Dark Fire

Chapter Twenty-one

LADY HONOR'S HOUSE WAS in Blue Lion Street off Bishopsgate. It was a big old four-storey courtyard house, the front giving directly onto the street. It had been sumptuously refurbished in the recent past. I could see why it was known as the House of Glass; new diamond-paned windows had been put in along the whole frontage, with the Vaughan family crest in some of the centre panes. I studied it: a rampant lion with sword and shield, the epitome of martial virtues. There was something feminine about the overall effect, however; I wondered if the work had been done since Lady Honor's husband died.

The front door was open, with liveried servants standing outside. Although I was dressed in my uncomfortable best, I worried that I would appear an unsophisticated fellow for I was unused to mixing in such high company. I pulled a little ruff of silk shirt above the collar of my doublet to display the needlework.

I had ridden Chancery to the banquet; the old horse appeared recovered from his recent exertions and trotted along happily enough. A lad took the reins as I dismounted and another servant bowed me through the front door. He led me through a richly decorated hall into a large inner courtyard. Here too all the rooms had large glass windows, and heraldic beasts had been carved on the walls as well as the Vaughan crest. There was a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, with just enough water emerging to make a merry, tinkling noise. Opposite, a large banqueting hall occupied the first floor. Candles flickered behind the open windows, casting ever-changing shadows on the people moving to and fro within, and there was a merry clatter of cutlery. It struck me that if Lady Honor had been involved in the Greek Fire business, it was certainly not because she needed money.

The steward led me up a broad flight of stairs to a room where bowls of hot water were set out on a table with a pile of towels. The bowls, I saw, were gold.

'You will wash your hands, sir?'

'Thank you.'

Three men were already standing washing; a young fellow with the Mercers' Company badge on his silk doublet and an older man in a white clerical robe. The third man, who looked up with a beaming smile on his broad face, was Gabriel Marchamount. 'Ah, Shardlake,' he said expansively, 'I hope you have a sweet tooth. Lady Honor's banquets positively drip with sugar.' Evidently he had decided to be affable tonight.

'Not too sweet, I must watch my teeth.'

'Like me you still have a full set.' Marchamount shook his head. 'I cannot abide this fashion for women to blacken their teeth deliberately so people will think they live off nothing but fine sugar.'

'I agree. It is not pretty.'

'I have heard them say the pains in their mouth are worth it, if people respect them more.' He laughed. 'Women of Lady Honor's class, though, women of real estate, would disdain such effect.' He dried his hands, replacing the showy emerald ring on his finger and patted his plump stomach. 'Come then, let us go in.' He took a napkin from a pile and flung it over his shoulder; I followed his example and we went out to the banqueting chamber.

The long room had an old hammerbeam ceiling. The walls were covered with bright tapestries showing the story of the Crusades, the papal tiara carefully stitched out where the Bishop of Rome was shown blessing the departing armies. Big tallow candles, set in silver candleholders, had been lit against the dark evening and filled the room with a yellow glow.

I glanced at the enormous table that dominated the room. The candlelight winked on gold and silver tableware and serving men scurried to and fro, placing dishes and glasses on the broad buffet against one wall. As was the custom, I had brought my own dining knife, a silver one my father had given me. It would look a poor thing among these riches.

The salt cellar, a foot high and particularly ornate, was set at the very top of the table, opposite a high chair thick with cushions. That meant nearly all the guests would be below the salt and therefore that a guest of the highest status was expected. I wondered if it might even be Cromwell.

Marchamount smiled and nodded round at the company. A dozen guests were standing talking, mostly older men, though there was a smattering of wives, some wearing heavy lead rouge to brighten their cheeks. Mayor Hollyes himself was there, resplendent in his red robes of office. The other men mostly wore Mercers' Company livery, though there were a couple of clerics. Everyone was perspiring in the oppressive heat despite the open windows; the women in their wide farthingales looked especially uncomfortable.

A boy of about sixteen with long black hair and a thin, pale face, badly disfigured with a rash of spots such as boys sometimes have, was standing by himself in a corner, looking nervous. 'That's Henry Vaughan,' Marchamount whispered. 'Lady Honor's nephew. Heir to the old Vaughan title and to their lands, such as they have left. She's brought him down from Lincolnshire to try and get him received at court.'

'He looks ill at ease.'

