The wherry bumped into Dowgate steps with a soft thud. Barak stepped out, offering me a hand, and we set off to Walbrook.
WHEN WE REACHED Sir Edwin’s house it was dark, the shutters closed on the ground floor, though the upper windows were open to let in some air. Barak turned into Budge Row and I followed him down a narrow alley, stinking of piss.
‘There’s an orchard on the other side of that wall,’ he whispered, ‘and beyond that is Wentworth’s garden. I had a look around earlier.’ He stopped beside a flimsy wooden door in the wall, then stepped back and put his shoulder to it. It fell open with a crack. He darted inside. I followed, finding myself in a medlar orchard. The white scentless blossoms of that strange fruit, which must be left to hang on the tree till it decays before it may be eaten, showed luminous in the moonlight. A couple of pale shapes rose up in the long grass, making me jump before I realized they were rooting pigs. They ran off grunting between the trees. I looked back at the door: there had been a bolt on the inner side that Barak’s shove had ripped from the wood.
‘That was someone’s property,’ I said.
‘Hush,’ he hissed angrily. ‘D’you want any passer-by to hear?’ He closed the door carefully, then gestured at the ten-foot-high wall. ‘Perhaps you‘d’ve preferred to climb over there,’ he whispered. ‘Now, come on.’
I followed him through the orchard, jumping again as a clutch of hens fled clucking from under our feet. Barak made for the far wall; this wall was lower, perhaps seven feet high. He gestured to me to stand beside him. His face was alert; he looked as though he was enjoying himself.
‘The garden’s on the far side. If I help you up, can you drop down?’
I looked up dubiously. ‘I think so.’
‘Good. Come on, then.’ He squatted, making a stirrup of his hands. I reached up, grasped the top of the wall and placed a foot in his cupped hands. He took a firm grip and hoisted me into the air. I scrabbled at the wall and a moment later was lying spreadeagled on top, looking down into Sir Edwin’s garden. The effort had brought me out in a sweat. I blinked water from my eyes, looking rapidly around. Beyond the lawn and the trellised flower beds the rear of the house was as dark as the front, all the windows closed. The round structure of the well was only fifteen feet away.
‘Everything quiet?’ Barak whispered from below.
‘Seems to be. All the lights are out.’
‘No dogs?’
‘I can’t see any.’ I had not thought of that, but it was quite likely a wealthy house like this would be guarded by dogs at night.
‘Throw a couple of pebbles before you go over. Here.’ I felt some small stones being pressed into my hand. So that was why he had wanted them. I managed to sit upright on the wall and threw one into the garden. It bounced off the well cap with a clunk that would have brought any dog running and barking, but everything remained quiet and still.
‘It’s all right,’ I whispered.
‘Get down, then, and I’ll follow.’
I put the other stones back in my pocket, took a deep breath and jumped onto the lawn, jarring my spine uncomfortably. I leaned against the wall, conscious that I was trapped there now. If something happened I doubted I could climb up again on my own. There was a scrabbling sound and Barak dropped down beside me. He stood looking round, watchful as a cat.
‘You keep watch,’ he breathed. ‘I’ll get that well open.’
He loped quickly across the grass. He dropped his knapsack to the ground and there was a faint clink as he pulled out a couple of tools. I made for the cover of the big oak and sat on the bench underneath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart, watching the still dark house. Barak seemed to know what he was doing, frowning a little as he inserted a narrow metal rod like a jeweller’s tool into a padlock. I wondered how many locks he had picked before on Cromwell’s orders. The padlock came free. He tossed it to the ground and started on the other. I glanced at the silent house again, thought of the old woman asleep, the two girls, Sir Edwin, the steward Needler. What had happened in the garden that day? This was the bench where Sabine and Avice said Elizabeth had been sitting when they came out after hearing Ralph yell. Elizabeth had told me that if I went to the well, what I saw would shake my faith. I shivered.
Barak grunted as the other padlock came off, and gestured me over. ‘You’ll have to help me with this. It’s heavy.’
