‘But you cannot doubt the Council of the North will meet its debt,’ Giles said when he had finished. ‘They are the King’s representatives.’

‘But when, sir?’ the old man asked. ‘I have debts to meet myself.’

Giles raised his eyebrows at Waters, passing the problem over to him.

‘Soon, fellow,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It is in hand.’

‘But my creditors -’

‘Must wait a little too,’ Giles said in a grave voice. ‘Then all will balance out. You can tell them this tribunal has confirmed payment will be made -’ he paused – ‘soon.’

The woodsman was dismissed. I watched him go, his shoulders slumped in dejection. Giles took a deep breath and looked at Waters. ‘I hope it will be soon, sir,’ he said.

‘It will be. We can’t afford to have York full of discontented traders for too long. Not with the mood as it is.’

I looked at Giles. ‘You overawed the poor fellow.’

He shrugged. ‘Lawyers must ever be good actors and play their part boldly for the greater good.’ Yet he frowned, and was sharp with the petitioners who followed. The cases came and went, while outside the wind had risen to a gale. We heard shutters banging around the castle keep.

‘Well, that is done,’ Giles said when the last petitioner had gone. He looked at Waters. ‘Another day should finish matters.’

‘You have proceeded with admirable dispatch, sir,’ Waters said. ‘If we meet at noon tomorrow, that should be enough time to finish the business.’

I found myself thinking sadly of my arbitration of the Kent land disputes, and the injustice that had been done to Sergeant Leacon’s family as a result. ‘Barak will draw up the orders for us,’ I said. ‘Shall we send you copies, Master Waters?’

‘Ay.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘How goes it at King’s Manor? I hear Sir William Maleverer is in charge of the King’s security.’

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘No, I work in the administration. But he is known as a fierce fellow. All fear his swaggering ambition.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘But men are often like that where there’s a taint of bastardy.’

‘I heard that story.’

‘ ’Tis said he has decided not to marry till he has accumulated so much land people will not care about his origins. They say he was much in love with a Neville girl when he was young, but she would not have him. With their Yorkist blood they are a proud old family. She turned him down because of that whiff of bastardy.’

‘Really?’ It reminded me of Maleverer’s comment when I had mentioned Cecily Neville’s name on that family tree. ‘Everything starts with Cecily Neville,’ he had said.

‘That would make him bitter,’ I observed.

Waters nodded. He looked at me. ‘Sir William’s mother and father – well, his supposed father – went as part of the train that accompanied Queen Margaret to Scotland, when she married the Scotch King’s father forty years ago. Sir Martin Maleverer had to return early. His wife came back with the ladies many months later with a baby, and he doubted it was his. Not even born in this country.’

I sat up, for Waters’ words had rung a bell. What the Titulus had said about Richard III: ‘Ye be born within this land; by reason whereof you may have more certain knowledge of your birth and filiation.’ I drew a sharp breath. That must mean one of his siblings was not. Someone had a taint of bastardy. I tried to remember how the lineage ran.

‘Brother Shardlake?’ Waters asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘You were in a brown study,’ Giles said with a laugh.

‘I am sorry -’ I broke off at the sound of a great shout from outside, the sound of running feet. ‘What on earth?’

Giles and Waters looked at each other in surprise, then rose and went out. Barak and I also exchanged a glance. I shuddered. The commotion had brought back the cries and yells in the church the night before.

‘Shall we see?’ Barak asked.

We descended the steps to the castle bailey. There servants and clerks were standing around, heedless of the rain, watching as soldiers spilled from the guardhouse. They ran up the mound to where the castle keep stood. At the bottom of the keep I saw a pile of chains and bones strewn across the grass. Master Waters crossed himself. ‘Jesu. Aske’s skeleton. The wind has brought it down.’ I watched as the guards ran to the white bones and began picking them up, making them safe from relic hunters.

‘That this should happen while the King is here.’ Wrenne laughed softly, then raised his eyebrows at me. ‘People in York will take this as an omen.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

MALEVERER STARED when, an hour later, I explained how Broderick had worked his own poisoning. Then he shook his head and gave a bark of laughter. He looked at me across his desk, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he ran his finger along the edge of his beard, as he liked to do.

‘By Jesu, you’re a clever fellow. So Broderick outwitted Radwinter.’ He laughed again. ‘God’s body, that gaoler’s reputation will never be the same when this gets out. I told him to keep to his room. Well, now we know nobody else was involved I suppose he can go back on duty. You have rescued him from suspicion, Brother Shardlake.’

‘I would not have anyone under false suspicion. Even Radwinter.’

Maleverer’s smile turned into a cruel smirk. ‘Jesu, sir, you are a righteous prig. I wish I could afford your scruples.’

I said nothing. He turned and stared out of the window, to where workmen were tying thick ropes across the royal tents to secure them against the wind. I studied his heavy dark face, wondering if it was angry shame at the taint of bastardy that drove this relentless, cruel man. Strange to think that he too knew mockery and heard the laughter behind his back.

‘Those tents can’t stand there for ever,’ he said. ‘Damn the Scotch King.’

‘Still no word of his arrival, sir?’

‘That’s not your business.’ He changed the subject. ‘I’ll tell Radwinter he can go back to work. And you’re still to keep an eye on Broderick. Visit him at least once a day, without fail. He might try something else.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘If Broderick’s poisoning was all his own doing, that means it’s only you someone is trying to kill.’

‘It seems so.’

‘Make sure you do as I ordered, keep your randy clerk with you. That’s all.’ He waved a quill dismissively, and I bowed and left. As I walked away I felt more determined than ever to say nothing to Maleverer about what had happened with the Queen and Culpeper; I could not trust him a single inch. He disliked me strongly; he would do me ill if he could.

OUTSIDE THE WIND WAS dropping, though still blowing hard. Barak was waiting for me. As we walked past the pavilions I saw a familiar plump figure going into the church: Master Craike, his robe billowing round his ankles.

‘Here’s the chance to resolve another mystery,’ I said.

The church was a hive of activity. Grooms went to and fro, straw and dung lay everywhere, and forges flared red in every side-chapel. In the daylight I saw the walls were smeared with dirt and graffiti, crude drawings of bare-breasted women and men with gigantic penises.

‘Where is he?’ Barak asked.

‘He’s probably gone to the belltower.’ I paused and looked at a charred heap of straw that had been piled against the wall; the bear’s body was long gone.

Craike had disappeared by the time I reached the door to the belltower, but the guard confirmed he had gone up. We found him sitting on a stool, a picnic meal on his knee, staring out of the window. He looked up at me in surprise. ‘Why, Master Shardlake, what brings you up here?’ His greeting was cheerful but his eyes, again, were watchful. He smiled at the bread and cold meat spread on a cloth on his lap. ‘I have had a busy day, I thought to escape up here and have some food. I never tire of looking out over the camp. It is a strange thing to watch it from up here, like a bird on the wing.’