‘The Crown,’ I said.
‘Exactly!’ He gave his creaky laugh. ‘Rich will be able to boast that he has garnered another few hundred pounds for the King to spend.’ Now I really could not help feeling sorry for Bealknap. ‘Talking of the King and spending,’ Rowland continued cheerfully, ‘you remember you promised to undertake more duties for the Inn? Well, there is another big occasion coming up next month.’ My face must have fallen, for he continued hurriedly, ‘It is nothing like the burning. On the contrary, it will be the grandest celebration in London for years, some say since Anne Boleyn’s coronation.’
‘A celebration of what?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘The peace with France. A great chivalric display. I have had another letter from Secretary Paget. Apparently the very admiral who led the invasion fleet last year will bring a retinue of French ships up the Thames, including some that sailed against us. There will be a whole round of celebrations at the Tower and also at Hampton Court. Thousands will be present, royalty and nobility and representatives of the City Guilds and Inns of Court. They want a serjeant from Lincoln’s Inn made available for the celebrations and I thought of you. As a sort of reward for that – less enjoyable occasion last week.’
I looked at him levelly. Rowland knew, of course, that I disliked ceremonial; again he was asserting his power. ‘The King and Queen will be at many of the ceremonies,’ he added, ‘and I believe little Prince Edward is to be involved for the first time.’
I spoke quietly. ‘There was a time, Master Treasurer, when the King was displeased with me. Perhaps it would be impolitic for me to attend.’
‘Oh, the York business.’ Rowland waved a dismissive hand. ‘That was years ago. And all you’ll be required to do is stand among many others in your best clothes and cheer when you’re told to.’
I thought, cheer Admiral d’Annebault, who led the invasion fleet in the very battle during which the Mary Rose foundered. Chivalry, I thought, is a strange thing.
‘I do not know the exact dates you will be required,’ Rowland continued. ‘But it will be during the last ten days in August, a month from now. I will keep you informed.’
There was no point in arguing. And I had other things to worry about. ‘Very well, Treasurer,’ I said quietly.
‘The Lord alone knows how much it will all cost.’ He laughed. ‘Well, the King will have Bealknap’s money to put towards it now.’
I STEPPED OUT INTO the quadrangle. It had turned cloudy, that low, light summer cloud that seems to trap and thicken the heat. As I walked back to chambers I noticed a man loitering hesitantly nearby; young, well dressed in a dark doublet and wide green cap. I looked at him, then stared. It was a face I had seen only the day before, by the torchlight of the Tower dungeons. The gaoler Myldmore, who had appeared to be in trouble with his superior. He saw me and walked hesitantly across. His eyes were wide and frightened, as they had been at the Tower. ‘Master Shardlake,’ he said, a tremble in his voice, ‘I must speak with you, in confidence. About – about a certain manuscript.’
Chapter Twenty-four
I TOOK MYLDMORE INTO my chambers. Barak and Skelly gave him curious looks as I led him into my room. I bade him sit. He did so, looking round uneasily. I spoke mildly, to try and put him at ease. ‘Would you like a glass of beer?’
‘No, sir, thank you.’ He hesitated, pulling at his stringy little beard. He was an unimpressive-looking fellow; but as a Tower gaoler he would have seen – perhaps even done – some dreadful things. He spoke again suddenly. ‘I believe you are investigating the murder of the printer Armistead Greening.’
‘I am.’
‘Officially?’ His eyes turned on me with anxious intensity. ‘They say it is on behalf of his parents.’
‘Who says that?’ I asked mildly.
‘Friends. They told me a man they trust, called William Cecil, had been to see them and said it was safe to cooperate with you. Cecil is trying to trace three friends of Greening’s who disappeared as well. His apprentice has vanished, too.’ I looked at Myldmore closely. His eyes shifted, would not meet mine. If he knew all this he must have connections with the religious radicals. Suddenly he looked straight at me. ‘Sir, why did you come to the Tower yesterday?’
I considered a moment, then said, ‘I will answer you. But first let me reassure you that your friends are correct. I am not acting for any foe of the reformed cause.’
He looked at me narrowly. ‘Is it believed there is a link between Greening’s death and the – the Tower?’