C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'Time, Dorothy, you will need time to grieve.'

'I have years of empty time now.'

I felt my heart clench at her suffering. 'Dorothy,' I said quietly, 'there is something I must ask you. This is not the best time, but it is urgent. We need to see if Roger and — this other man who died — knew anyone in common. Bartlett is preparing a list of professional contacts. Can you make me a list of anyone else he knew? Any non- lawyer friends—'

'We had none. The law was Roger's life.'

'Then tradesmen, his barber, his tailor. Your servants - have you dismissed any recently?'

'No. There is no one.'

'Anyway, a list may help.'

'Then I will prepare it now,' she said.

I got Margaret to fetch some paper, and Dorothy sat thinking, then wrote down the names of everyone Roger had known in London. She passed the list to me.

'That is them all,' she said.

I looked at it. 'Good, that will help.'

'Anything else I can help with, come at any time. The funeral must wait till next week. Samuel will be here from Bristol, I have had a letter. And afterwards, Matthew, come and eat with us. Let us sit and remember Roger then, in peace.'

'I shall be glad to.'

I HASTENED BACK across Gatehouse Court to my chambers, for it was now near three o'clock. I was hungry, I had missed lunch. Among those passing to and fro I saw, at a little distance, Bealknap. He was walking slowly, his long thin body hunched and stooped. Feeling eyes upon him he turned, gave me a look of concentrated fury, and walked on. I thought, Roger may not have had an enemy, but I have, all the more now. I dismissed the wretched man from my mind.

Daniel and Minnie Kite were waiting in my outer office. Meaphon sat beside them in his cassock, frowning. Today he held a copy of the New Testament in his lap. 'Good day,' I said to Daniel and Minnie, pointedly ignoring Meaphon.

'I have had word from the Requests Office,' Skelly called over from his desk. 'Master Kite's hearing will be on the fourth of April.' He handed me a paper. I looked at it as I led the Kites and Meaphon into my office.

'Good news,' I said, when all were seated. 'My request to have Adam's care supervised by the court, and his fees remitted, will be heard in nine days. And I have arranged for the doctor I spoke of to attend him. On Friday. I will go too.'

'We saw Adam yesterday,' Daniel Kite said. 'He is no better.'

'He spoke to me,' Minnie said. 'It was the first time my son spoke to me since they put him in that place. And do you know what he said: He said he could smell the fire, feel the sharp pricks of the devil's imps scratching at his arms. It was only lice, he is crawling with them, but that is what he made of it.' She shook her head, setting her lips into a tight line, trying not to cry.

'Minnie,' Daniel said.

'This is why I do not want him released from the Bedlam till there is some sign of a cure,' I said gently. 'He could get into deadly trouble. If his welfare is taken care of he is better there for now. Not all the keepers are bad.' I thought again of the kindly woman Ellen and her strange statement that she could never leave the Bedlam. I glanced at Meaphon, expecting opposition, but to my surprise he nodded, patting his thick hair.

'Perhaps, after all, that is best. The papist wolves are abroad once more. Honest preachers have been arrested, one was paraded as a heretic only yesterday.'

'I saw,' I said.

'But if I could be allowed to spend time with Adam, if I could try again to persuade him to accept that he can and will be saved—'

'We should see what the doctor says,' I said, temporizing.

'Doctors,' he said contemptuously. 'What if he is possessed; That is my fear, more and more.'

'What if they report to the Privy Council that you have been there:' Minnie spoke up. 'What if they have spies there, and they report you are preaching doctrine they do not approve:'

Meaphon shook his head. 'I should do what I can to save Adam.' He gripped the Testament in his hands tightly, like an icon, a talisman.

'My wife is right.' Daniel spoke up. 'Were Adam to leave he might — do something dangerous. And he is in no fit state to choose martyrdom.' He looked at me. 'We shall see what the doctor says. That is what we must do next.' He looked at Meaphon.

'Am I to meet with uncertain heart in my own congregation that I may not go and pray with him:' Meaphon asked bitterly. This time both Daniel and Minnie met his gaze, though both reddened.

'I will tell you what the doctor says,' I told them, rising. I felt an unprofessional degree of pleasure at their defiance of Meaphon, despite his raising again the dread idea of possession. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

THE FOLLOWING DAY a letter arrived from Harsnet. It came by a fast rider from Whitehall, reminding me that the coroner commanded sizeable resources. He asked me to meet him by the Southwark bear pits at eight the next morning.

I set off early on Friday to ride through the city to London Bridge, where I had arranged to meet Barak. Though I had slept I felt tired, weighed down, as I had since Roger's death. There was a cool breeze and high clouds scudded rapidly across the blue sky. I saw a patch of budding crocuses had appeared in a grassy corner by Newgate Market under the great shadow of St Paul's.

There were few people about as yet, and as I walked down the Shambles, avoiding the butcher's offal in the piss-channel in the middle of the road, my attention was drawn by the sound of a scuffle. On the corner of Bladder Lane a burly man in a bloodstained apron was struggling with three London constables. A plump woman in a smock had hold of the arm of one of them and was trying to pull him off. Three small children ran howling and screaming around the adults' feet. As I watched, the constable shook himself free and pushed the goodwife over. She landed in a filthy puddle, skirts billowing and the wings of her coif hanging loose. The children ran to her, yelling.

'Now come quietly,' one of the constables shouted at the man, who ceased struggling and allowed himself to be manhandled away. I hesitated, then went to the woman, who was rising slowly to her feet, covered in filth, the children milling around her.

Are you all right, madam?'

She gave me a suspicious look. 'I'm not hurt.'

'What happened?'

'They say my husband was selling meat in Lent, they're taking him to Bishop Bonner.' She looked at my robe. 'A lawyer won't help if they prosecute him, and we've no money anyway. You must seek trade elsewhere!' And with that she limped into a shop followed by the children. One of them, emboldened by his mother's tone, looked round and shouted 'Crookback' at me as she shepherded them in.

I walked on, angry for I had only wished to help. But if her husband was guilty, he might face the rope. I remembered what Cranmer had said about Bonner working to crush the reformers.

Barak was waiting at London Bridge. He looked bright and alert, no sign of a hangover today, and he greeted me cheerfully enough. He had put on his sword, I saw.

'Well, let's see what awaits us over the river,' he said with a touch of his old swagger.

'Some answers, I hope.'

We walked across London Bridge to the Southwark waterfront where Harsnet was to meet us. He was already there, wearing a coat lined with marten fur over his lawyer's robe, looking every inch the royal official. I saw that he had donned sturdy riding boots in anticipation of walking through the tidal mud.

Harsnet was staring up to where the great circular structure of the bear-baiting ring reared over the rooftops. He turned to us with a sombre expression on his face.

'Good day, Master Shardlake. And you are Barak, yes.' Barak bowed to him. Harsnet looked up at the bear ring again, and sighed. 'Is it not sad that we make merry with the bleeding miseries of those poor harmless beasts?'