Palace, arms held wide, his usual anxious expression replaced by one of restrained delight.
The crowd parted, the men with pikestaffs moved aside, and from among them a tall, corpulent man in a black robe emerged into the light, his arms held out towards the dean. From his shoulders hung a cloak of black silk that rippled like molten metal.
“Richard,” he boomed, smiling broadly, in a voice that carried across the open ground to the cathedral and beyond. “As ever, your table and your company remain my one genuine pleasure at the end of this long road.”
He embraced the dean and kissed him on both cheeks. When he stepped back his fleshy face was running with sweat; he extended a peremptory hand behind him and one of the legion of young men in clerk’s robes jumped forward with a handkerchief.
“Welcome, Charles, welcome.” Dean Rogers clasped his hands. “It has been too long since you graced my table with your conversation, that is certain. But I fear you find our town in the grip of terrible events. The angel of death has descended on us with scant regard for estate or person …” He cast his eyes down, as if he expected to be chided for this dereliction of duty.
The big man rubbed his hands together with unseemly relish. “Yes, I heard about Kingsley, poor devil. And Ezekiel Sykes, only this morning. Canterbury is grown lawless since I was last here.”
As if it were not already obvious, Langworth turned to me with satisfaction and nodded towards the man in black.
“Justice Hale. There you see him. He dines tonight at the Archbishop’s Palace with the dean and all the city dignitaries.”
“Those that are left,” I said.
The dean looked around at the people jostling to have a sight of the justice. Over their heads his eyes fell on our party and his face collapsed in dismay.
“Canon Langworth? Constable? What is this—you are arresting Doctor Savolino a second time?”
Justice Hale looked at me with interest. Then he chuckled deeply, and the flesh around his eyes crinkled.
“God’s wounds, the man must be a shocking felon to need arresting twice. And hiding out in the cathedral precincts. Did he slip from your grasp the first time, Constable?”
Edmonton turned puce and began to stutter a response, but Langworth held up a restraining hand.
“This man was bailed on the wishes of the dean, Your Honour,” he said with a little bow, his voice smooth as cream. “While under the care of Doctor Robinson here, he contrived to rob my house and the cathedral treasury. Constable Edmonton is returning him to the gaol where he can do no more harm until he faces Your Honour tomorrow.”
Dean Rogers exchanged a look with Langworth and for the first time I saw at close quarters how much these two highest officials of the cathedral detested each other. I recalled what Harry had said about Langworth’s ambition to be elected dean and how he had been narrowly beaten by Rogers and his moderate supporters; clearly the rivalry between them was undiminished, and Rogers seemed determined not to be humiliated by Langworth in front of the justice. Silently, I thanked providence that Dean Rogers still appeared well disposed to me, even if just to spite Langworth.
“Robbed the treasury, eh?” The justice looked impressed. “I see you are an audacious fellow, whatever else you may be.”
He looked at me frankly and I held his gaze, my eyes steady, hoping to convey that I had no reason to fear him. He was perhaps nearing sixty, though his grey-flecked hair was thick beneath his hat and his size gave him a hearty air; he must have a strong constitution to be riding about the country several times a year to hear the assizes. Though his cheeks were webbed with crimson threads from fine wine, his eyes were sombre and flickered over my face as if with long practice; I sensed that beneath his good cheer was a steely will. I could only hope there was also wisdom and compassion.
Dean Rogers stepped close to the justice and whispered in his ear. Hale nodded, listening, and when the dean straightened up, he looked back at me with a hint of admiration in that appraising glance.
“Friend of the Sidneys, are you? Young Philip is a great favourite of the queen, of course. I knew Sir Henry a little, when we were younger. Now there was a fellow who could talk himself out of any scrape. England never had a finer diplomat. Well, tomorrow we’ll see if you have the same gift, won’t we?” His smile seemed genuinely amiable; we all have our parts to play in this pageant, he seemed to be saying, don’t take it personally.
I bowed my head in acknowledgement. The dean leaned in and whispered further; Hale looked from me to Langworth and Edmonton and frowned.
“I understand bail has already been paid for this man, is it not so?”
“If it please Your Honour, he has breached the terms of his bail by committing another grievous crime,” Edmonton said, tearing off his hat with anxious deference.
“Well, we don’t know for certain that he has, do we? That is what tomorrow’s process will determine, unless I very much misunderstand the law. Who has stood surety for this man?”
“I did, Your Honour.” Harry stepped forward.
Hale peered at him.
“And you would be …? A brother canon, I see. I’m sure we must have met.”
“Doctor Harry Robinson, Your Honour. Resident canon of the cathedral. I had the pleasure of dining with Your Honour at the dean’s table last year.”
“Did you? Age has addled my memory, I fear,” he said, smiling, then turned to Edmonton, his face abruptly serious. “I think, Constable, that if this man is bound over to appear before my court tomorrow and Doctor Robinson has already stood bail and is willing to vouch for him, there is no need to make him spend the night in gaol. I imagine it’s quite crowded enough there as it is, no?”
“Your Honour—” Edmonton began, flushing scarlet again, but Langworth cut in, taking a step towards Justice Hale as if to reason with him, man to man.
“With the greatest respect, Your Honour, Dean Rogers and Doctor Robinson have had their heads turned by this man. He is a plausible talker. If you leave him at liberty tonight, I predict he will commit some new harm against our community.”
“Why—do you have another one planned for me?” I shot back.
Justice Hale fixed me with a stern look, as you might give a precocious child.
“You would do better to hold your tongue for the present, sir. You shall have opportunity enough to entertain us with your plausible talk tomorrow.” I thought I detected a twinkle in his eye, but perhaps that was wishful thinking. “Italian, are you, by the sound of you?”
“Yes, Your Honour.”
“
I smiled, impressed.
“
He laughed again. “You are a Protestant, then, I deduce? Well, that’s a good start. He says he finds our country more enlightened in matters of religion,” he added, for the benefit of those listening.
I took the fact that he spoke Italian as a favourable sign. Clearly he was educated, and had a broader outlook than many of his countrymen, who considered all foreigners sons of the same Catholic whore. He was interrupted by a great cascade of bells that exploded from the cathedral tower like the thunder of the previous night, heralding the beginning of divine service.
“Ah, there we are—time for Evensong. Stand down your armed men, Constable, and let us go in and worship together like good Christians. Send them back to collect him tomorrow morning at seven o’clock—I’m sure Doctor Robinson will keep a close watch on him until then.” He turned to the dean. “Now, tell me, Richard,” he said, in a tone that declared an official change of subject, “is your choir still as celestial as I remember it? The music here is one of my chief pleasures on these visits, as you know—second only to your table, of course.” He hooked a heavy arm around the dean’s shoulders as they set off towards the west door and did not give us another look.
Edmonton glanced helplessly at Langworth, who turned to me, his sunken eyes lit with righteous anger.
“Do not imagine you have won.”
He stalked away, his robe snapping in the chill breeze that he seemed to generate himself. Edmonton, deflated, made a gesture to the guards; bemused, they lowered their pikes and stood awkwardly, looking around at the milling congregation as if uncertain as to their next orders.
