BARAK RETURNED TO THE lodging house in the small hours. I called him into my cubicle and told him what had happened. I said Maleverer had ordered he must accompany me everywhere.
‘If it must be, it must,’ he said. He looked at me.
‘He guessed you were with Tamasin. You’d better arrange your trysts for when I am safe indoors.’
‘Why does he not just send us back? The petitions are almost done with.’
‘I’m not sure.’ I looked out of the little window of my cubicle. ‘I think I may be bait. To draw out the assassin.’
‘Who the hell is it?’ Barak asked.
‘As I said to Maleverer: someone who watches and waits in the dark for an opportunity. Someone was hidden in the courtyard when we came back from the inn, waiting for an opportunity. They ran round the church and behind the bear’s pen. They probably planned to let the bear loose on me anyway, and by going up to the pen I gave them a wonderful opportunity. This is someone very persistent, waiting for the chance of an ambush like a cat.’
‘One person?’
‘I think so.’
‘A professional?’
I looked at him. ‘What do you think?’
He shook his head. ‘No, this is an opportunist. A professional would have come up behind you and knifed you in the guts. This is someone from the manor, afraid of being seen and recognized. With me with you all the time, you should be safer. And when you’re alone here, he wouldn’t dare risk coming in and letting the clerks see him.’
I laughed bitterly. ‘Those people, my protectors?’ I walked over to the window. ‘Such persistence, such determination. And all because they think I know more about those papers than I do, unless there is something I am missing. If only I could find out more about them. I have turned the contents of that Titulus over in my mind a hundred times. It is so ambiguously worded in places.’
I looked out of the window. I remembered the dream I had had our first day here, that it was like Broderick’s cell in the castle. Then I thought of something, and drew in my breath sharply.
‘What is it?’ Barak was suddenly alert. ‘Someone outside?’
‘No. No, I have thought of something. That poison Broderick used. He had it in his cell at York Castle, but could not have brought it in and no one can have brought it to him. How did he get it?’
‘It’s a riddle.’
‘There must be an answer.’
‘Have you thought of one?’
‘Possibly. When we go to the castle to hear the petitions tomorrow, I want to take another look at that cell.’
NEXT MORNING we set out early for the castle. Another high wind had risen overnight, full of gusty rain. Aske’s skeleton still hung from the tower; the sight of it made me shudder. I looked at the tower where Broderick had been held; as soon as we had a break I intended to visit his old cell.
We entered the courthouse; the benches in the outer hall were filled with people, mostly tradesmen and poor farmers though a few men in more expensive clothes sat stiffly among them. All looked at me apprehensively as I entered in my lawyer’s robes.
Giles sat in a courtroom with dark panelled walls, at a table drawn up beneath the royal arms and covered with a green cloth. He seemed fully restored to health, and with his broad craggy face looked impressively judicial. Beside him sat a thin, dark-haired fellow in his thirties, wearing a dark robe with the badge of the Council of the North.
Giles greeted us cheerfully. ‘Matthew. And Barak, would you sit at the end here and take notes. There is ink and a quill sharpened for you.’ He waved to the man beside him. ‘Master Ralph Waters, representative of the Council of the North.’
I bowed. Master Waters looked amiable enough, a junior official by the look of him. ‘Master Waters is here to represent the council’s interests, for some of the cases this morning involve complaints against it. The compulsory purchase of a piece of land here, a requirement to provide food at low prices there. Master Waters has been instructed to be – accommodating.’
The official smiled. ‘Ay, so the King’s justice can be seen to be merciful. No try-ons, mind,’ he added, raising a finger. ‘I won’t have try-ons.’
‘Nor will we,’ Giles agreed heartily. ‘Eh, Brother Shardlake? We’ll send false petitioners out with their tails between their legs.’ He seemed to be enjoying the prospect of the day’s work. ‘Now then, let us make ready, look over the cases then have the petitioners in.’
WE WERE THERE all morning, listening to disputes and adjudicating. After the horrors of the night before it felt strange to be sitting there, surrounded by the trappings of power. I managed to forget what had happened, for a few hours at least, for adjudicating was a role I enjoyed.
Most of the cases were petty enough matters, some of the parties’ anger with each other far out of proportion to the matter in dispute. Those we dealt with sharply. Where the council was the party petitioned against, Master Waters was a model of reasonableness, but it struck me from the cases that the council had often been high-handed in its dealings with the Yorkers.
We adjourned for a break at twelve, a servant bringing in some cold meat and bread. I ate quickly, then nodded at Barak.
‘I wonder if we might leave you for a short while, gentlemen,’ I said. ‘We will be back within the half hour.’ Master Waters nodded; Giles looked at us curiously.
We went out into the courtyard; the rain had stopped but the wind was higher than ever, making my robe billow around me. ‘My wrist hurts,’ Barak said. ‘All those notes. Well, what is this mystery in the tower?’
I led the way across the courtyard to the guardroom, where the hard-featured guard I had met before agreed to take us up to Broderick’s cell.
The cell had not been cleaned since the cook left it; messy rushes still lay on the floor, the truckle bed under the window still had a dirty sheet on it. Broderick’s chains were still fixed to their bolt on the wall, the chains themselves lying in a pile of links on the bed.
‘Well?’ Barak asked.
I walked to the bed and picked up the manacles at the end of the chain, which had been fixed to Broderick’s wrists. I walked away from the bed, drawing out the chain to its fullest length. Standing up, Broderick could have walked perhaps eight feet. I walked round the cell in a half-circle, looking inwards. Barak and the guard looked on in surprise.
‘What are you doing?’ Barak asked.
‘I’m tracing the limits Broderick could have walked. Seeing if there is anything odd on the floor, the walls.’
‘I can’t see anything.’
‘No – ah.’ I stopped at the window. ‘Yes, he can walk this far. I thought so; he told me he used to stare at Aske’s bones.’ I looked out. I could see the opposite tower, the shape of the skeleton swinging in its chains in the cold wind that whipped rain into my face, along with something else: a smell I recalled from the handkerchief in Broderick’s cell at St Mary’s, and from Fulford when I bowed and looked at the King’s leg – rot and decay. I studied a long leaden pipe that ran down the wall and broke off to one side of the window, where a crack in the wall ran jaggedly along beside it. From the end of the pipe a white, slimy-looking deposit hung, water sweating from it into the crack. And something else: a couple of brown stems, broken off from the fungus that had grown in this filth.
‘That looks like a lightning strike,’ I said to the guard.
‘Ay, maybe.’ He sounded puzzled by my interest.
‘Where does the pipe come from?’
‘It’s an overflow pipe, from the guards’ little kitchen at the top of the tower. Some of the guards sleep there usually, though they were turned out when Broderick came.’
‘So the pipe will be full of the nastiest stuff you could imagine. Bits of bad meat, rotten vegetables.’ I took off my robe, took out a clean handkerchief and then, with some difficulty, reached my hand through the bars and broke off a chunk of the white slimy deposit. As I touched it I felt my stomach turn. I sniffed at it, then showed it to Barak. He bent his head, then recoiled.