‘I never even learned his name.’

‘Who is it?’ Lord Parr banged the white gravel with his stick. ‘Who masterminded the theft of her book, employed those two men of whom we can find no trace – to kill everyone in that Anabaptist group? I do not believe the theory that whoever took the book from Greening would intend to wait until Bertano was about to arrive before revealing it. Not if they know the King. They would show it to him immediately, let his anger against the Queen and the reformers burst out at once, make him more receptive to whatever proposals this wretched emissary of the Pope brings.’

‘Would it be so bad as that?’

He spoke quietly. ‘The King still loves the Queen, of that I am sure. But that would only make him even angrier at her disloyalty. And hurt. And when he feels hurt – ’ Lord Parr shook his head. ‘The existence of the book itself is a lesser matter; Cranmer says it is not heretical, though it sails close to the wind.’

I did not reply. I had never heard Lord Parr talk so openly of the King before. ‘His majesty has always been suggestible, vain. He listens to the endless whispers in his ear, especially when they concern the loyalty of someone important to him. And once he has made his mind up he has been betrayed, then – ’

‘How is his health?’ I asked.

‘A little worse each week.’ He fell silent for a moment, perhaps reflecting that he had said more than was wise, then burst out angrily, ‘Why keep it for near a month, Shardlake? I cannot work it out, and nor can Cecil.’

‘I cannot either, my Lord. You know far more of the court than I.’

‘We have to find that Scotchman, God rot him—’

I placed a hand on the arm of his silk robe to quiet him. He frowned at my presumption, but I had seen what his aged eyes had not: two slim figures with long beards approaching us. Edward Seymour, Lord Hertford, Prince Edward’s uncle and a leading figure among the reformers on the Privy Council; and his younger brother, Sir Thomas, who had been the Queen’s suitor before her marriage to the King. So, I thought, Lord Hertford is back in England.

The brothers halted before us. They had been arguing with quiet intensity as they approached, but now Sir Thomas’s large brown eyes fastened on mine. We had crossed swords in the past.