Dark Fire

Chapter Twenty

THE RIVER WAS CROWDED again and we had to wait at the steps for a boat. Barak leaned on the parapet.

'Do you think Bealknap bribed that judge?' he asked.

'I wouldn't be surprised. Heslop has a poor reputation for honesty.'

'Will you win if you take the case to Chancery?'

'We should do. They'll look at the merits of the matter. But God knows when we'll get on. Bealknap's right about their delays – I named my horse for their slow ways.' I looked at Barak seriously. 'Find one of these compurgators. We can offer a reward and perhaps immunity from prosecution if Cromwell will agree. We need a lever over Bealknap, especially if he's got Rich behind him.'

'Ay, I'll do it.' He turned to face me. 'I'll not go to my stepfather, though, even if I knew where he and my mother lived. Not even for the earl.'

'No? I thought there were no limits to your loyalty.'

His eyes flashed. 'I loved my father, for all he smelt of shit. My mother would have nothing to do with him; he took up his trade after I was born or I'd not be here at all. I was twelve when he died.' I nodded, interested. For the first time my difficult companion was showing me something of himself.

'We'd had this cheating attorney as a lodger for years, Kenney his name was. He had the best part of the house while we had two rooms. He was good with words and my mother liked him, he was –' Barak almost bit off the words – 'a step up the social chain. She married him a week after father died: the poor old arsehole wasn't even cold in the ground. D'you know what she said to me? Same as you did coming from that house in Wolf's Lane. "A poor widow must look after herself."'

'So she must, I suppose.'

'After that, I went mad for a while.' He gave a bark of laughter. 'Sometimes I think I'm still a bit mad. I ran away from home, left school, though I'd been doing well. I got in with the gangs. A poor child must look after himself too, you know.' He stared out over the water. 'Ended by getting caught stealing a ham. I was put in prison and would have faced the rope; it was a big ham, worth over a shilling. But the warden was a Putney man and recognized my father's name. Coming from the same part of the world as Lord Cromwell he had contacts with him; I ended up going before him and he put me to work, running errands at first and then other things.' Barak turned to me. 'So I owe the earl everything. My very life.'

'I see.'

He stood up, taking a deep breath. 'There was a pub by the Tower where my stepfather met Bealknap. I think it was a meeting place for Bealknap's stable of rogues. I'll go down there, try to find it.'

I looked at him. 'No wonder you have no good opinion of lawyers.'

'You're more honest than most,' he grunted.

'You never see your mother or stepfather?'

'I've seen them once or twice about the City, but I always turn away. I'm dead for all they know or care.'

WE TOOK A WHERRY as far as Three Cranes Stairs, then walked north to Lothbury. I had to hurry to keep up with Barak's loping pace. By the Grocers' Hall a couple of young gentlemen in fine doublets were mocking a beggar who sat in the doorway, displaying a face caked with weeping sores to stir the public's pity.

'Come, fellow, you should go for a soldier!' one was saying. 'Everyone is needed at muster now, to fight the pope and the king's enemies.' He took a sword from a leather scabbard and waved it. The beggar, who looked hardly fit to rise let alone take up arms, scrabbled back in panic, making the hoarse grunts of a dumb man.

'He can't speak the king's English,' said the other fellow. 'Maybe he's a foreigner.'

Barak walked over, hand on his own sword, and looked the young gallant in the eye. 'Leave him,' he said. 'Unless you'd like to try your luck with me?'

The fellow's eyes narrowed, but he sheathed his sword and turned away. Barak took a coin from his pocket and laid it by the beggar. 'Come on,' he said curtly.

'That was a brave gesture,' I said. The words of the motto on the barrel of Greek Fire came back to me. Lupus est homo homini: man is wolf to man.

Barak snorted. 'Those arseholes are only fit to bait those who can't fight back.' He spat on the ground. 'Gentlemen.'

We reached Lothbury Street. Ahead of us stood St Margaret's church, beside which narrow lanes led off into a warren of little buildings from where a metallic clangour could be heard. Because of the endless noise virtually no one save the founders lived in Lothbury.

'Goodwife Gristwood will meet us at her son's foundry,' I said. 'We go up here, Nag's Lane.'

We turned into a narrow passageway between two-storey houses. Cinders and fragments of charcoal were mixed with the alley dust and there was a harsh smell of hot iron. Nearly all the houses had workshops attached; their doors were open and I could see men moving within. Spades scraped on stone floors as coal was loaded into furnaces from which a bright red, concentrated glow was visible.

At length I halted in front of a small house. The workshop door was closed; Barak knocked twice. It opened and a wiry young man wearing a heavy apron over an old smock pitted with burn holes looked at us suspiciously. He had Goodwife Gristwood's thin, sharp features.

'Master Harper?' I asked.

