‘I cannot forget the outcome when last I made a bargain with you,’ I said finally. ‘You tried to kill me.’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, I would like you dead, have no doubt. But larger matters are involved. I offer you limited cooperation for a specific end. And you have the Queen’s direct protection, of course.’
I sat back. ‘I would need a little time to consider.’ My feelings about Rich were violent; a mixture of disgust, loathing, and complete distrust. And yet I confess I also felt a certain pleasure sitting there dealing with him on equal terms for the first time, and pleasure, too, at the fact that I knew more than he did. And, in terms of reason, Rich was right. His proposition made sense. Furthermore, working with him would give me the opportunity to try and prevent the worst from happening – that he might get hold of the Lamentation as a by-product of retrieving Anne Askew’s writings. For that was truly explosive material. This time, it would be me playing a double game with Rich.
He said, ‘You mean, you need time to consult the Queen’s people. Yes, I understand that.’
‘You realize Anne Askew’s book may already have been smuggled out of the country, to be printed abroad.’ And the Lamentation, I thought, but did not say.
‘I think not.’ Rich leaned back again, interlacing his fingers. ‘You know of John Bale? Currently residing in exile in Antwerp?’
‘By reputation.’
‘The main publisher of heretical books in English. A likely destination for this trash, you agree?’
‘Yes.’
‘John Bale has been watched, for some time, by agents of the King. Secretary Paget is in charge of that, but I am among the Privy Councillors who see the reports. We would have liked him arrested by the Emperor Charles’s authorities and burned, as William Tyndale was a decade ago. But the Emperor’s authority is weak in Antwerp now. We can only watch. And it is known that Bale is expecting a consignment. It is not there yet, or at least it was not two days ago, the date of the last report.’
‘I see.’ That tied in with what Hugh Curteys had told me, too. ‘Where does Lord Chancellor Wriothesley fit into this?’
‘He leaves the hard work to me. As people do.’
‘Who leads your men? Is it Stice?’
‘Yes. He has a distant family connection, one of those innumerable young gentlemen who seek a place at court. I watch for those with brains who do not mind getting their hands dirty, too. Gower is one of his lackeys.’
‘Gower seems a little – unstable.’
‘Stice assures me he is totally loyal to him, as he seems to be. And one must trust one’s subordinates to some extent, or one would go mad, would one not?’
‘True.’
‘If we find Anne Askew’s book, I want it agreed that it be destroyed unread.’ He spoke slowly and clearly, as if to prevent any misunderstandings.
I nodded. ‘I have no problem with that being agreed.’ And there I had the advantage over Rich, knowing that there was nothing in it that implicated the Queen. I did not care what happened to it one way or the other. I had already decided I would recommend the Queen to make this temporary agreement with Rich. But I would watch him like a hawk. I was certain that, had I not kept this appointment, Rich would have killed Nicholas. And I would never have known who had done it.
‘I will consider what you have said. With the Queen’s people.’
He nodded. ‘I thought you would.’
I smiled grimly. ‘You have not done well these last few years, have you, Sir Richard? Those allegations of corruption when you were in charge of finance during the war? And now months of working for Gardiner and Wriothesley to help bring down the Queen, only for it to end in your total failure. I thought you did not seem your usual confident self at the burning.’
He had spoken civilly up to now, as one grown man negotiating with another, but now he glared and wagged a lean finger at me. ‘The Queen may have ridden this storm, Shardlake, but do not be too confident all will go the reformers’ way from now on. I offer cooperation on a specific issue, for a limited time. Tell that to your masters, and please remember when you speak to me in future that I am a Privy Councillor.’ He frowned. Rich had lost his composure with me and I could see he regretted it. I thought, when he said the reformers should not be too confident he can only have been referring to whatever new plot the traditionalists were hatching, the one Lord Parr said was afoot. The one plot in which Bertano – whoever he was – might be involved. But I dared not mention that.
I stood, making an ironic little bow. ‘How do I get back in touch with you?’
‘A note to this house will reach me. Stice will stay here for now, though he thinks the place beneath him.’
‘One last thing, Sir Richard. You know that Stephen Bealknap is dead.’
‘Yes. I am his executor.’
‘His plans to have a monument erected to himself have been refused by Lincoln’s Inn.’
He shrugged. ‘I heard.’