‘And Elizabeth said nothing?’
‘Just sat there with her head bowed, a dark look on her face.’
I went over to the well. Joseph hung back. A round wooden board was fixed over it, secured by padlocks to metal rings driven into the brickwork.
‘This looks newly done.’
‘Yes, sir. The master had the cap put on last week. Bit late really: it should have been done before.’
‘I would like to see inside. Do you have keys to those locks?’
He looked at me evenly. ‘Sir Edwin ordered them thrown away, sir. Nobody will be using that well again. The water’s been poisoned for years. Not that there was any when I climbed down, we’ve had so little rain this spring.’
I bent down. There was a space of an inch or so between the wood and the rim on one side. I bent close and then pulled back at the smell that came from the gap; it was the stench of something dead, rotting. I remembered what Joseph had said about the smell on Ralph’s body-like a cow’s head left out in the Shambles a week. I looked across at him; he had taken a seat on the bench and was staring up at the window of the room we had left. His treatment from his family must have upset him greatly. I turned to Needler, who stood looking on impassively.
‘There’s mighty stink coming from that well.’
‘Like I said, the water’s poisoned.’
‘How did it smell when you went down there?’
‘Bad enough.’ He shrugged. ‘But I wasn’t worrying about smells, I was feeling for poor Master Ralph’s body and hoping the rope ladder I’d let down wouldn’t break. If that’s all, I ought to be supervising the lunch.’
I stared at him a moment, then smiled. ‘Yes, thank you, I have seen all I need.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Is there anything you’d like me to tell the master? Perhaps you won’t be representing the girl now?’
‘If I’ve anything to tell him I’ll contact him myself, Needler. Now, Joseph, we should go.’
He rose wearily and followed me back to the hall. Needler opened the front door and we went out to the street. Needler said he would have my horse brought round, then closed the door with a snap. As we stood waiting on the step, Joseph gave me a direct look.
‘Do you believe Elizabeth is guilty now, as my mother said?’
‘No, Joseph, I think more and more that she is innocent.’ I frowned ‘There is something wrong in that house.’
‘My mother is an uncommon woman. Stronger than most men. She was beautiful when she was young, though you wouldn’t think it now. She always loved Edwin most, thought me a poor creature to be content with the farm.’
I touched his arm. ‘It was a brave thing you did, subjecting yourself to that for Elizabeth’s sake.’
‘It was hard for me.’
‘I saw. Tell me, when she was younger, did Elizabeth ever show any signs of trouble in her mind?’
‘None, sir. Never. She was merry before she came to this house.’
‘It is interesting she only seems to have become hostile if a family member approached her. Otherwise she wished only to be left alone.’ I hesitated, then said, ‘Joseph, I think there is something down that well.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know yet. But I remembered what you said about how Ralph’s body smelt. I smelt something similar, coming from down the well. A sewage smell you might expect if there was bad water at the bottom, but Needler said there was no water at all when he went down.’ I hesitated. ‘I think there is something else down there. Something dead.’
His eyes were wide. ‘What? What could it be?’
‘I don’t know, Joseph. I don’t know. I’ll have to think.’ I put a hand on his arm.
‘Oh, dear God, what has happened to us?’
I saw from a church clock it was well past twelve and touched his arm again. ‘Once again I fear I must leave you, my friend. Another appointment I cannot miss. I will think what to do next. Can I reach you at your lodging house?’
‘Ay, I’ll be there until this matter is resolved,’ he said firmly.
‘What about your farm?’
‘I have an arrangement with my neighbour. Things are in a poor way, there has been so little rain, but I cannot make it rain in Essex by being there, can I?’
The boy appeared round the side of the house, leading Chancery. He looked at us nosily as I gave him a farthing. I straightened my satchel and mounted.
‘I will be in touch, Joseph, very soon.’
