‘No,’ I said, pulling off my sodden cap. I leaned against the door for a moment, breathing hard. ‘I am all right. Are Jack and Mistress Reedbourne in?’

‘Not yet, sir.’ She sniffed. ‘They said they would be back before dark, but I’ll warrant she’s made him find some warm tavern to cuddle in.’

‘Oh.’ I was taken aback; I had assumed they would have returned by now, that they would be here. I had been preparing what I would say.

‘Master Wrenne came down a little while ago,’ Joan said. ‘He asked for some food. I’ve taken him a pottage in the parlour.’

I hesitated. The sensible thing to do would be to go upstairs and change. Then I shivered, suddenly and violently.

‘Are you all right?’ Joan asked, her face full of concern.

‘Just – tired.’

‘There is a good fire lit in the parlour.’

‘I can dry myself there.’ I forced a smile. ‘And I am hungry. ‘Thank you, Joan.’

She looked at me doubtfully a moment longer, then went upstairs. I locked the front door; Barak had his own key and could let himself back in. I crossed to the parlour. I paused there, overcome with a weariness that seemed to drain what little energy I had left. Then I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Giles was sitting at the table, supping Joan’s good pottage. A large bowl steamed on the table. In the candlelight his face looked tired, seamed with deeper lines as his face grew slowly thinner. He looked up at me with concern.

‘Matthew! You look half drowned. You will catch an ague.’

‘The rain has come on heavy again.’

‘I know. Will it never end?’ He gestured to the black squares of the window, against which we could hear it pattering. ‘I think Barak and young Tamasin are still out in it.’

I went and stood with my back to the roaring fire, feeling it warm my legs.

‘Did you speak to them at Lincoln’s Inn?’ he asked. ‘Will they dig the trench?’

‘Yes, it took some argument but they promised.’

‘There is steam rising from your clothes. You should change. You look exhausted, you will catch a fever.’

‘I must eat before I do anything else.’

‘Here, have some pottage.’

I took a plate from the buffet, filled it from the bowl and sat opposite him. But after all I did not feel like eating. ‘Are you feeling better?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’ He smiled, that sad heavy smile. ‘It comes and goes, just as with my father. For now I feel almost my old self, except for…’ He patted the place where his lump grew, and grimaced. I nodded. ‘Is there any more news about the Queen?’ he asked.

‘She is taken.’

He shook his big head sadly. I looked at him. I needed Barak and Tamasin back, Barak at least, before I spoke. Yet somehow I could not hold back. ‘I took it on myself to walk to Gray’s Inn, Giles. I wanted to seek out Martin Dakin.’

Giles stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘You should not have done that,’ he said slowly. ‘Without my permission.’

‘It was to help you.’

‘Did you find him?’

‘I found he died near two years ago.’

He laid down his spoon. ‘Dead?’ he whispered. He sat back in his chair. His shoulders slumped and his face sagged. ‘Martin is dead?’

And then I said quietly, ‘I think you know he is. I think you knew before I came to York. I remember you saying once a good lawyer needs to be a good actor. I think you have been acting since the day we met.’

He frowned, then looked outraged. ‘How can you say such a thing, Matthew? How -’

‘I will tell you. I went to Dakin’s old chambers. They told me he died from an illness two winters ago. Wifeless and childless. They said I should go to the Treasurer, who dealt with his estate. So I did, and found he had left everything to you. His money was sent to you in York, and you signed a receipt for it in March of 1540, eighteen months ago. I saw it.’

‘Some imposter -’

‘No. I saw the signature. It was yours; I saw it enough times when we were dealing with the petitions. Come, Giles,’ I added impatiently. ‘I have been a lawyer near twenty years. Do you think I would not know a forged hand?’

He stared at me, a fierce look in his eyes I had never seen before. ‘Matthew,’ he said, a tremor in his voice, ‘you are my good friend but you wound me. It is the strain of your time in the Tower. This is some imposter, someone got hold of the Inns’ letter and pretended to be me. I remember, I had a clerk then I had to dismiss for dishonesty. From a distance of two hundred miles it is easy to pretend to be someone you are not.’

‘To hide your true identity. Yes, you would know.’

He did not reply then, only sat very still, looking at me intently. He started to play with the big emerald ring on his finger. A drop of water ran down my neck, making me shiver. He was right, I risked a fever. The crackling of the fire and the hissing of the rain against the window seemed unnaturally loud. I thought I heard the outside door open, but it was only a creak somewhere in the house. Where were Barak and Tamasin?

‘I went from the Treasurer’s office to the Lincoln’s Inn library,’ I continued. ‘I have been there hours. Working it out.’

Still he did not speak.

‘You invented the story of wishing to reconcile with Martin Dakin to get me to help you to London. Was there ever a quarrel between you? There must have been,’ I answered myself, ‘for old Madge knew of it, though not that Martin had died and left you his estate.’

‘We were never reconciled,’ he said quietly then. ‘What I told you about our quarrel was true. Despite it he left me everything when he died. I was his only living relative, you see. Family. How important it is.’ He sighed, a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his big frame. ‘I did not tell Madge that Martin had died and left me everything, nor anyone else in York. I was too ashamed.’ He looked at me. ‘And yet that served me well; I could tell you he was still alive, no one else knew otherwise.’

I said, still speaking slowly and quietly, ‘The question puzzling me was, why did you want to come to London, now when you knew you were dying? It had to be something very important. Then I remembered when it was you first mentioned coming here. It was after I was knocked out at King’s Manor. It was you who knocked me out, was it not? You took the papers. To bring to your fellow conspirators in London.’

Still he said nothing, only continued staring at me. I had had a strange notion that when I confronted him Giles’s face would change, take on some monstrous aspect, but it was still my friend’s lined strong old face that looked back at me; only more watchful and somehow more vulnerable than I had ever seen it before.

‘That day you rescued Barak and me from the mob outside Oldroyd’s house, had you come to fetch the box?’ I laughed bitterly. ‘It must have been a shock when it fell out from under my robe. You hid that well, as you have hidden so much since.’

He spoke then. ‘I did rescue you. Do not forget that as you judge me.’

‘And meanwhile, Mistress Jennet Marlin was on a mission of her own, from Bernard Locke, that you had not known about. So when you found that out at Howlme beacon, you killed her before she could reveal that it was not she who had taken the papers.’

‘I saved you from her too.’

‘For your own ends. You always had the papers she sought, no doubt you have them still. In my house.’

Giles sighed then, a sigh that seemed to shake his big body from head to toe. ‘I always saw you as a friend, Matthew,’ he said quietly. ‘It grieved me to lie to you and I would never have hurt you. I never intended to kill you at King’s Manor, only knock you out, and I never harmed you afterwards, though I could have, many times. I took a gamble that you spoke true when you said you had not read the papers. I – it wasn’t -’

‘It wasn’t personal, is that it? The using me, all the lies. Not personal, just political, as you said the King’s mockery of me was?’