'Yes, he's a poor fellow; hardly cut out for the rumbustuous company the king likes.' He paused, then said with sudden feeling, 'I wish I had an heir.' I looked at him in surprise. He smiled sadly. 'My wife died in childbirth these five years past. We would have had a boy. When I began my petition to establish my family's right to a coat of arms, it was in hope my wife and I would have an heir.'

'I am sorry for your loss.' Somehow it never occurred to me to see Marchamount as a man who could be bereaved and vulnerable.

He nodded at the mourning ring in the shape of a skull I wore. 'You too have known loss,' he said.

'Yes. In the plague of 'thirty-four.' Yet I felt a fraud as I spoke, not just because Kate had announced her betrothal to another shortly before she died but because these last two years I had thought of her less and less. I thought with sudden irritation I should stop wearing it.

'Have you resolved that unpleasant matter we discussed earlier?' Marchamount's eyes were sharp, all sentiment gone.

'I make progress. A strange thing happened in the course of my investigations.' I told him of the books that had gone missing from the library.

'You should tell the keeper.'

'I may do.'

'Will your investigation be – ah – hindered, without the books?'

'Delayed a little only. There are other sources.' I watched his face closely, but he only nodded solemnly. A serving man took up a horn and sounded a long note. The company fell silent as Lady Honor entered the room. She wore a wide, high-bosomed farthingale in brightest green velvet and a red French hood with loops of pearls hanging from it. I was pleased to see she wore no leaden rouge; her clear complexion had no need of it. But it was not to her that all eyes in the room turned; they fixed on the man who followed her, wearing a light scarlet robe edged with fur despite the heat, and a thick gold chain. My heart sank – it was the Duke of Norfolk again. I bowed with everyone else as he strode to the head of the table and stood eyeing the company haughtily. I wondered with a sinking heart whether he would remember I had been sitting next to Godfrey on Sunday; the last thing I wanted was to attract the notice of Cromwell's greatest enemy.

Lady Honor smiled and clapped her hands. 'Ladies and gentlemen, please, take your places.' To my surprise I was placed near the head of the table next to a plump middle-aged woman wearing an old-fashioned box hood and a square-cut dress, a large ruby brooch glinting on her bosom. On her other side Marchamount sat just below the duke. Lady Honor guided the nervous-looking boy to a chair next to Norfolk, who stared at him enquiringly.

'Your grace,' Lady Honor said, 'may I present my cousin's son, Henry Vaughan. I told you he was coming from the country.'

The duke clapped him on the shoulder, his manner suddenly friendly. 'Welcome to London, boy,' he said in his harsh voice. 'It's good to see the nobility sending their pups to court, to take their rightful place. Your grandfather fought with my father at Bosworth, did you know that?'

The boy looked more nervous than ever. 'Yes, your grace.'

The duke looked him up and down. 'God's teeth, you're a skinny fellow, we'll have to build you up.'

'Thank you, your grace.'

Lady Honor guided Mayor Hollyes to a place next to the Vaughan boy, then sat herself almost opposite me. The boy's eyes followed her anxiously.

'Now,' Lady Honor said to the company, 'the wine and our first confection.' She clapped her hands and the servants, who had been waiting still as stocks, bustled into action. Wine was set before the guests, in delicate Venetian glasses finely engraved with coloured patterns. I turned mine over in my hands, admiring it, then the horn sounded again and a swan made of white sugar, nestling in a huge platter of sweet custard, was brought in. The assembly clapped and the duke barked with laughter. 'All the Thames swans belong to the king, Lady Honor! Had you permission to take this one?' Everyone laughed sycophantically and reached out with their knives to cut into the magnificent confection. Lady Honor sat composedly, yet her eyes followed everything that went on in the room. I admired her skills as a hostess, wondering when I would get the chance to question her.

'Are you a lawyer, like Serjeant Marchamount?' the woman next to me asked.

'I am. Master Matthew Shardlake, at your command.'

'I am Lady Mirfyn,' she replied grandly. 'My husband is treasurer of the Mercers' Guild this year.'

'I do some business, with the Guildhall, though I have not had the honour of meeting Sir Michael.'

'They say at the guild, you have some other business now.' She eyed me severely with little blue eyes that stood out sharply in her painted face. 'The disgraceful business of the Wentworth girl.'

'I am defending her, yes.'

She went on staring at me. 'Sir Edwin is devastated by what happened to his son. He deplores that his wicked niece should be allowed to delay justice. My husband and I know him well,' she added, as though that were the last possible word on the matter.

