'May 1536, the sixteenth.' He ran his finger down the page. 'Yes, Smeaton was in the cell that mayhemmer's in.' He nodded at the door from which the declamations had issued; silent now, only darkness visible through the bars.
'His visitors?' I asked impatiently, coming to peer over his shoulder. He shrank away a little as he bent once more to his book. Perhaps a hunchback had once brought him bad luck.
'See, there's Singleton, brought in at six. Another, marked "relative" at seven and then "priest" at eight. That's the Tower priest, Brother Martin, come to confess him before his execution. A pox on that Fletcher, I've told him always to put in the names.'
I ran my finger down the page, looking at the other prisoners' names. 'Jerome Wentworth called Jerome of London, monk of the London Charterhouse. Yes, he's here too. But I need to know about that relative, Master Hodges, most urgently. Who is this Fletcher, one of your guards?'
'Aye, and he doesn't like the paperwork. His writing's not good.'
'Is he on duty?'
'No, sir, he's had leave for his father's funeral up in Essex. He won't be back till tomorrow afternoon.'
'He comes on duty then?'
'At one.'
I bit my finger. 'I will be at sea by then. Give me paper and a pen.'
I quickly scribbled two notes and handed them to Hodges.
'This one asks Fletcher to tell me all he remembers of that visitor, everything. You will impress on him that the information is vital, and if he can't write the answer get someone else to. When he's done, I want the answer taken at once to Lord Cromwell's office with this other letter. It asks him to provide his fastest rider, to bring Fletcher's answer to me down at Scarnsea. The roads will be hell itself if this snow's melting, but a good man might be able to reach me by the time my boat gets in.'
'I'll take it to Lord Cromwell myself, Master Shardlake,' Oldknoll said. 'I'll be glad to get out in the air.'
'I'm sorry about Fletcher,' Hodges said. 'Only there's so much paperwork now, sometimes it doesn't get done properly.'
'Just make sure I have that answer, Master Hodges.'
I turned away, and Oldknoll led me out of the dungeons. As we mounted the stairs we heard the man in Smeaton's cell shouting again: a litany of garbled quotations from the Bible, cut off with a sharp crack and a yell.
CHAPTER 30
I was lucky with the winds on the return journey; once out at sea the mist faded and the boat was driven down the Channel by a light south-east wind. The temperature had risen several degrees; after the biting cold of the last week it felt almost warm. The boatman had a cargo of finished cloth and iron tools to bring back, and was in a more cheerful mood.
As we approached land on the evening of the second day, I saw the coastline, wreathed in light mist. My heart quickened; we were nearly there. I had spent much time on the voyage thinking; what I did next depended on whether the messenger from London had arrived. And it was time for another talk with Jerome. Now a thought I had tried to suppress these last couple of days came to the front of my mind: were Mark and Alice still safe?
The mist made it hard to see as we navigated the channel through the marsh to Scarnsea wharf. The boatman asked diffidently if I could take a pole and push the boat from the banks if we came too close and I agreed. Once or twice it almost stuck in the thick, glutinous mud through which little rivulets of melting snow were running. I was glad when at last we reached the wharf. The boatman helped me onto dry land with thanks for my help, and perhaps ended by thinking less badly of at least one reforming heretic.
===OO=OOO=OO===
I made my way at once to Copynger's house. He was just sitting down to supper with his wife and children and invited me to join his board, but I said I must get back. He led me to his comfortable study.
'Have there been any more happenings out at the monastery?' I asked as soon as the door was shut.
'No, sir.'