Parry inclined his head. ‘One can only do what one can in the time,’ he said, an evasive note in his voice. I wondered whether he had deliberately delayed telling Elizabeth of Edith’s murder, to make it less likely that I would have time to find anything that might prove troublesome.
I asked, ‘May I have copies of all the documents you have? It will save me having to get them from the court in Norwich.’
‘Very well. Your lad can make copies of the case file while you see the Lady Elizabeth. She will be expecting you by now. I will call Mistress Blanche to accompany you.’ He rang a bell on his desk. A servant entered, and was sent to find her. ‘There is a bench just down the corridor, wait there till she comes. I will have the papers put in a room for Master Overton to do the copying.’ He stood, came over and shook my hand, looking at me as seriously as ever he had. ‘Remember, Matthew, the Lady Elizabeth is young, she is learning care and caution in a hard school, but still does not always see what is in her best interests. Do not work this case overmuch, Matthew. Talk to people, as discreetly as you can, attend the Assizes. Keep me informed of developments. But do not overwork it.’
Chapter Three
We found the bench Parry had indicated, opposite a window giving onto an intricately designed knot garden. There were still a few daffodils in the flowerbeds, extremely late in the season though it was.
‘Daffodils are a Welsh emblem, aren’t they?’ Nicholas observed. ‘No doubt they gladden Master Parry’s heart.’
I spoke quietly, keeping an eye out for passing servants. ‘I think it has needed gladdening these last months. First Seymour’s treason, now this murder.’
‘He just wants us to check everything is done properly, doesn’t he?’
‘He’d rather steer clear of the whole business. I see his point of view.’
‘Should not justice be done?’
‘Of course. But we both know that it can be – hit and miss.’
‘The Lady Elizabeth wants us to do what we can.’
I looked at him. ‘You do not like Master Parry much, do you?’
‘He is too much the politician.’
‘He is loyal. I have always respected that. And young as she is, Elizabeth commands here now. He must obey her, but protect her, too.’
‘So what if we get to Norfolk and discover John Boleyn is innocent?’
‘Then we tell the authorities. But come, let us not think too far ahead. We know only the bones of the case so far.’
Nicholas smiled. ‘A change from land conveyances, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. It certainly is.’ I smiled. ‘I see you are drawn to this.’
‘It will be good to get out of London for a while.’
I sighed. ‘I too have become weary of late. And I confess this is – intriguing. And it should hold no danger for us. At least,’ I added, ‘I hope not.’ For a moment I remembered the terrors I had suffered in the past from my involvement with the great ones of the realm, but reflected that this was hardly in the same league. And I genuinely felt the need for a change. I said to Nicholas, ‘As I told Master Parry, we have none too much time. It is a long way to Norwich.’
‘At least this rash of local disturbances is over.’
‘Remember the new Book of Common Prayer is to be used in all church services from Sunday. A lot of people won’t like it.’
Nicholas looked at me. ‘You have a copy, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I bought one when it first came out in March.’ I was silent a moment, then said, ‘The services and psalms in English at last. And Cranmer’s translation of the services from the Latin is beautiful.’
‘Does the new service truly say the bread and wine do not become the flesh and blood of Jesus on consecration by the priest?’
I shook my head. ‘No, the Prayer Book does not go so far. It is deliberately ambiguous. I think Cranmer and Protector Somerset do believe the Communion service is only a commemoration of Christ’s sacrifice. But they dare not say that publicly – not yet. This is a compromise, which they hope all will accept.’
‘Something people can interpret in their own way?’
‘Yes. But no traditionalist will like it. They will want the old Mass, in Latin.’
‘So there may be more trouble, over religion this time?’
‘These last two years people have accepted things I would once have thought impossible – the taking down of all the images and stained glass, the closure of the chantries. But this may be a step too far for some.’
We sat quietly a moment. Nicholas had an open-minded tolerance in matters of religion, which I admired when so many young people cleaved to extremes. As for myself, once an ardent reformer, I had scarce known what I truly believed for some time.
Nicholas asked, ‘Do you think Thomas Seymour went – well – all the way with the Lady Elizabeth last year?’
‘I think even he would not have been foolish enough to do that, which is some comfort. But tush, we should not discuss that here.’ I had heard the chink of keys, and a moment later Mistress Blanche appeared round the corner, hands clasped before her. She directed Nicholas to an office to do his copying, and ordered me to follow her.
THE LADY ELIZABETH sat behind a wide desk covered with books and papers. Unlike her brother the King or her elder sister Mary, as his heir, Elizabeth had no canopy of state to sit under. She was dressed in black, a French hood on her head from which her long, auburn hair fell to her shoulders, a token of virginity. I wondered if she wore black still for Catherine Parr, or whether, like the relative austerity of the Hatfield furnishings, it was more a sign of her loyalty to Protestant sobriety. Her face, a long oval like her mother’s but with the high-bridged nose and small mouth of her father, made her remarkable, if not beautiful. The square front of her dress showed the full breasts of a girl almost grown, but otherwise she was thin and pale, with dark rings under her brown eyes. She was studying a document as I entered, her long fingers playing nervously with a quill. Blanche announced, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, my Lady,’ and I bowed deeply as she moved to take a position beside Elizabeth. Blanche kept her eyes on me; I had no doubt everything we said would be reported back to Parry.
Lady Elizabeth studied me a moment, then said in her clear voice, ‘Serjeant Shardlake, it is many months since I have seen you.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘Not since you called to give me your condolences after the Queen Dowager died.’
‘Yes. A sad day.’
‘It was.’ She put down the quill, and said quietly, ‘I know you served that sweet lady well. And I loved her. Truly, despite what some have said.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I remember when I first met you, four years ago was it not? You were with the Queen Dowager, come to discuss a case.’
‘That is right, my Lady.’
She smiled. ‘I recall that I asked you about justice, and you said that all deserved it, even the worst of people.’
‘You remember well.’
She gave a pleased nod of acknowledgement. Always she liked to show off her memory, her intelligence. She continued, ‘How are you faring with turning the money my father left me into land?’
‘Matters go quicker now your sister has chosen the land she wants.’
‘Oh yes, Mary must always come first. Though we will see how she fares when the Prayer Book comes in. She will have to get rid of all her popish chaplains.’ Elizabeth smiled grimly, then waved the matter aside and sat back in her chair. ‘Justice, Serjeant Shardlake, I know you have always believed in it, and have sometimes sought it in dark corners. Perusing documents about my lands must seem dull by comparison.’