‘All right.’ I felt strangely reluctant to grasp the wooden cap, remembering the dreadful stink I had smelt before, but I helped him slide it off. We propped it against the side of the well and looked down. A few rows of bricks were visible and, below that, darkness. I felt a draught of cold air and caught again the miasma of decay.
‘Still smells, then,’ Barak whispered beside me.
‘It seems less strong than before.’
He leaned over and dropped a pebble down the well. I waited to hear it splash into water or clatter on stone, but there was no sound at all. Barak looked at me. ‘Seems to have landed on something soft.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’d hoped to get some idea how deep it was. Well, just have to hope the ladder’s long enough.’ He pulled the rope ladder from his knapsack and quickly secured it to a metal rod in the brickwork where the well bucket must once have hung. He let the ladder go and it unfurled into the darkness. Barak took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and looked at me seriously. I realized he was daunted by the prospect of that descent.
‘Give me a shout if anyone stirs. I wouldn’t want to be caught down there.’
‘I will.’
‘I’ve candles and a tinderbox for when I get to the bottom,’ he said. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘Good luck. And thank you.’
He lifted a hand to his shirt and, loosening a button, put his hand inside to finger his little Jewish symbol. Then he clambered over the side of the well. He found the ladder with his feet and began climbing down. The top of his head vanished into darkness, giving me the strange feeling the well had swallowed him up.
I leaned over. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked in a loud whisper.
His voice came back, hollow and echoing. ‘Ay. That smell’s stronger.’
I glanced at the house again. All was still silent.
‘I’ve touched bottom.’ Barak’s voice echoed with a ringing hollowness. I guessed the well must be deep, perhaps thirty feet. ‘I’m on something soft.’ He called. ‘Cloth. And something else, like fur. Ugh. I’m going to light the candle.’
I heard a scrape, caught a tiny spark far below in the darkness and then another. ‘The arsehole won’t catch! Wait, there it is - oh, hell!’ I jumped back as a startled yell echoed from the pit. At the same moment a sudden flicker of light appeared at a first-floor window in the house.
I grasped the side of the well and leaned in, regardless of the stench. Barak’s candle had gone out again. ‘There’s a light in the house!’ I called out. ‘Get up, now!’
There was a frantic scrabbling as he hauled himself up. I glanced at the house again. The light had moved to the next window. Someone was walking around with a candle. Had they seen or heard us, or was it just someone going to the privy? The end of the rope ladder trembled as Barak climbed rapidly. I reached in and thrust a hand into the darkness. ‘Here!’
A hard hand grasped my own. My back screamed in pain as I helped Barak up. He scrambled out as though the devil were behind him and stood panting beside me, looking over at the house. His eyes were wide and there was a rotten, meaty smell on him. The candlelight was still there, but no longer moving, flickering at one of the windows. Was someone looking out? We were a good distance from the house and partly shaded by the tree, but the moonlight was bright.
‘Here, come!’ Barak whispered urgently. He had grasped the well cap. ‘They may not have seen us. If someone comes out, run!’
We slid the cap back into place and Barak scrabbled for the padlocks he had laid on the lawn. He put them back in place, moving with smooth, practised speed.
‘The light??
?s gone out!’ I whispered.
‘Right, nearly done.’ He shut the second padlock with a click and stepped away. Just then I heard the creak of a door opening, and a voice I recognized as Needler’s called out, ‘Hey! Who’s that!’
Barak turned and ran for the wall. I followed; he had already bent and made a stirrup of his hands. I glanced back: it was hard to make anything out across the lawn and flower beds but there seemed to be dark shapes in the open doorway. Then I heard an angry bark.
‘Dogs,’ I hissed.
‘Get up, for Jesu’s sake!’
I grasped the wall, put my feet in Barak’s hands, and again he hauled me up. I almost overbalanced but managed to sit astride the wall. I looked back fearfully to see two large black dogs loping across the flower beds, not barking now but running towards Barak in deadly, intent silence.
‘Hurry!’
He grabbed the top of the wall and, setting his feet against the bricks, began hauling himself up. The dogs were almost on him. Behind them I heard footsteps. Needler was following. Then Barak cried out. One of the dogs, a big mongrel, had his shoe and was holding on, growling evilly. The other dog leaped up at me. I almost overbalanced but managed to hold on. Fortunately the wall was too high and the creature fell back. It stood, paws against the wall, barking angrily up at me.
