‘There it is, sirs. Bernard Kytchyn, six pounds and two marks a year. He’s listed as chantry priest at St Andrew’s Church, Moorgate. It’s a wicked scandal, sir, the chantries being allowed to stay open, priests still mumming Latin prayers for the dead day after day. They should bring the chantries down too.’ He smiled at us brightly; as we were Cromwell’s men he would expect us to agree. I only grunted, however, and turned the ledger round to check the entry.
‘Barak,’ I said, ‘when I go back to Chancery Lane, I suggest you go and find Kytchyn, tell him-’
I broke off, as the door behind the clerk opened. To my astonishment Stephen Bealknap stepped out, a frown on his thin face. ‘Master clerk, we had not finished. Sir Richard Rich requires—’ He broke off in turn as he saw me. He looked surprised, his eyes meeting mine for a second before angling away.
‘Brother Shardtake—’
‘Bealknap, I did not know you had an interest in Augmentations pensions.’
He smiled. ‘I don’t usually. But there ... there is a corrodian, a pensioner with right of residence, attached to my property at Moorgate. It seems I have taken on responsibility for him too. An interesting legal problem, is it not?’
‘Yes.’ I turned to the clerk. ‘We are finished now. Well, Brother, I shall see you the day after tomorrow.’ I bowed to Bealknap. The clerk replaced his book and ushered Bealknap back to his room. The door closed behind them.
I frowned. ‘Corrodies are attached to monasteries, not friaries. What’s he really doing here?’
‘He mentioned Rich.’
‘Yes.’ I hesitated. ‘Could Cromwell have the clerk questioned?’
‘That would be difficult, it would mean Sir Richard Rich would get to hear of it.’ Barak ran a hand through his thatch of brown hair. ‘I’ve seen that pinch-faced old arsehole before somewhere.’
‘Bealknap? Where?’
‘I’ll have to think. It was a long time ago, but I swear I know him.’
‘We must go,’ I said. ‘Joseph will be waiting for me.’
I had arranged for Simon to bring Chancery and Sukey down to Westminster so that we could ride back from Westminster to Chancery Lane, and he was waiting by one of the buttresses by the east wall, sitting on Chancery’s broad back and swinging his newly shod feet. We mounted, leaving him to walk back at his own pace, and set off.
As we passed Charing Cross, I noticed a well-dressed woman on a fine gelding, her face covered from the sun by a vizard. She was attended by three mounted retainers, with two ladies walking behind carrying posies and looking hot. The woman’s horse had stopped to piss and the party was waiting till it had finished. As we passed she turned and stared at me. Her vizard, framed by an expensive hood, was a striped cloth mask with eyeholes and the blank, masked stare was oddly disconcerting. Then she lifted the mask and smiled and I recognized Lady Honor. She looked quite cool, though the mask must have been stifling and women’s corsetry is an unkind thing in hot weather. She raised a hand in greeting.
‘Master Shardlake! We are met again.’
I reined Chancery in. ‘Lady Honor. Another hot day.’
‘Is it not?’ she replied feelingly. ‘I am pleased to have met with you. Will you come and dine with me next Tuesday?’
‘I should be delighted,’ I said.
I was conscious of Barak at my side, his eyes cast down as befitted a servant.
‘The House of Glass in Blue Lion Street, anyone will tell you. Be there at five. It’s a sugar banquet only, it won’t go on late. There will be interesting company.’
‘I shall look forward to it.’
‘By the way, I hear you are representing Edwin Wentworth’s niece.’
I smiled wryly. ‘It seems all London knows, my lady.’
‘I’ve met him at Mercers’ Company dinners. Not as clever as he thinks he is, though good at making money.’
‘Really?’
She laughed. ‘Ah, your face went sharp and lawyerly then, sir. I have piqued your interest.’
‘I have the girl’s life in my hands, Lady Honor.’
‘A responsibility.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, I must get on, I am visiting my late husband’s relatives.’
She lowered her vizard and the party moved off. ‘A fine-looking piece.’ Barak said as we rode on.
‘A lady of natural distinction.’
‘Bit too pert for me. I like a woman who keeps her place. Rich widows are the devil for pertness.’
