Chapter 26: The Clerk Talks

Linnet's POV

The clerk talked for an hour, and nobody in the chamber sat down.

He gave it in a high, flat voice, one payment after another.

"Mr. Edmund Rook first came to my lodging in the spring, Sire, before the Wexmoor betrothal ball."

"He brought a letter in the Earl of Trevanion's hand and asked if I could write like it."

"I could."

"He paid me forty pounds that night and sixty after."

The viscount made a sound, and the king lifted one finger.

"Go on."

"The wax was the second job. Mr. Rook brought a clean print of the duke's seal, taken from an old letter."

"I cast it in plaster and made him three."

"One he kept. One he gave to a groom. The third he left with me, and it is in that box."

"And the warrant?"

"He told me the date." The clerk swallowed. "I asked how a man could know a hanging so long ahead."

"He said it was a thing he was sure of."

I did not look at Edmund.

I looked at the king, and I felt every person in that room look at me and then look away.

Nobody called me mad again.

The word did not come back, not once, from any mouth.

"The groom in the cellar," said the chancellor.

"Mr. Rook's footman gave him the cup, Sire. I saw it done through the door."

"I was told to hold my tongue."

"And the letters to Calder?"

"Three, Sire. Written in my room, to the duke's hand."

"Dated back, so they would look old."

The king leaned back and looked at the viscount.

The viscount had gone the colour of tallow.

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