‘Help me, for Christ’s sake!’ Barak hissed. For a second I could not think what to do, then remembered the pebbles in my pocket. I pulled out the largest and threw it straight at the eyes of the dog that held his foot.
It yelped and jumped back, startled. It only lost its grip for a second but that was enough for Barak to haul his leg up and we both half-dropped, half-fell into the long grass of the orchard, just as Needler’s voice shouted again from the other side of the wall. ‘Who’s that? Stop!’
We lurched back into the cover of the trees, half-expecting the steward’s face to appear over the wall, but he remained on the other side, where the dogs were barking frantically. No doubt he was afraid to pursue us on his own. I heard a voice that sounded like Sir Edwin’s calling from the lawn. Barak grasped my arm and led the way through the orchard at a fast limp. We went back through the broken door into the lane, back into Budge Row and down Dowgate. Only then did he stop, leaning against a wall and lifting his foot to examine it.
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Just a graze. Thank Christ I had my pattens on, look.’ He showed me where the dog’s teeth had gouged bite marks in the wooden soles, then looked at me keenly. ‘Would that steward have recognized you?’
‘He didn’t get close enough to see.’
‘Just as well he’s a coward and didn’t come after us, or you’d have had some explaining to do.’
I looked nervously around the deserted street. ‘Sir Edwin will rouse the constable.’
‘Ay, just give me a minute.’
‘What - what made you cry out in the well?’ I asked. ‘What did you see?’
He looked at me grimly. ‘I’m not sure. There are clothes down there, cloth and fur. And I seemed - I thought I saw eyes down there.’
‘Eyes?’
He swallowed again. ‘Dead eyes, glinting in the candlelight.’
‘Whose eyes? For God’s sake, whose?’
‘I don’t know, do I? Small eyes. Two pairs at least. It gave me a shock.’
‘There’s a body down there? More than one?’
‘God’s death, I’d hardly a second to look before you called to me to get out!’ Barak shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I felt bones crunch, though, little bones. I’m sure that’s what it was.’ He lifted his hand to his shirt again and touched the talisman inside, then stepped away from the wall.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Still limping, he led the way back to the river.
Chapter Twenty-six
THAT NIGHT I SLEPT DEEPLY, exhausted. I woke with a leaden feeling of tiredness and the realization that I should have to face Cromwell that afternoon. The third of June. In exactly a week’s time the demonstration would be due. My back ached horribly from pulling Barak out of the well. I lay there, wondering how much longer I could keep up this pace, cope with the constant danger.
I did Guy’s exercises carefully, in case I did more harm than good, then went and looked out over my garden, the flowers wilting in their beds under a sun whose heat was powerful already. I thought of Joseph’s farm, his crops shrivelling in the fields. I would have no news for him this morning after all; we still did not know what was down that well. Barak had manfully offered to try again: but not tonight, for they would certainly be on watch. I wondered if they had guessed at our purpose. Barak had left no sign the well had been disturbed; most likely they thought they had surprised a pair of burglars. I scribbled a hasty note to Joseph, saying it would be another day or two before I got back to him and asking him to keep faith with me.
Barak was already at breakfast when I went downstairs. Joan was serving and kept giving us worried glances; these last few days she had noticed how tense I seemed. I had told her that Chancery had simply collapsed and died of heatstroke, but I suspected she did not believe me.
‘Well, what now?’ Barak asked after she had left.
‘I’ll go to Lady Honor’s first, question her again. If I go early I’m most likely to catch her in.’
He was as ebullient as ever. ‘What’s it they say? A ship could be rigged in the time it takes a lady of fashion to get ready. I see you’ve put a new doublet and robe on for her.’
‘Might as well look my best.’
He took a deep breath and made a grimace. ‘We’ve to see the earl at one. He wants us at Whitehall. I hope you find out something new from Lady Honor. Shall I come with you?’
