Lamentation (The Shardlake series)

‘No one here called Cotterstoke, sir. I thought as much.’ He looked up with a satisfied smile.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I suspected the witness was lying. However, I will have to see the book myself. The rules of court require me to testify to what I have seen personally. Simply to repeat what another has told me would be what is called hearsay, and thus inadmissible.’

Howitson frowned. ‘I don’t know about legal rules. But that book is confidential.’

‘I know. And I will only testify that this particular name is not there, nothing else.’ He still looked doubtful. ‘It is the law,’ I said. ‘Sir Edmund said I could see the book.’

‘We have our own laws down here, sir.’ He smiled a little menacingly, an insolent emphasis on the last word.

‘I understand, goodman. If you like I can ask Sir Edmund to be more specific, in writing, to satisfy you.’

Howitson grunted. ‘All right, but be quick. No lingering over names. We’ve had enough rumours getting out of this place.’

‘I understand.’

He turned the ledger round, going back a couple of pages. I ran my eyes quickly over the entries for late June; I was not interested in those. I noticed, however, that there were always two officers present to sign a prisoner in; one was usually Howitson, the other presumably whichever guard was on duty. From the 28th of June a signature more legible than the others began appearing during the afternoons. Thomas Myldmore. He was on duty when ‘Mistress Anne Kyme’, Anne Askew’s married name, appeared on the record.

Howitson brought his big heavy hand down on the ledger. ‘That’s it, sir,’ he said officiously.

‘Thank you. I have seen all I need.’

I stepped away from the desk. As I did so the door at the end of the passage opened again and two men appeared. One was older, wearing an apron darkly stained with I knew not what. The other was young, small and thin, with dark blond hair and an oval face unsuited to the pointed beard he wore. I noticed his shoulders were slumped. The older man began undoing the buckles on his apron, paying me no heed, but when the younger one saw me standing over the ledger his grey eyes widened a little. He came across. Howitson closed the book with a thump and gave the newcomer a glare.

‘I’m going off duty now, Master Howitson,’ the young man said in a surprisingly deep voice.

‘Thank Sir Anthony Knevet you’ve still got a duty to be going off,’ Howitson muttered. The young man looked at my lawyer’s coif and robe. ‘Is there a problem with the book?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Nothing to concern you, Myldmore,’ Howitson said. ‘Don’t recall anyone by the name of Cotterstoke, do you, being here late June or early July?’

‘No, sir.’

‘There you are then, sir,’ Howitson said to me triumphantly.

‘Then I thank you, sir,’ I said with a little bow. I looked at Myldmore. His eyes were wide, burning yet frightened. ‘Good day, fellow,’ I said and headed for the door, where the veteran stood leaning against the wall outside, gently massaging his leg.





THE GUARD LED ME back to Sir Edmund’s room where he and Lord Parr were talking and laughing, drinking wine. I heard Sir Edmund say, ‘The first time I saw a woman in one of these farthingales, I couldn’t believe it. Waist braced with corsets so tight it looked like you could span it with your hands, and the wide skirt with those hoops underneath – ’

‘Ay, like barrels – ’ Lord Parr looked round as I entered, instantly alert. ‘Find your man, Shardlake?’

‘His name was not there, my Lord, as I suspected. I thank you, Sir Edmund.’

Walsingham was in relaxed mood now. ‘Will you stay for some wine?’

‘I fear I cannot. I have much to do. But I am most grateful to you.’

‘Perhaps I should come with you, Shardlake,’ Lord Parr said. He would want to know what I had found out.

Sir Edmund protested. ‘No, no, my Lord, you have hardly got here – ’

Lord Parr looked between us. Clearly he thought it might look suspicious if he left so soon. He said, ‘One more drink, then, Edmund. Forgive me, though, I must go to the jakes. Master Shardlake, can you help me?’ He made a show of finding it difficult to stand.

‘You cannot take your wine any more, my Lord,’ Sir Edmund called after him teasingly.

Once the door closed behind us, Lord Parr was instantly alert. ‘Well?’ he asked impatiently.

‘The man who was most often on duty when Anne Askew was here is called Myldmore. I saw him; he looked anxious and seemed in bad odour with the fellow at the desk.’

Lord Parr smiled and nodded. ‘Another name for Cecil to investigate. I wonder if he is connected with the others.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You are a good fellow, Master Shardlake, for all your long face and – well, never mind.’ He spoke with sudden passion. ‘We shall have them, end this game of hoodman blind, and unmask who is at the bottom of it all. I shall be in touch very soon. Good man.’

He went down the corridor, leaving me to walk, as fast as I could, towards the exit and the Tower gates.



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