Sacred Treason Read Online Free PDF

floor. A loose piece of paper had fallen out of one. A few vellum indentures were piled beside it. He looked at his table board, scattered with vellum deeds and books. Three candlesticks, two of which were without candles, stood there. Four quills, two of which needed sharpening. A knife. A metal pen. Ink. Red wax for his seal. Everything was normal, untidy, and connected to him.
    He turned back to Machyn’s chronicle.
    This was not like a chronicle. This was more as if someone else—Henry Machyn—had been writing the diary of another man’s life, his life. Why on earth would anyone write someone else’s diary for them? He pulled his robe closer against the cold. Machyn had spent the last thirteen years writing a chronicle about him and had never previously breathed a word about it. Why? What did that entry for 20 June 1557 mean?
    â€¦dyves & Lazarus…
    He crossed the room and reached for a New Testament that lay on the top of the book press against the far wall. Taking it back to his table board, he turned to Luke, chapter sixteen, and started to read, in Latin, the story of the rich man and the poor man, Lazarus. The rich man gave nothing to Lazarus and so ended up in hell, while the poor man was taken into heaven to be with Abraham.
    Was Machyn referring to himself as the poor man and him, Clarenceux, as the rich one? He read on. The rich man begged Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers, to tell them to give generously to the poor. Abraham replied that the living brothers had the writings of Moses and the prophets. If they would not listen to those ancient texts, they would not listen even if a man were to rise from the dead.
    Clarenceux rubbed his eyes, unable to make sense of the story. Why did it apply to him? He had no brothers. Did Machyn think that he, Clarenceux, had not been generous enough to the poor? Surely not. As for the reference to ancient texts, did it mean that men in the future should pay attention to chronicles? Like Machyn’s own? Was that all there was to this?
    Thunder rolled across the sky. Still the rain continued. He put the Bible back on the shelf and turned again to Machyn’s book. If this was really about preserving the past, why had he been given the book now? Surely Machyn had more to write? I asked Machyn the wrong question. I should not have asked “why me?” but “why now?”
    He turned to the last page. The bottom half was blank. His eye settled on the last passage. It read: The xj day of Desember Hare Machyn wrytre of this cronacle dyed beyng kylled by ye order of Ricd Crackenthorpe queenes serjant att armes. Esperance.
    Clarenceux felt as if he had been punched. Machyn killed? By this Crackenthorpe? That date is tomorrow. What did Machyn say? “If anything happens to me”? It isn’t a case of “if.” He believes he is going to die. He believes it so sincerely that he’s written it in his chronicle.
    Clarenceux shook his head, his thoughts whirling. Machyn cannot mean to kill himself. Not unless he has some mad idea of doing so and blaming his enemy, through this book. But what does he mean by Esperance? What does hope have to do with his own murder? He mentioned the name of Crackenthorpe on the stairs as he left. He must have known that I would make the connection. But if he had something to say, why did he not tell me? He was more concerned about the book itself and making sure that I took charge of it.
    Machyn was concealed in a great cloak of darkness, thunder, and falling water. Clarenceux had no hope of finding him before morning. He might as well go to bed. But how could he? He would not be able to sleep, knowing what he knew. Besides, if Machyn’s prediction was right, there were only hours to spare.
    He pushed open the shutter to his study and looked down. He felt the cold air on his face and heard the rain on the tiles and in the street. It was pitch black. He could not even see the outline of the