C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'What will he do?' Cranmer said quietly. 'Where, and when?'

'Anyone could be the victim,' I said. 'Anywhere in London, a pious man like Roger or a man relapsed into sin like the cottar. We cannot know when he will strike, or where.'

'Then we cannot stop him?'

'Only if we catch him first,' I answered. 'And I think he will strike again before long.'

'Why so?' Harsnet asked.

'It seems Tupholme was found in January. Dr Gurney died in February, a month later. Roger died three weeks after that. A week ago. It would seem sensible to expect the fourth killing within the next fortnight.'

'What of the final three vials of wrath?' Thomas Seymour asked. 'What happens?'

Cranmer took a deep breath. 'The pouring of the fifth vial brings death to the sinful by darkness and great pain. That could mean death by any one of a hundred means. The sixth vial dries up the waters of the Euphrates, and I do not know what someone could do to simulate that. And when the seventh angel pours out his vial there are thunders and lightnings and a great earthquake.'

'My lord,' I said. 'There is one more thing I would ask, if I may. It could assist us.'

'Yes?'

'Dr Malton. He told me some of the old monastic infirmarians used dwale. He may know of them, even if he did not know them himself. I would like to take him into my confidence. He helped us over the dwale.'

'He's an ex-monk, isn't he?' Hertford asked sharply.

'Yes, but if Matthew says he will keep his confidence—' Cranmer gave me a long considering look – ‘I will accept that. You may tell him, Matthew.'

Hertford gave me a dubious look, and Harsnet another. But Cran- mer nodded.

There was silence for a moment, as we considered the horrors that might lie before us. Then Sir Thomas laughed. 'By Jesu, this killer would need devilish powers indeed to bring about an earthquake.'

'I am sick of your mockery, Thomas!' Cranmer turned on him with sudden fierceness. "We all know, or should know, that the devil may indeed be moving in this, with all his powers. But we must investigate this matter with reason.'

'You forget your presence here is only allowed because you are my brother,' Lord Hertford said. 'And the connection to Catherine Parr, about whose welfare you were so chivalrously anxious, seems to be gone. You are not needed. It was a mistake for me to involve you in the first place.' He shook his head. 'Foolish.'

For a moment fury flared in Thomas Seymour's face; then he stomped to the window like a sulky child. Cranmer turned back to us. 'Each of you knows what to do,' he said. 'Do it, with despatch.' He nodded in dismissal.

OUTSIDE IN the corridor, Lord Hertford and his brother strode confidently away in opposite directions, but Harsnet lingered beside me. Barak was waiting, sitting on a bench a little way up the corridor. He came over and stood silently beside me.

'It seems we are to work together,' Harsnet said. 'You did well to find the link to that cottar, sir, and to the Book of Revelation. Though I pray you may be wrong about that.'

'It is indeed a fearful thought.'

'I am sorry if I spoke roughly in that meeting. You were right, we need reason to solve these dreadful crimes. But the idea that anyone who had studied the Bible could do such acts—' He broke off, shaking his head.

'The whole thing is monstrous. I have never heard of anything like

it.'

'Nor I.' He looked at me seriously. 'Though I think we should have spent more time considering what sort of man this is.'

'You mean he may be possessed by a devil, who makes him do these things; Well, sir, I see it more likely that he is sick in his mind, and the sickness has driven him to a fanaticism the like of which has never been seen.' I spoke placatingly, but firmly. I thought of Adam Kite, gibbering on his knees in the Bedlam. And as Guy had said, madness may take many forms.

And you think he may be killing people who have abandoned a biblical understanding of religion?' Harsnet looked agitated.

'I think it may be possible. I think he may be a man of radical religion, gone mad.'

'But have you ever heard of a man who was mad, yet could plan and execute such an ambitious scheme? Though the devil could. And if you are right, this is a blasphemy.'

'I confess I do not know what we are dealing with, sir, but I see no point in speculating now.'

Harsnet inclined his head; I could see he did not want to get drawn into argument, he wanted to keep good relations with me. I changed the subject.

'There seemed to be difficulties between Thomas Seymour and his brother.'

He nodded. 'Lord Hertford is a clever man, a great man. In the right circumstances he could be a great reformer, in religion and in righting social injustices too. His devotion to his family is his only weakness. Restraining his brother is hard.'

'Yes.' I thought, a truly strong man would surely not indulge his affections so far.

'Will you let me know what happens at Augmentations?' Harsnet asked. 'A note marked for my urgent and personal attention will reach me.'

'I will.'

'If I send a messenger, should he go to your chambers?'

'Yes, or to my home if I am not there. I live hard by Lincoln's Inn, in Chancery Lane.'

'Then we will speak again soon.' Harsnet nodded to Barak, bowed and left us. I looked at my assistant. His face was pale. 'He's right,' he said. 'This is — monstrous.'

The full horror of it all hit me. Tupholme's terrible death, Roger and Dr Gurney, all three killed with such planning and precision. 'There have been mad prophets before,' I said uncertainly.

'Reading Revelation scared me,' Barak said. 'It is so . . .' He struggled for the right word. 'Relentless. Like this killer.'

'You don't think he's possessed, as Harsnet does?'

'I don't know what he is.'

'Well, all I know is that I will find the killer of my friend. Now come, we are going to Westminster, to the Court of Augmentations.' I clapped Barak on his broad back, and led the way outside, striding with a confidence I did not feel, for whatever else he was, the man we hunted was surely a monster in human form.

A DAY LATER, I rode down to Guy's. It was Sunday, the first of April. It was another mild, sunny day; birds flew by with twigs and grass in their beaks, heading for the trees where the first dusting of pale green was spreading.

It was All Fools' Day, when people will play tricks on each other, but mercifully, although the streets were busy, nobody shouted out that my horse's tail was on fire or suchlike. People looked preoccupied; I had heard that two courtiers suspected of heretical leanings had gone to the Tower.

Barak and I had spent the previous day at the Court of Augmentations office, trying to find the records of infirmarians at the London Benedictine houses. Some senior clerk had ordered that all the records of the monks receiving pensions be reorganized, and the result was chaos. It was evening before we emerged, a good deal dustier, with three names, although the addresses were now held in a separate file and it would be Monday morning before that office opened.

As I neared Guy's I saw the bulk of the Old Barge over the rooftops, and felt a stab of guilt. I had not really tackled Barak over how he was treating Tamasin. He was expert at brushing off unwanted enquiries, and I feared, too, that if I tried to exert authority where his private life was concerned, I would only anger him again. I shook my head, for I did not see how I was to proceed.

When I turned into Guy's street I had the uneasy feeling that had come over me once or twice on the journey. As though I were being followed. I turned quickly in the saddle, but could see no one in the narrow street. I told myself that the hunt for Roger's killer was making me over-anxious. I reminded myself that I was due to go to dinner with Dorothy that evening, a prospect that filled me equally with pleasure and sadness.