'She is entitled to a defence.' I noticed the duke had turned to Marchamount and was talking to him earnestly, ignoring the Vaughan boy, who sat staring down the table, quite at sea. Thank God the duke had showed no sign of recognizing me.

'She's entitled to hang!' Lady Mirfyn would not let go. 'No wonder the City is crawling with impertinent masterless beggars when justice is seen to be evaded so! Edwin doted on that boy,' she added fiercely.

'I know it is hard on Sir Edwin and his daughters,' I said mildly, hoping the woman would not go on like this all evening.

'His daughters are good girls, but they cannot take the place of a son. He had laid all his hopes on the boy.'

'But he has taught his girls to read scripture, has he not?' I decided I might as well make the best of things: this opinionated woman knew the family, she might let something interesting drop.

Lady Mirfyn shrugged. 'Edwin has advanced ideas. I don't think it serves girls to teach them religion – their husbands won't like arguing ideas with them, will they?'

'Some might.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'I never even learned to write, and I'm glad to be able to leave such things to my husband. I'm sure that's what Sabine and Avice would prefer too, good well-mannered girls that they are. Poor Ralph was a mischievous child, but that is to be expected in boys.'

'Was he indeed?' I asked.

'They said his misbehaviour helped drive his mother to her early grave.' She gave me a sharp look, suddenly realizing she had said too much. 'That doesn't excuse his vile murder, though.'

'No, indeed. It does not.' I was going to add that I believed the real murderer could still be at large, but Lady Mirfyn took my words for agreement, nodded with satisfaction and looked at Lady Honor.

'Our hostess is a learned woman,' she said with a note of disapproval. 'But I suppose she has the status of a widow and may live independently if she chooses. It is not a fate I would wish for.'

I heard a loud whisper from Norfolk to Marchamount. 'I'll not take the boy up unless she agrees.' I lowered my head, trying to catch the serjeant's reply, but he spoke softly. 'Damn it,' the duke hissed, 'she'll do as I command.'

'I fear she won't.' I heard Marchamount this time.

'God's death, I'll not be defied by a woman. Tell her I'll do nothing for the boy unless I get what I want. She's skating on thin ice.' I saw the duke take a long swig from his glass, then stare at Lady Honor. He was red-faced now and I remembered it was said he was often drunk and could turn brutal then.

Lady Honor met his eyes. The duke smiled and raised his glass. She raised her glass in return, with a smile that looked nervous to me. A servant appeared by her side and whispered something. She nodded and, looking relieved, stood up. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' she said. 'Many of you have heard of the edible, yellow things from the New World that have been raising eyebrows since they arrived last month.' She paused, and there were guffaws of bawdy laughter from some of the men. 'Well, we have some tonight on beds of marzipan. Ladies and gentlemen, the sweetest fruit of the New World.'

She sat down and there was more laughter, and clapping, as the servants laid half a dozen silver trays on the table. There, on beds of marzipan, lay strange, pale yellow crescents. I understood the bawdy laughter, for the things were the size and almost the shape of a big erect cock.

'So this is what everyone is laughing about,' Lady Mirfyn said. 'Such naughtiness.' She giggled, turning innocently girlish as rich matrons will when confronted with bawdy humour.

I picked up one of the strange fruits and bit into it. It was unyielding, with a bitter taste. Then I saw people were peeling back the skins to reveal a pale yellow fruit within. I followed their example. It was floury, rather tasteless.

'What are these called?' I asked Lady Mirfyn, who had also taken one.

'They have no name I know of,' she said. She looked down the laughing table, shaking her head indulgently. 'Such naughtiness.'

I heard my name on Lady Honor's lips and turned to find her smiling at me. 'The mayor says you have a knotty case for the council, involving the suppressed monasteries,' she said.

'Ay, Lady Honor. I fear we lost the first round, but we shall gain the second. It is a matter of the City's rights to regulate these buildings for the good of all the citizens.'

Mayor Hollyes nodded seriously. 'I hope so, sir. People don't understand that the regulations on cleanliness need to be enforced to keep away the foul humours that bring plague. And so many houses are let out as poor tenements now.' He spoke animatedly, as one who has mounted a hobby horse. 'You heard about the house near the Joiners' Hall that collapsed last month? Killed fourteen tenants and four passers-by –'

'Let them all fall!' There was a shout from the head of the table and all eyes turned to the duke. He slurred his words and I saw that he was, indeed, drunk. His conversation with Marchamount seemed to have put him in a foul temper. 'The more houses fall on the diseased populace of this great cesspit the better. Perhaps that will scare some into going back to their parishes where they belong, to work on the land as they did in our fathers' time.'

