C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'What?' he asked eagerly. 'What's happened?'

I explained. 'If he'd make a clean breast of it, the judge might agree an adjournment if he's in a good mood. But Bealknap will lie and fudge.'

'Sir Geoffrey's done for, then?'

'He may be.'

Bealknap was crouched on the floor now, looking through his pannier again, frantically, hopelessly. His arms were shaking as he rifled through the bag. Then the usher appeared in the doorway of the courtroom.

'Let all who have business before His Majesty's Court of Requests step forward

Bealknap looked at him in despair. Then he rose and joined the crowd as everyone stepped forward into the old white-painted hall with its high dirty windows, the judge on his bench in his scarlet robes the only splash of colour.

SIR STEPHEN AINSWORTH, Judge of Requests, was fair but sharp- tongued. As soon as he came to our case he said the court record was incomplete. As I had expected, Bealknap rose and said he had filed the deeds but the court clerk must have lost them, asking quickly for an adjournment.

'Where is your receipt for the deeds?' Ainsworth asked.

'I left it with my clerk, but he has the key to the office and has not arrived. I had to leave early to get here, the Westminster stairs being down—' I had to give Bealknap credit for quick thinking. But Ainsworth turned to the usher.

'Have the Clerk of Requests brought here,' he said.

Bealknap looked ready to collapse as the clerk was brought and confirmed the deeds had never been lodged. 'I suspect you lied to me there, Brother Bealknap,' Ainsworth said coldly. 'Be very careful, sir. Your client's claim against Gilbert Rooke is dismissed for lack of title. Goodman Rooke, you may remain on your land. You have been lucky.'

Gib grinned from ear to ear. Bealknap sat down, his face grey. His client leaned close and began whispering fiercely, his face furious. I caught the gleam of white teeth, brown wood above. Another who had taken to false teeth.

'Brother Shardlake,' Ainsworth continued. 'I am told you have filed an application in the case of a boy sent to the Bedlam by the Privy Council.'

'Yes, your honour.'

He tapped his quill on his table, frowning thoughtfully. 'Do I have the jurisdiction to hear this?'

'The issue, your honour, is that no enquiry has been made into the boy's state of mental health. That should be done before a person is deprived of their freedom. It is a matter of due process.' I took a deep breath. 'I propose to get a doctor to examine him, sir. But in the meantime, if you will consent to hear the matter, there is also the issue of who should pay the fees they charge in the Bedlam, and of the need to report on his progress. The boy's parents are poor.'

'Those at least I can deal with. Very well, the court will set an early date for a hearing. But, Master Shardlake —' He looked at me seriously. 'These are deep waters. Politics and madness.'

'I know, your honour.'

'Tread carefully, for your client's sake as well as your own.'

GIB WAS delighted at the result; his arrogance had gone and he was tearful with relief. He promised me undying gratitude and almost danced from the courtroom. The cases continued; it was a good day for me, I won all the cases I had listed. The court rose at four thirty, and as the day's victors and vanquished walked away, I stood on the steps with Barak.

'Bealknap looked sick,' I said.

'Sicker still after his case was thrown out.'

'He has always been such a crafty rogue, but today he was pitiable. He will be a greater enemy than ever now.'

We looked across the quadrangle to the Painted Hall, where the Commons of Parliament were sitting. Candles had been lit, yellow flashes of light visible through the high windows. Barak grunted.

'They say every bill the King has put before them is being passed this session.' He spat on the ground. 'Those members not in the King's pocket already can be bought off with bribes and threats.'

I was silent, for I could not disagree.

'Adam Kite's folks will be pleased he has a hearing,' he said.

'Yes. Judge Ainsworth was nervous of taking on the Council, but he is an honest man. That reminds me, I did not tell you, I saw Lord Latimer's funeral passing the day I went to the Bedlam. I saw the Lady Catherine Parr, or at the least I think it was her. She was in a big carriage.'

'What was she like;' Barak asked curiously.

'Not a great beauty. But something arresting about her. I thought she looked frightened.'

'Afraid to say yes to the King, perhaps, and afraid to say no.'

I nodded sadly, for the woman's fear had impressed itself on

me.

'Well,' I said. 'I must catch a boat to Guy's, learn what he has found. Will you go to Lincoln's Inn and draw the orders for today's cases; And write to the Kites, asking them to come and see me tomorrow;'

We walked back to Whitehall Stairs. A row of brightly made up whores had taken places by the gate into New Palace Yard, standing in a row to catch the eye of the MPs walking past when the house rose. As I passed two bent forward to show me ample cleavages.

'They're bold,' I said. 'They'll be whipped at the cart's tail if the authorities catch them.'

'That won't happen.' Barak smiled wickedly. 'The MPs would object. The chance of a bit of sport in the stewhouses is all that makes those long debates worthwhile for some.'

'Maybe that is why they are granting all the King wants so quickly.'

IT WAS DARK by the time I arrived at Guy's. His shop was closed, but he answered my knock. He invited me gravely to sit down. He sat opposite me in the consulting room, clasped his hands together and looked at me seriously. The candlelight emphasized the lines in his dark face.

'How is poor Mistress Elliard?' he asked.

'Distraught. We are no further forward in investigating Roger's murder. We can find no solicitor by the name of Nantwich, which was the name in the letters Roger was sent. It begins to look as though the killer sent them.'

'And you? You look strained, Matthew. And recently you have seemed so well. You are still doing your back exercises?'

'Yes. I cope, Guy. I always cope.' I took a deep breath. 'And I will try to have the stomach for whatever you have to tell me of your investigation of Roger's body. But the less detail the better, please.'

'I visited the place where the body is stored this morning. I took Piers—'

I frowned. The idea of Guy opening Roger, examining his innards, was horrible enough. But a stranger, a mere boy . . .

'I am training him, Matthew. The licence I have to open bodies offers a unique chance to study human anatomy. He may be able to use it to help others in the future.'

I still did not like the notion. 'What did you find?' I asked.

'So far as I could see, Master Elliard's health at the time of his death was good.'

'It always was. Till someone knocked him out and cut his throat.'

'I don't think he was knocked out,' Guy said in the same grave, even tones. 'Not as we understand that phrase.'

I looked at him, appalled. 'You mean he was conscious when he went in there?'

'Not that either. Have you ever heard of dwale?' I shook my head.

'There is no reason you should. It is a liquid compound of opium and certain other elements, such as vinegar and pig's bile, which induces unconsciousness. Depending on how much is used it can bring relaxation, unconsciousness — or death. It has been used on and off for hundreds of years to render people unconscious before surgery.'

'Then why have I never heard of it? That would save terrible pain.'

He shook his head. 'There is a severe problem with it. The correct dose is very hard to determine, very hard indeed. It depends on many factors: the age of the ingredients, the size and age and health of the patient. It is very easy to give the patient too much and then the physician is left with a corpse. For that reason very few use it now. But I think Master Elliard's killer did.'