‘Where is he?’
‘A quarter of a mile back, in a cart full of waterproof coats. He says he feels a fool.’ She looked at me seriously. ‘Sir, please make sure he rests when we reach Howlme.’
‘I will, I promise.’
Just then the cry of ‘Fall to!’ sounded again; the King, it seemed, was indeed keen to move on. Tamasin and Mistress Marlin fell into place beside us.
‘I was shocked to hear what happened to you,’ Jennet Marlin said. ‘They are saying someone put that thorny branch under your horse’s saddle so it would throw you. Why would anyone do such a terrible thing?’
‘Someone thinks I know a secret, mistress.’
She turned in the saddle a moment and looked back over the great concourse. Then she turned back. ‘This concourse is full of evil. Cannot you return straight to London?’
‘No, I am not allowed.’
‘I am sorry,’ she said.
‘Make way! Make way!’ A messenger, riding forward with some message for one of the officials, came to a halt. Jennet Marlin pulled ahead to let him pass. Tamasin leaned in close to me. ‘What did it mean?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Lady Rochford coming over to us like that when Jack fell?’
‘I do not know. She looked afraid.’
‘And I have to go among them tonight. I hoped our troubles might end when we left York.’
‘We must keep up our courage, Tamasin.’
Jennet Marlin looked over her shoulder. ‘We had best return to the household.’ She looked at me. ‘Take care, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ They rode away towards the front of the Progress. I turned to find Giles looking at me quizzically.
‘Who can be doing this to you?’
‘I do not know. It would be better if I said no more.’
We rode on in silence. The road was raised above the level of the fields now, we looked down on soggy water meadows. After a while these gave way to uncultivated marshland, brown and dreary and spotted with dark reedy pools. The gloomy surroundings seemed to affect the Progress, the buzz of conversation dying away.
‘A miserable setting,’ I observed to Wrenne.
‘Ay, Spalding Moor was ever a dreary and dangerous spot. But see ahead, our destination.’ He smiled, then lifted a hand and pointed. Far ahead I saw a hill that rose, unexpectedly high, out of the marshland, crowned with an ancient church and thick with trees, their leaves red and gold. A straggle of houses lined the steep sides.
‘There it is. Howlme.’
‘You know it?’
He smiled for the first time since we had left York. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I was born there.’
I HAD WONDERED IF the Progress would try to mount the steep hill; getting all those carts up there would have been a mighty job. But we halted at the bottom, where a large mansion stood in the midst of fields carved out of the marshland. Everyone dismounted and stood waiting. Four huge carts containing the King’s greyhounds in great cages rumbled past us, the animals barking and whining.
‘What happens now?’ I asked Templeman, who was holding Genesis by the reins.
‘They’ll come and tell us where we’re billeted.’ He looked at the meadow next to us. ‘This is a damp place,’ he added gloomily. ‘I’ll wager we’ll wake in our tents with water seeping round our bedrolls. It won’t be the first time.’
‘I think I will walk up to the village,’ Giles said. ‘Pay a last visit to my childhood haunts.’
‘Is it long since you were here?’
‘Over fifty years. Since my mother died.’ He dismounted, taking his stick from where he had tied it to the saddle, and looked up the steep hill. ‘There will be none who remember me now, but I can visit my parents’ grave.’ He turned to the soldier. ‘Would you mind my horse, fellow?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Look for me later, Matthew, in camp. We can eat together, though what food we will have in these fields I do not know.’
‘Till later, then.’ Giles walked away, weaving his way slowly among the crowd. I looked beyond the meadow to the mansion. There, in the distance, the royal household had gathered before the door, a shimmering parade of velvet and satin, steel and feathers. I glimpsed a figure around whom all seemed to be revolving, a man head and shoulders above the rest. The King. I turned away, in time to see a little man in a particoloured doublet of Tudor green and white shoving his way through the crowd towards me. He took off his cap and bowed.
‘Have you come from Sir William Maleverer?’ I asked.
‘No, sir,’ he said. ‘Your presence is required elsewhere.’
‘Where? By whom?’ I asked sharply, suddenly conscious that I no longer had Barak beside me.
‘I may not say, sir. But my orders come from a high authority.’
I frowned, but allowed the man to lead the way back through the crowd. I had to walk quickly to keep up. At least he was leading me away from the manor house – for an awful second I thought this might be a summons from the King. I caught up with him. ‘Who is it requires my presence?’ I asked breathlessly.
He dodged as a huge cart laden with sides of beef trundled by. ‘You will see in a moment, sir.’
He led me into a field where some large tents had been set up. A number of women were going in and out, from which I deduced this must be where members of the Queen’s household were billeted. He went over to the largest tent, held the flap open a little and bowed for me to enter.
The interior was richly appointed. Rushmats had been placed on the floor and large beeswax candles gave the interior a warm yellow glow. To my astonishment Barak was there too, leaning on a wooden crutch someone had found for him. Beside him stood Tamasin, her face tense. Opposite stood Lady Rochford, her expression stern and haughty. And beside her a small plump figure I recognized, wearing a dress of silver satin and a black hood decorated with enormous pearls. At once I bowed low before Queen Catherine.
‘Get up, please.’ Her voice was soft, girlish. I stood and faced her, realizing I was shaking. The Queen looked at me. Close to she looked younger than ever, scarce more than a child, though even with the troubled expression I saw in her hazel eyes she had an aura of sexuality about her. Lady Rochford stepped forward.
‘That surprised him, Your Majesty,’ she said waspishly. ‘He was very bold when I met him before.’
I said nothing, waiting for the Queen to speak. There was silence for a moment, then she said, ‘Lady Rochford tells me Mistress Reedbourne and this man Barak are under your protection.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘I saw you at Fulford,’ Queen Catherine said. ‘I was sorry for how you were treated there.’
‘It is of no matter.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I have been told there was an attempt on your life today.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. A thorn branch was placed under my horse’s saddle. A friend was mounting the horse; he would have been killed had it not been for Master Barak’s quick actions.’
The Queen looked at Lady Rochford. For a moment she seemed tongue-tied. But she rallied. ‘Do you know why anyone would do such a thing, sir?’
I hesitated. ‘No, Your Majesty. But it is not the first such attack.’ I looked at Lady Rochford. ‘Sir William Maleverer has the matter in hand.’
‘See, Your Majesty!’ Lady Rochford snapped. ‘You saw how he looked at me. He thinks I had something to do with it.’
‘Do you?’ the Queen asked me, a tremble in her voice.
I hesitated again. Then: ‘I do not know who may be responsible.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I called you here, sir, to assure you it was nothing to do with my household.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I believe it has to do with – another matter than that which brought us into contact with Lady Rochford.’
A look of fear again. She glanced at Lady Rochford.