A silence fell on the company, as deep as had fallen at the Lincoln's Inn dinner. The Vaughan boy looked as though he wished to crawl under the table.

'Well, we may all agree much needs amending,' Lady Honor said. She tried to make her voice light, but it had a strained quality. 'Did not Bishop Gardiner preach a sermon last week, saying all must labour according to their station to keep the realm in proper order?' As she quoted these anodyne words from the leading conservative bishop she looked round the table, hoping for someone to help defuse the topic. She did not wish for controversy tonight, it seemed.

'So we must, Lady Honor,' I said, stepping into the breach. She gave me a smile of gratitude as I stumbled on. 'We must all aim to work for the common good.'

The duke snorted. 'Your work. Pen-pushing. I remember you, lawyer, you were with that churl who spouted Lutheran sentiments at me last Sunday.' I confess I quailed under his cold, hard stare. 'Are you a Lutheran, too, lawyer?'

Every eye turned to me. To answer yes was to risk a charge of heresy. For a moment my voice caught, I was too frightened to answer. I saw one of the women rub a hand across her face, leaving a smear of rouge. There was another rumble of thunder, closer now.

'No, your grace,' I said. 'A follower of Erasmus only.'

'That Dutch pederast. I heard he lusted after another monk when he was a boy, and d'you know what his name was, eh?' He looked round the table, grinning now. 'Roge-rus. Roger-us, hey?' He gave a sudden bark of laughter that broke the spell. The men up and down the table began laughing with him. I sank back in my chair, my heart thudding, as the duke turned to young Henry Vaughan and began telling tales of his soldiering days.

Lady Honor clapped her hands. 'Some music, now.' Two lute players appeared together with a gaudily dressed young man, who began singing popular songs, loud enough to hear but not too loud to stifle conversation. I looked down the table. The conversation had become desultory; between the heat, the drink and the sweet food most of the diners looked sticky and tired. Further sweetmeats followed, including a model of the House of Glass itself made of marzipan set with strawberries, but the guests only picked at it.

The young man was trilling a lament, 'Ah, Gentle Robyn,' and the diners stopped talking to listen. It caught the gloomy mood that seemed to have fallen on the company. Norfolk, alone, was talking to Marchamount again. Lady Honor caught my eye and leaned forward.

'Thank you for trying to help me earlier,' she said. 'I am sorry it turned out ill.'

'I was warned your table talk could be controversial.' I leaned across to her. 'Lady Honor, I must talk with you –'

Her face was suddenly wary. 'In the courtyard,' she said quietly, 'afterwards.'

Everyone jumped as a crack of thunder sounded from outside. A draught of cool air swept through the room. People murmured with relief and someone said, 'Is this the rain at last?'

Lady Honor took the words as her cue and stood up with an air of relief. 'It is a little early, but perhaps you should leave now, get on the road before the rain starts.'

People got up, brushing the backs of their robes and skirts where they had stuck to the benches. Everyone bowed as the duke rose to his feet, stumbling slightly. He bowed curtly to his hostess and strode unsteadily from the room.

As the guests went to take their farewell of Lady Honor I hung back. I saw Marchamount bend close to her and speak intently. As at Lincoln's Inn, her reply did not seem to satisfy him; he was frowning slightly as he turned away. As he passed me he paused and raised his eyebrows.

'Be careful, Shardlake,' he said. 'I could have had the duke as a friend for you, but you seem to court his disapproval. If the times change, that could have consequences.' He gave me a cold nod, then left the chamber.

Consequences, I thought: if Norfolk supplanted Cromwell there would be grim consequences for all but the papists. And if I could not find Greek Fire the king would be in a rage. Was that what whoever was behind this wanted, a papist victory? Or only profit?

I made my way downstairs and stood outside in the courtyard by the door. There was another rumble of thunder, closer now. The evening air seemed to sing with the tension of it. No one else came out that way; I guessed they were taking a direct route to the stables. I wondered what it was that Norfolk wanted so much to get from Lady Honor. Something Marchamount knew about.

