Lamentation (The Shardlake series)

BARAK ACCOMPANIED ME back out into the courtyard, the guard assigned us walking a little behind. ‘Jesu,’ Barak said. ‘All that just to clothe a few women.’


‘More than a few, I think. The ladies are granted the cloth, but pay for the work themselves.’

He stood rocking on his heels. ‘That cofferer, he looked worried.’

‘Yes. And he was Chairman of his guild last year. That’s an expensive business, as he said.’

‘He’ll be well paid in this job.’

‘It would be an expense, even so. And with the value of money falling, and all the taxes to pay for the war that are due this year, everyone has to be careful. He may have need of money.’ I slowed. ‘Could he have made a second copy for someone else? He did not know the Queen wore the only key constantly round her neck.’ I considered. ‘I think we’ll let him sweat a little.’

‘It would be a dangerous matter, stealing from the Queen. He’d hang if he was caught.’

‘We both know the things people are capable of risking for the sake of money. Especially those who have gained status and wish to keep it.’

Barak looked at me askance. ‘You said we’ll let him sweat a little.’

‘A slip of the tongue, I’m sorry. I told you, I just wanted your help with the chest and lock.’

He looked around the courtyard. Another cart was unloading. ‘Jesu,’ he said again, ‘all this to keep fine clothes on the backs of great ladies. Just as well we didn’t bring Tamasin. We’d never have got her out.’

‘Remember she doesn’t know you’re here. And would be displeased if she did.’

‘I won’t forget. What do you want to see the embroiderer for?’

I sighed. He was interested now; he would not easily let it go. ‘I’m only trying to trace a piece of fine silk sleeve Nicholas found, that may be connected to the case,’ I answered. ‘The embroiderer may be able to help me, perhaps suggest who might have made it.’

‘If he gives you a name you may need someone to pay him a visit.’

‘I think that might be a job for Nicholas. He found the sleeve, after all.’

Barak looked disappointed, then nodded. ‘You’re right, it’s a job for a junior.’

‘And now I have an appointment with the embroiderer.’

He fingered his beard, reluctant to leave, but I raised my eyebrows. ‘All right,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, and quickly walked away to the gate.





I NODDED TO THE GUARD and he took me back into the hall, knocking at another side door before entering. Within, a man was working at a desk set close by the window to get the best light. He was embroidering flowers on a piece of fabric, flowers so tiny he needed to look through a large magnifying glass on a stand. To my surprise, he was a big, black-bearded fellow, though I saw his fingers were long and delicate. He stood up at my entrance, wincing a little. For a man of his height, a life spent constantly hunched over was a recipe for a bad back.

‘Master Gullym,’ I asked, ‘the Queen’s head embroiderer?’

‘I am.’ His voice had a Welsh lilt.

‘Matthew Shardlake. I am investigating the theft of a jewel from the Queen.’

‘I’d heard something about a ring gone missing.’ Gullym sounded curious, but unlike Barwic, unconcerned. But of course he was not under any suspicion. I took the piece of torn silk and laid it on the desk. ‘We think this may belong to the thief. Is there any way of identifying who made it?’

Gullym picked up the scrap of silk, wrinkling his features in distaste, for it was a little dirty now. ‘Looks like an English design,’ he said. ‘Very fine, expensive. Someone in the embroiderers’ guild made it, I’d warrant.’ Carefully he slid the delicate silk he was working on from under the magnifying glass and replaced it with the piece of cuff. ‘Yes, very well made indeed.’

‘If the maker of this piece could tell me who commissioned it, it might help us. They would gain the favour of the Queen,’ I added.

Gullym nodded. ‘I can write you a list of names. Perhaps a dozen embroiderers in London could have made this. It was done recently, I would say, that design of little vines has only been popular this year.’

‘Thank you.’

With slow, deliberate steps, Gullym crossed to a desk, wincing again as he moved. He took quill and paper and wrote out a list of names and addresses, then handed it to me. ‘I think these are all the people who might help you.’ He smiled complacently. ‘I have been in the guild since I came to London thirty years ago, I know everyone.’

I looked at the list. Someone would have to visit all these London shops.

‘Thank you, Master Gullym,’ I said. ‘By the way, I could not help but notice you have some problems with your back.’

‘Goes with the job, sir.’

‘I do, too, as perhaps you may imagine.’

Gullym nodded tactfully.

‘There is a physician who has helped me much. He practises down at Bucklersbury, Dr Guy Malton.’

‘I have been thinking I should see someone. It gets bad in the afternoons.’

‘I can recommend Dr Malton. Tell him I sent you.’





Chapter Seventeen

C. J. Sansom's books