopy pulled up at the wharf, depositing a pair of well-dressed Flemish merchants on the steps. Barak and I took their places and the boatman pulled away. It was pleasant to be out on the smooth brown water. I watched the stately swans bobbing by the banks. Shouts of laughter came from the tilt boats around us and the gulls cried overhead.
‘You’ve got your case against Bealknap tomorrow, haven’t you?’ Barak asked.
‘Don’t remind me. I’ll have to spend tonight preparing. But it will be a chance to quiz him again.’
‘These serjeants, like Marchamount, what does their rank signify?’
‘Only serjeants have the right to be heard in the Court of Common Pleas. There aren’t many, they’re appointed by the Crown and the other judges. The judges themselves are always appointed from the Serjeancy.’
‘You ever been considered for it?’
I shrugged. ‘These things are all decided by murmurings behind the scenes.’
I jumped at the sudden, piercing sound of a trumpet. The boats in the middle of the river rowed frantically out of the way as an enormous canopied barge painted in bright gold appeared, a dozen oarsmen in the king’s livery making rapid sweeps through the water in time to the beating of a drum. Our little wherry bobbed wildly in the royal barge’s wake as, like everyone else in the boats, we doffed our caps and bowed our heads. The king’s canopy was drawn shut, protecting him from the sun. I wondered if Cromwell was in there with him, or perhaps Catherine Howard. The barge swept upriver to Whitehall.
The boatman spoke. ‘They say if Queen Anne goes down there’ll be more religious changes.’
‘Perhaps,’ I replied noncommittally.
‘It’s hard for common folk to keep track of it all.’ He lowered his head to the oars.
THE WHERRY DROPPED US at St Mary Overy steps on the Southwark side. I followed Barak up to the wharf. Winchester Palace came into view as we mounted the slippery stairs. I paused a moment to catch my breath and looked at the facade of the forbidding Norman building, the glass in its enormous rose window glinting in the midday sun. The Bishop of Winchester owned most of Southwark, including the brothels; the palace was his London residence and the king was said to have dined there with Catherine Howard many times that spring. I wondered what plots against Cromwell had been hatched within its walls.
Barak made off along the side of the high palace wall towards the warren of poor houses that lay to the east. I followed.
‘Have you visited Southwark before?’ he asked me.
‘No.’ I had travelled the main road to Surrey many times but never ventured into the streets beyond, haunts of whores and criminals. Barak walked along confidently. He favoured me with one of his mocking grins.
‘Ever been to a whorehouse?’
‘Yes,’ I said shortly. ‘But a better class of one.’
‘Ah, with gardens and shady nooks?’