Heartstone

'Prayers and Meditations? Yes, she sent me a copy last month.'

He looked at me keenly. 'What did you make of it?'

'I did not know she had such sadness in her heart. All those prayers urging us to put up with the shafts of ill fortune that come to us in this world, in the hope of salvation in the next.'

'Her friends had to advise her to leave out certain passages—with a flavour of Luther. Fortunately she listened to us. She is always careful. For example, she will not stir from her chamber today because Sir Thomas Seymour is at Hampton Court.'

'That rogue,' I said feelingly. I had met Seymour at the time the King was pressing Catherine Parr to marry him; she had wanted to marry the dashing Seymour instead.

'The King has had him chasing round the south of England inspecting the armies. He's come to report to the Privy Council.'

'I am glad the Queen has loyal friends such as you,' I said sincerely.

'Ay, we'll watch out for her. Someone has to do the politics,' he added.

* * *

I STEPPED OUT into the sunlit courtyard. The astronomical clock over the arch in front of me showed four o'clock. The red-brick buildings cast barely a shadow on the courtyard; the paving stones shimmered in the heat. Sweat pricked at my brow. A messenger in the King's livery rode fast through the courtyard, under the opposite arch, perhaps with some message for the military commanders.

Then I saw two men standing in a doorway, looking at me. I recognized both, and my heart sank. Warner had said Sir Thomas Seymour was at Hampton Court and here he was, in a bright yellow doublet, black hose on his long shapely legs, the handsome face above his dark red beard as hard and mocking as I remembered. He stood with hands on hips in a pose of courtly arrogance; the stance in which Holbein had painted the King. Beside him, short and neat in his lawyer's robe, stood Sir Richard Rich, his fellow member of the Privy Council, the King's willing tool in the dirtiest pieces of State business these last ten years. I knew Rich had been involved in the financial administration of the invasion of France the year before; rumour said he had been in trouble with the King for lining his pockets a little too heavily.

The two did not speak or move, just stood looking at me, Seymour with a contemptuous stare and Rich with his cold, still gaze. They knew a man of my rank could not simply ignore them. I took off my cap and approached, trying to keep my legs steady. I bowed low.

Seymour spoke first. 'Master Shardlake, it is a long time since we met. I thought you had gone back to the courts.' He smiled mischievously and waved a hand in an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. 'Gathering gold from the quarrels of poor silly folks, while strong true Englishmen fight to save their country from its enemies.' He pointedly looked me up and down, even glancing round a little at my back.

'God has given me my limitations.'

He laughed. 'Ay, that he has.'

I did not reply. I knew Seymour would soon tire of mocking me and allow me on my way. But then Rich spoke, quietly, in his sharp voice. 'What business have you here? I would not have thought you would dare come near the King's court again. After last time.'

He was referring to when he had had me put in the Tower on false charges to win a court case. Rich had then been in charge of the Court of Augmentations, which controlled the monastic lands seized by the King. I had brought a case on behalf of the City of London and, had I won, it would have reduced the value of some of the lands. Rich had used lying witnesses to have me imprisoned on false charges of treason. He would happily have seen me executed, but the charges had been proved false. Nonetheless the City Council had been so frightened they had withdrawn the case.

I begged my legs to be still. 'I am here on legal business, Sir Richard. For Brother Warner.'

'The Queen's lawyer. I hope she has not set you to defending heretics, as Warner did last year.'

'No, Sir Richard. Merely a civil case. For one of the Queen's old servants.'

'Which court?'

'Wards.'

Rich and Seymour both laughed, Seymour's bellow contrasting with Rich's rasp. 'Then I wish you a merry time,' Rich said.

'I hope you have a full purse for the officials,' Seymour said. 'You will need it.'

I expected that to earn a rebuke from Rich; he was a law officer and they took offence at mention of corruption in the courts. But Rich only smiled thinly. 'But who will fill that purse, Sir Thomas?' he asked. 'The Queen's servant, I hope. Were the Queen to pay herself that would be maintenance of someone else's case, which is not lawful.'

'You may be sure the Queen will see the proprieties observed,' I replied. 'She is a woman of probity.' It was a bold answer, but it was time to remind him who my patron was.

Rich inclined his head. 'I know this is not the first time her majesty has instructed you in legal matters. I find it a little strange, given the opinion the King showed of you at York.' He turned to Sir Thomas, smiling. 'Master Shardlake annoyed him there, and he suffered a public humbling for his pains.' He cast his neat little head on one side, and I saw that beneath his cap his hair was greying.

'I know that tale,' Seymour said. 'He called Shardlake a bent bottled spider before half of York.' He laughed again.

Rich bowed slightly, dismissing me. 'Take care, Master Shardlake.'

I walked away, shaken, feeling their eyes on me. To meet those two together was a piece of ill luck. I had thought I was long since done with Rich. It frightened me to think his malicious eyes had been watching me all this time; but no doubt he watched all the little people, waiting to see whom he could entangle in his webs. Thank God I had the Queen's patronage. I waited till I had passed under the arch, beyond their gaze, before I wiped my brow.

* * *

I WENT STRAIGHT HOME; I knew Tamasin was calling to see Guy and Barak would be with her. To my surprise when I entered the house the hallway was full of people. Tamasin sat at the bottom of the staircase, her swollen stomach prominent under her dress, her pretty pale face perspiring, blonde hair hanging limp around it. Coldiron's daughter Josephine had removed Tamasin's coif and was using it to fan her face with broad sweeps of her arm. Barak stood by, biting his lip anxiously. Coldiron stood looking on disapprovingly, while the two boys peered out from the kitchen doorway.

'Tamasin,' I said anxiously. 'My dear? What has happened? Where is Guy?'

'It's all right, Master Shardlake.' To my relief there was amusement in her voice. 'He's gone to wash his hands. I just felt strange when I came in out of the sun, I had to sit down.'

'She walked all the way here by herself,' Barak said indignantly. 'I said I'd meet her here but I thought Jane Marris would be with her. Walking alone, in this heat, and at too fast a pace if I know her. What if you'd fallen down in the middle of Chancery Lane, Tammy? Why didn't Jane come with you?'

'I sent her to the shops. She hadn't returned when I was due to leave. It's chaos in the markets with all the uproar over the new coins.'

'You should have told her to get back in time to fetch you here. Where are your wits, woman?'

'I didn't faint, Jack,' Tamasin replied irritably. 'I just had to sit down—ow!' She broke off as Josephine, fanning a little too wildly, accidentally hit her on the cheek.

Coldiron stepped forward, grabbing the coif. 'Watch what you're doing, you clumsy mare. Get back to the kitchen! And try not to break any more pots!' Josephine blushed and hastened away with her little scuttling steps, head bowed. Coldiron turned to me. 'She broke the big butter pot this morning. I've told her it'll come out of her wages.'