Page 31 of Dark Fire


  I felt cold, despite the warmth of the room, at the coldly calculating way he spoke of the king. And to say the king was incapable of fathering more children was bordering on treason. Cromwell looked up, his face grim.

  ‘There, that’s unsettled you, hasn’t it?’ He looked from one to the other of us. ‘If you fail and that demonstration doesn’t take place you can expect harsh desserts. So don’t fail.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Now leave me.’

  I opened my mouth, but Barak touched my arm and shook his head quickly. Bowing again, we left. Barak closed the door behind us very gently.

  Grey looked at us anxiously. ‘Are there any instructions?’ he asked. ‘No.’ I paused. ‘Only to give me the address where Master Kytchyn is kept.’

  ‘I have it here.’ He delved in a drawer, wrote it down and handed it to me. ‘He and the Gristwoods make strange housemates,’ he said with an attempt at a smile.

  ‘Thank you. Take care, Master Grey,’ I added softly.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  BARAK AND I SAT IN a corner of the Barbary Turk. The tavern where Barak had arranged to meet the sailor from the Baltic was a gloomy, cavernous place, smelling equally of stale beer and salt water, for it was right on the river front. Through the small window I could see Vintry Wharf, crowded with warehouses. I was reminded that the warehouse whose conveyancing I had lost was nearby, at Salt Wharf.

  It was early evening and there were few other customers as yet. In the middle of the room a huge thigh bone, thrice the size of a man’s, hung in chains from the high rafters. When we had arrived, Barak went to fetch some beer and I looked at the plaque fixed to it: The leg of a giant of old times, dug from the Thames silt, anno 1518. The year I came to London. I touched the thing lightly, causing it to swing gently in the embrace of its chains. It felt cold, like stone. I wondered whether it could indeed be from some gigantic man. Certainly humankind took some troubling forms. I thought of my own bent back and the king’s diseased leg, which perhaps was the cause of all his marital troubles. A touch at my arm made me jump, as though someone had divined my dangerous thoughts. But it was only Barak pointing me to the gloomy corner.

  WE HAD HAD AN unsuccessful afternoon, all the more frustrating after Cromwell’s demand for urgency. We had taken a wherry back to Temple Stairs, then walked up to Chancery Lane.

  Leman was waiting there, a little the worse for drink, I saw, and we walked him up to Lincoln’s Inn. Once through the gates he looked round nervously at the imposing buildings and the black-robed barristers walking by, but perhaps the thought of the money to come gave the red-faced stallholder a measure of courage, for he allowed us to lead him to Bealknap’s chambers.

  We climbed the narrow steps to Bealknap’s door only to find it closed, a heavy padlock through the handle. Enquiry of the barrister who occupied the chambers below brought the curt response that Brother Bealknap had gone out early that morning and that he preferred not to enquire after his doings.

  Frustrated, we went across to my own chambers. Godfrey was in the outer office, going over some papers with Skelly. He looked up in surprise as I came in with Barak and Leman in tow. I left them in the office and went with Godfrey to his room.

  ‘No problems with your work,’ he told me, ‘but I’m afraid you’ve another case gone. The house conveyance down by Coldharbour.’

  ‘God’s death, as if I haven’t enough to worry about.’ I ran my hands through my hair. ‘These are all new matters that are going too, new clients.’

  Godfrey looked at me seriously. ‘You ought to look into this, Matthew. It seems that someone is putting out bad words about you.’

  ‘You’re right, but I haven’t time now. I won’t have before next Thursday.’

  ‘You’ll be free then?’

  I smiled wryly. ‘Oh, yes. One way or another.’ I noticed that Godfrey looked tired and felt a twinge of conscience. ‘Are my matters taking up much time?’

  ‘No, but I had some news this morning. I’m to be fined ten pounds for my insolence to the duke.’

  ‘That is a heavy load. I’m sorry, Godfrey.’

  He looked at me seriously. ‘I may have to take up your offer to loan me money. Though it will do you no good if it gets out you are supporting me.’

