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supplication, those who
were with the rebels five years ago on their knees, begging his pardon. He seeks to bind them anew with oaths of loyalty. Interestingly, the orders have been that not too many supplicants were to
gather together at once. They are still afraid, you see. There are a thousand soldiers with the Progress, and the royal artillery has been sent by boat to Hull.’
    ‘But there has been no trouble?’
    Wrenne shook his head. ‘None. But the emphasis is on the most abject forms of surrender. The supplication here at York is to be the greatest spectacle of all. The city councillors are to
meet the King and Queen outside the city on Friday, dressed in humble robes, and make submission and apology for allowing the rebels to take over York as their capital in 1536. The citizenry will
not be there, because it would be bad for the common folk to see their city’s leaders thus humbled –’ Wrenne raised his heavy eyebrows – ‘and in case they might be
angered against the King. The councillors are to hand presents to Their Majesties, great goblets filled with coin. There has been a collection among the citizenry.’ He smiled sardonically.
‘With some cajoling.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And they are talking of us going too, the King’s lawyers, to present him formally with the petitions.’
    ‘So we’ll be thrust into the heart of it.’ Despite Cranmer’s promise, I thought.
    ‘We could be. Tankerd, the city Recorder, is in a great lather about the speech he must make. The city officials are sending constantly to the Duke of Suffolk to make sure everything is
done just as the King would wish.’ He smiled. ‘I confess I have a great curiosity to see the King. He sets out from Hull tomorrow, I believe. The Progress spent much longer than planned
at Pontefract, then went to Hull before York. And apparently the King is going back to Hull afterwards; he wants to reorganize their fortifications.’ And that, I thought, is where we put the
prisoner in a boat.
    ‘When will that be?’ I asked.
    ‘Early next week, I should think. The King will only be here a few days.’ Wrenne gave me another of his keen looks. ‘Perhaps you will have seen the King before, being from
London.’
    ‘I saw him at the procession when Nan Boleyn was crowned. But only from a distance.’ I sighed. ‘Well, if we are to be present at this ceremony, it is as well I packed my best
robe and new cap.’
    Wrenne nodded. ‘Ay.’ He stood up, with a slowness that revealed his age. ‘Well, sir, you must be tired after your long journey – you should find your lodgings and have a
good rest.’
    ‘Yes. We are tired, ’tis true.’
    ‘By the way, you will hear many strange words here. Perhaps the most important thing you should know is that a street is called a gate, while a gate is called a bar.’
    Barak scratched his head. ‘I see.’
    Wrenne smiled. ‘I will have your horses fetched.’
    We took farewell of the old man, and rode again to the gate leading from the Minster Close.
    ‘Well,’ I said to Barak, ‘Master Wrenne seems a good old fellow.’
    ‘Ay. Merry for a lawyer.’ He looked at me. ‘Where next?’
    I took a deep breath. ‘We cannot tarry any longer. We must go to the prison.’

Chapter Three
    W E PAUSED OUTSIDE the gates, wondering which way to take to York Castle. I hailed a yellow-haired urchin and offered him a
farthing to direct us. He looked up at us suspiciously.
    ‘Show me thy farthing, maister.’
    ‘Here!’ I held up the coin. ‘Now, lad, the castle.’
    He pointed down the road. ‘Go down through Shambles. Tha’ll know it by smell. Cross the square beyond and tha’ll see Castle Tower.’
    I handed him the farthing. He waited till we had passed, then called ‘Southron heretics!’ after us before disappearing into a lane. Some of the passers-by smiled.
    ‘Not popular, are we?’ Barak said.
    ‘No. I think anyone from the south is identified with the new religion.’
    ‘All