nostrils were assailed with a great stink, and I found myself looking through the bars of a metal cage perhaps twenty feet square. The stone floor was dotted with gobbets of meat, and a great cat prowled up and down. Its fur was golden with black spots, and everything in its lean, muscled frame spoke of savage power. As we entered the yard it turned and snarled, showing huge yellow fangs.
'A fearsome beast,' I said.
'Fifteen pounds it cost my lord.'
The leopard sat down and stared at us, occasionally lifting its lips in a snarl.
'What is its name?' I asked.
'Oh, it has no name, it would not be godly to give a Christian's name to such a monster.'
'Poor creature, it must be cold.'
A boy in livery appeared at the door and muttered to Blitheman.
'Lord Cromwell is returned,' Blitheman said. 'Come, he is in his study.' With a last glance at the snarling leopard, I followed him inside. I reflected that my master, too, had a savage reputation and wondered whether he was sending a deliberate message by possessing such a creature.
Lord Cromwell's study was a smaller version of his Westminster office, packed with paper-strewn tables. Normally it was gloomy, but today the sunlight reflected from the snow in the garden sent a penetrating white light across the heavy creases and folds of his face as he sat behind his desk. His look at me when I was shown in was hostile, his mouth set tight and his chin projecting angrily. He did not bid me sit.
'I had expected to hear from you sooner,' he said coldly. 'Nine days. And the business isn't settled yet, I can tell by your look.' He noticed my sword. 'God's blood, do you wear a weapon in my presence?'
'No, my lord,' I said, hastily unbuckling it. 'It is a piece of evidence, I had to bring it.' I laid it on a table where an illustrated copy of the English Bible lay open at a picture of Sodom and Gomorrah consumed by flames. I told him all that had happened: the deaths of Simon and Gabriel and the discovery of Orphan Stonegarden's body, the abbot's offer of surrender, my suspicions about the land sales, and finally Jerome's letter, which I passed to him. Except when he was reading it he glared at me throughout with that unblinking gaze of his. When I had finished he let out a snort.
'God's holy wounds, it's a chaos worse than Bedlam. I hope when you get back that boy of yours is still alive,' he added brutally. 'I've spent time cozening Rich into taking him back; it'd better not be wasted.'
'I thought I should report to you, my lord. Especially when I found that letter.'
He grunted. 'They should have reminded me that the Carthusian was there, Grey will hear about that. Brother Jerome will be dealt with. But I'm not concerned with letters to Edward Seymour. All the Seymour family look to my favour now the queen's dead.' He leaned forward. 'But these deaths unsolved do worry me. They must not come out now, I don't want my other negotiations upset. Lewes Priory is about to surrender.'
'They are giving in?'
'I had word yesterday; the surrender will be signed this week. That's what I was seeing Norfolk about, we're going to divide their lands between us. The king's agreed in principle.'
'It must be a goodly parcel.'
'It is. Their Sussex estates will go to me and those in Norfolk to the duke. The prospect of lands soon brings old enemies to the negotiating table.' He gave a bark of laughter. 'I'm going to set my son Gregory up in the abbot's fine house, make a landowner of him.' He paused and the steely look returned. 'You seek to distract me, Matthew, put me in a better mood.'
'No, sir. I know this has gone slowly but it is the hardest and most dangerous puzzle I have known-'
'What's the importance of that sword?'
I told him of its discovery and my talk with Oldknoll earlier. He furrowed his brows. 'Mark Smeaton. I didn't think he was one to cause trouble from beyond the grave.' Lord Cromwell came round his desk and picked up the sword. 'It's a fine weapon all right, I wish I'd had it when I was soldiering in Italy in my youth.'
'There must be a connection between the killings and Smeaton.'
'I can see one,' he said. 'A connection to Singleton's death, anyway. Revenge.'
He thought a moment, then turned and gave me a hard look. 'This is not to be repeated to anyone.'
'On my honour.'
He put down the sword and began pacing up and down, hands folded behind him. His black robe billowed around his knees.
'When the king turned against Anne Boleyn last year, I had to act quickly. I'd been associated with her from the beginning, and the papist faction would have worked my fall with hers; the king was starting to listen to them. So it had to be me that rid the king of her. Do you see?'
'Yes. Yes, I see.'
'I persuaded him she was adulterous and that meant she could be executed for treason, without her religion coming into it. But there would have to be evidence and a public trial.'
I stood looking at him silently.
'I took some of my most trusted men and assigned to each a friend of hers whom I had chosen – Norris, Weston, Brereton, her brother Rochford – and Smeaton. Their task was to get either a confession, or something that could be made to look like evidence that they had lain with her. Singleton was the man I assigned to deal with Mark Smeaton.'
'He made up a case against him?'
'Smeaton looked to be the easiest one to force into a confession; he was just a boy. So it proved, he confessed to adultery after a session on the Tower rack. The same one I used on that Carthusian, who must indeed have met him because all he reported Smeaton saying was true.' His tone as he went on was reflective, matter of fact.
'And one of the visitors the Carthusian saw coming to the cell that night would have been Singleton himself. I sent him to make sure that in his speech from the scaffold – there's a tradition that should be done away with – the boy did not retract his confession. He was reminded that, if he said anything amiss, his father would suffer.'
I stared at my lord. 'So what people said was true? Queen Anne and those accused with her were innocent?'
He turned to me. The harsh light caught his face and seemed to leach his eyes of expression as he frowned at me.
'Of course they were innocent. No one may say so, but the whole world knows it, the juries at the trial knew. Even the king half-knew though he couldn't admit it to himself and irk his fine conscience. God's death, Matthew, you're innocent for a lawyer. You've the innocence of a reformist believer without the fire. Better to have the fire without the innocence, like me.'
'I believed the charges were true. So many times I have said so.'
'Best to do what most people did on that subject and keep a closed mouth.'
'Perhaps I did know, deep down,' I said quietly. 'In some part of me God has not reached.'
Cromwell looked at me impatiently, irritation in his face.
'So Singleton was killed for revenge,' I said at length. 'Someone killed him in the same manner Anne Boleyn was executed. But who?' A thought came to me. 'Who was Smeaton's second visitor? Jerome mentioned the priest come to shrive him and two others.'
'I'll have Singleton's case papers looked out, see what they say about Smeaton's family. I'll have them at your house within two hours. Meanwhile go to old Smeaton's place, that's a good notion. You return to Scarnsea tomorrow?'
'Yes, the boat leaves before dawn.'
'If you find anything before you go, send the information to me. And Matthew-'
'Yes, my lord.'
He had moved out of the sunlight, the fierce anger and power were back in his eyes. 'Make sure you find the murderer. I have kept this from the king too long. When I tell him I must have the killer's name to give him. And get the abbot's seal on that surrender. I suppose at least there you've achieved something.'
'Yes, my lord.' I hesitated. 'When the house surrenders, what will happen to it?'
He smiled grimly. 'Same as with them all. The abbot and the monks will get their pensions. The servants will
