Sacred Treason by James Forrester Read Free Book Online Page A

down to the doorstep and mud where his own cold lantern lay.
    There were six of them. He saw the circle of their hats and faces briefly. Then the light disappeared, and he was once more in darkness.
    â€œPick up your knife and put it away.”
    Clarenceux bent down and slotted the blade into the sheath on his belt. “I demand to know who is addressing me in this manner.”
    â€œI am Richard Crackenthorpe, one of her majesty’s sergeants-at-arms. These men are warders of the city, acting under my orders. And now, herald, tell me what you are doing here.” An arm reached forward and started to push him against Machyn’s front door.
    Clarenceux knocked it away. “Address me with civility. I am Mr. Clarenceux to you, Cracken—”
    A hand shoved his head back hard against the door and held him there by the throat.
    â€œI don’t care about your title or you. All I care about is why you are here. Getting to the marrow of truth within your bones, even if I have to snap them. Do you understand?”
    Clarenceux struggled to speak. “My business…is my own. And I will have you…hauled before the mayor…for this outrage.”
    â€œYou will regret that comment. Lord Paget was your patron. A dead man. And I piss on you for threatening me.”
    The man who had been holding him withdrew and punched him in the stomach. However, Clarenceux had anticipated the blow and had braced himself in advance. It did not wind him. There was a moment’s silence.
    Clarenceux swallowed and wiped the water from his face angrily. Crackenthorpe must have spent time in the army. That is how he knows about Paget.
    â€œI will drive a chisel between your ribs,” said Crackenthorpe. “I ask you again, what are you doing here?”
    Clarenceux shook his head. He did not understand the danger he was facing, but he knew he would gain nothing by backing down now. “Where is Henry Machyn? What have you done with him?”
    â€œDamn your eyes! Why are you calling on him?”
    â€œFor the sake of Him who died for us. For the sake of mercy—and because of my duty. I am an officer in the queen’s service!”
    â€œAnd so am I, Mr. Clarenceux. Performing my duty.”
    â€œBut are you about her majesty’s business? Or your own?”
    â€œDon’t waste my time, herald. I am investigating a case of treason against the Crown. Do you think I want to be out, getting my boots and hose sodden? Do you think I like this wind and rain? So, I have told you my business. You tell me yours. You are not designing shields in this darkness. Or researching the history of some noble family. Speak.”
    Clarenceux wiped the rain from his face. Now he realized why no one had answered the door. Crackenthorpe had been watching the house.
    â€œI am going to return home now.”
    â€œYou are going to answer my questions first.”
    â€œYour questions are no concern of mine,” shouted Clarenceux, knowing people nearby would be listening in their bedchambers. “I am not only a herald. I am a freeman of this city. I am a warden of a livery company. I have the right to go about the city after curfew with a lantern. There is no crime in knocking on the door of an old friend—whose declining health is of deep concern to me—whatever the hour of the night.”
    â€œI am warning you, Mr. Clarenceux—”
    â€œNo, Crackenthorpe. I am warning you . I am also a member of her majesty’s household. I can bully and cajole and throw my weight around like you. But I have more weight. It bears more heavily in higher places. What would her majesty’s Secretary of State think of your accusing me of treason without due cause, just for being out at night and calling on an old friend?”
    â€œYou fool. You don’t know—”
    â€œListen to me. Whom will Sir William Cecil trust more—you or me? The last time I spoke to him, at my