I wondered if he had been trying to discover whether Broderick had any links with Jennet Marlin. ‘Well, I will see how he does,’ I said. I mounted the little step on the side of the carriage, and knocked on the door. It opened and Radwinter stared out at me. He appeared tired and a little unkempt, his hair untidy. He would be unable to keep up his usual standards in there.
‘I thought you had forgotten us,’ he said sourly.
He stood aside and I stepped into the dark airless carriage. It stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. The carriage seats had been knocked out and a couple of straw mattresses laid on the floor for prisoner and guard. Broderick lay on one of them, his wrists and ankles secured by heavy chains. Though it was hard to see in the gloom I thought he looked paler than ever.
‘Well, Broderick,’ I said.
He stared up at me with his bright angry eyes. I wondered what he might know of Jennet Marlin and her fiancé. But even if he did know something, Maleverer would have got nothing from him.
‘Where are we now?’ he asked.
‘A place called Leconfield. We stay here tonight, and go on to Hull tomorrow, I believe.’
‘Leconfield. Ah.’ A look of sadness crossed his features.
‘You know it?’
‘Yes.’ Broderick looked at the open door of the carriage. ‘Are we at the castle?’
‘Nearby. You can see it from here.’
‘I would like to see it. Just through the door. If I may.’
‘No,’ said Radwinter.
‘Yes,’ I countered. I wanted to get a clearer look at the prisoner in the light. Radwinter shrugged angrily. Broderick tried to struggle to his feet but the heavy chains impeded him. I gave him my arm; he took it reluctantly. Through his dirty shirt his arm felt like skin and bone. He shuffled to the open door and looked out at the castle. Courtiers were riding across the drawbridge and a group of swans, disturbed by the noise, flew up from the still waters of the moat. The high brick walls shone red in the setting sun. All around, the trees in their bright autumn colours. I studied Broderick’s face as he blinked in the unaccustomed light. He looked pitifully thin and pale.
‘I came here many times as a boy,’ he said, in softer tones than I had ever heard him use. ‘This used to be the Yorkshire seat of the Percy family.’ He looked at me. ‘Once they were the greatest family in the north.’
‘Who owns it now?’ I asked.
‘Who owns everything?’ he answered. ‘The King. He bullied the Earl of Northumberland into making him his heir, the King took everything when he died. And the earl’s brother, Sir Thomas, who was the rightful heir, took part in the Pilgrimage of Grace and was executed.’
‘Where do his bones hang?’
Broderick gave me a sharp look. ‘Nowhere. The King had him burned at Smithfield. He is naught but ashes on the wind now.’ Broderick looked back at Radwinter. ‘I expect you saw it; you tell me you go to all the burnings.’
Radwinter frowned. ‘ ’Tis everyone’s duty to see the end of traitors.’
‘For you it is entertainment. You are a fit servant for the Mouldwarp.’
Radwinter laughed. ‘I think you had best get back inside. Your traitorous face is not to be seen by Christian people.’ He took Broderick’s shoulder and shoved him back into the gloomy interior. Broderick lowered himself clumsily on to the mattress, his chains rattling.
‘I could do with a little air myself,’ Radwinter said. ‘A word, Master Shardlake?’ He jumped lightly down on to the grass. I clambered down beside him. He took a deep breath of the cold evening air.
‘’Tis good to be outside. Do you know whether we move on to Hull tomorrow?’
‘I am not sure. I assume so.’
‘I will be glad to be out of that carriage. It jolts constantly. But at least it is safe. I hear someone tried to kill you,’ he added in the same light tone. ‘And was herself killed. A woman.’
‘Yes.’
‘Maleverer told me when he came to question Broderick last night. Broderick denied any knowledge of the woman or her betrothed. Perhaps it was only someone you have annoyed with your nosy priggish ways?’
‘Very probably,’ I replied flatly. I was not going to be provoked into telling him more than the little Maleverer evidently had. ‘Broderick looks ill and weak to me. Sergeant Leacon says you spend your time telling him gruesome stories.’
‘Fit subjects for a traitor. But there is a reason I talk to Broderick thus.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me, Master Shardlake, do you frequent the cockfight, or the bear-baiting? No, you would not, you are of a weak nature.’
‘What has this to do with anything?’
‘When I was a boy I went to the bear pit as often as I could cozen a penny out of someone. And I would go to hangings with my father, and burnings, too, though there were fewer in those days. I learned there is a great difference between animals and people when they are led in to be killed for spectacle.’
I looked at him. Once I had been afraid of this man with his strange icy eyes, but increasingly when I encountered him now it was disgust I felt.
‘The difference is anticipation. The dogs led into the pit do not think, Jesu, I am about to die in agony. They go in and they fight and they die. But the people know, will have known for days, what is coming to them. They anticipate the agony of slow strangling or having their flesh stripped from their bones by fire. For the condemned of course there is no release, but if a man may save himself by talking…’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I have been telling Broderick of all that may come to him to try and frighten him. I have been forbidden to use physical methods but I have always found words may serve just as well.’
‘Broderick will never talk,’ I said impatiently. ‘You know that.’
‘Water wears away stone. I cannot believe he does not lie awake at night and think with terror of what is to come in the Tower.’
‘Do you know, Radwinter,’ I said, ‘I think you are mad, and grow madder by the day.’ And with that I turned and walked away.
MY ENCOUNTER LEFT ME ill at ease. Radwinter always made me feel as though something unclean had been crawling over me. I walked off in the direction of the manor, frowning.
A number of officials were standing on the meadow in front of the moat, talking as they took the evening air. Among them I saw Master Craike standing on his own, checking papers on his little desk. I hesitated, for I knew my presence embarrassed him now, but crossed over. I wanted to talk to Tamasin and he might be able to tell me where she was billeted.
‘Good evening, sir,’ I greeted him. ‘Still at work?’
‘Yes. I am very busy, I fear.’ He took a step away, and although I knew the reason for his reluctance to talk to me, nevertheless his brusqueness annoyed me.
‘There is something I would ask you.’ I made my voice as coldly formal as his. ‘About the arrangements for tonight.’
‘Very well. But I am busy. I have just learned we are to be here four nights.’
‘Four?’
‘Yes. We do not go on to Hull till the first of October.’
I set my lips. I wanted desperately to be on the boat to London, and here was more time lost. I turned back to Craike, remembering why I had sought him out. ‘Do you know where the Queen’s women-servants are camped?’ I asked. He looked at me narrowly. ‘Official business,’ I said.
He pointed with his quill to a field where some tents were being set up a little away from the rest. ‘Over there.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, then essayed a smile. ‘I hope all goes smoothly with the arrangements.’ But he had already turned his back. I shook my head and began walking towards the field. As I approached I saw Tamasin herself coming towards me from the tents, holding the hem of her skirts clear of the wet grass. As she approached I saw her eyes were red from crying.
‘I came to find you,’ I said. ‘To tell you where we are.’
‘And I was about to come looking for you, sir.’ She gave me a watery smile and fell into step beside me. ‘How is Jack?’ she asked.