‘He’ll be well paid in this job.’

‘It would be an expense, even so. And with the value of money falling, and all the taxes to pay for the war that are due this year, everyone has to be careful. He may have need of money.’ I slowed. ‘Could he have made a second copy for someone else? He did not know the Queen wore the only key constantly round her neck.’ I considered. ‘I think we’ll let him sweat a little.’

‘It would be a dangerous matter, stealing from the Queen. He’d hang if he was caught.’

‘We both know the things people are capable of risking for the sake of money. Especially those who have gained status and wish to keep it.’

Barak looked at me askance. ‘You said we’ll let him sweat a little.’

‘A slip of the tongue, I’m sorry. I told you, I just wanted your help with the chest and lock.’

He looked around the courtyard. Another cart was unloading. ‘Jesu,’ he said again, ‘all this to keep fine clothes on the backs of great ladies. Just as well we didn’t bring Tamasin. We’d never have got her out.’

‘Remember she doesn’t know you’re here. And would be displeased if she did.’

‘I won’t forget. What do you want to see the embroiderer for?’

I sighed. He was interested now; he would not easily let it go. ‘I’m only trying to trace a piece of fine silk sleeve Nicholas found, that may be connected to the case,’ I answered. ‘The embroiderer may be able to help me, perhaps suggest who might have made it.’

‘If he gives you a name you may need someone to pay him a visit.’

‘I think that might be a job for Nicholas. He found the sleeve, after all.’

Barak looked disappointed, then nodded. ‘You’re right, it’s a job for a junior.’

‘And now I have an appointment with the embroiderer.’

He fingered his beard, reluctant to leave, but I raised my eyebrows. ‘All right,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, and quickly walked away to the gate.

I NODDED TO THE GUARD and he took me back into the hall, knocking at another side door before entering. Within, a man was working at a desk set close by the window to get the best light. He was embroidering flowers on a piece of fabric, flowers so tiny he needed to look through a large magnifying glass on a stand. To my surprise, he was a big, black-bearded fellow, though I saw his fingers were long and delicate. He stood up at my entrance, wincing a little. For a man of his height, a life spent constantly hunched over was a recipe for a bad back.

‘Master Gullym,’ I asked, ‘the Queen’s head embroiderer?’

‘I am.’ His voice had a Welsh lilt.

‘Matthew Shardlake. I am investigating the theft of a jewel from the Queen.’