like you to exert yourself too much. Your Grace’s health is balanced on a hair. If I may suggest …’
Henry seemed willing to listen to the babbling doctor for ever, but Margaret’s patience wore thin. She spoke over him.
‘King Henry is going to the river gate, Master Allworthy. If you’d step out of the way instead of blocking the entire corridor, we might get past you.’
In response, the doctor tried to bow and press himself against the wall at the same time. He could not help staring at the king as Margaret helped her husband along the corridor and she shuddered under that professional inspection. Perhaps her glare kept the man quiet; she neither knew nor cared. She and Henry descended the stairs and the king’s chamber steward came rushing to greet them.
‘Have the barge made ready,’ Margaret said firmly, before he could object. ‘And have blankets brought, as many as you can find.’
For once, the steward did not reply, only bowing and retreating at speed. The news spread quickly that the king was about and the wing of the Tower seemed to fill with bustling servants carrying armfuls of thick cloth. Henry stared glassily as his wife brought him into the breeze. She felt him shiver and she took a blanket from a young woman heading for the royal barge, draping it over Henry’s shoulders. He clutched it to his chest, looking sick and frail.
Margaret held his hand as he stepped on to the rocking barge and lowered himself on to the ornate bench seat on the open deck, unaware or uncaring as crowds began to gather on the banks all around. Margaret could see men waving their hats and the sound of cheering began to grow as the locals realized the royal family were coming out and could be seen. Servants piled more blankets around the king to keep him warm and Margaret found she too was shivering, so that she was grateful for the thick wool coverings. The bargemen cast off and the sweeps dipped into the current, taking them out on to the fast-flowing waters of the Thames.
The journey was strangely peaceful, with just the sound of the oars and shouts from the banks as urchins and young men and women ran along with them, keeping pace as best they could. As they rounded the great bend in the river and sighted the Palace of Westminster and the docks there, Margaret felt Henry’s grip tighten on her small hand. He turned to her, wrapped in the layers of wool.
‘I am sorry I have been … unwell, Margaret. There are times when I feel as if I have fallen, am still falling. I cannot describe it. I wish I could. I will try to be strong for you, but if it comes on me again … I cannot hold it back.’
Margaret found herself weeping once more and rubbed her eyes, angry at herself. Her husband was a good man, she knew. She raised the bandaged hand and kissed it gently, weaving the fingers into hers. It seemed to comfort him.
Derry moved as fast as he could, using his lamp to peer into the dark spaces. He had an idea that Tresham would summon men to stop his search as soon as he was told. Even the presence of the Earl of Somerset might not be enough to prevent Derry’s arrest if he refused to obey the Speaker, or perhaps Cardinal Beaufort. It didn’t help that he’d left Somerset behind some dozen rooms ago.
Derry was still finding it hard to believe the size of the warren under the Palace of Westminster. He’d searched the main cells easily enough, but William wasn’t there to be found. The line of iron-barred rooms was just one small part of the floors and basements beneath the palace, some so far beneath the level of the river that they stank of mildew and the walls seeped black spores and dribbling green liquid. Derry expected to hear shouts telling him to stop at any moment and he’d begun to think he’d set himself an impossible task. Given a hundred men and a week, he could have searched every part of the storerooms and the openings to sewers that gusted foetid vapours when he yanked at the doors. William could be anywhere and Derry was beginning to wonder if Tresham hadn’t guessed he would try to find him and moved the duke to some other location.
Derry shook his head as he ran, arguing with himself in silence. The Commons Parliament had little power outside the Palace of Westminster, even less outside London. Away from the Painted Chamber, or the Chapter House, they had no real authority beyond business in the king’s name. In a conflict with the king himself, they would hardly dare to use a royal property. Derry skidded to a stop, raising his iron lamp to illuminate a long, low vault that stretched away into the distance, far beyond the range of his small light.
Tresham was clever, Derry knew. If he kept William long enough to secure his confession, it didn’t really matter where they’d put him. Derry had no illusions about William’s ability to resist. The duke was a strong man in every sense, too strong perhaps. Derry had seen torture before. His fear was that his friend would be permanently crippled or driven insane by the time his will failed at last.
He was halfway through the vaulted room, ducking his head to miss an ancient arch, when he stopped again and turned to two of Somerset’s guards.
‘Come away, lads. I want to try another place.’
He began to run back along the way he’d come, weighing his chances. He wouldn’t be allowed back into Parliament, once he left the main palace. Tresham would surely see to that. The old spider was probably organizing men to arrest him as he came out, with Derry rushing right into their arms.
Derry headed up a rickety stairwell, slipping as a step cracked and fell to the floor below. God, the whole place was damp and rotten! One of the men with him swore and yelped as he put his foot through the hole. Derry didn’t stop to help him out and instead rushed through the floor above and up another half-flight to the better-lit corridors by the cells. He heard angry voices before he could see who was making the noise, though his heart sank.
Tresham caught sight of Derry first, as he’d been staring in that direction. The lawyer’s face was brick-red with fury and he raised a hand to point.
‘There he is! Arrest that man!’ Tresham shouted.
Soldiers began to move and Derry looked desperately to Somerset. He could have blessed the earl when he spoke with only an instant’s hesitation, though his reputation and life were at stake.
‘Stand back from him!’ Somerset roared at the parliamentary guards. ‘Master Brewer is in my custody. I am on the king’s business and you are not to impede or hinder him.’
Tresham’s guards hesitated, unable to decide who had the authority. Derry had not stopped moving and he sauntered past the guards and right up to Tresham in the moment of stillness.
‘William, Lord Suffolk,’ Derry said, watching the other man closely. ‘Is he in the Chapter House? Shall I search the abbey itself, or would it be sacrilege to torture a man on consecrated ground?’ He was watching Tresham closely as the man relaxed, lines smoothing around his eyes. ‘Or the Jewel Tower? Would you have had the gall to put him where you held me?’
‘You have no authority here, Brewer! How
Derry smiled, satisfied.
‘I think that’s where he is, Lord Somerset. I’ll run across the road and see.’
‘Guards!’ Tresham roared. ‘Arrest him now or, by
It was enough of a threat to decide the impasse. They reached for Derry, but Somerset’s men blocked the passage with their swords drawn. Derry ran, leaving them all behind.
As he came out into the main halls and the light of the afternoon, he heard horns blow down by the river. The heralds sounded only on state occasions or to announce a royal visit. Derry stopped, unable to believe it could be Henry. Could Margaret have come alone? She had almost no formal authority, but there were few men who would risk offending the queen of England and, through her, the king. Derry shook his head, caught in indecision. He stood and practically quivered, pulled in two directions. No. He
He pelted on towards sunlight, sprinting the length of the palace and passing into the vast beamed space of Westminster Hall. Derry didn’t pause for the bustling crowds there, threading through them all, then across the road with the abbey shadow falling on him as he went. He passed hawkers and rich men enjoying the sun, carriages and walkers both, leaving the smell of the river far behind.
As he went, he fretted. He was on his own. Even if he was right, he knew William would surely be guarded. Derry’s mind raced as fast as his feet, panting hard as he came to the moat of the Jewel Tower. The drawbridge was down, at least. At the sight of it, he almost doubted his initial certainty that William was inside. Yet Tresham was too canny to give away the location of his prisoner by making the place a fortress. Derry shot past a single guard and then came to a halt.