  I raised a hand. ‘That is the least of my worries at the moment. You shall have it.’

  He leaned forward and grasped my hand. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Let me know what you need.’

  He looked relieved. ‘I must work out how much I can raise myself. So far as I am concerned it is all money spent on God’s work,’ he added piously.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How goes it with the Wentworth case?’

  ‘Slowly. Everything goes slowly. Listen, Godfrey, I need to speak to Bealknap, but he’s out. Can you watch for him, tell him I wish to speak to him urgently? Tell him it is the business we discussed before and I want him to contact me at once.’

  ‘Ay, all right.’ He looked at me curiously. ‘Is this the other matter you are working on?’

  ‘It is.’

  He nodded at the door. ‘You have acquired some odd work fellows.’

  ‘Yes, I’d better get back to them. Pox on Bealknap, he’s probably drumming up shady business in the City. That bottled spider has such a reputation his neighbour downstairs won’t even take messages for him.’

  ‘He is a worshipper of money, a slave to Mammon.’

  ‘Him and half of London.’

  I went back to the outer office. Leman sat at the window, looking idly at the lawyers’ comings and goings. Barak was standing at Skelly’s desk, listening with interest as the clerk explained how copying was done.

  ‘Come, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘Godfrey will let us know when Bealknap arrives.’

  ‘I should be at my stall,’ Leman said. I agreed to let him go, for I could hardly keep him all day and the Cheapside stalls were near enough to send Simon to fetch him. Barak and I walked back to my house.

  ‘You work poor Skelly hard,’ Barak said. ‘He told me he’s been there copying since seven.’

  ‘It takes him two hours to do what most scribes could do in one,’ I snapped. ‘You don’t know what it’s like employing people. It’s not easy.’

  ‘No easy life for Skelly, either.’

  I did not reply.

  ‘There’s something I’ve been thinking about,’ he said. ‘If a man steals a sack of apples, and they’re worth more than a shilling, he’s hanged at Tyburn.’

  ‘That is the law.’

  ‘Yet often enough people don’t pay their debts, do they? That arsehole Bealknap for one from what you say. Your fellow Skelly was copying out a writ for debt, which said the debtor was “scheming fraudulently and craftily to defraud him”.’

  ‘Those are the standard words on the writ.’

  ‘Yet even if the debtor is found guilty, shown to be a liar who has taken a man’s money, he will have to pay the money back, but nothing else will happen to him, will it?’

  I laughed. ‘God’s death, Barak, is that all you have to worry about?’

  ‘Turning things over keeps my mind from my worries.’

  ‘The difference is that in a matter of debt the parties are arguing over a contract, whereas a thief simply takes what is not his. And in a civil court you don’t require the strong evidence you need to hang a criminal.’

  Barak shook his head cynically. ‘We saw what criminal trials are like that day at Newgate. I think the point is more that thieves are poor men while those who make contracts are rich.’

  ‘A poor man may make a contract and be cheated as much as a rich one.’

  ‘And if a poor man is cheated by a rich one, what’s he to do? He can’t afford to go to court.’

  ‘He can go to Poor Man’s Pleas,’ I said. ‘I agree the poor are disadvantaged in the law. But the law can still bring justice. That is its purpose.’

  Barak looked at me askance. ‘You’re a simpler man than I thought if you believe that. But then
you’d see things from the viewpoint of a man of means, one who can tilt his cap at a fine lady of title.’

  I sighed. Why was this converse, like every other I had with him, turning into an argument? We had reached my garden, and I stepped through the doorway without another word. Inside I found a note from Joseph, bemoaning the fact I had no news for him. He reminded me, as though I needed telling, that Elizabeth would be back in front of Forbizer in just a week. I crumpled the note angrily. I considered asking Barak if he thought it safe to go back down the well tomorrow night, but thought it better to leave that request till later. Pox on the fellow and his moods.

  I told Joan to bring us an early supper. Afterwards I walked back up the road to Lincoln’s Inn, but although all the places of business were long shut the padlock was still on Bealknap’s door. I returned home and told Barak we might as well ride down to the tavern; there was no point in waiting any longer for Bealknap.

