I laid the scrawl down. It looked like one of the scurrilous prophecies that had been hawked around London at the time of the Pilgrimage of Grace. The penalty for distributing such things had been death.
The next document was not a paper but a parchment, quite a large one, folded over several times. I opened it out. To my astonishment it had the seal of Parliament at the bottom: this was an Act of Parliament, though not one I recognized. ‘Titulus Regulus,’ I read. ‘An Act for the Settlement of the Crown upon the King and his Issue…’ Which King? I hastily scanned the thick, beautifully inscribed black lettering. ‘Our Soveraign Lord the King Richard the Thirde…’ I read. I frowned again. I had never heard of this Act. I laid it carefully aside and turned to the box. The rest of the pages seemed to be a series of handwritten scrawls on cheap paper. The top one was larger than the rest. I took it out and laid it on the table.
This is the true confession of me, Edward Blaybourne, that I make in contemplation of death, that the world may know of my great sin…
Then something struck me on the side of the head, a heavy blow that made me gasp. My vision went misty, but I saw a big red drop fall on to Blaybourne’s confession. As I realized that it was my own blood, I felt another blow on the back of my neck. My legs buckled beneath me, and I fell into a great darkness.
Chapter Twelve
MY FIRST SENSATION WHEN I woke was of unaccustomed warmth. I luxuriated in it for a second, realizing how used I had become in York to feeling cold and damp. But why was I in York? Then I remembered everything in a rush. I tried to sit up but a throbbing pain banged at the back of my neck. Hands grasped me and eased me back to a lying position. ‘He’s awake!’ I heard Master Craike call out. ‘Bring the hippocras! Careful there, sir, you have had a bad blow to the head.’
I opened my eyes: I was lying on a nest of cushions on a rush-matting floor. Master Craike stood above me, his plump hands clasped anxiously. Barak appeared behind him, bearing a jug and a glass. ‘Have some of this, sir,’ he said. ‘Not too much.’
I drank some of the warm wine. The sweetness revived me. I endeavoured again to sit up but the back of my neck hurt and there was another pain at the side of my head. I felt it and my hand came away sticky with blood.
‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ Barak said. ‘That one was a glancing blow.’
I stared groggily around the room, which seemed familiar, and realized I was in Maleverer’s office at the King’s Manor. The warmth came from a firepan, one of the charcoal-burning braziers used to heat rooms in wealthy houses. A red-coated soldier with a pike stood by the door, watching us, and I realized we were under guard.
‘How long have I been unconscious?’ I asked.
‘Over an hour,’ Barak answered. ‘I was worried.’ And indeed his face was as anxious as Craike’s.
‘Do you remember what happened, sir?’ Craike asked.
‘Something hit me. The box clicked open when I touched the lock, there were papers inside. I was looking at them – Barak, the box! Where is it?’
‘The box is safe enough.’ He nodded at the table, where the casket stood, the lid open. ‘It’s empty,’ he said heavily.
‘Papers,’ I said. ‘It was full of papers.’
His face set. ‘We’re in the shit,’ he said. ‘I came back with some pliers, perhaps half an hour after I left you. I found you lying on the floor of Master Craike’s office, with him bending over you.’ He looked suspiciously at Craike, who frowned back at him.
‘The steward’s office asked me for the key,’ the plump official said. ‘They had told me it wasn’t required till this evening but they changed their minds.’ He gave Barak a haughty look. ‘You may check with them. I looked for you but could not find you. In the end I came to the office. As I turned the corner I heard footsteps, someone going down the back stairs. The office door was open and you were lying on the floor. Then this fellow came in.’
I felt my head carefully. It was a wonder I had not been killed. Oldroyd had been, I thought, and felt a stab of terror lance through me. I looked at Craike. ‘You must have interrupted the person who assaulted me. You may have saved my life. Did you hear or see anything of the person running?’
‘No. Only those footsteps.’
I sighed deeply. ‘So the papers are gone.’ I looked at Barak. If his lockpicking had not come to grief this would not have happened. I tried to marshal my thoughts. ‘If whoever attacked me heard Master Craike coming they could have grabbed the papers and fled. The box would be more difficult to hide.’ I looked at the wretched thing that I had tried to guard with such care. ‘With the papers gone it has no value.’
Barak stepped in front of Craike and bent to refill my glass. ‘Yes. Anyone could hide the papers in their clothes.’ He inclined his head slightly at Craike, still suspicious of him.
I glanced again at the guard. ‘Why are we being held here?’
‘Sir William returned just after I found you,’ Barak said. ‘He ordered us all to be brought here. He has gone to make some enquiries.’ He reddened. ‘He is in a mighty rage with us for opening the box. I had hoped it had been empty. What were the papers?’
‘They were – they made no sense.’
The guard stirred himself. ‘I should send word you have recovered.’ He opened the door, spoke to someone outside, then returned to his post, gripping his pike. A few moments later we heard heavy footsteps outside, and I braced myself as the door banged open and Maleverer came in.
He was still in riding clothes, heavy boots and a riding coat spattered with mud. He stared at me coldly. ‘So you are awake,’ he said unceremoniously. ‘Well, would you care to tell me what in Christ’s name has been going on? I come back to find you attacked right here in King’s Manor, with His Majesty due in two days.’ His Yorkshire accent strengthened as his voice rose with anger. He threw off his coat, revealing a black velvet jerkin over a silk shirt. A thick gold chain of office gleamed on his broad chest. He stood, hands on hips, glaring down at me.
I struggled to sit up properly. ‘In the box, Sir William. We found it at Oldroyd’s house. There were some papers in it –’
His eyes widened and he leaned forward. ‘What papers? Quick, what were they? Who saw them?’
‘Only I. When I was attacked, they were taken –’
‘You had them and let them be stolen. You –’ He checked himself and turned to the guard. ‘Wait outside, this is a privy matter. You too, Master Craike. No, wait. You were the one who found the lawyer?’
‘Yes. I told you –’
‘You came upstairs,’ I said, my mind beginning to work again. ‘To the top floor, and as you reached the hallway you heard someone going down the back stairs?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you say,’ Maleverer interjected brutally. ‘And just afterwards this Barak found you bending over his body.’
‘That is right,’ Barak confirmed.
Craike’s lips set. ‘I see. I am under suspicion.’
Maleverer turned to Barak. ‘You have been with Master Craike since you found him?’
‘Yes, Sir William. We went together to tell the guards –’
Maleverer turned back to Craike. ‘So if you had some implement you used to try to brain the lawyer here, it’ll be about your person still. And now we have these papers missing too. Take off your robe, let’s see if there’s anything under there besides your fat carcass.’
‘I have nothing to hide, sir.’ Craike removed his long robe. I was relieved to see, underneath, only a doublet whose buttons strained at his plump stomach. Maleverer called the guard in. ‘Search him. See there’s nothing concealed in his upper hose.’ He turned to me. ‘These papers, how many were there?’