'Ay.'

'I am Master Shardlake.'

'Come in,' the founder replied in a less than friendly tone. 'Mother's here.'

I followed him into his little foundry. An unlit furnace dominated the room, a pile of charcoal beside it. A collection of pots was stacked by the door. On a stool in one corner Goodwife Gristwood sat. She gave me a surly nod.

'Well, master lawyer,' she said. 'Here he is.'

Harper nodded at Barak. 'Who's that?'

'My assistant.'

'We founders stick together,' he said warningly. 'I've only to call out for half Lothbury to be here.'

'We mean you no harm – it is only information I want. Your mother has told you we seek information about Michael and Sepultus's experiments?'

'Ay.' He sat down beside his mother and looked at me. 'They told me they wanted to build something, an arrangement of pumps and tanks. That's beyond my capacity, but I do a lot of casting for a man who works for the City repairing the conduits.'

'Peter Leighton.'

'Ay. I helped Master Leighton cast the iron for the pipes and the tank.' He looked at me keenly. 'Mother says there could be danger for those who know about this.'

'Perhaps. We may be able to help there.' I paused. 'The liquid that was to be put in the tank? Did you see anything of that?'

Harper shook his head. 'Michael said it was a secret, it was better I didn't know. They did some tests in Master Leighton's yard. They leased the whole yard from him and wouldn't let him near. It has a high wall; he keeps lead pipes there for work on the conduits.'

I wondered what Harper's relationship had been with Gristwood, who was, after all, his stepfather. I guessed it had not been one of affection, but that the nature of his employment made him useful.

'What was this apparatus like?' I asked.

He shrugged. 'Complicated. A big watertight tank with a pump attached and a pipe leading off. It took weeks to make, then Master Leighton said I'd have to have another try – the pipe was too broad.'

'When did the brothers first employ you?'

'November. It took till January to get the apparatus right.'

Two months before they went to Cromwell. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'And where was it kept? In Master Leighton's yard?'

'I believe so. They paid him well for its use.'

Goodwife Gristwood laughed mirthlessly. 'Did Master Leighton get his money?'

'Ay, Mother, he did. He insisted on payment in advance.'

She frowned. 'Then where did Michael get the money? Neither he nor Sepultus had any.'

'Perhaps someone else paid,' I suggested.

'They'd have had to,' the goodwife answered bitterly. 'I spent fifteen years dealing with Michael's mad schemes. Sometimes I had hardly any bread for the table. And it's all ended with him dead and David in danger.' She looked at her son with a tenderness that softened her face.

'I can make sure you are both kept safe,' I said. 'But I would like to speak to Master Leighton.' I looked at David Harper. 'Have you told him I was coming?'

'No, sir. We thought it better not.'

'Will he be at his foundry?'

'Ay, he has a new contract to repair the Fleet Street conduit. He said last Friday he'd have some casting for me. Pleased with himself, he was.'

'Can you take us there?'

'And will that be the end of this business?' Goodwife Gristwood asked.

'You need be involved no further, madam.'

She nodded at her son. He rose and led the way outside. His mother scuttled after him.

We walked up the lane, further into Lothbury. Through open doors we saw sweat-soaked founders, stripped to the waist, labouring over their fires. People looked out at us curiously as we passed by. At the bottom of a winding lane David stopped before a corner house, larger than most, with a workshop next to it and a high wall beside that.

'If there were sounds and signs of fire,' Barak muttered to me, 'they wouldn't attract attention here.'

'No. This was a clever place to choose.'

David knocked at the door of the house. It was shuttered, as were the windows of the workshop. Harper tried the workshop doors too, but they were locked.

'Master Leighton,' he called. 'Master Leighton, it's David.' He turned to us apologetically. 'Many founders grow deaf in their later years. But it's odd his furnace isn't lit.'

I had a sense of foreboding. 'When did you last see him?'

'Friday, sir, when he told me about his new contract.'

Barak looked at the lock. 'I could have that open.'

'No,' Harper said. 'I know who has a key. Everyone has a neighbour's key in case of fire. Wait here.' He went off down the lane. All around us the banging and clanging resounded in our ears. Goodwife Gristwood began twisting her hands together nervously.

Her son reappeared, a large key in his hands. He unlocked the door and we entered the yard. It was indeed a good place for Michael and Sepultus to have chosen; the high wall enclosed it on three sides and the windowless rear of the adjacent house occupied the fourth. There was a pile of pipes and valves, for Leighton's work on the conduits, no doubt. Blackened patches all over the walls caught my eye, like the ones I had seen in the Gristwoods' yard only larger.

Goodwife Gristwood and her son were standing nervously by the gate. I gave David Harper a reassuring smile – he looked as though he might run off any minute.

