‘Good. Announce me there instead. I will need the fountainhead if I’m to find a way through for William. Go, man! I don’t need you to watch me piss.’
Derry placed the pot on the blankets and sighed in relief as he urinated into it. Hallerton left quickly, calling for other servants to attend the spymaster. He raced down the steps of the White Tower and out across the open sward beyond, slowing only a fraction as he passed marching files of heavily armed soldiers. The Tower of London was a maze of buildings and paths and Hallerton was sweating by the time he reached the king’s personal chambers and announced the imminent arrival of his master to the servants there. He was still arguing with the steward of the royal bedchamber when Derry came up panting behind him.
‘Master Brewer!’ the king’s steward said loudly. ‘I have been explaining to your servant that His Royal Highness King Henry is unwell and cannot be disturbed.’
Derry went past them both, simply pressing a hand on to the steward’s chest to hold him back against the wall. Two stern-looking soldiers watched his approach and stepped deliberately into his way. Derry had a sudden thought of Lord York attempting to reach the king in Windsor and he almost laughed.
‘Step aside, lads. I have standing orders to be allowed to reach the king, day or night. You know me and you know that is true.’
The soldiers shifted uncomfortably. They looked past Derry to the king’s steward, who folded his arms in clear refusal. It was an impasse and Derry turned in relief at the sound of a woman’s voice on the floor above.
‘What goes on? Is that Master Brewer?’ Margaret called as she came halfway down a set of oak stairs, peering at the group of men gathered there. She was barefoot, dressed in a long white sleeping robe with her hair tousled. After a moment of dull shock, all the men looked at their boots rather than stare at the queen in such a state of undress.
‘Your Highness, I don’t …’ the king’s steward began, still looking down.
Derry spoke over him, suddenly feeling that time pressed on them all.
‘Suffolk has been arrested, my lady. I need to speak to the king.’
Margaret’s mouth opened in surprise and the king’s steward stopped talking. The queen saw the worry in Derry and made a quick decision.
‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ Margaret said in clear dismissal. ‘Come, Master Brewer. I will wake my husband.’
Derry was too concerned even to enjoy his small victory over the steward and clattered up the steps behind Margaret. As they walked down a long corridor, he passed rooms that stank of bitter chemicals. Derry shuddered as the air seemed to thicken. The king’s chambers smelled of sickness and he sipped his breath to avoid drawing in too much of the bad air.
‘Wait here, Master Brewer,’ Margaret said. ‘I will see if he is awake.’
She stepped into the king’s personal rooms and Derry was left to kick his heels in the corridor. He noticed two more soldiers watching him suspiciously from one end of it, but Margaret’s permission put him beyond their reach in all ways. He ignored them while he waited.
By the time the door opened again, Derry had readied his arguments. They died in his throat as he saw the pale figure of the king sitting up in bed, his thin white chest wrapped in a cloak. Derry could still remember the bull-like frame of the boy’s father and sadness came in a surge as he closed the door and faced King Henry.
Derry knelt, with his head bowed. Margaret stood watching him, her hands writhing together as she waited for Henry to acknowledge his spymaster. When the silence stretched unbroken, it was she who spoke at last.
‘Please stand, Master Brewer. You said Lord William has been arrested. On what charge?’
Derry rose slowly and dared to step closer. Without looking away from the king, he replied, searching for some spark of life that would show Henry was aware and understood.
‘For high treason, my lady. Cardinal Beaufort’s men arrested him when he came back from Kent last night. I’m certain Tresham is behind it. He said as much to me a few days ago. I told him then that it was a charge that could lead only to disaster.’ He stepped closer still, within arm’s reach of the king. ‘Your Grace? We cannot let William de la Pole go to trial. I feel York’s hand in this. Tresham and Beaufort will put Lord Suffolk to the question. On such a charge, there are no protections. They will insist on proving the truth with hot irons.’
He waited a beat, but Henry’s eyes remained blank and guileless. For an instant, Derry believed he saw something like compassion, though he could equally have imagined it.
‘Your Grace?’ he said again. ‘I fear this is a plot aimed at the royal line itself. If they force Lord Suffolk to reveal the details of the truce in France, he will say the truth, that it was by royal order. After the losses there, such an admission will aid their cause, Your Grace.’ He took a slow breath, forcing himself to ask a question that shamed him. ‘Do you understand, Your Grace?’
For a time, he thought the king would not respond, but then Henry sighed and spoke, his voice slurred.
‘William would not betray me, Master Brewer. If the charge is false, he should be released. Is that the truth?’
‘It
‘No trial? Very well, Master Brewer. I know …’
The king’s voice faded and he stared with dull eyes. Derry cleared his throat, but the face remained utterly still and slack, as if its guiding spirit had been snuffed.
‘Your Grace?’ Derry said, glancing up at Margaret in confusion.
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes so that they shone.
The moment passed and Henry seemed to return, blinking and smiling as if nothing had happened.
‘I am weary now, Master Brewer. I would like to sleep. The learned doctor says I must sleep if I am to be well again.’
Derry looked at Margaret and saw her anguish as she gazed down on her husband. It was a moment of shocking intimacy and it surprised him to see something like love there as well. For a moment, their eyes met.
‘What do you need from your king, Master Brewer?’ Margaret asked softly. ‘Can he order William’s release?’
‘He could, if they would honour it,’ Derry said, rubbing his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt the order will be delayed, or William taken to some dark place where I can’t reach him. In Westminster, Tresham and Beaufort have a great deal of power, if only because Parliament pays the guards. Please, my lady, let me think for a moment. It is not enough to send a written order to free him.’
He hated to speak of Henry while the man himself sat there and watched him like a trusting child, but there was no help for it.
‘Is His Royal Highness well enough to travel? If the king took a barge to Westminster, he could walk into the cells and no one would dare to stop him. We could free William today, before they have done too much harm.’
To his sorrow, Margaret shook her head, reaching down to touch Derry’s shoulder, then drawing him aside. Henry’s head turned to watch them, smiling innocently.
‘He has … suffered this … vagueness for days now. He is as well as I have seen him, at this moment,’ Margaret whispered. ‘There has to be some other way to get William out of their clutches. What about Lord Somerset? Is he not in London? He and William are friends. Somerset would not allow William to be tortured, no matter what charges they have brought.’
‘I wish it were that simple. They have him, Your Grace! I can hardly believe he was such a fool as to give himself up to them, but you know William. You know his sense of honour and his pride. I gave him the chance to run, but instead he came meekly, trusting that his captors were men of honour themselves. They are not, my lady. They will either bring down a powerful lord who supports the king, or … the king himself. I don’t know yet exactly what they intend, but William …’
His voice trailed off as a fresh thought struck him.
‘There
Margaret’s brow furrowed as she listened.
‘But does that not play into their hands, Master Brewer? That is surely what this Tresham and Cardinal