‘Know many, do you?’
‘I might do.’
I laughed. ‘She is out of your league, Barak.’
‘Out of yours too.’
‘I would not be so impertinent as to think otherwise.’
‘She’ll never fall to beggary.’
‘The great families don’t have the assured places they once held.’
‘Whose fault’s that?’ he said roundly. ‘They fought each other in the wars of York and Lancaster till they near wiped each other out. I say we’re better off under new men like the earl.’
‘He still likes his earldom, Barak. A coat of arms is everyone’s dream. Marchamount has made a joke of himself round Lincoln’s Inn trying to persuade the College of Heralds he has people of gentle birth in his background.’ A thought struck me. ‘I wonder if that’s why he is cultivating Lady Honor. Marriage to someone of birth—’ At the thought I felt an unexpected pang.
‘Got his eye on her?’ Barak said. ‘That could be interesting.’ He shook his head. ‘This chasing after status among the high-ups, it makes me laugh.’
‘If one aims for gentlemanly status one aims for a higher way of life. Better than a lower.’
‘I have my own lineage,’ he said with a mocking laugh.
‘Ah, yes. Your father’s trinket.’
‘Ay, though I keep quiet about my blood. They say the Jews were great bloodsuckers and gatherers of gold. And killers of children. Come on,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ve to find this Kytchyn fellow.’
‘If you find him, ask him to meet with me tomorrow. At St Bartholomew’s.’
Barak turned in the saddle. ‘At Barty’s? But Sir Richard Rich lives there now. My master wants him kept out of this. And your friend Bealknap mentioning his name worries me.’
‘I must see where the stuff was found, Barak.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Very well. But we have to be careful.’
‘God’s death, d’you think I don’t realize that?’
At the bottom of Chancery Lane we parted. As I rode up the lane alone I felt suddenly nervous, remembering how we had been followed yesterday and seeing again those bodies in the Queenhithe house. I was relieved to approach my gate. As I did so I saw Joseph approaching from the other end of the lane. His shoulders were slumped, his face sad and preoccupied, but as he saw me he smiled and raised his hand in greeting. That heartened me; it was the first friendly gesture I had had since the trial.
Chapter Eleven
AS I REINED IN BESIDE HIM I saw that Joseph looked tired and hot. Simon had not yet returned, so I bade Joseph go indoors while I led the horses to the stables.
Returning to the hall, I removed my cap and robe. It was cooler indoors and I stood a moment, savouring the air on my sweat-coated face, then went into the parlour. Joseph had taken a seat in my armchair and he jumped up, embarrassed. I waved a hand.
‘Don’t worry, Joseph, it’s a cursed hot day.’ I took a hard chair opposite him. Despite his tiredness I saw there was an excited gleam in his eyes, a new look of hope.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I have been successful. My brother will see you.’
‘Well done.’ I poured us some beer from a pot Joan had left on the table. ‘How did you manage it?’
‘It wasn’t easy. I went to the house; they had to let me in or else cause a scene in front of the servants. I told Edwin you were uncertain of Elizabeth’s guilt and wanted to talk to the family before deciding whether you could continue to represent her. Edwin was very hostile at first, angry at my interfe
rence. And I’m no good hand at lying; I feared I would become confused.’
I smiled. ‘No, Joseph, you are too honest for that trade.’
‘I don’t like it. But for Lizzy’s sake - anyway, my mother persuaded him. That surprised me because she was against the poor girl most of all, though she’s her own granddaughter. But Mother said if we could convince you it must have been Elizabeth that killed Ralph, you would leave them alone to grieve. Sir, they’ll see us tomorrow morning at ten. They will all be at home then.’
‘Good. Well done, Joseph.’
‘I fear I let them believe you have doubts about Lizzy’s innocence.’ He gave me an imploring look. ‘But it was not an unchristian thing, was it, to lie for her sake?’
‘Often the world does not allow us to be too pure, I fear.’
‘God sets us hard dilemmas.’ He shook his head sadly.
I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. I should have to hurry. ‘I am sorry, Joseph, but I must leave you again. I have an engagement at Lincoln’s Inn. Meet me at the Walbrook conduit tomorrow, just before ten.’
