10
It was easy to pretend to be asleep.
After the painful and exhausting trip up from the stable yards, the tough part was staying awake. Though Malcolm had gotten more information than he’d ever thought imaginable, just lying still and pretending unconsciousness, he now found himself constantly dozing and fought off sleep with every ounce of strength he had.
He now knew, at least, that he was in East Anglia, at Kenninghall—the residence of Thomas Howard, duke of Norfolk. And though he was being kept prisoner, he’d been moved out of the foul stable cell at the command of Henry Howard, the earl of Surrey. Biting the inside of his swollen cheek to ward off a wave of weariness, Malcolm thought back on Harry Surrey, the young man he’d found studying with his own master, Erasmus, a few years