There was a touch at my elbow. I jumped and turned round. Lady Honor stood beside me. Her strong, square face had a hectic look, as well it might after the evening's events.

'I am sorry, Master Shardlake, I startled you.'

I bowed. 'Not at all, Lady Honor.'

She sighed heavily. 'That was a disaster. I have never seen the duke in such bad humour, I am sorry for the trouble he caused you.' She shook her head. 'It was my fault.'

'Was it? Why?'

'I should have got the servants to watch his glass,' she said. She took a deep breath, then looked at me directly. 'Well, you have some questions for me. Serjeant Marchamount has told me what happened to the Gristwoods,' she added quietly.

'He is a friend, the serjeant?'

'A friend, ay,' she said quickly. 'I am afraid there is little I can tell you. Like Serjeant Marchamount I was only a messenger. I took a package to Lord Cromwell for the serjeant, passed a message that the contents would be of great interest to him. It was after one of my banquets, in circumstances rather like this.' She smiled wryly. 'That was all; further messages went via Lincoln's Inn. I never even met Gristwood.'

Something about her speech was too pat. And now I was close to her, I realized with a shock that the scent she wore was the same musky odour the Greek Fire papers had had about them.

'Did you know what the package was?' I asked.

'Papers relating to the old secret of Greek Fire. Serjeant Marchamount told me. I suppose he shouldn't have done but he does like impressing me.' She laughed nervously.

'How long did you have the papers?'

'A few days.'

'And you looked at them?'

She paused and took a deep breath, her bosom rising.

'I know you did,' I said gently. I did not want to hear her lie.

She gave me a startled look. 'How?'

'Because that alluring scent you wear was on them. A faint trace – I could not place it till just now.'

She bit her lip. 'I fear I have a woman's curiosity in full share, Master Shardlake. Yes, I read them. I resealed the package afterwards.'

'Did you understand them?'

'All except the alchemy books. I understood enough to make me wish I'd left them alone.' She looked at me directly then. 'It was wrong, I know. But as I told you I am as curious as a cat.' She shook her head. 'But I know, too, when something is better left alone.'

'This means that you are the only person who handled those papers to open them. Unless Marchamount did.'

'Gabriel is too careful to do that.'

But he knew this was about Greek Fire. Had he told Norfolk? Was Norfolk pressing Lady Honor to tell him more? I felt my guts tighten at the thought Norfolk himself might be involved. Was that why he had remembered me?

'Did you think the papers actually held the secret of Greek Fire?' I asked her.

She hesitated, then looked me in the eye. 'It seemed to me perhaps they did. The account of the old soldier was very clear. And those papers were old, they weren't some forgery.'

'One was torn.'

'I saw. I did not tear it.' For the first time I saw a look of fear in her eyes.

'I know. That was the formula. The Gristwoods kept it back.'

Somewhere over the river lightning flashed. Another crack of thunder sounded, making us both start. Lady Honor's mouth was tight with worry. She looked at me earnestly. 'Master Shardlake, will you have to tell Lord Cromwell I looked at the papers?' She swallowed.

'I must, Lady Honor. I am sorry.'

She swallowed. 'Will you ask him to deal with me kindly?'

'If you truly told no one, no harm has been done.'

'I didn't, I swear.'

'Then I will tell him you admitted frankly that you read the papers.' But I doubted she would have done so had I not told her I recognized her scent.

She let out a sigh of relief. 'Tell him I am sorry for what I did. I confess I have been worried I would be found out.'

'You must have been afraid when Serjeant Marchamount told you the Gristwoods were dead.'

'Yes, I was shocked when I heard they had been killed. I have been so foolish,' she added with sudden passion.

'Well,' I said, 'foolishness may be forgiven.' I hoped Cromwell would agree.

She looked at me curiously. 'You have a bloody trade, sir. Two murders to investigate.'

'Believe it or not, my specialism is property law.'

'Did that old shrew Lady Mirfyn tell you anything useful about the Wentworths? I saw you talking to her.'

Truly she missed little. 'Not much. All still depends on getting Elizabeth to talk. And I have been neglecting that matter.'

'You care about her.' She had recovered her composure quickly; her tone was light again.

'She is my client.'

She nodded, the pearls in her hood catching the light from the window. 'Perhaps you are a man of too gentle feeling to deal with blood and death.' She smiled softly.

'As I told you last week, I am a mere jobbing lawyer.'

