‘I’ll have to come too then. Be your chaperone. It’s all right. I could do with getting out of here too.’
NEXT MORNING DAWNED fine and sunny, but with a chill wind. The King, they said, had gone hunting again. We set off into the city. It was market day and York was busy; we passed officials from St Mary’s arguing with some merchants, evidently buying up more stores.
Tamasin had told Barak she and Mistress Marlin would be visiting a shop in Coneygate that sold fine fabrics. We arrived in St Helen’s Square shortly after ten. I glanced down Stonegate towards Oldroyd’s house, remembering the day the glaziers had surrounded us there. We might have come to grief if Master Wrenne had not happened along then. On the other side of the square people were going in and out of the Guildhall.
Barak nodded at St Helen’s church on the corner. Where the churchyard faced the street, a bench had been set under a tree.
‘Let’s sit there for a bit,’ I said.
‘You’ve taken a fondness for sitting under trees.’
‘Your back is safe against the bark,’ I said quietly. ‘And you can see who’s coming.’
‘They have to pass this way to return to St Mary’s,’ Barak said. ‘It’ll look as if we’ve just stopped for a rest.’
We entered the churchyard and sat on the bench. The graves were covered with fallen leaves, red and yellow and gold. It was a restful spot.
Barak nudged me. ‘There’s the Recorder waving at us,’ he said.
I looked up. Recorder Tankerd had come out of the Guildhall. Seeing him reminded me of Fulford. I waved back and he came over to us.
‘Taking a rest, sir?’ he asked. His look at me was curious, appraising. Perhaps he wanted to report back to his colleagues about how I looked after being mocked by the King. Well, no doubt I looked tired and strained, though there were other reasons for that.
‘Ay. We have a morning’s leisure before tackling the rest of the petitions this afternoon.’
‘Have the hearings gone smoothly?’
‘Very well. Brother Wrenne knows what he is doing.’
‘No lawyer in York is more respected. But he is taking on no new work, I hear. Perhaps he is retiring at last.’
‘He is ripe in years,’ I answered evasively.
‘And has begun to look his age recently.’
I did not reply, and Tankerd smiled uncertainly. ‘Well, I must be off. The council has been asked to press the Ainsty farms to deliver all their produce to St Mary’s, even the seed corn. But they are offering a good price. It looks like it may be a while before the Scotch King comes. Well, good day.’ He paused a moment, then said quietly, ‘What the King said to you was shameful, sir. I am not the only one who thinks so.’
I looked up in surprise. ‘Thank you.’ I paused. ‘They do not all laugh, then, at the Guildhall?’
‘By no means, sir. It was a cruel jest, it has not improved the King’s reputation.’
‘Thank you, Brother Tankerd. That is good to know.’
He bowed and left us. I sat watching him go.
Barak nudged me. ‘Here they come.’ I looked up to where Mistress Marlin and Tamasin were walking slowly up the street. Behind them an armed servant carried a large box, full of sewing materials no doubt.
‘Good morning!’ I called.
The sun was behind us, and Jennet Marlin squinted frowningly for a moment before recognizing us. She hesitated.
‘May we rest here a moment, mistress?’ Tamasin asked sweetly. ‘I have been standing all morning, I would be glad to sit down.’ She certainly had skills in diplomacy.
Mistress Marlin looked at us, perhaps guessing this meeting was no accident. She hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes. Let us rest a few minutes.’
I stood up and bowed her to sit there.
‘There is not room for all of us,’ Tamasin said. ‘Come, Master Barak, let us sit under that tree. I will show you the fine stuff we have bought.’
‘Eh? Oh, yes.’ Barak followed Tamasin as she led the way to a secluded spot under an oak. I was left with Jennet Marlin. The servant went and sat down on the grass at a respectful distance. I smiled at her uncertainly. ‘Well, Mistress Marlin. How do you fare?’ She looked tired and preoccupied, her large eyes unhappy. Untidy brown curls had escaped from her hood and she brushed them from her forehead. ‘Have you any news from London?’
‘No. And still no word of when we may leave this wretched city.’
‘The Recorder says they are buying up still more provisions.’
‘The men will be getting restless in camp, breaking out at night as they did at Pontefract.’ She sighed deeply. ‘By our Lady, I wish I had never been persuaded to come on this enterprise.’ She looked at me seriously. ‘Bernard, my fiancé, was supposed to accompany us.’ She hesitated. ‘In fact, he was to have the job you have now. Working on the petitions.’
‘Ah. I did not know.’
‘First Bernard was arrested, then his first replacement died. Yours is an unlucky post.’
No wonder she had been so hostile at first. She seemed to have accepted me now, though, even to see me as a confidant. That pleased me; in an odd way it was as though little Suzanne and I had made friends again. I thought, I must stop seeing people as substitutes. Mistress Marlin for Suzanne, Giles Wrenne for my father.
‘It was one of his friends persuaded me to come away,’ she said. ‘Another lawyer of Lincoln’s Inn. When Bernard was taken to the Tower in April I visited him every day. But his friends said I might attract suspicion to myself, it might be better if I came away on the Progress. And Lady Rochford was very insistent. She is used to me dealing with her clothes for her.’
‘I can see it must have been hard leaving London.’
‘If there are any developments, I have leave to return to London. But nothing has happened for almost three months. Forgive me, sir,’ she said suddenly, ‘I must bore you with my talk.’
‘No, no. I sympathize, madam.’ I looked at her. ‘How does your fiancé fare in the Tower? His friends will visit him?’
She twisted at her engagement ring. ‘Yes, they bring him food and clothes, and he has a cell that is less miserable than most, above ground. We had to pay the gaolers well for that,’ she added bitterly.
‘I can imagine.’
‘And yet I fear for his health in there. Winter draws near.’
‘Perhaps he will be freed ere winter.’
She only sighed.
‘His friends,’ I asked. ‘They are all from Gray’s Inn?’
She looked at me sharply then. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I wondered if he might know the nephew of a friend of mine. Another Gray’s Inn lawyer from the north.’ I told her of Giles’s determination to find his nephew, my offer to help.
She considered. ‘ ’Tis true the northern lawyers at Gray’s Inn tend to stick together. Most of them are traditionalists in religion.’
‘I believe this man is. Martin Dakin.’
‘I do not know the name.’
‘Have any other Gray’s Inn lawyers been arrested? There was suspicion of them in 1536.’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘That is reassuring. Thank you. What chambers did your fiancé practise in at Lincoln’s Inn?’
‘Not did, sir, does. He will be free. The name of his chambers is Garden Court.’
‘I am sorry. Thank you.’
She was silent a moment, then turned those large sorrowful eyes on me again. ‘Do you know what my Bernard is accused of?’
‘No, mistress.’
Her look was penetrating. ‘I thought you might have heard, since it is common gossip.’
‘No.’
‘Of knowing two Yorkshire gentlemen who were part of the conspiracy. But they were both old friends, of course he knew them.’
‘Did they say he was involved?’
‘No, though they were tortured. They are dead now, their remains were on the Fulford Gate till it was cleaned up for the King.’ She clenched her hands into tight little fists in her lap.