Dark Fire

  ‘I know,’ I said quietly. ‘The image of great ships on fire forever comes unbidden to my head. But, Guy, if Cromwell does not get it, others will, foreign powers who would use it against England.’

  ‘And take her back to Rome?’ He raised his eyebrows, and I remembered he was neither English nor Protestant. He considered for a moment. ‘What did you wish to ask me?’

  ‘Do not answer if you feel you cannot. But I know now that there was a barrel of Greek Fire kept at Barty’s for a hundred years. And that there was a formula. My belief is the Gristwoods used the period between their discovery last October and their approach to Cromwell in March to build their apparatus - there is evidence of that - but also to try and make some more, using the formula.’

  ‘A barrel would not last for ever.’

  ‘Exactly. And with two ships destroyed, most of the barrel is probably used up. That they could set that fire last night may indicate they have made more. But how, Guy? How does an alchemist create material from a formula?’

  ‘By finding the correct mixture of the four elements. Earth, air, fire and water.’

  ‘That all things are composed of. Yes, but that is no easy task.’

  ‘To be sure. It is easy enough to make iron, using the minerals God has seeded in the earth, but hard to make gold or we would all be eating from gold plates and the stuff would be worthless.’

  ‘And to make Greek Fire, how easy might that be?’

  ‘Without the formula, it is impossible to tell.’

  I sat up. ‘You spoke of iron and gold just then. There are some things that are common, easy to find, like iron, and others like gold which are very rare.’

  ‘Of course. That is obvious.’

  ‘I have been reading about the history of fire weapons in the east. We know the Byzantines had no problem in finding the elements needed to create the liquid that is set on fire. Equally, similar substances are mentioned by the Romans, but they were not developed as weapons. I think that perhaps a crucial element needed to manufacture Greek Fire is hard to get. I think the Gristwoods may have been looking for a substitute for this missing element. This could have led them to the Polish drink that burned the table at the inn.’

  He stroked his chin. ‘So they used that to make Greek Fire?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps.’

  ‘And, from what you say, they were already working with the rogues who were to become their killers in a plot against Cromwell?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know how that came about. But, Guy, if I was able to find some of the original Greek Fire in the Barty’s churchyard I told you of—’

  His face wrinkled in distaste. ‘Desecrating graves—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I agree. But it is to be done anyway. If I found some and brought it to you, could you analyse it for me, distil its essence or whatever it is you do?’

  ‘I am an apothecary, not an alchemist.’

  ‘You know as much of their arts as most of them do.’

  He took a deep breath and folded his arms. ‘To what end, Matthew?’ he asked.

  ‘To help me find out what has happened—’

  He broke in sharply. ‘Matthew, you forget what you are asking me. To analyse Greek Fire so that Thomas Cromwell may have the secret.’ He paced the room, his dark face more serious than I had ever seen it. At length he turned to me.

  ‘If you can find this cursed stuff and bring it to me I will look at it. But then I will destroy it. I will give you no clue to its manufacture that may help Cromwell. If my researches throw up anything that will aid you to catch these murderers without doing that, I will tell you. I am sorry, Matthew, but that is all I am prepared to do.’

  ‘Very well. I agree.’ I extended my hand and he took it. He still looked serious. ‘St Gregory of Nyssa once said all the arts and sciences have their roots in the struggle against death. And so they should have. This thing of ruin and destruction is a perversion, a monstrosity. If you find that formula, you should destroy it and all the world will be safer.’

  I sighed. ‘I am bound to Cromwell. And to help my country.’

  ‘And how do you think Cromwell, and King Henry, would use Greek Fire, ruthless men of blood that they are? For murder and mayhem, that is how.’ He was angry. ‘This is far worse than Scarnsea, Matthew. Cromwell has used you again not just to hunt a murderer, but to aid him in a brutal, cruel blasphemy.’

  I bit my lip.

  ‘And Barak,’ he continued, ‘how does he see things?’

  ‘He is utterly loyal to his master.’ I looked at Guy. ‘I will tell him nothing of this conversation.’ I leaned back on the bed with a sigh. ‘You do well to upbraid me,’ I said quietly. ‘I have worried about what Greek Fire may do, but - yes, I have been driven on by a passion to catch these murderers, recover what was stolen. And to save Elizabeth Wentworth. At any cost.’

