the work there is here. As for me, I am surrounded by incompetents. So much to be got ready. Indeed I fear I
cannot spare much time now, though I am glad to see you again. But I will show you your quarters.’
I nodded at the manor house. ‘That is a fine building.’
‘Ay. It was the abbot’s house. The King will be staying there when he arrives – it has been renamed King’s Manor in his honour.’
‘Perhaps we may have an opportunity to meet later, discuss old times.’
‘I should like that, sir. I will if I can —’ He broke off, as the two women came round the corner, and a hunted look came into his face. ‘God’s death,’ he
muttered, ‘not Lady Rochford again.’
I started, for that was a name whose mention could send a shudder through any group. The three of us bowed hastily. As we rose I looked more closely at the square-faced woman. Her high-coloured
features were still set in an angry frown, and I noticed she seemed strung tight with nervous tension. Her companion, who was holding the plan the official had been showing them, saw me studying
her mistress and gave me another disapproving look.
‘Master Craike!’ Lady Rochford snapped. ‘Your churl of a planmaster cannot answer the simplest question. I want to know, sir, is there a privy way out of this house on this
side that the Queen might take? She is terrified of fire, when she was a girl in Horsham the house near burned down —’
‘I am sorry, my lady—’
‘Pox on sorry! Jennet, the plan! Hurry, woman!’
Her companion held it up. Craike laid it out on his desk, studied it a moment and then pointed out a door. ‘There. The privy kitchen is nearest.’
‘Is it guarded?’
‘No, madam.’
‘Then I will need a set of keys. Arrange it. Jennet, come on, do not stand there like a lost sheep!’ And with that, Lady Rochford snatched the plan and the two women left, holding
their skirts up above the muddy ground.
Craike wiped his brow. ‘By heaven, that woman’s an ogre.’
‘Ay. I know her history. Who is her sour-faced companion?’
‘Mistress Jennet Marlin, a maid in waiting. She has cause to look sour. Her fiancé is in the Tower, accused of a part in the conspiracy.’
‘She’s local, then?’
‘Ay, she was picked to come to York for her local knowledge. There’s no taint of disloyalty against her, her family are reformers.’ Craike made a little moue of distaste, faint
but enough to show me where he stood in matters of religion. ‘Come, I’ll take you to your accommodation. It’s not the best, I fear, but in a few days there will be thousands here.
Thousands.’ He shook his head.
‘Four days now until they come, is it not?’
‘Ay. I have to send my officers to the inns today, to check all is ready. Something can always go wrong. By Our Lady, the trouble we had during the rains in July. The number of carts
broken and stuck in the mud, they nearly called the whole thing off.’
‘I am sure all will be well,’ I said with a smile. I had a sudden memory of Craike as a student in the Lincoln’s Inn library, working late on his exercises – surrounded
by papers, his hands stained with ink, determined everything should be exactly right.
‘I hope so,’ he answered with a sigh. ‘The itinerary has been constantly changed, it has driven me half mad. The King was supposed to be in Pontefract two days and stayed near
two weeks, and now he’s diverted to Hull.’
‘Perhaps to allow time to finish all this work going on in the forecourt, those pavilions. What is it all for?’
Craike looked uncomfortable. ‘I am sorry, I may not say. It will be announced when the Progress arrives.’ He stepped away, leading us to the monastic church. ‘But the work
– it is a nightmare, a nightmare!’
Barak grinned at his back. He seemed to be in a better mood since meeting the girl. ‘Was he always like this?’ he whispered.
‘He was the most conscientious student I ever met. Everything had to be
cannot spare much time now, though I am glad to see you again. But I will show you your quarters.’
I nodded at the manor house. ‘That is a fine building.’
‘Ay. It was the abbot’s house. The King will be staying there when he arrives – it has been renamed King’s Manor in his honour.’
‘Perhaps we may have an opportunity to meet later, discuss old times.’
‘I should like that, sir. I will if I can —’ He broke off, as the two women came round the corner, and a hunted look came into his face. ‘God’s death,’ he
muttered, ‘not Lady Rochford again.’
I started, for that was a name whose mention could send a shudder through any group. The three of us bowed hastily. As we rose I looked more closely at the square-faced woman. Her high-coloured
features were still set in an angry frown, and I noticed she seemed strung tight with nervous tension. Her companion, who was holding the plan the official had been showing them, saw me studying
her mistress and gave me another disapproving look.
‘Master Craike!’ Lady Rochford snapped. ‘Your churl of a planmaster cannot answer the simplest question. I want to know, sir, is there a privy way out of this house on this
side that the Queen might take? She is terrified of fire, when she was a girl in Horsham the house near burned down —’
‘I am sorry, my lady—’
‘Pox on sorry! Jennet, the plan! Hurry, woman!’
Her companion held it up. Craike laid it out on his desk, studied it a moment and then pointed out a door. ‘There. The privy kitchen is nearest.’
‘Is it guarded?’
‘No, madam.’
‘Then I will need a set of keys. Arrange it. Jennet, come on, do not stand there like a lost sheep!’ And with that, Lady Rochford snatched the plan and the two women left, holding
their skirts up above the muddy ground.
Craike wiped his brow. ‘By heaven, that woman’s an ogre.’
‘Ay. I know her history. Who is her sour-faced companion?’
‘Mistress Jennet Marlin, a maid in waiting. She has cause to look sour. Her fiancé is in the Tower, accused of a part in the conspiracy.’
‘She’s local, then?’
‘Ay, she was picked to come to York for her local knowledge. There’s no taint of disloyalty against her, her family are reformers.’ Craike made a little moue of distaste, faint
but enough to show me where he stood in matters of religion. ‘Come, I’ll take you to your accommodation. It’s not the best, I fear, but in a few days there will be thousands here.
Thousands.’ He shook his head.
‘Four days now until they come, is it not?’
‘Ay. I have to send my officers to the inns today, to check all is ready. Something can always go wrong. By Our Lady, the trouble we had during the rains in July. The number of carts
broken and stuck in the mud, they nearly called the whole thing off.’
‘I am sure all will be well,’ I said with a smile. I had a sudden memory of Craike as a student in the Lincoln’s Inn library, working late on his exercises – surrounded
by papers, his hands stained with ink, determined everything should be exactly right.
‘I hope so,’ he answered with a sigh. ‘The itinerary has been constantly changed, it has driven me half mad. The King was supposed to be in Pontefract two days and stayed near
two weeks, and now he’s diverted to Hull.’
‘Perhaps to allow time to finish all this work going on in the forecourt, those pavilions. What is it all for?’
Craike looked uncomfortable. ‘I am sorry, I may not say. It will be announced when the Progress arrives.’ He stepped away, leading us to the monastic church. ‘But the work
– it is a nightmare, a nightmare!’
Barak grinned at his back. He seemed to be in a better mood since meeting the girl. ‘Was he always like this?’ he whispered.
‘He was the most conscientious student I ever met. Everything had to be
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