'Master Harper,' I said, 'tell me: does anything unusual strike you about this yard?'

He looked around. 'Only that it's been given a good clean recently.'

I nodded. 'That's what I thought. It's spotless.'

'Why would anyone want to keep a founder's yard spotless?' Barak asked.

'To hide all traces of what had been here.' I bent close to him and whispered, 'I think someone has removed the apparatus, and all traces of Greek Fire as well.'

'Leighton?'

'Possibly. Come, I think we should have a look in the house.'

I led the way out of the yard. We knocked again at the house door, but still there was no sign of life. I wiped a hand over my brow; it seemed hotter and stickier than ever up here among the foundries. All around us the clanging and scrating continued.

'We can get in via the workshop,' Harper said. 'It's the same key.' He hesitated, then opened the workshop door and stepped inside calling, 'Master Leighton?' Barak followed him.

'I'll stay outside,' Goodwife Gristwood said nervously. 'Take care, David.'

I followed Barak in. David opened the shutters and I saw a cluttered workshop, more pipes and valves and pans and an empty furnace. Harper picked up a coal from it. 'Stone cold,' he said.

Set in one wall was a door to the house. Harper hesitated, then inserted the key in the lock and opened it. Another darkened room. I caught a slight, familiar tang and grabbed Barak's arm. 'Wait,' I said.

Harper opened the shutters and turned round. Then his mouth fell open. We were in a parlour, surprisingly well appointed, but it was in chaos. The buffet cupboard had been overturned and lay on its side, silver plates scattered around.

David Harper had gone pale. He stood with his hand over his mouth. 'They got him too,' I whispered. 'They took the apparatus and killed him.'

'Then where's the body?' Barak asked.

'Somewhere in the house, maybe. I smell blood.' Instructing Harper to stay where he was, Barak and I searched the rest of the founder's home, Barak drawing his sword as we climbed the narrow stairs. Everything was in order, it was only the parlour that had been wrecked. We returned there to find David Harper had gone outside; through the window I saw him with his mother, looking at the house with a frightened expression. A man with a load of pans on his back passed by, giving them a puzzled look.

'They took the body with them,' I said, 'together with the apparatus. They didn't want a hue and cry about a murder in Lothbury.' I knelt and examined the floor. 'See, this part of the floor's been cleaned, there's no dust.' I saw a pair of flies buzzing around the overturned buffet, and took a deep breath. 'Here, Barak, help me move this.'

I wondered what horror we might find underneath the buffet, but there was only a patch of dried blood. Barak whistled.

'Where did they get the key?'

'From Leighton's body, perhaps.' I looked over to the front door. 'They didn't break the door in. I guess they knocked, and when Leighton answered they shoved him inside and then followed and killed him. Probably a quick blow with an axe again.'

'Risky. What if he called out and neighbours came? Harper's right, the founders are a close lot.'

'Perhaps Leighton knew them.' I bit my lip. 'Or knew someone who was with them. One of our potential conspirators, maybe.'

'We should ask the neighbours.'

'We can, but I'm willing to bet they came at night when no one was about. Come, there's no more we can do here.'

We rejoined Harper and Goodwife Gristwood in the street. Standing together, they were very alike, even to their looks of drawn anxiety.

'What's happened, sir?' Harper asked. 'Is Master Leighton –'

'He is not there. But I am afraid there are signs of violence –'

Goodwife Gristwood gave a little moan.

'I am concerned for the safety of you and your son, madam,' I said. 'Is the watchman still at your house?'

'Ay, he brought me here, then I sent him back.'

I turned to Harper. 'I think your mother should stay with you for now. I will try and find somewhere safer.'

The old woman gave me an appalled look. 'What did they do? For Jesu's sake, what did Michael and Sepultus do here?'

'Meddled with dangerous people.'

She shook her head, then looked at me again, her mouth tightening into its old hardness. 'That whore,' she asked abruptly, 'did you see her?'

'I tried to, but she ran away.' I turned to David. 'Is it possible someone could carry away that apparatus without being noticed? Perhaps on a cart?'

He nodded. 'People are always trundling carts through Lothbury with goods to take to customers and the shops. Day and night too when we're busy.'

I nodded. 'Ask around, would you, among the neighbours? Just say Leighton's missing. Would you do that?'

He nodded, then put his arm round his mother. 'Are we truly in danger, sir?'

'I think your mother may be. Who knows where she is?'

'No one save me and the watchman at Wolf's Lane.'

'Tell no one else. Can you read?'

'Ay.'

I scribbled my address on a piece of paper. 'If you have any news, or require anything, you can reach me here.'

He took it, nodding. His mother clung to his arm. I was glad they had each other; they had no one else now.

