I left the wall and wandered back to the lodging house. Where was Barak, I wondered? Somewhere with young Tamasin, probably. I was about to go in when a voice called my name. I turned and saw Master Craike heading towards me.

‘Brother Shardlake,’ he said with a smile. ‘How are you?’ His manner was friendly. I wondered if he had heard what had happened to me at Fulford, and guessed not. ‘Well enough,’ I answered. ‘And you, sir?’

He sighed. ‘There are endless complaints about the accommodation. People seem to think I can conjure the lice from the beds at all the inns in York.’

‘What of those thousands of people?’ I asked. ‘Where have they all been put?’

‘I have a minute,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to show you where they all are?’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘All? In one minute?’ He smiled. ‘All the servants and carriers, at least. Over two thousand of them.’

‘Very well. I could do with a distraction.’ ‘So could I, sir. This nightmare – but, come.’ To my surprise, Craike led me to the church. We stepped inside, into a tumult of noise. Most of the stalls were occupied now with riding horses. Grooms were carrying great bundles of hay to the animals, who ate lustily as more grooms washed them down. There was an overwhelming stink of dung. I saw that in some of the empty side-chapels blacksmiths’ forges were being erected; one or two fires had already been lit and the smiths were working hard, mending shoes that had been damaged on the journey. Five thousand horses on the Progress, I thought. Twenty thousand shoes.

I followed Master Craike’s example as he lifted the hem of his robe above the straw and dung that littered the nave. He stopped at a door in the centre of the nave, under the great steeple, where two soldiers stood guard. They saluted him.

‘Anyone up there now, soldier?’ Craike asked.

‘No, sir, not at present.’

Craike turned to me. ‘Come, sir,’ he said. ‘Are you fit to climb some steps?’

‘I think so.’ For a moment I hesitated; was this wise, allowing myself to be led away, alone, by the man who might have been my assailant? But I thought, to hell with it. I will not cower away in that damned lodging house.

We passed through the door and up a long winding staircase. We climbed very high, and were both out of breath by the time Craike opened another door and we stepped into what had once been the belltower, though the bells themselves were long gone for melting down. Over the railings that had once enclosed them we could see down into the nave. Far below us another blacksmith’s forge flared redly into life, the effect unearthly against the pillared walls. I suddenly remembered the fight to the death I had had in another belltower, at Scarnsea four years before; then I had nearly gone to my death. I did feel afraid then, and jumped as Master Craike touched my arm.

‘Do heights trouble you, sir? I do not like them either. But this sight makes it worthwhile.’ He beckoned me over to a window. ‘Down there, look.’

I joined him, my eyes widening at what I saw. Behind the monastery, several fields had been enclosed with wicker fencing, forming a gigantic campsite. Conical soldiers’ tents were pitched in hundreds around an open grassy space where cauldrons and gigantic spits were being set up over wood fires from which smoke was beginning to drift into the late afternoon sky. In the next field hundreds upon hundreds of wagons were drawn up, guarded by soldiers, while the big carrying horses had been stockaded in more fields beyond and stood cropping the grass, hundreds upon hundreds of them. In a nearer field I saw the latrine-men digging. What seemed like a city-full of men sat around in front of the tents, or diced or ran at football games. Laughter and cheers drifted up from a makeshift ring where a cockfight was taking place.

‘Jesu,’ I said.

‘The Progress at camp. It was my idea to make this belltower a watching place, the officials and captains can come up here from time to time to see what is going on. Though thank God I am responsible only for the courtiers’ and gentlemen’s accommodation, not all this.’

‘Such organization,’ I said quietly. ‘It is a marvel. Somehow terrifying.’

He nodded slowly, the sun catching the wrinkles in his plump face. ‘The Royal household has been organizing progresses for years, of course. Armies too, for this is an army as well. But to have done all this in weeks! It cost much effort. And money,’ he added, raising his eyebrows. ‘You have no idea how much money.’

I looked at the rows and rows of carts. ‘It astounded me this morning, how much was being carried.’

‘Oh, yes. All the tents, for there have been country places along the way where even privy councillors have had to make do with canvas. And a thousand other things, from stores of food and fodder to the Privy Council records and the King’s greyhounds for when he goes hunting.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘And extra weapons, in case there was trouble in the north and the carriers and drivers had to be pressed as soldiers.’

I pointed to a row of gaily coloured tents a little distance apart from the others, where a straggling queue was waiting. ‘What is happening there?’

Craike flushed and cleared his throat. ‘Those are the – er – followers.’

‘The what?’

‘The whores.’

‘Ah.’

‘Only single men have come on the Progress, apart from the noblewomen and the Queen’s household. We could not let the men run amuck in the towns along the way. So necessity meant -’ He shrugged. ‘It is not pleasant. Most of these queans were picked in London and carefully examined, for we did not want to spread the French pox across the land. You can imagine what a state some of them are in by now.’

‘Ah well, men have their needs.’

‘Yes, they do. But I am not used to dealing with such a rabble as the Royal Household’s servants. You should see them on the road: insulting the villagers, getting drunk, shitting wherever they list in the fields; they would have stolen everything in the carts if we did not have the soldiers. And their insolence – they blow their foul breath on the courtiers, claw their cods in front of you.’ He shook his head. ‘The new learning has made common men arrogant.’ He turned to me, the sharpness back in his eyes. ‘But perhaps you have a different view? I heard you became a supporter of reform.’

‘In the early days,’ I said. ‘I am nobody’s partisan now.’

Craike sighed. ‘Do you remember our student days, before Nan Boleyn turned the country upside down? Peaceful times, season following season at Lincoln’s Inn, the future as certain as the past.’

‘One may view those times through rose-coloured spectacles,’ I said.

He inclined his head. ‘Perhaps. Yet they were better days. When I first went to work at court the old nobility still ruled. But now – these commoners, these new men. Cromwell has gone but there are so many others.’

‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘I saw Richard Rich earlier.’

I was surprised at his reaction to that name. He jerked away and stared at me with a scared, angry look. ‘You know Rich?’

‘As an adversary in the law. I have a case in London where he is backing my opponent.’

‘He is a serpent,’ Craike said with passion.

‘That he is.’ I waited for him to say more, but he changed the subject. ‘I meant to ask, is any more known of the person who attacked you in the manor?’

‘No.’ I looked at him keenly. ‘But he will be found.’

‘You may not know, security has been greatly increased since the attack on you. And people say poor Oldroyd’s death was not a natural one. That for some reason he was murdered.’

‘Do they?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Those in charge of security are worried. On every progress checks are kept to weed out those who batten on to the household, pretend to be servants so they can steal food and other trifles. But tonight I am told every man’s papers are being checked thoroughly, and anyone who is not authorized to be in camp is questioned, not merely turned out.’ He looked at me. ‘What is going on, sir?’