‘You’re to be taken to Archbishop Cranmer at Hampton Court. I don’t know where he’ll keep you, because he hasn’t a gaoler any more, has he? Billy and I are in trouble about that,’ he added lugubriously.

We turned the corner into the central area and there, standing by the desk with young Billy, I saw Barak. My heart leapt. His manner was quite different from the day before, he looked confident and energetic. At least, till he saw me. Then his jaw dropped.

‘Jesu!’ he shouted. ‘What have you done to him? You fucking arseholes -’

‘Now, none of that!’ the fat turnkey admonished. ‘He was taken to the torture on Sir Jacob’s orders. My advice to you is to get him out of here before the Archbishop changes his mind.’

‘There’s a whole boatload of new captives coming in soon,’ Billy told him.

‘Just as well we’ll have the cell, then.’

Barak took my arm. ‘How many teeth did the arseholes pull?’

‘Just one.’

‘Let’s get out. We’ve a long boat journey. It’s raining, but I’ve got your coat and a blanket. And your things.’ He took out my dagger and purse and Cranmer’s seal that had been taken off me when I arrived. He handed them to me, then looked at the turnkeys. ‘Can you get these irons off?’

‘All right.’ The fat man selected a key from his ring and, bending down, released my feet and left wrist. When he came to the manacle on my right wrist, though, the tight one, the key would not turn. ‘Damn thing, it’s stiff.’

‘Try spitting on the key,’ Barak said. The turnkey did as he suggested, but with no result.

‘Looks like you’ll have to keep it on, matey.’

Barak bent and studied the manacle. ‘It’s rusty. I could probably get that off with tools at home.’ He turned to the gaoler. ‘But he can’t go before the Archbishop dragging a three-foot length of chain. Can you get the padlock off?’

The round gyve was connected to the chain by a stout little padlock. The gaoler grunted and went over to a bundle of little keys hanging from the wall. He opened the padlock, the chain falling to the floor. All the time I had been looking on dumbly, licking my cracked and swollen lips, but now I burst out weeping uncontrollably, my sobs echoing round that terrible chamber. Barak took my arm and led me gently through the barred door, up the stairs and through the Great Hall. I was past caring whether the soldiers saw my wretched state. I asked no questions; it was all I could do to stumble along.

We descended the steps of the White Tower, then I felt grass under my feet, rain on my head. We stopped walking at last and I looked up. We were by the Watergate again. A wherry stood there, a soldier and a boatman in Cranmer’s livery sheltering under the arch. Beyond, the heavy rain made the Thames water hiss and boil.

‘He’s hurt, take care,’ Barak told the boatman.

They helped me in and the boatman took the oars. Barak wrapped the blanket round me as we pulled out into the water. A hand to my throbbing jaw, I looked at the wide river. A large barge swept past us, sculling into the Watergate. Sitting inside was a cargo of bedraggled gentlemen and ladies, their fine clothes streaming water, surrounded by soldiers. My eyes widened as I saw Francis Dereham, no longer proud and arrogant but shrinking against the side of the boat, his face white as chalk. I also recognized some of the Queen’s ladies, and then I saw Lady Rochford in the midst of them, staring at me with wide terrified eyes. Seeing my bloodied face, she began screaming and tried to stand up. Someone pulled her back down. The shrill sound faded away as the barge passed under the arch. I sat staring after it.

‘Why is Lady Rochford there? Has she been arrested?’

‘Looks like it. Perhaps they know about Culpeper.’

‘If they don’t now,’ I said grimly, ‘they will soon.’

‘This means we’re safe,’ Barak said eagerly.

‘Yes. Culpeper’s doings will come out now anyway. What we know ceases to matter.’

‘What will happen to the Queen?’

‘The axe, I’d think. Poor silly girl.’ The tears welled up again, and I wiped at my face with my sleeve, wincing as I brushed my damaged jaw.

Barak looked at me anxiously.

‘Are you fit to go before Cranmer?’

‘I must know what he wants.’ I took a deep breath. ‘You did it then, you got to him?’

He nodded, droplets flying from his soaking hair. ‘I went to the Guildhall first and saw your friend Master Vervey. You were right: the day you were taken, one of Rich’s men came and told the council you were under arrest, they’d be advised to drop the case and drop you. They were scared silly to hear their lawyer was in the Tower. They’ve agreed to drop the case against Bealknap on the basis each side pay their own costs. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m past caring.’ I sighed. ‘You were right after all about that. I have paid for my obstinacy.’

‘Then I went back to Whitehall, tried to get permission to visit Cranmer at Hampton Court. But there was no chance, the place is sealed off. My Whitehall contact told me the Queen’s under arrest there, though that’s not generally known yet. I don’t think I could have got there but for an old friend of yours.’

‘Who?’

He smiled. ‘Master Simon Craike.’

‘Craike?’

‘I was hanging about the corridors, looking in an ill-humour no doubt, when he came up and asked what the matter was. I told him about your arrest. And what you suspected about Rich. He was horrified. He said he hated Rich and he owed you one, and wrote me out a letter to take to the Chamberlain’s office at Hampton Court.’

‘But the deputy warden told me a servant of Craike’s said he’d overheard me telling Dereham to bed the Queen-’

Barak laughed. ‘I can just see you saying that.’

‘So Rich set that up without reference to Craike.’

‘He’s not such a bad old arsehole, even if he does like to have women beating him. He said to tell you how sorry he was for everything.’

‘So Craike came right in the end. And you saw Cranmer?’

‘His secretary. Jesu, things are buzzing at Hampton Court, I had soldiers with me all the time. I told him the story. He went in to see the Archbishop, then came back with an authority to fetch you from the Tower.’ He looked at my face again. ‘I worked as quick as I could, I had no sleep last night.’

‘I will never forget this, Jack.’ My voice shook. ‘Thank you.’

THE BOAT ROWED steadily on through the rain. I huddled inside my blankets as we passed Westminster and Lambeth Palace. I looked up at the Lollards’ Tower. ‘Radwinter is dead,’ I said. ‘He hanged himself yesterday, in the cell.’ ‘Good riddance,’ Barak said bluntly.

‘I felt sorry for him at the end.’

‘You feel sorry for too many folk. That’s your trouble.’

‘Perhaps. How is Master Wrenne?’

‘Better. I’ve had the old Moor up to see him.’

‘Guy?’ My face lightened at the thought of my old friend.

‘He looked at my leg, says it’s nearly mended. He says Master Wrenne was exhausted, but he should be up again in a few days with rest and good food.’ His face became serious. ‘I asked him how long Master Wrenne might have. He said, only months, and his pain and weariness will get worse.’

‘I pray we find his nephew.’

‘Why shouldn’t we?’

‘He’s a northerner and a religious conservative. You remember I said they showed me Bernard Locke before they executed him?’

‘Ay.’

‘I asked him if he knew Martin Dakin and he said he did, and he was safe. There was something strange, mocking, in the way he said it.’

‘I heard the Privy Council have had men around the Inns, questioning people. Mainly Gray’s Inn.’

‘Anyone arrested?’

‘Not that I heard. I told the old Moor where you were, by the way. I had a job to stop him coming straight down to the Tower.’

‘He is a good man.’ I smiled.

‘There’s a bit of competition going on at your house, I am afraid. Joan does not approve of Tamasin very much.’