  THE GIANT’S BONE I had set swinging still turned to and fro in the dim light, creaking ominously in its chains. A man sitting alone at a table eyed it with drunken, puzzled intentness. Barak reappeared and set two mugs of beer before us.

  ‘The landlord says Master Miller and his friends don’t usually come in before eight.’ He took a long draught of beer, wiping his hand on his sleeve. ‘I’ve been a bit of an arsehole this afternoon, haven’t I?’ he added unexpectedly.

  ‘You could say that.’

  He shook his head. ‘It was the earl,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘God’s wounds, I’ve never seen him in such a parlous state. We mustn’t repeat a word he said about the king. Saying he could have no more children - Jesu.’ He looked nervously around, though no one was near.

  ‘Why in God’s name did he tell us?’

  ‘To scare us. Make us privy to his own dangerous words.’

  I shook my head sadly. ‘I remember the earl when I first knew him ten years ago. He was only Wolsey’s secretary then, but you could sense the power in him. The confidence, the force. Today he seemed - desperate.’

  ‘I think he is desperate.’

  I leaned close, lowering my voice to a whisper. ‘But Cromwell can’t fall. Half the king’s council are tied to him and London’s a reformist city—’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘Londoners are fickle as seed. I should know, I’ve lived here all my life. No one will help the earl if the Howards turn the king against him. Christ alive, who would dare defy the king?’ He blew out his cheeks, then shook his head. ‘Did you hear Norfolk referring to my Jewish name? He must have a list of the earl’s people.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘Maybe he’ll put me in the Domus to be converted. They still put the odd shipwrecked Jew in there, I know.’

  ‘But your family converted hundreds of years ago. You’re as much a member of the Church of England as I am.’

  He smiled sardonically. ‘When I was a boy I remember at Easter the priest always gave a sermon about how the Jews crucified Our Lord, how wicked they were. Once I let out an almighty fart; I’d been holding it in specially and it was a ripper. The priest looked up and all the boys sniggered. My mother gave me a real beating when we got home. She didn’t like my father talking about how he was descended from Jews.’ His voice took on the bitter note it had whenever he spoke of her. ‘I want another drink.’

  ‘We may be here some time before these sailors arrive. We should stay sober.’

  ‘My head can take some more. I need it. God, I’m supposed to see my girl later, but I don’t feel like it. I’ve no taste for women tonight.’

  ‘She’ll think you’ve tired of her,’ I said. I wondered if Barak was one of those who, finding the conquest of women easy, treat it as a light business and never form a lasting relationship. It was of a piece with his restless, roving nature.

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am.’ He changed the subject. ‘You’ll be seeing your friend Lady Honor again tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes. At the bear-baiting.’

  ‘I haven’t been to a baiting for an age. Last time I went to the bull-baiting a great bull tossed one dog so high people in the street saw it above the top of the stadium. It made a real mess when it landed again.’

  ‘I was wondering whether we might try Sir Edwin’s well once more tomorrow night,’ I said hesitantly.

  He nodded. He looked at the giant’s bone, still swinging slightly. ‘All right. God’s death, that gave me a scare last night. I’d swear it was eyes glinting up at me.’ He got up and crossed to the hatch where the beer was served. I watched him, frowning. I wondered if it might have been jewellery Barak had seen down the well, the glint of precious stones in the candlelight. But I feared it was not.

  The door opened again and half a dozen big heavy fellows tramped in, sunburnt and tired looking. Their hands and smocks were black with coal dust. I wondered if this was Miller and his friends. The landlord signalled to them and Barak joined them at the hatch. The men looked suspicious as they crowded round Barak, who was talking fast. I wondered whether to go over, but nods from the men indicated the conversation had come to a satisfactory conclusion. Barak walked back to me, laying two more mugs of beer on the table.

  ‘That’s Hal Miller and his mates. They arrived in London at lunchtime and they’ve been unloading coal all afternoon, as you can see from their looks. They didn’t want to talk to me at first.’

  ‘They looked quite ugly for a moment.’

