Rich passed over two blank sheets of paper. ‘Copy it out twice,’ he instructed briskly, in charge again. ‘One copy for me to keep, for I have little doubt you will make a new will when you return to London. That matters not, the fifty marks is a nominal amount, as anyone can see. I want this will, which will be witnessed by a couple of reputable men from this camp who do not know me or you, and who can testify later that your will was made quite freely, for I shall show it in court should you ever make accusations against me.’ He tilted his neat little head. ‘No legacies to Ellen Fettiplace, by the way.’
I read the draft will again. Neat, tidy, like everything Rich did, except for that first venture at Rolfswood when he had taken huge risks and murdered a man in a panic. He held out a quill and spoke quietly. ‘If you betray me, if you leave me with nothing to lose, then believe me something will happen to Ellen Fettiplace. So there you are, we have each other tied up neatly.’
I took the quill and began to write. As I did so I heard voices outside, clatter, noise: the King’s party, returning from South Sea Castle. I heard people talking in low, serious tones as they passed Rich’s tent.
When I had finished, Rich took the will and read both copies carefully. He nodded. ‘Yes, large gifts to Jack and Tamasin Barak and to Guy Malton, as I expected. Small gifts to the boys who work in your household.’ Then he looked up with an amused expression. ‘Who is this Josephine Coldiron you leave a hundred marks to? Are you keeping some whore with you at Chancery Lane?’
‘She, too, works in my household.’
Rich shrugged, studied the documents once more for some slip or trick, then nodded, satisfied, and rang the little bell on his desk. A moment later Peel came in. ‘Fetch a couple of gentlemen here,’ Rich said. ‘The higher their status the better. Officials, not anyone who may be involved in any fighting tomorrow. I want them to survive to remember witnessing my friend Shardlake here signing his will.’ He looked at the hourglass. ‘Be quick, time runs on.’
When Peel had gone, Rich said, ‘When the witnesses come we must pretend to be friends, you understand. Just for a moment.’
‘I understand,’ I said heavily.
Rich looked at me, curious now. ‘You were once a friend of Lord Cromwell’s; you could have risen to the top had you not fallen out with him.’
‘His price was too high.’
‘Ah, yes, we councillors are wicked men. But you, I think, like above all to feel you are in the right. Helping the poor and weak. Justified, as the radical Protestants say. As consolation for how you look, perhaps.’ He smiled ironically. ‘You know, there are men of conscience on the Privy Council. People like me and Paulet and Wriothesley sit round the council table and listen to them; Hertford snarling at Gardiner and Norfolk about correct forms of religion. We listen afterwards as they plot to put each other in the fire. But some of us, as Sir William Paulet says, bend to the wind rather than be broken by it. Those with conscience are too obsessed with the rightness of their cause to survive, in the end. But the King knows the value of straight, hard counsel, and that is why men like us survive while others go to the axe.’
‘Men without even hearts to turn to stone,’ I said.
‘Oh, we have hearts. For our families, our children whom we educate and make prosperous with the help of our grants of land from the King, and incomes and presents from our clients. But of course,’ he said, his face twisting into a sneer, ‘you would know nothing about families.’
Footsteps sounded outside. Peel returned with two gentlemen I had never seen, who bowed deeply to Rich. He came round the table, putting a slim arm round my shoulder. I suppressed a shudder. ‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘My friend Master Shardlake here wishes to put his affairs in order, given what may be about to unfold here. Would you witness his will, as a kindness to me?’
The two assented. They told me their names and watched as I signed the will and the copy, then each signed in turn as witness. Rich picked up his cap and papers from the table, together with two folded letters and his copy of the will. ‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘And now, I must go, I have to attend the Privy Council.’ Then he said loudly, for the witnesses to hear, ‘I am glad, friend Shardlake, to have been of service regarding the girl.’
‘You have done what I would expect of you, sir,’ I answered evenly.
The gentlemen bowed and left. Rich still had his hand on my shoulder. He moved it and gave my hump a sharp little smack, whispering in my ear, ‘I have often wanted to do that.’ Then he turned to Peel, brusque and businesslike. ‘Now, Colin, I want you to go with Master Shardlake into Portsmouth, find a boat, and take him out to the Mary Rose.’ He placed the two letters in a leather satchel, and handed it to Peel. ‘The unsealed one is my letter of authority: it will let you into Portsmouth and get you a boat. The other you are to give into the hands of the addressee, Philip West. No one else. If some ship’s officer asks for it, tell them that and invoke my name. Then you are to wait with the boat till Master Shardlake returns, and get him back to shore. There will be someone else with him. Now go. Is my horse at the stables?’
‘Yes, Sir Richard.’
‘Sure you understand all that?’ he asked mockingly.
‘Yes, sir.’