‘Then who else can have taken them?’ Barak sounded exasperated.

‘I don’t know. But why did she not kill me at once when she had the chance last night? She could have shot me in the back as I stood there pissing against that beacon. But she made me stand there.’ I shuddered. ‘I think if she had had the time she might have asked me if I knew where the papers were.’

‘You can’t know that.’

‘No. But if she thought I had them it would explain why she was so sure I had seen the papers incriminating Bernard Locke.’

‘But she didn’t try to question you before. The bitch just tried to kill you.’

‘She didn’t have the opportunity before. If one of her earlier attempts had succeeded she might have somehow found the chance to go through my papers at the lodging house. Bribed a servant to do it, perhaps.’

Barak shook his head. ‘I can’t see it.’

‘I’ve no proof. If it was someone else who struck me down at King’s Manor, someone linked to the conspirators, the papers would probably have been despatched to them long ago.’

‘So they’re gone, whatever they were?’

‘Long gone, I’d say.’ I sighed. ‘Maleverer said they would subject Bernard Locke to stiff questioning now. Perhaps they will learn more from him.’

Barak shrugged. ‘I guess they’ll rack him.’

‘Yes.’ I shuddered. ‘And what will he say? I hope the name Martin Dakin does not come up. That would just about finish the old man.’

‘There’s no reason it should. Just because they share the same chambers.’

I nodded thoughtfully. ‘There’s an age difference, too. Giles said Dakin was over forty, and Locke must be about ten years younger if he was of an age with Jennet Marlin.’

‘There you are. Barristers with that much difference in experience wouldn’t normally mix much.’

‘Unless they have other things in common.’ I sighed again. ‘I must visit Broderick when we arrive at Leconfield. I never went back to his carriage yesterday.’

Barak shifted his position to ease his leg. ‘You should tell Maleverer what you have been thinking. That the papers might not have been destroyed.’

‘I will. But he will probably only scoff. He will believe what he wants to believe, which is that it is all over.’

Barak looked round him at the crowds. ‘Who could it have been?’

I followed his gaze. ‘Anyone. Anyone at all.’

WE PASSED THROUGH the little town of Market Weighton without stopping. The King and Queen were at the head of the Progress, far out of sight. People stood in the streets and watched the Progress as they had in the villages, with caps off but generally stony faces, though I heard some ragged cheers up ahead as the King and Queen went by.

Towards evening we came upon a wooded area where trees pressed upon the road, slowing our speed from the usual walking pace. As the sun was beginning to set we came to a halt in a grassy space before an enormous mansion, enclosed by a moat in the old fashion. We got down from our horses. Grooms made their way down the Progress, collecting the gentlemen’s mounts.

‘Do you know where we are billeted?’ I asked the groom who took our horses.

‘One of the steward’s men will tell you, sir. You should wait here till then.’

I helped Barak; with his left leg useless he could not dismount unaided. He cursed and grumbled. Giles appeared; he looked better though he still leaned heavily on his stick. We sat on the grass and looked over the moat to the house and the procession of carts and people spreading out into the neighbouring fields. Already tents were starting to go up. My attention was drawn by a familiar black carriage, ringed by soldiers on horseback that had pulled into the next field. ‘Broderick,’ I said.

Giles looked at me curiously. ‘Sir Edward Broderick of Hallington? I knew he was taken. Is he being brought south?’

‘Ay.’ It was inevitable, now the Progress was on the move again, that questions would be asked about that closed and guarded carriage. I looked at Giles. ‘Did you know him?’

‘Only by reputation. As a fine young man, a good landlord.’ He smiled sadly.

‘I am responsible for seeing he is properly looked after. At the request of Archbishop Cranmer.’

‘On top of everything else?’ Giles looked at me seriously. ‘You carry a heavy load, Matthew.’

‘Not for long, now we are on the move again. I had better go and see how he does. Excuse me.’ I left the others sitting on the grass and walked across to the carriage.

Sergeant Leacon, who was brushing his horse, bowed to me. ‘I was expecting to see you last night, sir,’ he said.

‘Something happened to detain me.’ I looked at the closed carriage. ‘How is the prisoner?’

‘Listless.’

‘And Radwinter?’

He spat on the ground. ‘The same as usual.’

‘I had best look in on them.’

‘Sir William Maleverer was here last night, looking grim. He spent some time talking to the prisoner alone. Made Radwinter wait outside, which did not please him.’

I wondered if he had been trying to discover whether Broderick had any links with Jennet Marlin. ‘Well, I will see how he does,’ I said. I mounted the little step on the side of the carriage, and knocked on the door. It opened and Radwinter stared out at me. He appeared tired and a little unkempt, his hair untidy. He would be unable to keep up his usual standards in there.

‘I thought you had forgotten us,’ he said sourly.

He stood aside and I stepped into the dark airless carriage. It stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. The carriage seats had been knocked out and a couple of straw mattresses laid on the floor for prisoner and guard. Broderick lay on one of them, his wrists and ankles secured by heavy chains. Though it was hard to see in the gloom I thought he looked paler than ever.

‘Well, Broderick,’ I said.

He stared up at me with his bright angry eyes. I wondered what he might know of Jennet Marlin and her fiancé. But even if he did know something, Maleverer would have got nothing from him.

‘Where are we now?’ he asked.

‘A place called Leconfield. We stay here tonight, and go on to Hull tomorrow, I believe.’

‘Leconfield. Ah.’ A look of sadness crossed his features.

‘You know it?’

‘Yes.’ Broderick looked at the open door of the carriage. ‘Are we at the castle?’

‘Nearby. You can see it from here.’

‘I would like to see it. Just through the door. If I may.’

‘No,’ said Radwinter.

‘Yes,’ I countered. I wanted to get a clearer look at the prisoner in the light. Radwinter shrugged angrily. Broderick tried to struggle to his feet but the heavy chains impeded him. I gave him my arm; he took it reluctantly. Through his dirty shirt his arm felt like skin and bone. He shuffled to the open door and looked out at the castle. Courtiers were riding across the drawbridge and a group of swans, disturbed by the noise, flew up from the still waters of the moat. The high brick walls shone red in the setting sun. All around, the trees in their bright autumn colours. I studied Broderick’s face as he blinked in the unaccustomed light. He looked pitifully thin and pale.

‘I came here many times as a boy,’ he said, in softer tones than I had ever heard him use. ‘This used to be the Yorkshire seat of the Percy family.’ He looked at me. ‘Once they were the greatest family in the north.’

‘Who owns it now?’ I asked.

‘Who owns everything?’ he answered. ‘The King. He bullied the Earl of Northumberland into making him his heir, the King took everything when he died. And the earl’s brother, Sir Thomas, who was the rightful heir, took part in the Pilgrimage of Grace and was executed.’

‘Where do his bones hang?’

Broderick gave me a sharp look. ‘Nowhere. The King had him burned at Smithfield. He is naught but ashes on the wind now.’ Broderick looked back at Radwinter. ‘I expect you saw it; you tell me you go to all the burnings.’