I WALKED FROM NICHOLAS’S lodgings back to Needlepin Lane. In daylight it looked even more dingy, the plasterwork crumbling on the old houses, the lane a narrow track with a stinking piss-channel in the middle. Though it was Sunday, men were standing outside the Flag Tavern, quaffing beer from wooden mugs in the sunshine. Among them I saw a couple of girls in bright make-up and low-cut dresses. The King had ordered the Southwark brothels closed that spring, but although prostitution was already illegal in the city and conviction could bring a whipping, many whores had come north of the river. One girl, well in her cups, caught my glance and shouted out, ‘Don’t glower at me like that, crookback, I’m a respectable lady!’ People stared at me, and some laughed. I ignored them and knocked on the door of the house with the green shutters. Stice opened it immediately.

‘You’re back soon.’

‘I have a message for your master.’ I nodded over my shoulder. ‘I’d best come in; I’ve attracted notice from the people outside the tavern.’

‘Common churls, they’re always shouting at passers-by.’ He stood aside, and I walked into the bare room. My hand closed instinctively on my knife as he shut the door and went over to the table. He sat down, smiling insolently. The sword with which he had nearly killed Nicholas the night before lay there; he had been polishing it. The sun glinted on its razor-sharp edge. There was a jug of beer and some pewter mugs on the table, too. ‘No hard feelings, eh, Master Shardlake?’ Stice said. ‘We each serve those to whom we are pledged.’ Then, with an edge to his voice, ‘You have an answer for my master?’

‘Yes. Those I work for agree to our collaborating to try and locate these missing people, and Anne Askew’s writings. I will liaise with you. We have another man, a lawyer named William Cecil, who has been keeping an eye on the docks. These are the people he has paid to look for writings being smuggled out.’ I handed him a copy of Cecil’s list. Stice looked it over and nodded. ‘Well, between us,’ he said, ‘I think we have the docks and the custom house covered.’

‘How many men do you have there?’

‘In our pay, two officials.’ He wrote two names on the bottom of the sheet of paper, tore it off and gave it to me.

‘Sir Richard said that Bale is expecting a consignment. Let us hope we are in time.’

‘Amen to that.’

‘One important condition, Master Stice. If either party has word of the cargo, they warn the other at once.’

‘Of course.’ Stice smiled and spread his arms. ‘By the way, if there’s any fighting to be done – say with what’s left of Greening’s people, if they turn up – how many men can you bring to bear?’