Henry waved a hand, as though this were a trifle, but I could see from his expression that he realized it was not. Paget took another deep breath, before pressing home his point. ‘Even if Shardlake were put quietly out of the way, it would become known, and some might see it as a move against the Protestant side. The new political balance is still very delicate. We do not want to upset it unnecessarily.’
He fell silent; Henry was glowering at him now. It was a scene I imagined Henry playing out with anxious chief advisers repeatedly over these last thirty-seven years; the King angry, demanding ferocious measures, his councillors trying to warn him of the possible damaging consequences.
The King sat, considering. At length he grunted, a strange sound like a pig’s squeal, full of frustration. He gave me a savage look. ‘But surely we could do him quietly to death.’
‘I have no affection for this man, your majesty, believe me. But still I do not think that a wise move. The Parrs, in particular, would be concerned if he disappeared.’
The King sighed. ‘You give me straight advice, Paget, you always have. Even though I may dislike to hear it.’
‘Thank you, your majesty.’
Henry gave him a sharp look. ‘And you know on which side your bread is buttered, eh? Always you act to further my will, never go down your own road, like Wolsey and Cromwell?’
Paget bowed deeply. ‘I serve only to implement your majesty’s chosen policies.’
‘Yet I would be rid of this man,’ the King repeated. He gave me a long stare, unblinking as a snake’s. I knew my life, and Nicholas’s, hung in the balance. An eternity seemed to pass before he spoke again. ‘Paget is right. You are a serjeant and it is known that you have been working for the Queen. Your disappearance would make a stir.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I will let you go, Master Shardlake, you and your boy. For policy reasons alone. But take note of this.’ He leaned forward, his voice rising again. ‘You will never, ever, again come anywhere near the Queen, or any royal palace, or do anything that might, even possibly, bring you to my notice. Do you understand? I do not wish to hear of you, still less see you, ever again. And if I do see you, it will not be your bent back I see, but only – your – head!’ The last words were accompanied by the King banging on the arms of his chair. He leaned back, breathing hard. ‘Now, Paget, get him out of here. And send in Will Somers, I need distraction.’
Master Secretary bowed and then, beckoning me, walked backwards to the door; it was forbidden to turn one’s back on the King. I followed, dreading to hear the King summon me again. Paget knocked on the door, it was opened from outside by a guard, and we backed through safely. Will Somers, the monkey still perched on his shoulder, stood outside with the guards. Paget inclined his head sharply to the door. Somers and the guard who had been with the King slipped back in. The sound of the door closing brought me an overwhelming rush of relief.
Paget led me back up the corridor. Then I felt the floor sway and slide under me again and had to lean against the wall, breathing hard. Paget looked at me, his face expressionless. ‘A narrow escape, I think,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘You were lucky, Master Shardlake.’
I felt steadier now. ‘Will he – could he – call me back?’
‘No. He has made up his mind now. You spoke very well, all things considered,’ he added reluctantly. He inclined his head. ‘Was it truly you that persuaded the Queen to let you search for the book?’
I did not answer. Paget gave a little smile. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It does not matter now.’
I looked at him gratefully, despite myself. Given all that had happened, it was a strange paradox that it was Paget who had saved me at the end, for without his intervention I knew I would already be on my way to the Tower, Nicholas as well: he would not be the first innocent caught in the King’s net. I took a deep breath. ‘Did the King come all the way from Hampton Court for this?’
Paget gave a quiet, mocking laugh. ‘You flatter yourself, lawyer. No, he and Admiral d’Annebault are going hunting in St James’s Park tomorrow. He came here unofficially to spend the evening in peace. He is tired, he had to do much standing today, he wanted a little time away from them all.’ Paget looked out of the window, down at King Street, deserted at this hour. ‘His study is always kept ready for him. Here he can rest, work, watch the doings of his realm from the window.’ He added quietly, ‘It is not easy, being a King.’
I dared not answer, and Paget continued in a strangely dispassionate tone. ‘I think, you know, your search for the Lamentation these last few weeks may have saved the Queen.’
I stared at him. ‘Do you?’
He stroked his long forked beard. ‘Yes. When I first brought him that book, Bertano had not yet arrived. The King indeed found no evidence of heresy in the Lamentation – it sails close to the wind in places, but as he said, it does not deny the Mass. But the Queen had hidden its existence from him and that rankled seriously.’