I WAS WEARY, but insisted on stopping at a barber's for a shave in preparation for the banquet. Barak waited for me, then we caught a boat back to the Temple and walked home. I insisted on resting before getting myself ready. I dozed an hour and woke feeling unrefreshed. The sky was as leaden, the air as close, as ever. How I wished the weather would break. I got up, feeling stiff, and for the first time in days did some of Guy's back exercises. I was bending over, trying to touch my toes and getting nowhere near, when there was a knock at the door and Barak entered. His eyes widened in surprise.

'That's a strange way to pray,' he said.

'I'm not praying. I'm trying to find some relief for my sore back. And haven't you the manners to be asked to enter a room before barging in?'

'Sorry.' Barak sat down cheerfully on the bed. 'I came to tell you I'm going out. An old contact of mine has some information on the two we're after. Pock-face and his big mate. I'm going to meet him, then I'm going to see the earl.' His expression grew serious. 'Tell him about Rich. He may want to see you.'

I took a deep breath. 'Very well. You know where I'll be. And ask if he can find somewhere safe for the Gristwoods.'

Barak nodded, then gave me a warning look. 'So far we've had more requests for him than information.'

'I know, but we're doing all we can.'

'You'll have to ride to Lady Honor's house alone.'

'It is still light.'

'Afterwards I'll find that tavern where Bealknap met my stepfather. It'll keep me occupied while you're at the banquet.'

'Very well.'

'Are you sure you don't want to have a crack at that well later? After the banquet?'

I shook my head. 'I'll be too tired, I have to get some sleep. I have to pace myself, Barak,' I added irritably. 'I've more than ten years on you. Just how old are you, by the way?'

'Twenty-eight in August. Listen, I've been trying to puzzle something out. I can understand whoever organized the killing of the Gristwood brothers keeping the formula close, perhaps to sell abroad when things have quietened down. But why try to kill the founder Leighton? Why kill everyone associated with this?'

'They could have killed Leighton just as a way of getting to the apparatus. We know they've no care for life.'

'And they're keen to get you. They don't seem to like you being on the case.'

I frowned. 'But is that just because I might uncover who is behind this, the person who is paying these rogues? Or is it that they fear I might find something out about Greek Fire? Is that why those books have gone?'

Barak's eyes widened. 'You can't still think it may all be a fraud, surely? Not after what you've seen and heard?'

'There's something that's not right. I must go to the Guildhall, find copies of those books.' I clutched at my head. 'God's death, there's so much to do.'

'It beats me what you can hope to find from a lot of old books.' He sighed. 'Four possible suspects now. Bealknap and Rich. Marchamount. And Lady Honor. Make sure you question her tonight.'

'Of course I will,' I snapped.

Barak gave his sardonic smile. 'You're sweet on her, you're still a man of juice under all that learning.'

'You've a coarse tongue. Besides, as you pointed out yourself, she's out of my league.' I looked at him. He had mentioned seeing a girl on the first night he came to my house, but beyond that I knew nothing of what women there might have been in his life. Many, I guessed, for all the fears of the French pox these days.

He lay back on the bed.

'Bealknap and Rich,' he said again, 'Marchamount and Lady Honor. One or more of them a murdering rogue. So much for people of rank being honourable, not that I ever believed it.'

I shrugged. 'The idea of raising oneself up to gentle rank has always seemed a worthy thing to me. But perhaps that ideal will turn to dust, like Erasmus's hopes of a Christian commonwealth. In these whirling days, who knows?'

'Some things last,' he said. He smiled. 'I said I'd show you this, remember?'

'What?'

Barak sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. There was something gold on the end of a chain, glittering against his broad chest. It wasn't a cross, it looked more like a little cylinder. He lifted the chain over his head and proffered it. 'Take a look.'

I examined the cylinder. The surface had been engraved once but the gold was worn almost smooth with time. 'It's been passed down my father's family for generations,' he said. 'It's supposed to be to do with the Jewish religion. My father called it a mezzah.' He shrugged. 'I like to have it by me, to bring me luck.'

'The workmanship is fine. It looks very old.'

'The Jews were kicked out more than two hundred years ago, weren't they? One of them must have kept it when he converted and passed it down. A reminder of the past.'

I turned it over in my hands. Tiny as it was, the cylinder was hollow, with a slit down one side.

'Father said they used to put a tiny scroll of parchment in there and put the mezzah by the door.'

I handed it back. 'It's remarkable.'

Barak replaced it, buttoned up his shirt and got up. 'I must be gone,' he said briskly.

'And I should get ready. Good luck with the earl.'

As the door shut behind him, I turned to the window and looked out over my parched garden. The clouds were so heavy now that although only it was only late afternoon it was dim as dusk. I unlocked my chest and began reaching for my best clothes. Somewhere, away over the Thames, a distant rumble of thunder sounded.