  ‘That cost may be too high. You must decide when the time comes, Matthew. It will be between you and God.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  IT WAS LATE MORNING by the time we arrived home. I opened the front door quietly, hoping we might get upstairs without Joan seeing our sorry condition, but paused at the sight of a note in Godfrey’s large round hand on the table. I broke the seal.

  ‘Bealknap’s back!’ I said. ‘He’s in his chambers. Thank God, I feared he might be—’ I did not finish the sentence.

  ‘Let’s get a message to Leman then,’ Barak said, ‘and go to Lincoln’s Inn.’

  Just then Joan appeared from the kitchen, alerted by our voices. Her eyes widened at the state we were in.

  ‘Sir, what’s happened now?’ There was a slight quaver in her voice. ‘When you didn’t come back last night I was worried.’

  ‘There’s been a bad fire over at Queenhithe,’ I said gently. ‘We were caught up in it, but we’re all right. I’m sorry, Joan, there have been many turmoils this week.’

  ‘You look worn out, sir. What happened to your hair, Master Barak?’

  ‘It got singed. I look monstrous, hey?’ He gave her his most charming smile. ‘What I need is someone to cut the other side, so I don’t frighten the children.’

  ‘I could have a try.’

  ‘You are a pearl among women, Mistress Woode.’

  While Joan fetched some scissors and took Barak up to his room, I scribbled a note to Leman and gave it to a wide-eyed Simon to take to Cheapside. Then I went up. I shut my bedroom door and leaned on it wearily. Guy’s words about the nature of my mission returned to me. I had been too tired, too frightened for myself and the others involved, to think much further than uncovering the conspirators. But what if I were to succeed? What if the time came when the Greek Fire formula was in my hands? What would I do then? I remembered poor Bathsheba’s words. A plot against Lord Cromwell. Just what had Michael and his brother planned that had been interrupted by their deaths? I shook my head. For now there was nothing to do but go on, beard Bealknap in his den now I had the chance. It was the fifth of June, I realized, only five days left.

  AT LINCOLN’S INN I left Barak and Leman in my rooms, then crossed the courtyard to Marchamount’s chambers to enquire after him. Distasteful though the prospect was, I had to talk to him about Lady Honor once I had seen Bealknap. His clerk, though, said he was out at Hertford, appearing in a case before the circuit judge, and would not be back until the morrow. I cursed inwardly. At least on my mission for Cromwell three years before I had had all the parties secure in a monastery enclosure. I told the clerk I would return on the morrow also, and went back to where Leman and Barak waited, watching Skelly laboriously copying out the application for the Chancery writ for Bealknap’s case. Leman, who seemed more confident today, asked if Bealknap was in his rooms.

  ‘So the message said. I shall just check with my colleague,’ I replied.

  Leman smiled, a grim smile that anticipated revenge.

  I knocked at Godfrey’s door and went in. He was standing looking from the window, a troubled expression on his thin face. He
gave me a watery smile.

  ‘Come to see Brother Bealknap, Matthew? I saw him go to his chambers earlier.’

  ‘Good. Are you all right, Godfrey?’

  He fingered the hem of his robe. ‘I have had a letter from the secretary. It seems the Duke of Norfolk is not satisfied with my fine. He wants a public apology in hall.’

  I sighed. ‘Well, Godfrey, you did break all the rules of courtesy—’

  ‘You know it is not about that!’ he snapped out, his eyes flashing. ‘However it is worded, it will be taken as an apology for my religious beliefs.’

  ‘Godfrey,’ I said seriously, ‘for Jesu’s sake, make your apology and live to fight another day. If you refuse you’ll be debarred, and a marked man.’

  ‘Perhaps it would be worth it,’ he said quietly. ‘It could become a legal cause célèbre, like the Hunne case.’

  ‘Hunne was murdered for defying the Church by thugs employed by the papists.’

  ‘It was a noble way to die.’ A strange smile played round the corners of Godfrey’s mouth. ‘Is there any better way?’

