‘I understand, my Lord. Thank you.’ I realized it could not come easily to one of Lord Parr’s rank and temperament to apologize to an underling.
He nodded brusquely, then looked towards the Tower. ‘As I told you, Sir Edmund Walsingham used to be the Queen’s Vice-Chancellor, and he is an old friend.’ I thought, among the high ones of the realm everyone knows everyone, and they are either a friend or an enemy. ‘I am going to tell him you have acted for my wife’s family, and have a case coming up involving a witness who claims he was being questioned in the Tower sometime between – let us pick a broad range of dates – June the twentieth and July the fifth. We will say that you do not believe this man was in the Tower at all, that in fact he was up to mischief elsewhere.’
‘I understand,’ I said, uncomfortable at the thought of lying so blatantly to the Constable of the Tower.
‘We will say that you wish to check the names of men imprisoned there between those dates,’ Lord Parr continued. ‘There have been plenty in and out these last few months and if I vouch for you I think Sir Edmund will let you see the records. Could you do that? Then try to find out who was on guard duty when Anne Askew was tortured. That was around June the thirtieth. The news of her torture was leaked the same day.’
‘Very well.’ The eviction which Coleswyn and I had witnessed that morning suddenly came back to mind. ‘I could say the man concerned is trying to give himself an alibi for being part of a group of men who evicted a tenant without due process.’
‘A landlord? Yes, you work at the Court of Requests, don’t you?’ he added, a little superciliously. ‘Very well. But on no account mention Anne Askew. I do not wish to draw his mind to that.’
There was a sudden loud roar from the Tower menagerie, probably a lion. Lord Parr smiled. ‘I hear they have a new creature there from Africa, an animal something like a horse but with an absurdly long and thin neck. I may ask Sir Edmund to let me see it.’
WE ENTERED THE WHITE TOWER. A guard took us through the Great Hall, where as ever soldiers stood or sat talking and playing cards. At the far end, I recognized the door leading down to the dungeons.
We were led upstairs, along a corridor with rush matting that deadened the sound of our footsteps. We entered a spacious room where a man a little younger than Lord Parr, with white hair and a lined face ending in a long pointed beard, rose to receive us. There was another man standing by the desk, slightly younger, with grizzled hair and beard and a soldierly air. I bowed low to them, while Lord Parr shook hands.
‘Sir Edmund,’ Lord Parr said lightly. ‘I have not seen you for months. And Sir Anthony Knevet, Master Lieutenant of the Tower, God give you good morrow.’
‘And you, my Lord. If you will excuse me – ’ the soldierly man tapped a folder of papers under his arm – ‘I am due to present a report to Master Secretary Paget at Whitehall.’
‘Then we will not detain you.’ There was a note of annoyance in Walsingham’s voice. The other man bowed and left.
Walsingham gestured for us to sit. Taking a chair, Lord Parr said, ‘There are a couple of small matters from your time in charge of the Queen’s household which I need to ask you about; I would have written, but thought to take the opportunity to visit you, now the Court is at Whitehall.’
‘I am glad you have. This has been a busy few months at the Tower.’ Walsingham raised his eyebrows knowingly.
‘Does not Sir Anthony Knevet do most of the day-to-day work?’
‘Yes, but the ultimate responsibility remains mine. And Sir Anthony has been sticking his nose into one or two places he should not have – ’ Sir Edmund broke off, waved a hand dismissively, then changed the subject. ‘How go things in her majesty’s household?’
‘Easier recently,’ Lord Parr answered carefully. ‘How is your family? Your clever nephew Francis?’
‘He is at Cambridge now. Growing up fast,’ Walsingham added sadly. ‘Reminds me I grow old. I have felt my age these last months.’
‘I too,’ Lord Parr said feelingly. ‘In time of age the humours alter and slow, do they not?’ He continued casually, ‘Sir Edmund, I crave a small favour. Serjeant Shardlake here is a barrister to the Court of Requests, who has also acted for my wife; he has a case coming on at Michaelmas where the Tower records may shed light on something.’
Walsingham looked at me. ‘Oh?’
Lord Parr recounted the story of the fictional witness. Sir Edmund looked at me, his gaze keen from small tired eyes. ‘Between June the twentieth and July the fifth, you say?’ He grunted, looking at me. ‘You know who was here then?’
I paused a moment, as though trying to remember. ‘Anne Askew?’
‘Just so. Not so many others, the heat was dying down by then.’ He grimaced. ‘Though not for her.’ He looked at Lord Parr. ‘You vouch for him?’
‘I do.’
Walsingham turned back to me. ‘Who was this witness?’