C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'We have to go on,' I said.

Tamasin sat down opposite her husband. She looked him in the eye, with an expression that was somehow both angry and sad. 'It is not what you're doing now that makes me angry with you. It is what you've been like since our baby died.'

Barak looked at me, then back at her. 'You shouldn't be talking of this in front of someone else. Not that you haven't already, I know.'

'I talk in front of someone else because you won't listen when we talk alone.' Tamasin's voice rose to a shout and she banged a hand on the table, making us both jump. 'Do you ever think what it's been like for me since the baby died? Do you think a day passes without it all coming back to me, the day he was born? You weren't there, you were out drinking. Yes, that was when that started—'

'Tamasin—' Barak raised his voice, but she raised hers higher.

'The pain, the awful pain, I never felt anything like it. You don't know what women bear. And then the midwife telling me the baby was all twisted round in my womb, she couldn't bring him out alive and I would die unless she broke his little skull. You didn't hear that crack, it wasn't loud but it still sounds over and over in my head. Then she lifted him out and I saw he was dead — anyone could see he was dead — but still I wanted so desperately to hear him cry, hear him cry . . .' Tears were rolling down her face now. Barak had gone pale, and sat very still.

'You never told me,' he said.

'I wanted to spare you!' she cried. 'Not that you spared me. Coming back drunk, always going on about your son, your poor son. My son too.'

'I didn't realize it had been like that,' Barak said. 'I just knew he was born dead.'

'What in God's name did you think it was like?'

He swallowed. 'I've heard - that when a baby is twisted in the womb like that it can stop a woman having others. We—'

'I don't know if that's why there have been no others!' Tamasin shouted. 'Is that all you care about? Is that all you can say to me?'

'No, no, Tammy, I didn't mean—' Barak raised a hand. He should have gone up to her, taken her in his arms and comforted her, but he was too shocked by her outburst. All he seemed able to do was raise that hand. Tamasin stood up, turned round and left the room.

'Go to her,' I said. 'Go to her now.' But he just sat there, helpless, shocked. 'Come on,' I said more quietly. 'After all that we have been through, surely you can pull yourself together to comfort your wife.'

He nodded then and stood up, wincing at a stab of pain from his cracked ribs. 'Poor Tamasin,' he whispered. He stepped to the door but as he did so the front door slammed. Joan was in the hall. 'Tamasin's just gone out,' she said. 'I told her we weren't supposed to go out alone, but she just ignored me.'

Barak went past her. I followed him outside. We could see no sign of Tamasin. We went to the gate and stood looking up and down the road. A moment later Barak's horse Sukey went past the gate at a canter, Tamasin sitting side saddle. She must have gone to the stables. Barak called after her, but she disappeared down Chancery Lane, riding fast towards Fleet Street.

TWO HOURS LATER, I was tying Genesis up outside the Bedlam. Barak had ridden out to try and find Tamasin, but she had disappeared into the crowds. We had no idea where she might have gone; she was an orphan, alone apart from Barak. She had had a few friends from her days as a very junior servant in Queen Catherine Howard's household, but Barak said she seldom saw them now. I realized how utterly, dreadfully lonely she must have been these last months.

Barak had gone off to see if he could still trace any of her friends. It seemed her outburst had shocked him into realizing fully what his behaviour had done, and he was full of contrition. I prayed that if he found her he would not retreat behind his defensive armour again. It was something he had to do alone, so I had ridden out to see Adam.

Hob Gebons let me in. He took me to Shawms' room, where the keeper produced a paper on which was written a report to the court saying that Adam was eating, was kept secure and received regular visits from his doctor. It struck me as being too well written for Shawms to have done it.

'Did Warden Metwys help you with this?' I asked.

Shawms gave me a surly look. 'I'm no hand at writing. I didn't come from some rich educated family.'

'I'll see how Adam is today. If it is still as you say I will approve the report.' I paused. 'Has Dr Malton been to see him?'

'Can't keep him out of the place.'

'Is he due today?'

'He comes and goes when he pleases.'

'And Ellen, how does she fare? I hope you have not been tormenting her again?'

'Oh, she's behaving herself now. 'Hob!' he called, and the fat warden reappeared. 'Visitor for Adam Kite. He's had more callers in a month than most patients get in five years.'

Gebons led me to Adam's cell. He was alone, chained as usual, and to my surprise he was standing looking out of his window, into the back yard. 'Adam,' I said quietly. He turned, then as soon as he saw me he slid down the wall, bent over and began to pray. I went and joined him, kneeling with some difficulty; it hurt my burned back.

'Come on, Adam,' I said. 'It is me. I will not harm you. You were not praying just now.' A thought struck me. 'Do you do this so you do not have to talk to people?'

He hesitated for a moment, then gave me a sideways look. 'Sometimes. People frighten me. They seek to hunt out my sins.' He hesitated. 'You did not tell my parents what - what I did with that Jezebel?'

'You mean the girl Abigail? No. I will say nothing, nor will Guy. We have a legal duty to keep your confidence. But your parents love you, Adam, I have seen that they love you.'

He shook his head. 'Always they used to criticize me, tell me to be quiet, respectful in my behaviour. They told me of the perils of sin. They know I am a sinner.'

'Are they not just repeating what Reverend Meaphon tells them?' I asked.

Adam sighed deeply. 'He is a man of God. All he wants is to bring people to salvation—'

'Your parents want more. They want you to return their love. I know your father wants you to go into the business with him one day.'

'I do not know. They say a son going into his father's trade can undo his reputation.' He hesitated, then added, 'And I do not want to be a stonemason, I do not like the work. I never have. That is another sin.' He shook his head.

'My father was a farmer, but I had no interest in it. I wanted to be a lawyer. I do not think that was a sin. Does not God give us each our own calling?'

'He calls us to be saved.' Adam screwed his eyes shut. 'Father, look down on me, look down and save me, see my repentance—'

I rose slowly to my feet. I frowned. Something in what Adam said had rung a bell. And then I made the connection with what

Timothy had said about visitors. I had spent so much time thinking about who the boy was who had visited Abigail that I had missed the rest of what the boy had said. I found I was trembling, for I realized that Adam had accidentally given me the answer. If I was right, I knew now who the killer was. It shocked me.

I jumped as the door opened, and Ellen came in with a tray. She coloured when she saw me there. 'I am just bringing Adam his food, sir,' she said. As a good servant should.'

'You have been much more than that to poor Adam, Ellen.' I took a deep breath. 'I would like to talk to you again, Ellen, but now I have to go — something urgent I must attend to. But I thank you again for Adam's care. I will see you soon.'

She gave me a puzzled look. With a quick bow, I walked rapidly away, past the door of the man who thought he was the King, and who called to me to walk sedately near the royal presence. First I had to go home and talk to Timothy. Then I had to see Dorothy, for if I was right it was she who might hold the last piece of the puzzle.