Lamentation

The walls were decorated with bright tapestries, painted wooden chests standing by the walls. And then I saw, covering the whole of one wall, a picture I had heard of, painted last year by one of the late Master Holbein’s disciples: The King and His Family. It showed an inner room of the palace; in the centre, the King, solid, red-bearded and stern, sat on a throne under a richly patterned cloth of estate, wearing a broad-shouldered doublet in gold and black. He rested one hand on the shoulder of a little boy, Prince Edward, his only son. On his other side Edward’s mother, Henry’s long-dead third wife Jane Seymour, sat with hands folded demurely in her lap. Standing one on each side of the royal couple were a young lady and an adolescent girl: Lady Mary, Catherine of Aragon’s daughter, and Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Anne Boleyn, both restored to the succession two years before. Behind each of the young women was an open doorway giving onto a garden. In the doorway behind Mary, a little woman with a vacant expression on her face was visible, while behind Elizabeth stood a short man with a hunched back, a monkey in doublet and cap on his shoulder. I stood for a second, enraptured by the magnificence of the painting, then Cecil touched my arm and I turned to follow him.

The next chamber, too, contained a fair number of richly dressed young men, standing around or sitting on chests. There seemed no end of them. One was arguing with a guard who stood before the only inner door. ‘There will be trouble, sir,’ he said hotly, ‘if I do not get to see Lord Lisle’s steward today. He wishes to see me.’

The guard looked back impassively. ‘If he does, we’ll be told. Till then, you can stop cluttering up the King’s Guard Chamber.’

We approached. The guard turned to us with relief. Cecil spoke quietly: ‘Lord Parr awaits us within.’

‘I’ve been told.’ The guard studied me briefly. ‘No weapons?’ he asked. ‘No dagger?’

‘Certainly not,’ I replied. I often carried a dagger, but I knew weapons were forbidden within the royal palaces. Without another word, the big man opened the door just wide enough for us to pass through.

Ahead of us was a broad flight of stairs, covered with thick rush matting that deadened the sound of our footsteps as we ascended. I marvelled at the decorations on the walls; everything a riot of colour and intricate detail. There were brightly painted shields displaying the Tudor arms and heraldic beasts, intertwined leaves of plants painted on the walls between, and areas of linenfold panelling — wood intricately carved to resemble folded cloth — painted in various colours. More Gentlemen Pensioners stood guard at intervals on the stairs, staring impassively ahead. I knew we were approaching the Royal Apartments on the first floor. We had passed out of the ordinary world.

At the top of the stairs a man stood waiting for us, alone. He was elderly, broad-shouldered, and carried a staff. He wore a black robe bearing the Queen’s badge and there was a gold chain of unusual magnificence round his neck. The hair beneath his jewelled cap was white, as was his little beard. His face was pale and lined. Cecil bowed deeply and I followed. Cecil introduced us. ‘Serjeant Shardlake: the Queen’s Lord Chancellor, her uncle Lord Parr of Horton.’

Lord Parr nodded to Cecil. ‘Thank you, William.’ Despite his age, his voice was deep and clear. Cecil bowed again and walked back down the stairs, a trim little figure amidst all the magnificence. A servant passed us, hurrying silently down the steps after him.

Lord Parr looked at me with sharp blue eyes. I knew that when the Queen’s father died young, this man, his brother, had been a mainstay of support to his bereaved wife and children; he had been an associate of the King in his young days and had helped advance the Parr family at court. He must be near seventy now.

‘Well,’ he said at length. ‘So you are the lawyer my niece praises so highly.’

‘Her majesty is kind.’

‘I know the great service you did her before she became Queen.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘Now she asks another,’ he added. ‘Has she your complete and unquestioning loyalty?’

‘Total and entire,’ I said.

‘I warn you now, this is a dirty, secret and dangerous matter.’ Lord Parr took a deep breath. ‘You will learn things it is potentially fatal to know. The Queen has told me you prefer life as a private man, so let us have that out in the open now.’ He looked at me for a long moment. ‘Knowing that, will you still help her?’

My answer came immediately, without thought or hesitation. ‘I will.’

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I know you are no man of religion, though you were once.’ His voice became stern. ‘You are, like so many in these days, a Laodicean, one who dissembles on matters of faith to keep quiet and safe.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I will aid the Queen because she is the most good and honourable lady I have ever met, and has done naught but good to all.’