Joseph shook my hand. I looked after him as he walked away down Walbrook Road, something oddly indomitable in his big, heavy figure. Well, I must be indomitable too. I mounted Chancery for the short ride to Guy’s. As I did so my heart jumped for a moment at the sight of a tall, pale figure among the people passing, but it was only an old man. He entered a shop. I shuddered slightly, then turned the horse south.
Chapter Sixteen
WHEN I ARRIVED AT Guy’s shop there was no sign of Barak’s horse outside. Wondering whether he was still with Cromwell, I tied Chancery to the rail and went in.
Guy was at his table, grinding herbs in a pestle, and looked up in surprise. ‘Ho, Matthew. I did not expect to see you today.’
‘Guy, I have a favour to ask, some information. By the way, I am due to meet someone here. A young fellow with brown hair and an insolent grin. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?’
He shook his head. ‘I have seen no one. It is my morning for preparing my herbs. Is this to do with the Wentworth case? How goes it?’
‘We have a stay of execution. I have just come from the family’s house, in fact. But it is something else I wanted to ask you about. I am sorry I have not asked you to dinner as I promised, but another matter has stolen up on me; between that and the Wentworth case I have scarce had time to breathe.’
‘It does not matter.’ He smiled, though I knew he was lonely and looked forward to coming to my house; with his dark skin he got few invitations to company. I slipped the satchel from my back, wincing a little at a stab of pain.
‘Have you been doing your exercises?’ he asked.
‘These past few days, no. As I said, I’ve scarce had time to turn around.’
‘You seem strung tight as a bowstring, Matthew.’
I sat down, rubbing sweat from my brow. ‘Not surprising, as someone has just tried to kill me.’
‘What?’
‘You’d get it out of me in the end. I can’t tell you all, but Lord Cromwell has spared Elizabeth Wentworth from the press for two weeks provided I undertake a mission for him. Nothing to do with the monasteries this time, but murder again and roguery—’ I broke off, looking through the window. ‘Young Barak, who I see tying his horse up outside, has been deputed by Cromwell to assist me.’
‘Then the help you want is for Cromwell?’ Guy looked at me seriously.
‘To help to catch a brutal killer. I am not allowed to say more—I should not even have mentioned Cromwell’s name. It is too dangerous.’ I sighed. ‘I will not press you if you feel you cannot in conscience help.’
The door opened and Barak came in. He looked uneasily at the bottles and jars lining the walls, then at Guy with his dark face and apothecary’s robes. Guy bowed.
‘Master Barak, I pray you are well.’ He mispronounced the W in his lisping accent as he always did. I realized how strange and foreign he must seem to Barak.
‘Thank you, master apothecary.’ Barak stared around. I guessed he had never been in an apothecary’s shop before; he looked like he had always known rude health.
‘Would you like a little beer?’ Guy asked him.
‘Thank you,’ Barak answered. ‘It is hot day.’
Guy went out to fetch it and Barak came over to me. ‘The earl’s worried. He’s had Kytchyn taken to a place of safety till this is over.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘He says you’re being too slow. He’s concerned you won’t be seeing Lady Honor till tomorrow. There are only ten days till t
he demonstration, and the king’s told him he’s looking forward to it.’
‘Perhaps he should seek a miracle worker then.’
Barak stepped away as Guy returned, bearing two cups of small beer. I drank gratefully, for I was very thirsty. Guy stood at the end of his table and studied Barak carefully a moment; I was pleased to see Barak look uncomfortable under that penetrating gaze.
‘Well, then,’ Guy said quietly. ‘What help do you both wish from me?’
‘We have to deal with alchemists,’ I said. ‘I know nothing of their trade, and would welcome your advice.’ I opened the satchel and laid the alchemical books on the table. Then I carefully took the bottle from my pocket and held it out. ‘Have you any idea what this strange stuff might be?’
He opened it carefully, then poured some on his finger and sniffed. ‘Be careful, it burns like fire,’ I warned as he bent and touched his tongue to it.
To my surprise, he laughed. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘There’s no mystery here. This is aqua vitae, though distilled to a very high concentration.’
