‘Yes, but the ultimate responsibility remains mine. And Sir Anthony has been sticking his nose into one or two places he should not have – ’ Sir Edmund broke off, waved a hand dismissively, then changed the subject. ‘How go things in her majesty’s household?’

‘Easier recently,’ Lord Parr answered carefully. ‘How is your family? Your clever nephew Francis?’

‘He is at Cambridge now. Growing up fast,’ Walsingham added sadly. ‘Reminds me I grow old. I have felt my age these last months.’

‘I too,’ Lord Parr said feelingly. ‘In time of age the humours alter and slow, do they not?’ He continued casually, ‘Sir Edmund, I crave a small favour. Serjeant Shardlake here is a barrister to the Court of Requests, who has also acted for my wife; he has a case coming on at Michaelmas where the Tower records may shed light on something.’

Walsingham looked at me. ‘Oh?’

Lord Parr recounted the story of the fictional witness. Sir Edmund looked at me, his gaze keen from small tired eyes. ‘Between June the twentieth and July the fifth, you say?’ He grunted, looking at me. ‘You know who was here then?’

I paused a moment, as though trying to remember. ‘Anne Askew?’

‘Just so. Not so many others, the heat was dying down by then.’ He grimaced. ‘Though not for her.’ He looked at Lord Parr. ‘You vouch for him?’

‘I do.’

Walsingham turned back to me. ‘Who was this witness?’

I spoke the first name that came to me. ‘Cotterstoke. Edward Cotterstoke.’

Sir Edmund shook his head. ‘I don’t remember that name. But you can go down to the cells and look at the records, seeing as Lord Parr vouches for you.’ He laughed abruptly. ‘Don’t look like that, master lawyer. I won’t detain you down there.’

Lord Parr laughed too. ‘Sir Edmund is doing you a favour, Matthew,’ he said chidingly. ‘Officially those documents are not for the public to see.’

‘I am sorry, Sir Edmund. I am grateful.’

The Constable laughed scoffingly. ‘Well, it shows the mere name of the Tower dungeons puts people in fear, which is partly what they’re for.’ He scribbled a quick note, then rang a bell on his desk. As a guard appeared, Sir Edmund said, ‘Take this lawyer to the cells to see the record of prisoners between June the twentieth and July the fifth. See he writes nothing down.’ He gave me a look of amused contempt. ‘And bring him safely back here afterwards.’

THE GUARD LED ME downstairs again, across the main hall. He was a big fellow in his thirties, with a heavy limp. Like Sir Edmund he seemed to take my apprehensive stare at the door as commonplace. ‘Looking for a name, are you, sir?’ he asked.

‘Yes, a witness in a case who says he was questioned in the Tower. I think he is lying.’

‘A strange lie.’

‘He probably thought I would be unable to make a check here.’