  I shuddered involuntarily. There it was again, that strange urge some had to be martyred, to exult in the righteousness of their suffering. I stared at him. He gave a little laugh.

  ‘That’s a strange look, Matthew.’

  On the spur of the moment, I said, ‘Godfrey, may I put a case to you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What if that God gave you a miraculous power, a thunderbolt that could fell all your enemies at once, whole armies. All you needed to do was raise your hand.’

  He laughed. ‘That is a far-fetched case, Matthew. There have been no such miracles since Our Lord’s time on earth.’

  ‘But just say you were given such a gift.’

  He shook his head piously. ‘I would not be worthy.’

  ‘But say you had it,’ I persisted. ‘Something that, if used, would inevitably kill thousands, many of them innocent. Would you use it?’

  ‘Yes, I would. I would place it at the service of King Henry to confound his enemies at home and abroad. Does not the Old Testament tell us that often many must die if God’s cause is to be served? Remember Sodom and Gomorrah.’

  ‘They were destroyed in fire and thunder.’ I closed my eyes a moment, then looked at him. ‘You won’t apologize, will you?’

  He smiled gently, that fierce holy light in his eyes again. ‘No, Matthew, I will not.’

  WE MOUNTED THE NARROW stairs to Bealknap’s rooms. The padlock had been taken away. I gave a peremptory knock on the door. Bealknap himself opened it. He had left off his robe and his doublet too in the hot weather, and was wearing only his white linen shirt. Coarse yellow hairs protruded above the collar. With his lawyer’s regalia off, he looked more like the rogue he was.

  ‘Brother,’ I said, ‘I have been trying to find you. Where have you been?’

  He frowned. ‘On business.’ He eyed Barak’s shorn head in surprise. ‘Who’s this?’ Then he caught sight of Leman and his eyes widened. The stallholder gave him an evil grin. Bealknap tried to slam the door in our faces, but Barak was too quick for him, jamming his foot in the door and putting his shoulder to it. Bealknap staggered back, while Barak winced and rubbed his arm. ‘God’s death, I’d forgotten the burn.’

  We stepped in. Bealknap’s chamber was as untidy as ever, the chest prominent in its corner. The door to his living quarters was open. Bealknap stood in the middle of the room, his face red with outrage.

  ‘How dare you!’ he shouted. ‘How dare you burst in here?’ He pointed a long finger at Leman. ‘Why have you brought that rogue, Shardlake? He has a grudge against me, he will tell any lies—’

  Barak spoke up. ‘You won’t remember me, master, I was just a boy, but my stepfather used to be one of your witnesses in the bishop’s court. Edward Stevens. Strange people, witnesses. Sometimes they’ll appear out of the blue and swear to the honesty of a man they couldn’t possibly have met.’

  In all the time I had known this pestilential lawyer I had never seen him lose his composure, but now he stood with clenched fists, taking deep breaths. ‘This is all lies,’ he blustered angrily. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, Shardlake—’

  ‘No game.’

  Bealknap’s lips parted, showing long yellow teeth. ‘If you’re trying to pressure me into giving way on my properties, it won’t work. I’ll have you disbarred.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ I said contemptuously.

  ‘Your clutch-fistedness has caught up with you, Master Bealknap,’ Leman said with pleasure. ‘Only a tiny piece of gold from yonder chest to pay me what you owed would have saved you this.’

  ‘Master Leman has prepared a statement,’ I said. I took a copy from my robe and held it out to Bealknap. He clutched it and read, frowning. Yet as I watched him I sensed that something was wrong. He should have been terrified, facing the ruin of his career, yet he seemed only enraged. He lowered the statement.

  ‘Hunting down a brother barrister,’ he said in a savage whisper, ‘getting Cheapside stallholders to swear false statements - what is this about? What do, you want?’

  ‘You remember I have a commission from Lord Cromwell?’

  ‘I told you all I knew about that matter. Which was next to nothing.’ He waved a hand angrily. If he was lying he did it well.

  ‘I want to know the nature of your connection with Sir Richard Rich, Bealknap.’

