I thought again about Bernard Locke’s strange words to me in the Tower. He had said Martin Dakin was no conspirator, and he was safe. But if he was not a conspirator, what had Locke meant by safe? I decided I would go to Gray’s Inn tomorrow, seek Martin Dakin out.
Chapter Forty-six
BARAK AND TAMASIN returned in the afternoon. Barak came to my room where I was resting. He looked exhausted.
‘I haven’t been able to lay hold of my mate on Cheap-side,’ he said. ‘He’s on a job out of town. He won’t be back till tomorrow.’
I put a hand to my sore jaw. I must visit Guy soon, have it looked at. ‘Not breaking into a house, I hope.’
‘No. He’s a locksmith, as it happens. Fitting locks for a new house in the country. Why d’you always assume all my contacts are criminals?’
‘I am sorry.’ I pulled back my sleeve, displaying the rusty manacle. ‘I’ve put some grease on it to ease the chafing, but it stinks and makes my shirt messy. I won’t feel properly free of the Tower till this thing is off.’
‘I’ll try him again tomorrow. I was told he would be back then.’
‘Thank you.’ I looked at his tired face, his wet hair. Outside it was still raining. ‘Did Tamasin go to Whitehall?’
‘Yes. She was told there were to be rearrangements in the Queen’s household, she should go back in a few days.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘She is afraid to return, given that questions are being asked of the Queen’s ladies.’
‘Not the servants, like Tamasin?’
‘No, but she fears it may come to that, considers it better just to melt away into the background. I think she’s right.’
‘But she will lose the chance of getting a job in the household. The best-paid work in the land for a servant.’
He shrugged. ‘She’s afraid, especially after seeing what they did to you. She’ll find something else. And she still has a little of her grandmother’s money left, she says.’
‘That has lasted her well.’
‘Ay.’ He sighed. ‘I spoke with my old mate.’
‘Any luck?’
He frowned. ‘Seems there’s a possible candidate. I’ve got to go back tomorrow.’
‘Who?’
‘He wouldn’t say. But I was told he is a professional man, whatever that might mean.’ He broke off at a knock on the door. Tamasin came in.
‘I am sorry you have lost your place, Tamasin,’ I said gently.
‘Yes.’ She stood there, looking exhausted.
‘Stay a few days longer,’ I said. ‘Both of you. Until – well, until things are clearer. Perhaps you may find work at court again.’
‘When the Queen is dead?’ She spoke in a bitter tone I had never heard. ‘Perhaps to be a servant in the household of a new Queen, watching to see how long she will last, what secrets I may accidentally hear that could get me into trouble?’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘No, I will never go back to work there, whatever they pay.’
‘All right, Tammy,’ Barak said, but she went on.
‘They say at Whitehall Lady Rochford has gone mad in the Tower, screams and raves and can make no sensible answer. The poor Queen is held at Hampton Court, Jesu knows what state she is in. Still, a woman must smile and be cheerful, must she not?’ She twisted her face into a parody of a girlish smile, then turned and ran from the room.
THAT EVENING Giles and I dined quietly in the parlour, listening to the rain buffeting down outside. Barak had been with Tamasin in her room all afternoon. Joan’s face had been sour but I was past caring.
It was Giles’s first meal out of bed and he seemed better. I told him about the state of the orchard and he agreed I ought to go to the Inn Treasurer the next day. ‘Otherwise they will say you did not give them proper notice if your garden does flood.’ He smiled. ‘You know what lawyers are like.’
‘You are right. I want them to dig a trench halfway down that slope, to catch the water. It should be done now, this rain seems never-ending.’ I sighed. ‘And it is time I showed my face.’
NEXT MORNING I rose early and, after breakfast, made ready to walk to Lincoln’s Inn. Tamasin and Barak had gone out together, Tamasin to look for a room, Barak to find the lockpicker – and to find out about Tamasin’s father. It had stopped raining for now but there were pools of water everywhere in Chancery Lane, and slippery clumps of wet leaves in the muddy roadway. I picked my way along carefully. There was a cold wind too; winter was truly begun. There was a barber in Chancery Lane and I decided to take advantage of his services first, to make myself look presentable. I sat in his chair, conscious of that damned manacle still on my wrist, which I did my best to hide under my sleeve. His conversation was of the strange doings at Hampton Court. Rumours were flying around now, that the Queen had been arrested, that she had been found to be a spy, or in bed with everyone from a scullery boy to Cranmer himself. The barber retold these gems of gossip with relish. ‘ ’Tis like the days of Anne Bullen again,’ he said cheerfully. I told him I was sure it was all untrue, then went on to Lincoln’s Inn.
It felt strange to pass under the Great Gate again, to see the solid red-brick buildings of Gatehouse Court, the barristers passing to and fro. Acquaintances nodded to me as I made my way to the Treasurer’s office, but I was eager to press on and conclude my business. As the Treasurer disclaimed all responsibility for the flood at first, I sharply reminded him of the laws of nuisance and before I left I had the promise that a trench would be dug on the morrow. I returned to my chambers feeling slightly more cheerful.
Two solicitors were passing by; they paused and eyed me curiously. I frowned; my hand was in the pocket of my robe, the manacle well hidden.
My clerk Skelly was busy at his desk. He greeted me with a genuine enthusiasm that disarmed me, his eyes shining behind his glasses. ‘I have prayed for you, sir,’ he said. ‘Out among those wild heathens. And now you are returned to us. But your face is swollen, sir.’
‘A bad tooth,’ I said. And indeed it was throbbing again. So at least rumours about my imprisonment had not reached Lincoln’s Inn. They would soon enough, though. ‘How is the work?’ I asked. I had parcelled my cases out among barristers I knew and trusted to deal with while I was away.
‘No real problems, sir. Brother Hennessy won in Re. Cropper last week.’
‘Did he? Good.’ I paused. ‘I have heard there have been officials from the Privy Council at the Inns, making enquiries to do with the spring conspiracy.’
‘Not here, sir.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe up at Gray’s Inn.’
IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON before I brought myself up to date. Yes, I thought, there is enough business here for me to pick up and be quite busy. And the payment Cranmer had promised would mean I could clear the debt on my father’s estate. There was a letter waiting from the mortgagee asking when he would be paid, and I wrote a terse reply saying he would not have to wait long. Then I went over to the dining hall for lunch.
I had decided I would walk up to Gray’s Inn that afternoon, and over my meal I thought more about Martin Dakin. What if he spurned the idea of mending his quarrel with Giles, as he might, given what family quarrels can be like. Again I wondered if my concern for the old man was linked to my guilty feeling that I had let my father down. But no, I thought, this is the only right thing to do.
As I walked to the gate I saw Bealknap approaching from his chambers. I wondered if he had seen me from his window. ‘Brother Shardlake!’ He greeted me cheerfully. ‘I hear you have had some adventures since we last met – some trouble with His Majesty at York, was it not? And a sojourn in the Tower.’ His eyes went to my right hand, where the damned manacle had slipped down and was visible. ‘Goodness me,’ he said mildly.