than I should. Talk of politics is dangerous, even though the great men of the realm have no time for intrigue just now. Hertford, Norfolk, Gardiner - all away on military assignments. But if we get through this war, I have little doubt it will all begin again. The Catholic party does not like Queen Catherine. You have seen her book?'
' 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
' 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
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