‘I will, sir. You are good to give me your time when you are so busy.’
‘Have you eaten? Stay here, my housekeeper will fetch you something.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
I bowed quickly and left him. I told Joan to fetch him some food, then hurriedly donned my robe again; it had been washed the day before but already had a City stink. I wanted to catch both Marchamount and Bealknap before the dinner. As I hurried out to the street, I thought: poor honest Joseph, if he knew the nightmare tangle of deceptions Cromwell had involved me in he would flee the house. But no, he would not; while I was his only hope of setting Elizabeth free he would stand fast, like a much-battered rock.
I REFLECTED ON WHAT Barak had told me at the wharf. With my naturally sceptical temperament it was hard for me to believe Greek Fire could be real, and as for ‘Sepultus’ Gristwood, no class of persons is more associated with trickery than alchemists. Yet I had no doubt Barak had truthfully described what he saw. And he and Cromwell were hardly people to be taken in easily. There were new wonders and terrors every day in this world, which many prophets said was coming to its end; but I could not quite believe in it all yet. It was too fantastical.
And if it was real? The Byzantines might have kept the secret so well they ended by losing it, but in this our Europe of spies and religious quarrels England could not keep such a secret for long. It would be stolen sooner or later, and then what? The seas empty of ships, whole navies devoured by fire? I shook my head in troubled perplexity; how bizarre it seemed to me, thinking of such things and all the while trudging through the dust of staid, familiar Chancery Lane. I must put such thoughts from my head, I told myself, concentrate on the task ahead. And after being followed yesterday I had an eye out for my own security. I cast a quick glance round, but the only others in the lane were more robed lawyers riding to the Inn. An acquaintance waved and I returned his salute. With a dark glance at the Domus opposite, I turned under the Lincoln’s Inn gate, the guard in his box bowing as I passed.
I went first to my chambers, for I needed to leave a note for Godfrey. I had expected them to be empty but when I entered Skelly was there copying, slouched so low over his quill his nose almost touched the papers. He peered up at me.
‘In on a Sunday, John? You should not bend your head so close to the paper, the humours will rush to your brain.’
‘It took me so long to rewrite the Beckman conveyance, sir, I got behind. I came in to copy the arbitration agreement for the Salters’ Company.’
‘Well, this shows application,’ I said. I leaned over to have a look, then caught my breath. He had failed to ensure his ink was well mixed and a pale dribble of words ran across the page. ‘This is no good.’
He looked up at me tremulously, his eyes red. ‘What’s wrong with it, sir?’
‘The ink is watery.’ His miserable stare made me suddenly angry. ‘Look, can’t you see? This will fade in a year. A legal document is no good unless it be written in thick black ink.’
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
My irritation spilled over. ‘It’ll have to be done again. That’s more good paper you’ve cost me, Skelly. The cost will come from your wages.’ I frowned at his anxious face. ‘Oh, just start again.’
Godfrey’s door opened. ‘What’s afoot? I thought I heard raised voices.’
‘John Skelly would make an angel in the heavenly spheres raise its voice. I didn’t think you’d be in, Godfrey. You’re not going to the lunch with Norfolk surely?’
He grunted. ‘I thought I should see what the papist rogue looked like in the flesh.’
‘Now that we are met, may I ask a favour? Come into my room.’
‘Certainly.’
I closed the door on Skelly, and bade my friend sit down. ‘Godfrey, I have a - a new matter. Something urgent. Together with the Wentworth case it will take much of my time this next fortnight. Can you deal with some of my work? For a share of the fee, of course.’
‘I would be happy to. Including the Bealknap hearing?’
‘No, I had better keep that. But everything else.’
He studied me carefully. ‘You look troubled, Matthew.’
‘I hate losing my temper. But between Skelly and this new affair—’
‘Something interesting?’
‘I can’t speak of it. Now—’ I lifted a heap of papers from a table - ‘I will show you what cases I have.’ I spent half an hour going through my matters with him, relieved that, apart from the Bealknap case next week, I should not have to appear in court for a fortnight.
