Tombland

Tamasin Barak stepped into the room, holding a full basket in one hand and leading a little fair-haired boy by the other. She said, ‘I have everything you asked for—’ She broke off at the sight of me. Her pretty, full-lipped face, framed by a white coif from which strands of blonde hair drifted, turned, in a moment, as cold as ice.

I had not seen her in three years, and I saw that she had aged, new lines around her mouth and eyes. Her little boy George, nearly four now, was officially my godson; he had been born before the breach between us. I had never seen her daughter. George stared at me with wide-eyed curiosity.

I said quietly, ‘God give you good morrow, Tamasin.’

She turned to Guy as though I were not there, and spoke in a hard, flat voice, ‘I will take these things into the kitchen, and leave the meat and vegetables out for Francis to prepare a pottage when he returns. The meat is scraggy, the price has gone up again and I did not have enough money for a good cut.’

‘Matthew called unexpectedly,’ Guy said. ‘I did not tell him you were out shopping for me. I thought that perhaps if you saw him again—’

She cut across him, a tremble in her voice now. ‘I have to get back. Mistress Marris is looking after Tilda—’

‘Tamasin, Tamasin,’ Guy said beseechingly. ‘Matthew is about to go on a journey to Norfolk, it would delight my heart if the two of you could reconcile before he leaves. Remember Christ’s injunctions to us to forgive.’

There was a moment’s silence. Then little George piped up, ‘Who is that man in the black robe?’ He pointed to me. ‘His body is bent. Is that a hunchback?’

‘Tush, George,’ Tamasin said, pulling the child to her. Then she turned to face me, her face still cold, her voice low but harsh. ‘I can never forgive the injury my husband suffered because you led him into danger. Every evening I remove that wretched device he has for a hand, rub oils into that cruel stump. I see the pain he is often in. Then sometimes I think of you, but not forgivingly.’ Her voice trembled slightly.

‘Jack made his own decision,’ Guy said.

‘It was I that led him into that, I know,’ I said to Tamasin. ‘But we were friends once. Cannot we be so again – or at the least be civil to each other?’

‘Would you want that?’ she asked. ‘Civility, when all my heart feels is anger?’ She looked at Guy. ‘You should have told him I was coming, and asked him to leave.’ She turned her gaze back to me. ‘So, you are going to Norfolk?’

‘Yes. A case is taking me to Norwich.’

‘My husband will be there, for the Assizes. You had best leave him alone. I shall ask him if he has been with you when he returns, and by God, he had better answer that he has not. Now, I shall go to the kitchen.’ She turned, and as she left the room with George, the little boy looked over his shoulder at me. Guy slumped back in his bed, defeated.

‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘She has been shopping for us, all the work is too much for poor Francis. I hoped if you were brought together –’ He shook his head. ‘I should not have mentioned Norfolk, I forgot Jack was going there.’

I sighed. I was smarting inwardly with shame, and hurt, but also the stirrings of anger.

‘Tamasin has ever had an obstinate streak,’ Guy said.

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘she has.’

He shook his head slowly to and fro on the pillow. ‘And since what happened to him she has been over-protective of Jack. I think he begins to resent it. I should have told you she was coming, given you the chance to leave. Selfish of me.’

‘No, you did your best.’

He smiled. ‘I know you and Jack still meet, but he has to do it in secret.’

‘Yes, and I intend to see him in Norfolk.’

He looked at me seriously. ‘Don’t get him in any more trouble.’

‘I won’t, but I will see him, given the chance.’

Guy nodded. I saw his eyes were closing with tiredness. ‘I think I had better go,’ I said. ‘I will see you in two, maybe three weeks.’

‘I look forward to it, Matthew.’

I turned to leave. As I descended the staircase I heard, from the kitchen at the back, the sound of things being moved on a table. Quietly, for Tamasin was never one to give way to temper. I hesitated for a moment, then turned and left the shop.

Chapter Eight

Next morning, Saturday, I rose early. It was a lovely June morning, but I had little leisure to enjoy it; I had to visit Lincoln’s Inn and find friendly barristers to look after my cases for the two or three weeks I would be in Norfolk. Fortunately, especially at Assize time, such arrangements were common. And I must ensure my clerk John Skelly was properly briefed. Then in the evening there was supper at my friend Philip Coleswyn’s house.

Over breakfast John Goodcole told me he had hired four good horses to be available early on Monday morning, to transport Nicholas, Lockswood, myself and our baggage to Norwich. I thanked him gratefully. He also handed me a letter, just delivered by a rider from Hatfield. I opened it. It was from Parry:

Master Shardlake, greetings.