RADWINTER RETURNED early in the afternoon. I was relieved to see that he did not seem to have been hurt. He was in a filthy temper though. He sat on his bed, muttering to himself so furiously that spittle gathered at the edges of his mouth. I shuddered at the sight. At one point he looked up, glared at me and said, ‘The torture, they’ve promised me the torture tomorrow, though I’ve told them all. They can’t see it’s the truth. See, Father, they break the rules! You were wrong, the rules may be made by God but men put them into action, and they break them!’ He stopped then and gave that strange impish giggle I had heard yesterday. ‘You are not my father, I know that. You’re the soft hunchback lawyer. You do not understand anything.’ Then he turned his head away.
As the light began to fail our door was unlocked again and the young turnkey appeared. He carried three clean blankets and a neatly folded set of clothes, on top of which were some bread and cheese and fruit. He laid them down on the bed. ‘A girl left these for you.’ He gave me a lascivious grin. ‘Tasty little blonde. She your doxy?’
‘No.’
He looked at Radwinter, who had turned to stare at the wall when he saw the turnkey had not come for him. ‘He is not well,’ I said quietly. ‘In his mind.’
‘Ay, we’ve had a laugh with him, saying he’ll fetch the King and Cranmer down on us. But when he sees what’s in store for him tomorrow, that’ll shock him back into his wits soon enough. Always does. Goodnight then, matey.’ He slammed the door shut.
I tore a hunk off the bread and a lump of cheese. They tasted good. I had not realized how hungry I was. ‘Radwinter,’ I called. ‘Do you want some?’
He turned round and I saw he had been weeping. ‘No,’ he said and looked at me. ‘They still say I killed Broderick.’
‘I believe you did not.’
‘Who did then?’
‘I do not know. But I do not think it was you.’
He looked at me hard. Something seemed to change in his eyes, the madness returning. ‘Who cares what you think?’ he spat out with renewed viciousness.
‘No one.’
‘Soft hunchback fool.’ He turned away again.
‘Dear Jesu,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘save us both from this.’
A SECOND NIGHT in the cell, less cold under the blankets Tamasin had brought but no less full of terror. Radwinter muttered and cried out in his sleep. The rain stopped then began again, harder than ever, hissing like some furious animal. Another grey dawn took shape outside and I got up, wincing at the stiffness in my limbs, making the chains clank. I ate the last of the food. Where was Barak? Had he found anything out at the Guildhall? Had he made it to Hampton Court?
They came early that morning, their keys rattling in the lock. Both turnkeys. ‘Come on,’ the fat one said cheerfully to Radwinter. ‘You’re wanted.’
THEY CAME BACK for me two hours later. ‘Time to see Sir Jacob,’ the fat one said. ‘Now, you’re not going to be any trouble, are you?’ he coaxed ominously. ‘It’s just questions this time.’
I let them lead me out to the central area where the desk was. Beyond, I could see the barred door that led up to the White Tower. A soldier was waiting there. The young turnkey nodded to him. ‘This one for the deputy warden,’ he said. The soldier took my arm as the turnkey opened the door to the staircase. The soldier indicated I should walk ahead. I stumbled and clanked my way up the narrow staircase.
I heard a murmur of male voices ahead and felt shame and horror at the prospect of being marched past the soldiers in the Great Hall again, limping, in chains, unwashed. But the soldier led me past the entrance to the hall, up a further flight to another floor with large unbarred windows and fresh rushes on the floor. He stopped before a door and knocked. Sir Jacob’s voice called, ‘Come in.’
It was a light chamber, the walls painted yellow. Tables were covered with papers organized in neat piles. Maleverer’s offices, I remembered, had always looked chaotic.
A window streaked with rain showed Tower Green, where people walked to and fro. Sir Jacob, wearing a black doublet and white shirt, sat behind a desk. He looked at me seriously.
‘This is your one chance to answer my questions truthfully.’ He spoke quietly. ‘If you fail to satisfy me, what is being done to Radwinter now will be done to you. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sir Jacob.’ My heart was beating fast and again I suppressed the urge to blurt out everything I knew about the Queen. But I would not betray Barak and Tamasin, not while there was still a chance Barak could get to Cranmer, get me out of here.
‘The Queen was placed under confinement yesterday,’ Sir Jacob said, ‘following information received by Archbishop Cranmer that before her marriage she had dalliance with Francis Dereham, whom she appointed her secretary in York. There may be a precontract of marriage between them, and as a lawyer you know what difficulties that may cause in her marriage to the King.’
I was silent for a moment, shocked. Then I said, ‘I know nothing of this, sir. I scarce know Dereham. Sir, I believe I may know how this has come about.’
He nodded. I spoke rapidly, telling him of Rich’s animus against me over the Bealknap case, how he had seen me leave the Queen’s tent and, later, seen Dereham speak to me. I repeated the lie I had told Rich when he saw Dereham talking to me in Hull, that Dereham had seen me at Fulford and used our meeting in the street to make further mock of me. I hesitated before saying that and from a quick intense flicker of Sir Jacob’s eyes I saw he had noticed. He was an experienced interrogator. He consulted a paper on his desk, then rapped, ‘What was your business with the Queen at Howlme?’
It was as well I worked in a profession where you needed to think on your feet. ‘It concerned one of her servants, Tamasin Reedbourne. She has a – a relationship with my assistant, Master Barak. She was in some trouble with Lady Rochford over it.’
He frowned, then laughed, again the schoolmaster who has caught out an errant pupil. ‘The Queen was concerned with the morals of one of her servants?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Sir Jacob,’ I said quickly, ‘those are the only things Sir Richard Rich could have knowledge of. I cannot believe I have been brought here solely on those grounds.’
‘This matter could not be more serious. I have a report from Sir William Maleverer that a senior official’s servant overheard you in the refectory, telling Francis Dereham that if he could get into the Queen’s drawers it would serve the King right for the way he treated you at Fulford.’
‘That is a complete lie.’ I almost shouted my denial. ‘And I would guess the official who employs the servant is Sir Richard Rich.’
That knowing smile again. ‘It is not. He is a clerk for Master Simon Craike of the Harbingers’ Office.’
‘Craike is in Rich’s pay. Question the servant, sir. I beg you. Archbishop Cranmer has been fed false information by Rich.’
‘I told you, the report was from Sir William Maleverer.’
‘I believe he is in league with Rich. Please sir,’ I begged. ‘Please question this servant of Craike’s.’ How Craike had betrayed me. Rich must have put the pressure on.
Sir Jacob referred quickly to another paper. ‘Master Barak and Mistress Reedbourne. They brought you food and clothes yesterday. The turnkey reports you and Barak spoke quietly, as though you did not wish to be overheard.’
‘Would not you, sir, in my position?’
‘I am hardly likely to be.’
‘Sir, could you not enquire of the servant? It would take just a little time. I have already been here two days. Another day…’
Sir Jacob sat and thought, tapping a fingernail against his thin lips. I felt hope rising in my breast. Then he shook his head.
‘No. I am not satisfied. You are keeping things back, I feel it.’