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understand,’ I said neutrally.
    ‘If the prisoner be bound uncomfortably, make the fetters looser though no less certain. If he is hungry, give him food. If he is ill, ensure he has medical care.’ Cranmer smiled.
‘There, that is a charitable commission, is it not?’
    I took a deep breath. ‘My lord,’ I said. ‘I undertook to go to York only on a matter of pleas before the King. My past service on matters of state has cost me much in peace of
mind. Now I wish to remain, as Lord Cromwell said, a private man. I have seen men die most horribly—’
    ‘Then ensure for me that a man lives,’ Cranmer said quietly, ‘and in decent conditions. That is all I want, and I think you are the man for it. I was a private man once, Master
Shardlake, a Cambridge don. Until the King plucked me out to advise on the Great Divorce. Sometimes God calls us to hard duty. Then –’ his look was hard again – ‘then we
must find the stomach for it.’
    I looked at him. If I refused I would no doubt lose my place on the Progress, and might be unable to redeem the mortgage on the farm. And I had made enemies at court, I dared not alienate the
Archbishop too. I was trapped. I took a deep breath.
    ‘Very well, my lord.’
    He smiled. ‘I will have your commission sent to your house tomorrow. To act as counsel on the Progress.’ He picked up the seal and set it in my hand. It was heavy. ‘And that is
my authority to show Radwinter. No papers.’
    ‘May I tell my assistant? Barak?’
    Cranmer nodded. ‘Yes. I know Lord Cromwell trusted him. Though he said neither of you had real zeal for reform.’ He gave me a sudden questing look. ‘Though you did,
once.’
    ‘I served my apprenticeship.’
    The Archbishop nodded. ‘I know. You are one of those who worked in the early days to bring England to religious truth.’ He gave me a keen look. ‘The truth that the right head
of the Church in England is not the Bishop of Rome, but the King, set by God above his people as Supreme Head, to guide them. When the King’s conscience is moved it is God who speaks through
him.’
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ I said, though I had never believed that.
    ‘These conspirators are dangerous and wicked men. Harsh measures have been needed. I do not like them, but they have been forced upon us. To protect what we have achieved. Though there is
much more to be done if we are to build the Christian commonwealth in England.’
    ‘There is indeed, my lord.’
    He smiled, taking my words for agreement. ‘Then go, Master Shardlake, and may God guide your enterprise.’ He rose in dismissal. I bowed my way out of the chamber. As I walked away, I
thought, this is no charitable mission. I am keeping a man safe for the torturers in the Tower. And what had this Broderick done, to bring that look of fear to Cranmer’s eyes?

    M Y MUSINGS WERE interrupted by voices outside the room. I nudged Barak awake with my foot, and we stood up hurriedly, wincing, for our legs were still
stiff. The door opened and a man in a rather threadbare lawyer’s robe came in. Master Wrenne was a square-built man, very tall, overtopping Barak by a head. I was relieved to see that
although he was indeed elderly, his square face deeply lined, he walked steady and straight and the blue eyes under the faded reddish-gold hair were keen. He gripped my hand.
    ‘Master Shardlake,’ he said in a clear voice with a strong touch of the local accent. ‘Or Brother Shardlake I should say, my brother in the law. Giles Wrenne. It is good to see
you. Why, we feared you had met with an accident on the road.’
    I noticed that as he studied me his eyes did not linger over my bent back, as most people’s do. A man of sensitivity. ‘I fear I got us lost. May I introduce my assistant, Jack
Barak.’
    Barak bowed, then shook Wrenne’s extended hand.
    ‘By Jesu,’ the old man said. ‘That’s a champion grip for a law-clerk.’ He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good to see, our young men