‘We are almost here,’ I said.

‘Yes. I heard the sailors calling.’ He gave a little smile. ‘So, I made it.’

‘How are you?’

‘Better.’ He sighed. ‘I must get up.’

‘When we get to my house you must rest a few days. Barak and I can make enquiries at Gray’s Inn.’

‘Would you wait a few days before you do? Till I feel able to come with you.’ He laughed awkwardly. ‘I would like to meet my nephew standing on my feet, not have him brought to me in bed.’

‘Very well, Giles. By all means wait a few days. I will get my friend Guy to come and see you. He is an apothecary, but a trained doctor too.’

‘The old Spanish Moor you told me of?’

‘Ay. At the least I am sure he can ease your pains. And you will like my house. My housekeeper Joan is a good old body, she will take care of you.’ My heart lifted at the thought of home. The first thing I would do was try to get the Bealknap case set down as soon as possible.

‘You have been so good to me,’ Giles said quietly. ‘Like a son.’

I said nothing, only laid a hand on his arm. ‘I will leave you to get ready. We will be on deck.’

When I returned the boat was pulling up to the dock. It bumped against the wharf. I saw half a dozen soldiers there, carrying pikes. The escort for Radwinter.

The boat tied up. Giles joined us, grasping the rail. ‘London,’ he said. ‘It seems huge.’

‘It is,’ Barak said. ‘A thousand more come each year, they say.’

‘Jack will guide you round the town, sir,’ Tamasin said.

‘You too, I hope, mistress. It will be fine to walk the streets of London with a pretty girl.’

We watched as the courtiers got off, a bedraggled-looking crew now. Maleverer was there.

I saw Sergeant Leacon emerge with the two soldiers and, between them, Radwinter. The gaoler’s once-neat clothes were crumpled, his face dirty and unshaven, hair and beard unkempt. His arms and legs were chained as Broderick’s had been. There was no sign of violence about him now, his head hung low.

Leacon and the soldiers led him across the planks and over to the other waiting soldiers. A sailor waved to the remaining passengers and we descended the plank. When we reached the wharf I almost lost my balance, unused to dry land. Tamasin and Barak each gave me an arm.

‘Careful, now,’ Barak said. ‘You’ll have us all over. I’m unsteady too.’

Another hand was laid on my arm. I turned round, thinking someone else had come to my aid.

‘I’m all right-’ I broke off. The hand had gripped me tight, and now I saw it was Sergeant Leacon’s. Three of the soldiers had come over and now they surrounded us, their pikes raised. Sergeant Leacon looked at me sternly.

‘You are to come with the soldiers, Master Shardlake.’

I frowned at him. ‘But what – what is this?’

‘You are under arrest, sir. You are suspected of treason.’

Giles stepped forward. ‘Treason?’ There was a shocked quaver in his voice. ‘What do you mean, there is some mistake -’

‘No mistake, sir. The soldiers who came for Radwinter brought a warrant for Master Shardlake’s arrest also.’

‘Let me see!’ Giles snapped authoritatively. ‘I am a lawyer.’ He held out a hand. Leacon produced a paper from his pocket and handed it to him. He studied it, eyes wide, then passed it to me with a trembling hand. It was a warrant for my arrest, signed by Archbishop Cranmer.

‘What am I supposed to have done?’ My lips felt thick, bruised, my heart was jumping wildly.

‘You’ll be told in the Tower.’

‘No!’ Barak thrust himself forward, grabbing at Leacon’s arm. ‘This is all wrong, it’s a mistake. Archbishop Cranmer-’

A soldier reached out and grabbed his arm. Barak lost his balance and toppled over with a cry on the muddy cobbles. I was manhandled away.

‘Find out what is happening, Jack!’ I called out.

Tamasin was helping him to his feet. ‘We will!’ she called after me. Wrenne was standing watching, his face aghast. A little distance away I saw the courtiers watching me. Maleverer caught my eye. He inclined his head, raised his eyebrows and smiled. He had known.

Chapter Forty-one

THEY TOOK US TO a big rowing boat a little further down the dock. Sergeant Leacon did not accompany us, and oddly it affected me greatly that I was left entirely in strange hands. The soldiers made me climb down steps encrusted with green slime and I slipped; if one of them had not grasped me I would have fallen into the filthy Thames.

They sat me beside Radwinter and rowed out into the broad river. Looking back at the wharf I saw three receding figures watching, still as stones. Barak and Tamasin and Giles; helpless.

Other craft on the river pulled aside at the sight of the boat full of red uniforms. We passed close to a wherry; its passenger, a plump alderman, gave Radwinter and me a look in which fear was mixed with sympathy. I could imagine his thoughts. Taken to the Tower. That could be me. It was the fear that lurked in the back of every mind. And now, out of the blue, it had happened to me. Yet, I thought with terror, perhaps I should not be surprised. My head was full of forbidden knowledge, of Blaybourne and the King’s legitimacy. Not that I had ever wanted any of it, but now they would have that knowledge out of my head, one way or another. Who was it that had informed against me? I furrowed my brow. Surely the old man Swann in Hull could not have done so. And other than him, only Barak knew the full extent of what I had discovered about Blaybourne. But he would have told Tamasin. Surely it could not be her? I swallowed; my throat was dry as paper. Beside me, Radwinter sat staring bleakly ahead, still no sign of the frantic madness Barak had described. It began to rain.

It was a short journey; suddenly the walls of the Tower were above us, wet with slime where they met the water for the tide was low. My heart began thumping frantically. We stopped at a portcullis gate that gave on to the river. The Watergate. I thought, Anne Boleyn came in here, Anne Boleyn, Anne Boleyn… I found myself repeating the name over and over in my mind. It was to stop my thoughts moving on to the end of that story, for I had been made by Cromwell to attend the Queen’s execution, seen her head fly out from the block on Tower Green, that fine spring day five years before.

‘Out!’ The boat had bumped against stone stairs. The soldiers took our arms and hauled us up. I looked through a stone archway at the top of the steps and saw Tower Green where ravens pecked, the great square bulk of the White Tower beyond. The rain grew heavier.

‘Let me go!’ Beside me Radwinter had come to life. ‘I’ve done nothing. I’m innocent.’ He tried to struggle but the soldiers held him fast. They did not bother to reply. Innocent, I thought. So was Anne Boleyn, so was Margaret of Salisbury they had killed here last spring. Being innocent was no help in this place.

‘Up you go!’ The soldiers spoke to us only in clipped phrases. They led us up the steps and I almost slipped again for I had still not fully found my land legs.

‘Wait here!’

We stood on a path. The soldiers surrounded us, pikes held straight, water bouncing off their breastplates and helmets. An official came along, head bent against the rain. He looked at us as he passed; a look of mild interest, as though thinking, who is it now? Here they would be used to it. I felt a terrible shame to have come to this; for a moment the shame was stronger than my fear. What if my father could see this from heaven?

A man walked towards us from the White Tower. He wore a fur robe and a wide cap and he came slowly, heedless of the rain. The soldiers saluted as he halted before us. He was in his late thirties, tall and thin with a neat sandy beard. A soldier handed him a couple of papers, the warrants no doubt. He studied Radwinter and me. His eyes were keen, calculating.