She shook her head, smiling. 'No, you are more than that. I thought so when I first saw you.' She inclined her head, then said, 'I felt your whole being resound with sadness.'

I stared at her in astonishment; I felt tears prick suddenly at the corners of my eyes and blinked them away.

She shook her head. 'Forgive me. I say too much. If I were a common woman, I would be called malapert.'

'You are certainly out of the common run, Lady Honor.'

She looked over the courtyard. There was another rumble of thunder after a flash of lightning, which showed sadness in her face. 'I miss my husband still, though it has been three years. People say I married him for his money, but I loved him. And we were friends.'

'That is a fine thing in a marriage.'

She inclined her head and smiled. 'But he left me the memories of our time together and also a widow's status. I am an independent woman, Master Shardlake, I have much to be grateful for.'

'I am sure you are worthy of that status, my lady.'

'Not all men would agree.' She moved away a little and stood by the fountain, facing me in the gloom.

'Serjeant Marchamount admires you,' I ventured.

'Yes, he does.' She smiled. 'I was born a Vaughan, as you know. My early life was spent learning deportment, embroidery, just enough reading to make good conversation. The education of a woman of good birth is very dull. I wanted to scream with the boredom of it, though most girls seem happy enough.' She smiled. 'There, now you will think me a malapert. But I could never help nosing into men's affairs.'

'Not at all. I agree with you.' The Wentworth girls came into my mind. 'I too find conventionally accomplished girls dull.' As soon as I had said the words I wished I had not, for they could be taken as flirtatious. I found Lady Honor fascinating, but did not wish her to know that. She was, after all, still a suspect.

'Lady Honor,' I said, 'I have Lord Cromwell's commission. If – if anyone is putting pressure on you to give information about those papers, he will afford you his protection.'

She gave me a direct look. 'There are those who say he will soon have no protection to afford anyone. If he cannot resolve the king's marriage problems.'

'Those are rumours. The protection he can give now is real.'

I saw her hesitate, then she smiled, but tightly. 'Thank you for your care, but I have no need of protection.' She turned away a moment, then looked back at me, her smile warm again. 'Why are you unmarried, Master Shardlake? Is it because all these ordinary women bore you?'

'Perhaps. Though – I am not an attractive proposition.'

'In some dull eyes, perhaps. But some women prize intelligence and sensitivity. That is why I try to bring good company round my table.' She was looking at me keenly.

'Though sometimes the mixture turns explosive,' I said, turning the conversation into a jest.

'It is the price I pay for trying to bring men of different ideas together, in hope that by reasoned discussion over good food they may resolve their differences.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'And perhaps the arguments are entertaining to watch?'

She laughed and raised a finger. 'You have found me out. But usually it does no harm. The duke can be good company when he is sober.'

'You would like your nephew to regain your family's old fortunes? A place at court beside the king?' Norfolk could offer that, I thought – in return for information about Greek Fire? Was that why he had first welcomed the boy, then ignored him?

She inclined her head. 'I would like my family to regain what it lost. But perhaps Henry is not the one to do it, he is not the brightest boy, nor the most robust. I cannot see him at the king's side.'

'They say the king's manners can be rougher than the duke's.'

Lady Honor raised her eyebrows. 'You should be careful what you say.' She looked around quickly. 'But no, you are right. Have you heard the tale that the duke's wife once complained to him about his flaunting his mistress before her, and the duke ordered his servants to sit on her till she was silent? They kept her lying on the floor till blood flowed from her nose.' Her lip curled with disgust.

'Ay. You know, I have a workfellow just now whose origin could not be lower, and he and the duke have much the same manners.'

She laughed. 'And you stand between the highest and the lowest, a rose between the thorns?'

'A poor gentleman only.'

We both laughed; then our laughter was lost in a tremendous crash of thunder right above us. The heavens opened and a great torrent of rain fell down, soaking us in an instant. Lady Honor looked up.

'O God, at last!' she said.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. The cold water was indeed marvellous after the broiling heat of the last days. I gasped with the relief of it.

'I must go in,' Lady Honor said. 'But we must talk more, Master Shardlake. We must meet again. Though I have no more to tell about Greek Fire.' And then she came close and quickly kissed my cheek, a sudden warmth amidst the cold rainwater. Without looking back, she ran though the door to the stairs and closed it. As the rain pelted down on me I stood there with my hand on my cheek, overcome with astonishment.