Sacred Treason by James Forrester Page A

of departure tore at him, a final moment. Time was passing so slowly, and yet there was so little left.
    â€œNow, I said, Mr. Claren—”
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, be patient!”
    He took a deep breath, looking into his wife’s blue eyes. Then he spoke in a calmer voice, but not so quiet that no one could hear him. “I am going to accompany these men now, my love. If I do not return by morning, send a message to our friends, telling them what has happened. Tell them that I have been arrested, without charge or warrant, by a sergeant-at-arms, one Richard Crackenthorpe, on the instructions of a Mr. Walsingham. Tell them to press immediately for a case of unlawful distraint, contrary to the terms of Magna Carta, even if it be the queen’s will”—he turned to look at Crackenthorpe—“and contrary to the common law if it be merely Mr. Walsingham’s.”

19
    Rebecca sat in the chair in Clarenceux’s study, hunched, her hands turning over and over in her lap. It was almost dark. She wiped her eyes, feeling a trembling sickness in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath, and another. And another. Her hands were still shaking.
    What is going to happen to us?
    She looked at the dark room. She could just make out the book press along one side. A moment ago, when there had been more light, the books had seemed naturally a part of Clarenceux’s world, the instruments of his profession; they had been reassuring. Now, suddenly, they were abandoned in the dark and useless. It seemed that Mr. Clarenceux was dead—as dead as a never-read book. And Henry too was dead. Both men taken by this Sergeant Crackenthorpe. How she hated the thought of him, from the heels of his leather boots to the scar above his eye. His name sounded like the breaking of a stick underfoot. She wished she could break him .
    She heard footsteps on the stairs. O Heavenly Father, is this it? Are they searching the house now? The creak of the wood sent shivers through her body, through her mind. She wanted to get up and scream, for all this darkness to go away, for her husband to be back, for Mr. Clarenceux to walk into the room and tell her everything was going to be all right.
    â€œGoodwife Machyn?” whispered a woman’s voice.
    She tried to answer, but she found there was no sound when she opened her mouth to speak. The sudden shock of her inability to utter a syllable only made things worse.
    â€œGooodwife Machyn?” She saw the flicker of a candle flame.
    Awdrey came into the room. She set down the candle on the table board and came to put a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œIs…is Mildred asleep?” Rebecca asked, wiping her eyes, growing calmer.
    â€œYes. And Annie is going to bed now. Nurse Brown has her.”
    Rebecca began to pull herself together. “So that’s it then. We are in the same rudderless boat, you and me. Both our husbands stolen from us by Sergeant Crackenthorpe.”
    Awdrey fingered the ruby ring she was wearing. “It seems we are indeed in the same boat,” she said after a little delay.
    â€œIt’s going to happen tonight, you know,” said Rebecca, pushing her hair back, out of her face. “The search, I mean.”
    â€œThe search?”
    â€œThey’ll find the book.”
    Awdrey took the candle and held it close to Rebecca’s tear-streaked face. “What book?”
    Rebecca was surprised. Then she remembered. Clarenceux said he did not want Awdrey to know. She searched Awdrey’s face; all she found was an expression of alarm.
    She looked briefly into the flame and shut her eyes. “Do you really not know?”
    â€œNo. Why will they search this house? They will find nothing of interest if they do.”
    â€œThat is not true.”
    â€œWhy do you say that? What do you know that I do not?”
    â€œYou know my husband was here last night?”
    â€œYes, of course. Thomas told me—and