Heartstone by C. J. Sansom Page B

he’s still Thomas Cromwell’s favoured servant, not just a law clerk.’
    Barak winced. ‘Tammy—’
    â€˜Don’t Tammy me. Sir, can you help us? He’s been told to go to Cheapside Cross in three days’ time to be sworn in.’
    â€˜Sworn straight in? Not even sent to a View of Arms?’
    Barak looked at me. ‘He said he could see I was fit - lusty in body and able to keep the weather, he said. And he wouldn’t listen to argument, just started shouting. Said I’d been chosen and that was that.’ He sighed. ‘Tammy’s right, it’s because I was insolent.’
    â€˜Recruiters are supposed to pick the best men, not indulge their disfavours.’ I sighed. ‘What was his name?’
    â€˜Goodryke.’
    â€˜All right, I will go to Alderman Carver tomorrow.’ I looked at Barak seriously. ‘The officer will probably want paying off, you realize that.’
    â€˜We’ve some money set aside,’ he said quietly.
    â€˜Yes,’ Tamasin shot back. ‘For the baby.’ Her eyes filled with tears.
    Barak shrugged. ‘Might as well spend it now. Its value’s going down every day. Oh, God’s death, Tammy, don’t start throwing snot around again.’
    I expected Tamasin to shout back at him, but she only sighed and spoke quietly. ‘Jack, I wish you’d accept your status in life, live quietly. Why must you always fight with people? Why can’t you be at peace?’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he answered humbly. ‘I should have thought. We’ll be all right, Master Shardlake will help us.’
    She closed her eyes. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘Leave me for a while.’
    â€˜Jack,’ I said quickly, ‘let’s go out and discuss this case. I’ve some interesting news. I know where we can get a pie-’Barak hesitated, but I could see Tamasin was best left alone for a while.
    Outside the door, he shook his head. ‘That was some storm,’ he said.
    â€˜Ay. The hailstones were thick on the ground at Westminster.’
    He nodded back at the house. ‘I meant in there.’
    I laughed. ‘She’s right. You are incorrigible.’

    WE WENT TO a tavern near Newgate jail frequented by law students and jobbing solicitors. It was busy already. A group of students sat drinking with half a dozen apprentices round a large table. The barriers of class, I had noticed, were becoming blurred among young men of military age. They were well on in their cups, singing the song that had become popular after our defeat of the Scots at Solway Moss three years before.
    â€˜King Jamey, Jemmy, Jocky my Jo; Ye summoned our King, why did ye so -’
    And now apparently the Scots are waiting to fall on us, I thought, reinforced by thousands of French troops. Hardly surprising since the King had been chivalrously waging war on their infant Queen Mary for three years. Looking at the group, I saw an older man among them, and recognized the scarred face and eyepatch of my steward. Coldiron, his face flushed, was singing along lustily. I remembered it was his night off.
    â€˜Go to the hatch and get me a beer and a pie,’ I told Barak. ‘I’m going to sit there.’ I nodded to a table screened from the body of the tavern by a partition.
    Barak returned with two mugs of beer and two mutton pies. He sat down heavily, and looked at me apologetically. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
    â€˜Tamasin is in a great chafe.’
    â€˜She’s right, I know. I shouldn’t have given that arsehole a flea in his ear. Soldiers are touchy. Did you hear-a band of German mercenaries made a riot up at Islington this morning? Wanted more pay to go to Scotland.’
    â€˜The English troops are going quietly enough.’
    â€˜Can you get me out of it?’ he asked seriously.
    â€˜I hope so. You know I’ll do what I can.’ I shook my head. ‘I saw