  ‘Ay, but I promised them money and showed them the earl’s seal for good measure. Let them get their beer before we join them.’

  The men took their drinks across to a large table in the centre of the room. They looked over at us. Not friendly looks - they seemed worried. But why, if they had wonders to tell, for sailors like nothing better than tale-telling? I was watchful as I followed Barak over to them. He introduced me as one of Lord Cromwell’s officials and we sat down. The gritty smell of coal dust made me want to sneeze.

  ‘Been working hard, bullies?’ Barak asked.

  ‘All day,’ one said. ‘Coal for the king’s bakeries.’ He had a strange, singsong accent and I realized that like many of the collier men he came from the wild northern counties.

  ‘Hard work in this heat,’ I ventured.

  ‘Ay, and not well rewarded,’ another said, with a meaningful look at Barak, who nodded and slapped the purse at his belt, making the coins jingle.

  ‘Which one of you is Hal Miller?’ I asked, deciding to bring matters to the point.

  ‘I’m Hal.’ A burly man in his forties, with a bald head and big gnarled hands, spoke up. Keen blue eyes stared at me from his red, dirt-streaked face.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about a new drink that was brought from the Baltic shores some months ago. I understand you had a part in trying to sell it.’

  ‘I might have done,’ he said. ‘Why is Lord Cromwell interested?’

  ‘Mere curiosity,’ I said. ‘He is interested in how it was made.’

  ‘There were others who were interested. Others who threatened me.’

  ‘Who!’ I asked sharply.

  ‘A man who called himself Toky.’ Miller spat on the floor. ‘Bold as a savage for all his poxy looks.’

  ‘The earl can offer you his protection,’ Barak said.

  ‘What was his interest in this stuff?’ I asked.

  ‘He wanted to buy it from us.’

  ‘Did he now?’

  ‘Ay.’ Miller sat silent a moment, then leaned forward, resting his big arms on the table. ‘Last autumn I was offered a place on a ship one of the Merchant Adventurers was running up to the Baltic Sea. You know they’re trying to open trade up there, break the Hanseatic League’s monopoly?’ I nodded. ‘My mates told me to stay on the colliers and I wish I had. We were three weeks crossing the North Sea and sailing up the Baltic and once we were there we daren’t stop at the German ports in case the Hanse merchants had us arrested. We were hungry and damned cold by the time we’d sailed up to the wild parts where the Teutonic Knights rule. By Christ, it’s dismal up t
here. Nothing but pine forests right down to the shore. The whole sea freezes over in winter—’

  ‘You made landfall?’ I asked.

  ‘Ay, at a place called Libau. The Polacks there were keen to trade with us. We took on a cargo of furs mainly, and some other curiosities Captain Fenchurch had never seen, like a strange doll that you open up to find other dolls inside. And a barrel of this stuff called wodky the Poles drink. We crewmen tried a little, but the stuff burned like fire. Just a cupful made us sick as dogs. Captain Fenchurch brought half a barrel back with him, though.’

  As the soldier St John once brought another barrel back from Constantinople, I thought. ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘Captain Fenchurch paid us off in London. With the costs of the voyage he’d made little profit even with the furs, and he’d no plans then for another. So I went back to the colliers. But he gave me a bottle of the Polish stuff as a keepsake and I brought it here. Remember that night, Robin?’

  ‘I’ll not forget it in a hurry.’ One of the others, a young fair-haired fellow, took up the tale. ‘Hal came in and told us all about the Poles, their long beards and pointy fur hats and the dark forests, then he brought out this bottle of pale stuff and passed it round, saying it was what the Poles drank. You warned us it was strong stuff though, Hal, told us only to take a sip.’

  ‘You knew better, though, Robin,’ one of the others said, laughing.

  ‘I thought I did,’ the fair-haired fellow replied. ‘I took a long swig at the bottle and, by Our Lady, I thought my head was going to burst. I spat the stuff straight out, right across the table. It was winter and dark, there were candles on all the tables. The stuff hit the candle and knocked it over and then - by Jesu—’