‘If you want better,’ he said, ‘you’ll have to pay.’ He gave us a mercenary look. ‘You’re both gentlemen, will you be having visitors?’

‘Are they allowed?’ I asked.

He looked at me as though I were stupid. ‘Ay, or how would you get money to pay for things? Will someone come?’

‘I hope so,’ I said with a sigh, realizing how desperate I was to see a friendly face.

‘Archbishop Cranmer will come for me,’ Radwinter said with sudden haughtiness. ‘Then you and the Tower constable will be the ones that pay.’

‘Will he bring the King with him?’ The turnkey laughed and closed the door. Radwinter gave it a baleful look, then took up a bowl and began slurping at the pottage. I ate the filthy stuff too, adding more discomfort to my already churning stomach.

More hours passed. It began to get dark. Outside the hissing of the rain went on and on. Was this part of the plan, keeping us waiting, like Radwinter’s father had, to anticipate all that might come? I lay down. Barak and Wrenne would help me, I told myself. They would come.

AS THE HOURS PASSED the cold drove everything else from my mind. My clothes were wet from the rain on the river crossing. They would never dry in here. Still the rain pelted down outside. I heard the hissing grow louder and then quieter as the river rose and fell with the tide. In the end I lay on the bare planks of the bed, wrapping the filthy mattress round me as best I could to try and get a little warmth. It was a difficult task in the dark, chained as I was. The mattress stank of piss and old sweat and things crawled into my clothes, making me itch. There was no sound from Radwinter. I could just make out his form on the bed. I hoped he was asleep. I did not like the thought of him lying awake in the darkness, heaven knew what mad thoughts churning through his brain.

The mattress provided little warmth. I would doze for a while and wake shivering. I watched the sky lighten from black to grey, outlined by the thick bars on the window. Still the rain hissed down. After that I slept awhile, tormented by vivid, horrible dreams. In one I was led in my chains into the King’s presence. He lay in an ornately decorated bed, in the room at the pavilion at King’s Manor where we had met Lady Rochford. He wore a nightshirt which showed how truly fat he was, rolls of flesh heaving like the sea as he struggled to sit up. I saw he was nearly bald, only a fringe of reddish-grey hair above his ears. He glared at me. ‘Look what you have done!’ he said, and pulled aside his coverlet. On one of his tree-trunk legs was a great black patch and out of it a yellow fungus like the stuff Broderick had used to poison himself was growing. ‘You will pay for this, Blaybourne,’ he said, fixing me with those eyes that were so like Radwinter’s.

‘I am not Blaybourne!’ I stretched out my arms in entreaty but the soldiers holding me pulled on the chains binding them. They rattled and the tight gyve cut into my wrist. I awoke with a gasp. The pain in my wrist was real. I had flung my arm outward and it was biting hard. The metallic rattle was real too, a key was turning in the door. Both turnkeys, the fat one and the young one, entered, without food and with set faces. My heart banged with fear and my bowels churned.

They gave me only a glance, though, before turning to Radwinter, who likewise had jumped up. From his groggy look he must have been sleeping after all. The fat turnkey heaved him to his feet. ‘Right, matey, Sir Jacob wants you questioned.’

He tried to struggle. ‘No! I have done nothing! It is Maleverer who should be here! I am Archbishop Cranmer’s gaoler! Let me loose!’ He began to struggle. The fat turnkey slapped his face, hard, then grabbed his head and looked into his eyes.

‘Don’t make trouble or we’ll drag you along by your feet.’

Radwinter said nothing, shocked by the blow, and allowed himself to be manhandled from the cell. He recovered himself outside, though; I heard him screaming as he was dragged away, calling out to God for vengeance on Maleverer, yelling that he would have the turnkey in his own gaol. I sat down on the bed, my legs shaking. When would they come for me?

More hours passed.

The tide was rising once again, the hissing of the rain getting louder. I had heard of cells in the riverside gaols flooding at high tides, prisoners drowning. I half hoped that would happen, watched with a mixture of fear and anticipation for water to start lapping over the window. I started at the sound of the key in the lock again, whirling round with a gasp of fear. Was it my turn now?

Barak stood in the doorway, the young gaoler behind him. He looked exhausted. I jumped up and ran to him, grasping his arms, all reserve forgotten. ‘Jack, Jack, thank God!’

He reddened with embarrassment at this unprecedented show of affection. He reddened further as he saw my chains. He took my arm gently. ‘Come, sir, sit down.’ He led me to my bed and turned to the gaoler. ‘Half an hour, yes?’

‘Ay. Half an hour for sixpence. Let me know if you’re bringing anything in, and I’ll tell you the tariff.’ He went out, locking us in. Barak sat on Radwinter’s bed. I knew from his weary anxious face that he had no good news for me.

‘That’s Radwinter’s bed,’ I said with a hysterical little laugh.

‘Radwinter? They’ve kept him with you?’

‘Ay. He is out of his wits, Jack, and I’ll be out of mine if I’m here much longer. They’ve taken him away, Jesu knows what they are doing to him. I do not have the stomach for this.’

‘What man has? God’s wounds, you look rough. Is there anything I can bring you?’

‘Blankets and dry clothes. I need them desperately.’ My voice caught on the words and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. ‘And some decent food. I’ll pay you later.’

‘I’ll sort it out.’

‘Thank you. Jesu, it is good to see you. Talk to me, help me remind myself there is still a world beyond here. Have you gone to my house?’

‘Ay. I thought it best for us all to stay there. Tamasin is helping look after Master Wrenne.’ He hesitated. ‘Sir, he is not well at all, poor old fellow. He almost collapsed when we reached Chancery Lane. He had to be put to bed.’

‘I feared he was in a bad way.’ I looked at Barak. ‘Is this the end for him?’

‘I think he just needs rest. The voyage was too much for him.’

‘Does Joan know where I am?’

‘We thought it best not to tell her. We said you had business at Whitehall, had told us to stay at Chancery Lane and look after Master Wrenne till you returned.’

‘Good.’ We sat silent for a moment. ‘Listen to that rain,’ I said.

‘Ay. Apparently the weather has been bad in London, hasn’t stopped raining for a fortnight. You know the orchard behind your house, that the Inn authorities have pulled up for new building?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now the trees have gone it is a sea of mud. You know it slopes down towards the wall of your garden. Well, it’s flooding, there’s a little pond building up by the far wall. Hasn’t come under the wall yet, but it could flood the garden. Joan showed me.’

I did not reply, I could not focus on what he was saying. He was silent for a moment then said, ‘I spent yesterday and this morning trying to find out what this is about. I’ve been round my old contacts at Whitehall, but they don’t know anything. The King’s been back at Hampton Court some days, he’s not been to London. They say there’s something going on down there, something big. All the chief men are there, including Cranmer.’

‘The Prince’s illness?’

‘No, he’s better they say. I’m thinking of trying to get a pass to Hampton Court. What have they told you?’

I looked at the door, then leaned forward. ‘Speak quiet now, I think they may listen at the door. It is about the Queen.’ I told him what Sir Jacob had said about Dereham.