‘Then why write it?’

‘So he could see my resolve stays firm.’

Barak raised his eyebrows, but said no more. I risked a backward glance. Rich had gone from the doorway.

THE WEATHER STAYED FINE but grew colder; the leaves continued to fall in the courtyard and were burned in big smoking piles. I went to visit Giles again the next day. He had rallied but I could see his square cheeks had fallen in a little more. I dined alone with him, and he told me stories of the cases he had dealt with in York over the past fifty years; lawyer’s tales, some funny and others tragic. Yet I sensed he had things on his mind.

‘Giles?’ I asked him at one point. ‘Have you thought of writing to your nephew? You could send a letter by fast messenger.’

He shook his head firmly. ‘No. Our quarrel was bitter, Matthew. He might ignore a letter. I need to see him face to face. Besides, I do not have his address.’ He looked at me keenly. ‘You think I am not up to the journey.’

‘You know best, Giles.’ I hesitated. ‘By the way, what chambers did Martin Dakin practise in, before your quarrel?’

He looked at me. ‘Garden Court. Why?’

‘It will help us find him. He is probably still there.’ I thought, the same chambers as Bernard Locke. That was a damned mischance. Or was it just a coincidence; there were not that many chambers at Gray’s Inn, and I knew the northern lawyers tended to stick together. But I would not tell him, would not worry him unnecessarily.

At ten Barak called as arranged to accompany me home. As Giles saw me to the door he laid his hand on my arm.

‘Thank you for your care,’ he said. ‘You watch over me like a son.’

‘No, no,’ I said. ‘Only as a friend should. Thank you for a pleasant evening, Giles. It has taken my mind from my troubles.’

‘Is your father’s estate settled yet?’

‘Soon. I have written to the mortgagee, told him I will have the balance of the funds when I get paid for my work here.’

‘It will be sad, though, letting your father’s farm go.’

‘Yes.’ And yet I had hardly thought of the farm at all. The realization I had no feelings for my childhood home made me guilty. I had a sudden vision of my father’s face. He looked sad, disappointed.

‘Is that all that troubles you, Matthew?’ Giles asked. ‘That girl and Barak looked mighty worried when she called the other day. And you seem – strained.’

‘Official matters, Giles,’ I said with an apologetic smile.

He raised a hand. ‘Well, if you feel you can talk of them at any time, I shall be glad to listen.’ He opened the door. I looked out at the dark narrow street. Barak, waiting outside, bowed. Giles looked between him and me. ‘Come over on Sunday, both of you, and I will show you round the Minster. I think you have not seen it yet?’

‘No.’ With all that had passed, I had forgotten my wish to see inside.

‘Bring that comely wench of yours, young Barak. It does me good to see her.’

‘Thank you, Master Wrenne.’

‘Good, then that is settled. Goodnight, Matthew, till Sunday.’

‘Goodnight, Giles.’ We walked away. As ever when walking in the dark I tensed, my eyes alert for a shadow in a doorway, a stealthy footstep behind.

I told Barak Giles’s nephew had practised in the same chambers as Bernard Locke. ‘When we get back to London,’ I said, ‘I am going to go to Gray’s Inn privately before taking Giles there, find out what the position is.’

‘If we ever get out of York,’ Barak answered gloomily.

THE FOLLOWING DAY we had an unwelcome reminder of our meeting with Lady Rochford. I had spent the morning with Barak checking the orders made in the arbitration hearings before delivering them to Maleverer’s office; that was my last task in connection with the petitions. I walked across to King’s Manor with Barak and delivered the papers to a clerk; we had arranged to meet Tamasin outside and go to the refectory to lunch. As the three of us walked away from King’s Manor, my heart sank at the sight of Lady Rochford approaching with a group of courtiers. Culpeper was not there, but Francis Dereham was with her. We bowed our heads and hurried by, hoping they would ignore us.

‘Mistress Reedbourne!’ Lady Rochford’s sharp voice behind us made us halt and turn. Barak and I bowed, and Tamasin curtsied deeply, as Lady Rochford approached us.

‘What are you doing away from the manor, mistress?’ Lady Rochford asked sternly. Her eyes raked Barak’s face and mine, too. The other courtiers looked on with interest.

‘I am going to the refectory, my lady. Mistress Marlin gave me permission.’

Lady Rochford gave us a haughty look. ‘Mistress Marlin allows her servants too much latitude. Still, I daresay it will do no harm.’ She stared at me. ‘You are lucky to have a gentleman for a patron to accompany you. Though I hear you had an encounter with an escaped bear, Master Shardlake. That would have been most sad, if it had got you. You would have had to take all your lawyer’s secrets to the grave.’ She gave a harsh, nervous laugh.

I eyed her narrowly. Was this some sort of threat? But I thought, no, it has been put about the bear escaped by accident. She is only reminding us she has her eye on us. And, of course, she believed I had a record of what Tamasin and Barak had seen. I had written nothing down, but the threat was enough. ‘Be assured, my lady,’ I said steadily, ‘I take care to keep all my secrets where they are most safe.’

‘Be sure you do,’ she said, then turned away quickly. We walked on, but after a few yards I heard footsteps behind me. Before I could turn I felt a hand laid on my shoulder and was yanked round. Francis Dereham was glaring at me, a savage frown on the saturnine features above his black beard.

‘You hunchback churl!’ Dereham hissed at me. ‘I heard your words. How dare you speak to Lady Rochford with such disrespect. God’s death, you get above yourself for a lawyer. I should hammer you into the ground for your insolence.’

I did not reply. Fortunately, Dereham made no move to further violence; no doubt remembering that violence within the precincts of the royal court carried serious consequences.

‘You annoy me, crookback,’ he said. ‘And for someone of your rank to annoy someone of mine is not wise. Now, crawl on your knees to Lady Rochford, and apologize.’

I breathed hard. All around the courtyard people had stopped to watch the scene. I looked at Lady Rochford. She stood at the front of the group of courtiers and for once looked uncertain what to do. Then she stepped forward and laid a hand on Dereham’s arm.

‘Leave him, Francis,’ she said. ‘He is not worth the trouble.’

Dereham turned to her, anger turning to puzzlement. Reasonableness, I imagined, was not a quality Lady Rochford often showed. ‘Would you let him get away with answering you back?’ he pressed.

‘It does not matter!’ She reddened.

‘What is between you and these people?’ Dereham asked.

‘It is you who forgets your place now, Francis,’ Lady Rochford said, her voice rising. ‘Do not question me.’

‘Fie!’ Dereham released my shoulder and stalked off without a word. Lady Rochford gave me a savage look that showed what she would have liked to do had I not had a hold over her, and walked off with a swish of skirts. The others followed.

‘They say Dereham suspects there is something the Queen is keeping from him,’ Tamasin said in a low voice.

‘Then let us hope for all our sakes he does not find out what it is,’ I said. ‘Or at least, our connection to it.’

BY SUNDAY THERE WAS still no word of King James; we had been in York now thirteen days. After lunch I met Barak and Tamasin in the courtyard to go to Master Wrenne’s. The sky was dark and there was a thin, biting wind; we had wrapped ourselves warmly in our coats.