C. Sansom - Lamentation

Both made for the door, the fair man slashing at a potman who stood gaping at the scene; he jumped back frantically and a woman screamed. The two men turned in the doorway, menacing us with their swords for a moment, the face of the dark-haired man white with pain, Okedene’s knife still in his shoulder. Then they turned and ran. I stood looking after them. There was nothing I could do alone. Barak and Nicholas were both hurt, though thank heaven not severely, and Okedene was only now stumbling to his feet, pale and groaning.

The innkeeper appeared with two assistants, each bearing a cudgel. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked angrily. ‘Fighting and near murder in my inn. I’ll have the constable on you!’

‘Didn’t you hear us say we were trying to arrest two murderers?’ I shouted with sudden violence. I took a deep breath and swallowed, for what had happened must have terrified both staff and patrons. I took out my purse and produced a sovereign — one of those Bealknap had given me. I held it up.

‘This should more than cover your trouble.’

The innkeeper looked at it hungrily.

I said, ‘It’s yours if you answer a couple of questions. Have these men been here before?’

‘A few times these last weeks. They always sit talking in that corner after ordering something to eat. And I know their names; I remember because once a man came for them, a messenger from somewhere. He asked if Master Daniels and Master Cardmaker were here. Said it was urgent. Then he saw them sitting in the alcove and went over to them. I didn’t like the look of them. An innkeeper knows when people may be trouble. By Mary, I was right there,’ he added bitterly, looking at the overturned table, the spilled beer on the floor, the deserted room. A few frightened faces peered in from the garden.

I took a deep breath. Learning their names like this was a great piece of luck, though it did not make up for the fact we had lost them, and that Barak and Nicholas had been hurt. I wondered, who had sent that messenger?

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘We’ll go.’ Barak was sitting down, his face white, wrapping his hand tightly with a handkerchief. Nicholas had undone his shirt, revealing a pale but muscular torso. To my relief he had suffered no more than a superficial cut. Colour was returning to Okedene’s face.

‘I must take you and Nicholas to Guy at once,’ I told Barak.

‘How the fuck am I going to explain this to Tammy?’ he said thickly.

I helped him to the door. Outside I turned to Okedene. ‘Sir, will you come with us?’

The printer shook his head. ‘No, Master Shardlake, and I will have no more of this business. I should never have come to you. I will hasten with the sale of my printworks. Thank you for your care in sending that note, but please let us alone now.’ He looked again at my injured companions, then walked slowly away.

Mercifully, Guy was at home. His assistant, Francis, looked astonished when I appeared on the doorstep with two men who were both bleeding profusely. ‘Robbers attacked us,’ I lied. Francis hurried us through to Guy’s consulting room, where he was mixing herbs. ‘By Mary!’ he cried. ‘What has happened?’

I watched anxiously as he examined Nicholas and Barak. Nicholas’s chest wound required only a couple of stitches, which he bore well, biting his tongue as Guy sewed. Then he carefully examined Barak’s left hand. ‘Thank heaven it was a narrow knife,’ he said, ‘and went through the fleshy part between the long bones of your fingers. But it will require stitching, and lavender and other oils to stop the wound becoming poisoned.’

Nicholas frowned. ‘I thought wine was best to clear wounds.’

‘Lavender is better. Though it stings. And a bandage.’ Guy looked at Barak seriously. ‘You will have to wear it for a week, and have it changed regularly. You are right-handed, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Barak. ‘God’s wounds, it hurts.’

‘It will. But with luck, there should be no damage save a little stiffness.’

Barak turned to Nicholas and me. ‘You’ll both be seeing Tamasin at George’s birthday celebration in a few days. I’ll make something up. We’ll discuss the details later, to make sure everyone has them right. I’ll tell her it was an accident at work. I don’t want her catching you out.’

‘Surely your wife will believe you?’ Nicholas said, surprised.

‘Don’t bank on it, lad.’

Guy said, ‘This is not the first time your master has brought Jack Barak here to be tidied up after — an incident of violence, shall we say. And Jack has brought your master, too.’ Guy’s tone was severe, but Nicholas looked at me with new respect.

I said, ‘May I leave them with you, Guy? I am sorry, but I have an important appointment and I fear I will be late.’ On the way I had seen the hand on a church clock showing near eleven.

He nodded agreement. ‘A word, though, Matthew, if you please. I will see you out.’ His mouth was set, his dark face troubled and angry.

Outside he spoke quietly. ‘So, it was not a robbery.’ He shook his head. ‘Again you bring Jack to me after a dangerous encounter, married with a child and with Tamasin pregnant again. And this boy as well.’

‘I am investigating a murder,’ I answered. ‘A pair of rogues who bludgeoned two innocent men to death. They were seen in a tavern, by a witness who brought the news to me at Lincoln’s Inn. It was a chance, perhaps the only chance, to take them. Jack and Nicholas knew there was danger.’

‘Did you take these killers?’

I shook my head angrily. ‘No, they were experienced fighters. They got away.’

‘Matthew,’ Guy said, ‘you ever follow danger. But now this boy, and Jack. Jack is no longer so young, and used to a quieter life now.’

I ran a hand across my brow. ‘I know, I know. But it was my only chance to bring two murderers to justice.’ I stared at my old friend defiantly. ‘And perhaps stop them killing again.’

‘You indicated when we last met that you were involved in something secret, the details of which it would be dangerous for others to know.’

‘Yes.’

He inclined his head to the consulting room door. ‘Have you made Jack and that boy aware of those details?’

I shook my head.

‘Then you should not have involved them,’ Guy said. ‘I am sorry, but that is what I think.’ He looked at me sharply. ‘Is it something to do with the Queen?’

‘What makes you ask that?’

‘I see from your expression that it is. I know you have ever had an immoderate affection for her. I have seen your troubled looks these last months, worrying about her travails. But you should not let it place you in danger — and still less those who work for you.’

‘Why?’ I answered sharply. ‘Because you think her a heretic?’

‘No,’ he snapped back. ‘Because she is the Queen, and because, as you yourself said, thunder circles around thrones. Certainly this King’s throne,’ he added bitterly. I did not answer. ‘Is this man Bertano you asked me about part of it?’ he asked.

I remembered Daniels and Cardmaker mentioning his name back at the inn. I said seriously, ‘Keep that name close, Guy, as you value your safety.’

He smiled wryly. ‘See, you have even involved me in a small way. Think on my words, Matthew. I do not want to have to treat Barak or Nicholas again, and for something worse. Nor you,’ he added in a gentler tone.

I hurried to the Tower, my mind full of conflict. Guy was right: it was my own feelings for the Queen that had set me on this path, trailing danger in my wake like the bad humours of an illness. But I could not just step aside now, even if I wanted to. Those two men at the inn had known my name.