  ‘That is none of your damned business,’ he said stoutly. ‘Yes, I have a commission from Sir Richard, I work for him. It is his business I have been on these last few days.’ He raised a hand. ‘And I will not be questioned about that. God’s death, I’ll go to Sir Richard now, I’ll tell him of your pestering—’

  ‘Brother Bealknap, if you do not answer my questions, I shall go to Lord Cromwell.’

  ‘Then he can speak to Sir Richard.’ Bealknap nodded grimly. ‘There, you did not expect that, did you?’ He reached for his robe. ‘I shall go to him now. You are out of your depth, sir; you have been dabbling in matters that are beyond you.’ He laughed in my face. ‘Have you not realized that yet? Now, out of my chambers.’ He threw open the door. Barak clenched his fists.

  ‘Lord Cromwell can have you on the rack, you great bony arsehole.’

  Bealknap laughed. ‘I think not, though he might make your arses smart after my master and he have spoken. Now leave!’ He waved at the door.

  There was nothing left but to go. As soon as we were outside, the door was slammed in our faces.

  We stood on the landing. Barak gave me a puzzled look. ‘I thought he’d be terrified.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘Lord Cromwell, Richard Rich.’ Leman gave me a sidelong look. ‘I don’t want any more to do with this, sir, I’m going back to my stall.’ And with that he turned and hastened downstairs, without even asking for the rest of the money I had promised him.

  Barak and I were left looking at each other. ‘Well, that went well,’ Barak said sarcastically.

  ‘What can Rich have to say to Cromwell that will turn his anger on to us?’ I shook my head. ‘Cromwell is the chief secretary, Rich is a big fish but nowhere near that big.’

  ‘And what does he know about Greek Fire?’ Barak took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to have to get word to the earl about this.’ He began descending the stairs.

  I followed him. ‘Do you know where Cromwell is today?’

  ‘Whitehall again. I’ll ride there now. You go home and rest. You look like you need it. Do nothing till I return.’

  I wondered if he and Cromwell might have things to say he did not want me to hear. But if he did, there was nothing I could do about that.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  IT WAS MORE THAN two hours before Barak returned. I waited for him in my parlour, looking out over the garden as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen. I was still exhausted after my terrifying experience of the night before, but though my eyes smarted with tiredness I could not rest. Thou
ghts chased each other round my head. What had Bealknap meant? What was it I should have realized? And what was I to do if my planned trip to St Bartholomew’s proved successful and we actually found some traces of Greek Fire? My conversation with Guy nagged at me; I could not keep the broader implications of what I was doing from my mind. It would be better, surely, if nobody had Greek Fire. But Toky’s master, whoever that was, had it already.

  At length, tired of prowling round the room, I decided to go to the stables. As I stepped outside, I winced at the heat - it was hotter than ever - and became conscious that everything ached, my burned arm, my back, my eyes, my head.

  Barak had collected Sukey, but Genesis stood quietly in his stall. He gave a whicker of recognition when he saw me. Young Simon was mucking out the stables.

  ‘How is Genesis settling in?’ I asked.

  ‘Well enough, sir, he’s a good horse. Though I miss old Chancery.’

  ‘So do I. Genesis seems a placid beast.’

  ‘He wasn’t at first, sir. He was anxious in his stall, couldn’t settle. I feared he might kick me.’

  ‘Really?’ I was surprised. ‘He was no trouble to ride.’

  ‘He’s probably been well trained in Lord Cromwell’s stables, sir, but I think he was used to larger quarters there.’ Simon flushed as he mentioned the earl’s name; it was a source of wonder to the boy that I was associated with so great a man.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Master Barak told me he had his hair burned off last night in a fire.’ The boy’s eyes were wide with curiosity. ‘Is he a soldier, sir? I sometimes think he looks like one.’

  ‘No. Just a minor servant of the earl, like me.’

  ‘I would like to be a soldier one day.’

  ‘Would you, Simon?’

  ‘When I’m older I shall train for the muster. Fight the king’s enemies, who would invade our realm.’

  From his words I guessed someone had been reading an official proclamation to him. I smiled sadly as I stroked Genesis’s neck. ‘Soldiering is a bloody trade.’