‘Aqua vitae?’ I laughed with astonishment. ‘This new stuff that is distilled from bad wine and prescribed for sore eyes and melancholia?’
‘The same. I think its value overrated, it just makes people drunk.’ He rubbed the stuff between his fingers. ‘A cupful, they say, will blind a horse. Where did you get it?’
‘On the floor of an alchemist’s workshop that had been - abandoned.’ He looked at me sharply.
‘Never mind where we got it, apothecary,’ Barak cut in. ‘Are you sure that’s what it is?’
Guy gave him a long look, and I feared he would order him from his shop, but he turned to me with a smile. ‘I believe so. Though the thickness of the liquid and the fiery taste suggest the concentration is very strong. I believe I may even be able to tell you where it came from. But first, there is a way of proving what it is. I will show you. It is quite spectacular, Master Barak. Wait a moment.’
He put the bottle down carefully, then left the room.
‘Listen to me, Barak,’ I said. ‘Guy is a friend: have a care how you speak to him. And he is not one to be bullied like that doorkeeper. You will only anger him.’
‘I don’t trust him, on his looks.’
‘I think that’s mutual.’
Guy returned, carrying a candle and a small glazed dish. He closed the shutters, then carefully tipped a little of the liquid into the dish. Then he touched the candle to it.
I gasped, and Barak stepped back, as a blue flame flared in the bowl, rising two inches into the air.
‘You’ll burn the shop down!’ Barak exclaimed. Guy only laughed again.
‘The flame is too weak to set anything alight and it will die in a moment.’ Sure enough, as we watched, the blue flame sank as quickly as it had risen, turned yellow, guttered and went out. Guy smiled at us. ‘There. That is a characteristic of aqua vitae, that blue flame. It was certainly a very strong mixture.’ He opened the shutters again. ‘Note there is no smell or smoke.’
‘You said you might know where it came from,’ Barak said, his tone more respectful now.
‘I did. We apothecaries are ever on the lookout for new herbs, new concoctions, from the strange parts of the world Englishmen voyage to nowadays. It is the constant topic at the Apothecaries’ Hall. A few months ago we heard of a cargo that had been landed at Billingsgate from a ship that had ventured into the Baltic trade, to the lands of endless snow. They brought back a cargo of a colourless liquid they say men drink there. When people tried quaffing it here, as they would beer, it made them very sick. This sounds like the stuff.’
‘What happened to the cargo?’
‘That I do not know. I think one or two of my brethren went after it as a curiosity, but were told it had been sold. You would need to enquire among the sailors’ taverns to find more.’
I nodded thoughtfully. A thick, viscous liquid that burned in a strange way. In some ways it sounded like Greek Fire, but in others quite unlike. The liquid in the monastery had been black, with a strong smell, Kytchyn said, and the flame we had just seen could never have set light to a ship. But what if this stuff was part of the formula, what if it changed its behaviour if other things were added?
‘What do you know of alchemy, Guy?’ I asked. I took the alchemy books from my satchel and laid them on the table. ‘These books are so full of mysteries and jargon I can scarce understand a word.’
He picked one up and leafed through it. ‘Alchemy has given itself a bad name. Perhaps worse than it deserves. The alchemists like to keep their trade cloaked in secrecy and fill their books with references only they can understand.’ He laughed. ‘Some of the old books I think nobody understands.’
‘And it impresses people, makes them think there must be a great mystery there to be uncovered.’
Guy nodded. ‘But in that they are no worse than some physicians with their ancient remedies and secret formulae. Or lawyers, for that matter: in some courts you plead in old French no ordinary mortal could comprehend.’
There was a bark of laughter from Barak. ‘He has you there.’
Guy raised a hand. ‘And yet alchemy is part of natural science, the study of the world around us. God has left signs and clues in the world, that by struggling we might come to understand things: cure diseases, grow better crops—’
‘Turn lead into gold?’ I hesitated. ‘Set water on fire ?’
