‘Yes, Master Treasurer. Yes, indeed.’
In fact I had scarcely heard any of it, even though tomorrow would be the anniversary of the sinking of the Mary Rose. I should have been praying for the souls of my friends and the hundreds of others who had died, although I was no longer sure there existed a God who would listen. But even on that of all Sundays, I could not get my mind away from thinking of the Lamentation.
Rowland inclined his head to one side like an inquisitive crow. ‘I thought you looked a little strained during service. I hope it was not the effect of attending the burnings.’
‘I have many matters on just now,’ I answered brusquely.
‘Well, the Inn notes with gratitude your representing us on Friday. And you may be called upon to represent us again next month, at a further public occasion.’
‘Indeed,’ I answered slowly, apprehensively.
‘A celebration, though, not an execution.’ Rowland smiled thinly. ‘It is confidential still. But this will be a marvellous thing to see.’ He nodded, bowed briefly, and was gone. I looked after him. Next month. Just now I could think no further ahead than tomorrow. I put his words from my mind.
I WALKED SLOWLY on across the courtyard, ruminating. For all that I had found some leads yesterday, they were but threads in a great tangled skein. Why had the man with the damaged ear tried to break into poor Greening’s premises before the Queen’s book was stolen? How had someone managed to get into the coffer without leaving any marks, when the only key was around the Queen’s neck? Could the locksmith have made a second key? And I wondered who this Jurony Bertano was, of whom Elias the apprentice was so terrified. The name sounded Spanish or Italian; I wondered if I dared ask Guy.
I almost tripped over a cobble which had become detached from its setting, and kicked it angrily away. I asked myself if I had done right to involve myself in a matter which could easily turn deadly. Images chased each other through my head: the weeping page, Garet Lynley, talking of the man with the slashed ear who would recruit him for a spy; Jane Fool, yanking at her duck’s leash; Mary Tudor’s severe face. I knew that if the Lamentation appeared in public I myself could be in danger, as would the Queen and Lord Parr. And that danger would extend to those who worked with me, like Nicholas: I had seen him standing on the far side of the chapel with the other clerks, a head taller than most of them, looking a little the worse for wear as he often did on Sundays.
The best protection I could give those who worked for me was to make sure they knew as little as possible of the true facts. But an order from Lord Parr was not to be denied. And so, before church that morning, I had gone round to Jack and Tamasin’s house.
When I arrived at their house Jane Marris let me in, then went up to wake Barak and Tamasin from a late morning in bed. I had to sit uncomfortably in the parlour, listening as they clumped about getting dressed overhead, murmuring irritably. Jane brought George down. He was grizzling, and gave me a sad, tear-stained look. She took him to the kitchen, where I heard her starting to prepare breakfast.
Eventually Barak and Tamasin came down. I stood. ‘I am sorry to disturb you so early.’
Tamasin smiled. ‘It was time we were up. Will you have breakfast with us?’
‘Thank you, I have eaten. How do you fare, Tamasin?’
‘The sickness seems to have ended, praise be.’
‘Good. I will not stay, I must get back to Lincoln’s Inn, to church.’
‘We don’t bother any more than we have to,’ Barak said. I knew both of them had had enough of religion for a lifetime.
‘It’s soon noticed if I stay away from the chapel too long,’ I said. ‘Besides, I have promised to see Bealknap.’
‘You should leave him to rot, after all the harm he’s done you,’ Barak said. ‘You’re too soft.’
Tamasin nodded agreement. ‘He is the worst of men.’
‘Well, I confess I am curious to see what he has to say.’
‘Curiosity killed the cat, sir,’ Tamasin pressed.
I smiled sadly. ‘Cats have nine lives, and perhaps mine are not all used yet. Jack, I wonder if I might have a quick word with you. It concerns – a work matter.’
Barak and Tamasin looked at each other knowingly. Perhaps they, like Rowland, could see the strain on my face. Tamasin said, ‘I must see to Georgie. He is teething. He shall have a chicken bone to suck.’
Barak looked at me shrewdly as she left us. ‘Young Nicholas was very subdued yesterday afternoon. He wouldn’t say where you’d been, said you’d instructed him not to. I got the impression you’d told him off. Not that he doesn’t need it sometimes.’
‘I am sorry to have to leave so much to you.’