‘How did Bernard Locke react when he learned Jennet Marlin was dead?’ I asked quietly.

He shrugged. ‘Didn’t believe it, till the Tower warden waved his engagement ring, which I prised off her finger and sent down there, in his face.’

‘Was he sorry?’

‘I don’t know. Who cares?’ He walked across to me, standing close so that he looked down on me from his great height and I could smell his rank breath. ‘You’ll keep this quiet, you understand. You worked for Lord Cromwell. You know the value of a shut mouth and the penalties for opening it.’

‘Yes, I will.’ I thought, Martin Dakin is in trouble now if he wasn’t before. They will have Garden Court inside out.

Maleverer was looking at me narrowly. He smiled, his cold knowing smile. ‘Another acquaintance of yours will be on the boat, by the way. Sir Richard Rich.’

‘He did not go back with the Progress?’

‘No, he has a place on the boat. He wanted to return to London as soon as he could.’ He smiled again. ‘Have you given up that case against him?’

‘No, Sir William.’

He smiled again. ‘I hope you know what you are doing.’

WE WERE AT the docks early. The first sunny day since we got to Hull, the water calm, seabirds wheeling and crying. Our ship dominated the harbour, a seventy-foot caravel, with big square sails adapted for speed. The huge stern rose twenty feet above the waterline. ‘The Dauntless’ was painted in white letters on its side. Blocked-off gunports showed it had once been a warship. I guessed the lower decks would have been partitioned into rooms and fitted out comfortably, for I could see by their expensive clothes that the half dozen or so officials waiting to go aboard, each attended by a servant, were senior people. Rich was among them, talking to Maleverer, but neither gave us a glance.

We stood in a little group, waiting to go aboard. Myself and Giles, leaning on his stick and eyeing the boat keenly; Barak and Tamasin next to Giles. I had still not told Giles his nephew might be in danger. I feared the shock it might be to him.

‘Soon be off,’ Giles said to Barak and Tamasin. Barak nodded and Tamasin smiled tightly. She stood by Barak’s side, ready to give assistance should he fall, for he still limped heavily.

My attention was drawn by a carriage that trundled over the docks to the water’s edge. Curious heads turned everywhere as the door opened and Sergeant Leacon stepped out, accompanied by two red-coated soldiers. They were followed by Radwinter, who stood on the dockside looking around him. Then the two soldiers helped Broderick from the carriage. A coat had been thrown over his shirt; he pulled it round him as he felt the keen wind from the sea. I saw he cradled his left arm in his right and winced with pain as he moved. Even a few minutes on the rack, I knew, could leave a man with a dislocated limb.

He looked at the little crowd on the dockside. His eyes fixed on my little group and he stared straight at us for a long moment, his face set hard. Then he nodded slowly, as though to say, here, see what has become of me. The soldiers nudged him towards the planks that led from the docks to the ship. I saw his feet were still shackled, the chains rattling as they guided him onto the boat, Radwinter following. They crossed the deck and went below.

‘So that is Broderick,’ Wrenne said quietly. He looked at me intently. ‘He will die in London?’

‘Yes,’ I answered bleakly. ‘If he survives his torture he will die a traitor’s death, disembowelled at Tyburn.’

‘I had not realized he was so young.’

The clerk in charge of the arrangements spoke to one of the courtiers. They began going aboard, several getting their servants to help them across the planks, looking down nervously at the water. Then the clerk came over to us. He was a plump, bustling fellow. He reminded me of Master Craike, well on his way back to London with the Progress by now. He had not said goodbye before he went.

‘If you would go aboard, sirs.’

Giles stepped forward. I turned to Barak, essayed a smile. ‘Well, here we go at last.’

‘Ay. Goodbye to Yorkshire. And good riddance,’ he added as Tamasin led him aboard by the hand.

Chapter Thirty-nine

THE FOUR OF US – me, Barak, Tamasin and Giles – each had tiny cabins in the stern, no bigger than cupboards, with space only for a narrow bunk nailed to the floor. Across the way I caught a glimpse of a servant unpacking his master’s bag in a larger cabin. A little further down the two soldiers that had brought Broderick aboard stood guard outside a heavy door; the ship’s lock-up, no doubt. I wondered if Radwinter was in there with the prisoner. We four went back on deck. It was cold even with the sea calm and the skies clear. I dreaded to think what it would be like in rough weather.

The crew were busy with the sails, under the eye of the mate, a stocky man with a weatherbeaten face. Satisfied, he marched off, boots ringing on the planks. There was a bump, a creak and the ship began moving away from the wharf. Giles, who was wearing a cap, doffed it at the Yorkshire shore as we moved away.

‘I should keep that off,’ I said. ‘Or you’ll lose it in the wind. You should really be below.’

‘I’ll manage.’ But as he pulled his coat tightly round him I noticed his face seemed drawn. He went to sit down on a bench nailed to the deck, while Barak, Tamasin and I watched as Hull faded slowly from view, a light swell in the Humber estuary making the ship rise and fall. I felt a little sick, and recalling what someone had told me once I fixed my eyes on the mudbanks on the horizon.

I heard a murmur behind me. ‘That was him, at Fulford. The King made him bare his back to the crowd.’ I turned to see a pair of clerks looking over their shoulders at me. I frowned at them and they turned away. So the story of what had happened at Fulford Cross was already growing in the telling, I thought bitterly, as stories do. Would I never be allowed to forget my humiliation by King Henry? I wondered what they would say if they knew he might be no more than a Kentish archer’s grandson.

‘Oh, God.’ Barak lurched abruptly, then bent forward and vomited on the deck. He lost his balance, pitched forward and fell with a thud on the boards. There was a burst of laughter from the clerks, and the sailors working at the mast looked over and grinned. I helped him to his feet. Tamasin took his other arm and we led him to sit down next to Giles. The acid smell of vomit made my own stomach heave. Barak’s face was white as paper. He put his head between his knees and groaned, then lifted it and looked at me.

‘I hate being ill, and having only one fucking leg that works properly!’ he burst out. ‘I hate it!’ He glared at the clerks. ‘I’d make those arseholes laugh if I was fit!’

‘You’ll be back to normal soon.’

‘You can rest when you get back to London, Jack,’ Tamasin said. She looked at me appealingly behind Barak’s back. ‘Perhaps Master Shardlake will let you stay at his house for a while, so his housekeeper can look after you, speed your recovery.’

‘Yes,’ I said awkwardly. ‘Yes, we can do that.’

‘I don’t want any favours. Oh, God.’ He put his head between his knees again.

I walked to the rail to escape the smell of vomit. I felt annoyed at Tamasin’s request; the calculating little piece had made it when I could least refuse. But she was right, he could not yet cope on his own; he would try to do too much and injure himself again.

After a few minutes I went back to where Barak still sat with his head between his knees, Tamasin’s arm round him. On his other side Giles was slumped heavily on the bench. His stillness sent a momentary chill down my spine, until I touched him and his eyes opened.