‘I am in your debt again,’ I said when we were done. ‘Any news of your friend Robert Barnes?’
He sighed heavily. ‘Still in the Tower.’
‘Barnes is a friend of Archbishop Cranmer’s. Surely he’ll protect him.’
‘I hope so.’ He brightened. ‘The archbishop is to give the sermons at St Paul’s Cross next week now Bishop Sampson is in the Tower.’ He clenched his fist, reminding me that for all his mild ways he was fierce in his religion. ‘With God’s help we will prevail over the papist troop.’
‘Listen, Godfrey, I’ll try to get into chambers when I can. Keep an eye on Skelly, try and get him to produce work that’s at least presentable. I have another appointment now, but I will see you at the lunch. Thank you, my friend.’
I went out again, crossing the courtyard to Marchamount’s rooms. Over by the Great Hall servants were bustling in and out, getting everything ready for the dinner. The four Inns of Court vied for the patronage of those near to the king and Norfolk’s presence was something of a coup, for all that his politics would be unpopular with many members of Lincoln’s Inn.
I knocked and entered Marchamount’s outer office. It was impresssive, books and documents lining the shelves and, even on Sunday, a clerk labouring busily over papers. He looked up enquiringly.
‘Is the serjeant in?’
‘He’s very busy, sir. Has a big case starting in Common Pleas tomorrow.’
‘Tell him it is Brother Shardlake, on Lord Cromwell’s business.’ His eyes widened at that and he disappeared through a door. A moment later he was back and bowed me through.
Gabriel Marchamount, like many barristers, lived as well as worked in Lincoln’s Inn. His receiving room was as opulent as any I had seen. Expensive wallpaper in bright reds and greens lined the walls. Marchamount sat in a high-backed chair that would not have shamed a bishop, behind a wide desk strewn with papers. His broad figure was encased in an expensive yellow doublet with a pea-green belly that emphasized his choleric colour; his thin reddish hair was combed carefully over his pate. A robe edged with fur lay on a cushion nearby together with his white serjeant’s coif, the mark of his rank: the highest position a barrister can reach short of a judgeship. A silver goblet of wine stood at his elbow.
Marchamount was known as a man who lived and breathed the law and loved the status it brou
ght him; since his admission to the Order of the Coif three years before his patrician manner and habits had expanded to the extent that they were the subject of mocking jokes about the Inn. It was said he hoped to rise further, to a judgeship. Though the gossips said his advancement owed much to his cultivation of contacts among the anti-reform party at the king’s court, I knew his intelligence was not to be underrated.
He rose and greeted me with a smile and a small bow. I saw his dark eyes were sharp and wary.
‘Brother Shardlake. Are you here for my lunch with the duke?’ He smiled with false modesty. I had not realized he had arranged the meal. ‘My lunch’ was typical of him.
‘I might look in.’
‘How goes business?’
‘Well enough, thank you, Serjeant.’
‘Wine, Brother?’
‘Thank you, it is a little early for me.’
He sat down again. ‘I hear you are retained to advise in the Wentworth case. An unpleasant business. Not much unguentum auri there, I’d guess.’
I smiled tightly. ‘No. A small fee. In fact, it is another killing I have called to see you about. Michael Gristwood and his brother have been brutally murdered.’
I watched carefully for his reaction, but he only nodded sadly and said, ‘Yes, I know. A dreadful business.’
‘How did you know, sir?’ I asked sharply. ‘This has been kept quiet on Lord Cromwell’s orders.’
He spread his arms. ‘His widow came to see me yesterday. Said you had told her the house was hers, asked for my help in getting it transferred into her name since I knew her husband.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is the Greek Fire formula gone?’
I paused; the words seemed to hang in the stuffy air for a moment. ‘Yes, Serjeant. That is why Lord Cromwell wants the matter investigated quickly and secretly. She was quick off the mark,’ I added. ‘I wonder she didn’t go to Bealknap. He was nearer her husband in station.’
‘She has no money. Bealknap would turn her away in a second if she couldn’t pay him, but she knew I do charitable work sometimes.’ He gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘I’ve long since stopped doing minor estate work myself, but I know a junior fellow who will help her.’