‘Perhaps. And the task of alchemy, like astrology and medicine for that matter, is to read those clues.’
‘As rhinoceros horn is supposed to bring virility, the clue being its resemblance to the male organ. But, Guy, so much of this looking for signatures and correspondences is mere fraud.’
‘Yes, it is. I agree that the manner in which alchemists profess secret, arcane knowledge is often no more than a trick to keep their trade inaccessible.’
‘So you think, like most, that alchemy’s a suspect trade?’
‘Not altogether. There are plenty of rogues who claim to have found the philosopher’s stone that can turn base metal into gold, but for each one of them there is another who has striven to make real achievements by careful observation, by study of how substances are made up and how they change. How the four elements of earth, air, fire and water interact to make all the things we know. How heat can change one thing into another - wine into aqua vitae, for example.
‘And everything comes from the four elements. Earth, air, fire and water. Any new material that appears, like that strange stuff, can be broken down into those essential elements and reconfigured.’
He smiled. ‘There is nothing truly new in the world. No new elements, at least. But a good alchemist may, for example, discover by careful observation how to melt down ores in the furnace in such a way as to produce better iron, as they are doing in the Weald now.’
‘Or how to make a finer form of pewter,’ I said, remembering Goodwife Gristwood’s story of Sepultus’s failed experiments.
‘Exactly. It is usually a matter of separating out some impurity of an earthy nature.’ He smiled. ‘I am with those thinkers who consider God means us to uncover the secrets of the earth by the slow, sure path of observation rather than mystical formulae in ancient books. Even if they do come up with some strange notions, like the man in Poland who says the earth goes round the sun.’
‘Yes.’ Something had stirred a memory. ‘A furnace, you said. You remind me that metals are forged in furnaces. So alchemists must often work with founders, as they all have furnaces.’
‘Of course,’ Guy agreed. ‘I make do with a fire here to distil my herbs, but to melt ores and metals a furnace would be needed.’ He frowned. ‘This is a strange discussion, Matthew. What has it to do with this - ’ he glanced at Barak - ‘this case of yours?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I frowned in thought. ‘A founder would also be needed to make, say, a large metal tank with a pump and pipes.’
‘Yes. Alchemists often ha
ve arrangements with the Lothbury founders to assist them. It has to be someone they trust, of course, if they’re to share their secrets.’
‘Guy,’ I said excitedly, ‘do you remember that young founder I met last week? Would he know who might work with alchemists up there? And perhaps one who works with the City on the water conduits, works with pumps and valves?’
He hesitated. ‘Perhaps. That would be a specialized trade. But Matthew, if this is a dangerous matter, I would not involve him.’
‘Lord Cromwell may command it,’ Barak said.
Guy turned to him. ‘He may command what he wishes,’ he said imperturbably.
Barak glared. ‘Yes, my Spanish friend, he may.’
‘God’s death, Barak, be quiet,’ I said angrily. ‘I understand, Guy.
I can find what I need as easily from the City records, see whom they employ on the conduits.’
Guy nodded. ‘I would prefer that.’ He turned back to Barak. ‘And by the way, sir, I am not Spanish. I come from Granada, which was conquered by Spain fifty years ago. My parents were Moslems who were expelled from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella. Along with the Jews - yours is a Jewish name, I think.’
Barak reddened. ‘I am English, apothecary.’
‘Are you now?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah well. Thank you for your understanding, Matthew. I wish you safe in your quest.’ He shook my hand, then looked at me wryly. ‘Your eyes are alight, Matthew, alight with the prospect of progress in your chase. May I keep those books, by the way? I should be interested to look through them.’
‘Please do.’
‘If you want to talk more, I am here.’ He gave Barak a cold look. ‘So long as foreigners are allowed to remain.’
OUTSIDE I TURNED angrily on Barak. ‘Well done,’ I said. ‘Your manners really helped our enquiries.’