Master Craike sat nearby, on a strong-looking roan. Mounted as he was, he still had his portable desk round his neck. He was riffling through papers, but he too caught my eye. He hesitated and I guessed he would have preferred not to acknowledge me, but he smiled uncertainly. ‘Good day, Master Shardlake.’

‘Master Craike.’ I made my voice cheerful. ‘By Jesu, there is great confusion in that stable.’

‘Ay. I fetched my horse early.’

‘You will be busy now we are moving again.’

‘Yes, I leave in a minute. I have to ride ahead to Howlme Manor and see all is ready for the King.’

‘I gather we should wait with the other lawyers.’

‘Yes, ’ he said, ‘though you may be waiting some time. The royal households will pass out first, with the King and Queen, then the officers of the royal households and the households of the nobles. The various officials come next. I am afraid the lawyers are at the back. After you will come all the servants from the camp and the wagons. Everything must be done in the correct sequence.’

‘Of course.’

He looked over to the manor house. A servant stood pruning the roses set round the side, carefully setting the thorny branches in a cart, oblivious to the noise and bustle all round. The manor, I assumed, would revert to its original function as a headquarters for the Council of the North. ‘The King is in a great fury that James of Scotland has let him down,’ Craike said. ‘He threatens fierce measures against the Scotch. I think they will pay for this.’

‘That would be -’ I sought a neutral word ‘- characteristic of him.’

‘Ay.’ There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Craike smiled nervously. ‘Well, sir, I shall be on the move constantly now. I may not see you again.’

‘In that case, farewell.’

‘Farewell,’ he said, and then, quietly, ‘thank you.’ He turned his horse and rode away to the gate.

Barak looked after him thoughtfully. ‘Poor old arsehole,’ he said.

‘Ay. Still, Genesis!’ My horse had jumped to one side with a whinny.

‘Let’s not mount just yet,’ Barak said. ‘Give the horses time to calm themselves.’

‘All right. Look, there’s Giles. But where’s his horse?’

The old man had come in at the gates. He was carrying a heavy pannier and seemed flustered. He stood looking round, overtopping by a head many of those who walked around his burly form. I waved him over and he walked slowly across to us.

‘Ah, Matthew,’ he said breathlessly. ‘There you are, and Barak, good morning. I fear I have a problem. My horse got a sharp stone in her shoe last night, she cannot possibly ride out. I did not know what to do.’

‘There will be spare horses,’ Barak said.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But they will be over at the camp, we cannot get one now.’

‘Take Sukey,’ Barak said. ‘I’ll walk beside you. Then later I’m sure we can find a horse for you.’

Giles looked at him with relief. ‘Thank you, young Barak. Are you sure?’

‘Ay, take Sukey.’

‘Genesis would be better,’ I said. ‘Barak’s mare might not like being ridden by a stranger. I can ride Sukey, she knows me. You take Genesis. He is a calm horse.’

‘Thank you again, sir.’ Giles laughed uneasily. ‘I do not know what I would do without you.’

An official came up and compared notes with Fealty, who turned and addressed us. ‘I want you all mounted now,’ he called out.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Barak formed a stirrup of his hands for the old man to mount Genesis.

He heaved himself up and settled himself carefully in the saddle.

Then, so fast it startled me half out of my wits, Genesis reared up on his hind legs with a dreadful scream. Giles cried out and grabbed frantically at the reins but the horse bucked to unseat him and to my horror I saw the old man plunge head-first from the saddle. He would certainly have dashed his brains out on the stone flags of the courtyard had not Barak stepped forward. Giles fell heavily on top of him and they both crashed to the earth, Barak letting out a yell as he went down.

People turned to look. Some exclaimed, others laughed. Master Wrenne rolled off Barak’s body and sprawled on the ground, shocked.

‘Giles!’ I cried. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I – I think so. But what…’

‘Jack?’ I turned to Barak. He too tried to sit up, but groaned and fell back. His face was ashen. ‘Shit!’ he said thickly. ‘My fucking ankle.’ He looked at his left foot, which was bent at an unnatural angle.

I looked up at the crowd that was quickly forming around us. ‘A physician!’ I cried out. ‘There’s a man hurt here!’ I saw two of the clerks had grabbed Genesis’ reins and were holding him with difficulty. My normally calm old horse was still agitated, twisting his body frantically as though in pain. Then a little figure shoved through the gathering crowd and knelt by Barak. It was Tamasin, her face distraught. ‘Jack!’ she cried. ‘Jack!’

‘It’s all right, wench, I’ve hurt my leg, that’s all.’

‘I heard you cry out, I thought someone -’

‘No, ’twas just an accident.’ He looked round at the crowd with embarrassment. Sir James Fealty appeared, frowning angrily.

‘What in Jesu’s name is going on here?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Get up, woman!’ he snapped at Tamasin. ‘This is unseemly!’

‘My clerk has hurt his leg!’ I said with asperity.

‘Yes.’ Wrenne got shakily to his feet. ‘He saved my life,’ he added.

I was aware the crowd had suddenly gone quiet, and looking up I saw Lady Rochford standing above us. There was something frightened in her expression.

‘What has happened?’ she asked.

Wrenne bowed to her. ‘An accident, my lady. This man has broken his leg.’

She looked at Barak, then at Tamasin and me. ‘Nothing worse?’

‘No, my lady,’ I said.

She stalked away, the crowd parting to let her through. ‘Come, Tamasin,’ I said quietly, lifting her to her feet. ‘You should go too. I will see Jack is safe.’

She gulped and nodded, then looked at Genesis, still straining against the men who held him. ‘Why did the horse buck like that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It is as though he were trying to get rid of the saddle.’ She caught her breath. ‘Look, sir, there is blood!’ My eyes widened as I saw a thin trickle of blood running from underneath the saddle, staining the horse’s flank.

‘Tamasin,’ I said quietly. ‘Help me get this off. Be careful, or he’ll buck again.’

Watched by the curious group of lawyers, we lifted off the saddle. My eyes widened with horror. Underneath was a little thorny piece of branch from a rosebush, the thorns embedded now in my poor horse’s flesh.

‘It was put here so the horse would rear when someone sat on it,’ I breathed. ‘This was another attempt to kill me.’

Chapter Thirty-two

ALL THE LAWYERS HAD seen us find the branch under Genesis’ saddle, and word went round the courtyard like wildfire. I waited with Barak until a doctor from the royal household appeared and examined him. His ankle was not broken, I was relieved to hear, but he had damaged his ligaments. The doctor bandaged up his foot and warned he would be unable to walk properly for some time. A crutch was improvised from the branch of a tree and a servant was sent for, to help him to one of the carts which were waiting in line at the camp. He would have to travel to Howlme in it. The King and Queen had already ridden out, and the vast train of courtiers and officials was starting to move, one group after another riding under the gate of St Mary’s.

‘Damn this,’ Barak said as the servant offered his arm. ‘I hate being laid up.’

‘You must rest your foot,’ Giles said. ‘I want to see you fit again soon. Thank you once more.’

‘I am glad I saved you, sir.’ Barak looked round the emptying courtyard at the horsemen riding out, the men on ladders removing the roofs from the pavilions, the big silent church. ‘I’ll not be sorry to leave here.’ He hopped away with the servant. As he did so I saw a large figure walking towards us. Maleverer. Beside him was Sir Richard Rich, resplendent in a black robe edged thickly with fur.