‘I know you will be the best and most obedient of wives,’ her fiancé said quietly. ‘And I shall try to be the best of husbands.’
I smiled; I knew Josephine was no Tamasin, whose strong nature demanded a relationship of equality with her husband, sometimes to the disapproval of others. Josephine had been brought up only to obey, and I suspected sadly that she would find anything other than a subordinate role in life frightening. I had a sense, though, that she would be a good mother, and that that might give her strength. I raised my glass. ‘May your union be happy, and blessed with children.’
As the others raised their glasses to toast the couple. Josephine gave me a look of happiness and gratitude. I decided that I would, after all, write to Guy.
THEY CAME FOR ME at dawn, as they often do. I was still abed, but wakened by a mighty crashing at the door. I got up and, still in my nightshirt, went out. I was not frightened but angry: how dare anyone bang so loudly on the door at this hour? As I came out onto the landing I saw Martin was already at the door, like me still in his nightclothes, pulling back the bolts. ‘I’m coming,’ he shouted irritably. ‘Stop that banging, you’ll wake the house—’
He broke off as, opening the door, he saw Henry Leach, the local constable, a solidly built fellow in his forties. Two assistants with clubs stood at his side, silhouetted against the summer dawn. As I walked downstairs my anger turned to fear, and my legs began to tremble. The constable held a paper in his hand. Leach had always been properly deferential before, bowing when I passed him on the street, but now he frowned solemnly as he held the paper up for me to see. It bore a bright red seal, but not the Queen’s. This time it was the King’s.
‘Master Matthew Shardlake,’ Leach intoned gravely, as though I were a stranger.
‘What is it?’ I was vaguely aware of Agnes and Josephine behind me, likewise roused from bed, and then Timothy ran round the side of the house into view; he must have been up attending the horses. He skidded to a halt when one of the constable’s men gave him a threatening look. I took a deep breath of air, the clean fresh air of a bright summer morning.
Leach said, ‘I am ordered by the Privy Council to arrest you on a charge of heresy. You are to appear before them tomorrow, and until then to be lodged in the Tower.’
Chapter Forty-two
LEACH TOLD ME TO GO AND DRESS. ‘I have been asked to search your house for forbidden books. I have a warrant,’ he added and held up a second document.
‘I have none.’
‘It has been ordered.’
His assistant had grasped Timothy by the collar and, quite unexpectedly, the boy slipped out of his grip and ran at the constable, grabbing at the warrant. ‘No! No! It is false! My master is a good man!’
Leach held the paper above his head, easily beyond Timothy’s reach, while his assistant took the boy by the collar again, lifting him up in the air. He made a choking sound. The man set him on the ground, keeping a firm hold on his arm. ‘Don’t try anything like that again, lad, or I’ll throttle you!’
I glanced at my other servants. Agnes and Josephine stood wide-eyed, clutching each other. ‘I thought this hunting people out of their homes was over,’ Agnes whispered. Martin looked on impassively.
Leach said to me, ‘I will conduct the search while you dress.’ His tone remained level, official, disapproving, though I sensed he was enjoying the opportunity to humble someone of my status. He did not meet my eye.
I let him in. On that score at least I had nothing to fear; I had burned all my newly forbidden books and there was nothing concerning the hunt for the Lamentation in the house. He sent one of his men upstairs with me to watch me as I dressed; my fingers trembled as I secured buttons and aiglets. I tried to calm myself and think. Who had done this, and why? Was this part of some new plot against Queen Catherine? When I had been imprisoned in the Tower of London five years before, on treason charges manufactured by Richard Rich, Archbishop Cranmer had rescued me; could the Queen save me now? I put on my summer robe, laid out as usual last night by Martin, and stepped to the door.
My servants were still standing in the hall, Josephine with her arm round a weeping Timothy. It was to her, not my steward, that I instinctively turned. I grasped her hand and said urgently, ‘Go at once to Jack Barak’s house and tell him what has happened. You remember where it is? You have taken messages there.’
Though her own hands were shaking she composed herself. ‘I will, sir, at once.’
‘Thank you.’ I turned to the constable, trying to muster a shred of dignity. ‘Then let us start, fellow. I take it we are to walk.’
‘Yes.’ Leach spoke severely, as though I were already convicted.