‘No. I thought perhaps you might visit Madam Neller again; see if there is any news of the girl Bathsheba. I’ll come back here and meet you at twelve. And I’ll send Simon to Leman, asking him to come here at two. Then we can go to Lincoln’s Inn and confront Bealknap.’ I did not want Barak to know that after seeing Lady Honor I planned to visit Guy and tell him more about Greek Fire. I felt obscurely that the fact the Romans knew of it or something similar, but had been unable to develop it, went to the heart of the matter.
I saw Barak was giving me one of his keen looks and wondered if he had noticed something unusual in my manner. He was sharp enough for anything. I remembered anew that his loyalty was to Cromwell, not to me.
‘We have that inn to visit tonight,’ I said, ‘where they tried to sell that Polish stuff.’
‘Yes. I suppose it’d do no harm to see old Neller, remind her we haven’t forgotten her. I’d rather not hang about here thinking about our meeting with the earl. But are you sure you’ll be safe on your own?’
‘Ay. I’ll be going by public ways, and I’ll be keeping a careful eye out.’
We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Joan stood there, a look of surprise on her face. ‘There’s a messenger, sir, from Lord Cromwell’s office. He has a new horse for you, sir.’
Barak got up, nodding. ‘I sent a message to Grey yesterday afternoon, saying your horse was killed and asking for a new one to be sent. You’ve no time to go to the market.’
‘Oh.’
‘You need a horse, we can’t go everywhere by water. I asked for a younger horse, better able to keep up with Sukey.’
‘Oh,’ I said again. I was suddenly filled with anger. Did Barak think Chancery’s loss could be repaired so casually? Yet from a practical point of view he was right. I went outside. Simon had brought both horses round. Barak’s sleek mare was accompanied by a big brown gelding. I patted it. It seemed placid enough. Yet it felt almost a betrayal to see this animal in Chancery’s place.
‘What’s his name?’ I asked Simon.
‘Genesis, sir. Though as he’s a gelding he won’t be able to generate a foal, will he?’ Simon smiled shyly, pleased at his own cleverness.
I looked at the pattens on his feet. ‘How are you managing with those?’
‘Very well, thank you, sir. They are easy on the feet after a while.’
‘The effort was worth it, you see.’ I gave him two notes. ‘Take this to Master Wentworth’s lodging house, please, and the other to the stall of a Master Leman, at Cheapside.’
I heaved myself into the saddle. Barak had come to the door, that speculative look still on his face. I gave him a brief wave and rode off.
I decided to go to Lady Honor’s house by the quieter route, via Smithfield and entering the City through the Cripplegate. It would give Genesis a chance to get used to me. I rode on steadily, half an eye always open for danger. I had brought the Greek Fire papers with me and they bumped against my side in the knapsack I had used yesterday to hit Wright. I shuddered again at the thought of his axe.
My thoughts turned to the Wentworths. What in God’s name was going on in that family? I could not see any of the family engaged in what now seemed likely to be more than one murder. The old woman was harsh and ruthless, but her interest was only in her family and her blindness prevented her taking an active role in any devilry. The two girls too surely had no horizons beyond their family and a good marriage; if Sabine was engaged in some girlish fancy for the steward that was surely not so unusual. Both were classic Little Lady Favours, well-brought-up, well-mannered girls as content with their lot as cows in a field.
I turned my thoughts to Sir Edwin. He was a man consumed by fury and sorrow and it was hard to guess what he was like in normal circumstances. From all I had heard he seemed to be a typical rich merchant, concerned above all to build up his and his family’s status. Needler, the steward, was a nasty piece of work but his main interest seemed to be keeping well in with the family. All normal, really. In fact the only members of the Wentworth household whose behaviour was abnormal were Elizabeth, whom I believed innocent, and Ralph himself
We had reached Smithfield. I looked around the open space, St Bartholomew’s Friary and the hospital still empty and guarded. By the market I saw men in City livery stacking temporary seats in tiers. Others were hammering bolts with chains attached into a long wooden pole. I remembered Vervey telling me there was another burning planned for the next week, a pair of Anabaptists who denied the sacraments and would hold all goods in common. I shuddered, praying they might repent and be spared this horror, and turned the horse towards the priory and Long Lane, where my route lay.