C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'No. I understand. I have not been either.' I sighed. 'Though I suppose one could answer that it is not God's fault if one of his creatures uses free will to commit a heinous sin.'

She smiled, an angry little smile. 'That is a reasonable answer. But reason has little to do with how I feel now. It would help if I could pray, but I am too angry.' She frowned. 'Perhaps in time.'

'Yes. When you feel ready.' I felt a hypocrite, for I prayed but seldom now myself, but I wanted to say the things that might best comfort her.

'You are understanding, Matthew,' she said quietly. We ate in silence for a while, enjoying the meal. She dabbed her lips with a napkin, then gave me a doubtful look. 'I have something else to ask of you. I hesitate, when you have done so much . . .'

'Whatever I can do, I will.'

'I have been thinking on Roger's idea for a hospital for the poor. He had barely begun the work when he was taken, but he had a list of subscribers. Would you take up the plan? It was something he wished to do so much, it would honour his memory.'

'I will, Dorothy. But not yet. Not till the case is solved.'

'I see you are tired. I should not press you. But - it would keep him alive, somehow.'

'A fitting memorial.' I smiled. 'We could name it the Roger Elliard Hospital.'

'Yes.' She shook her head. 'I sit and look at that frieze, study the wooden animals peering from behind the trees. We gave them names, you know, Peter the hart and Paul the rabbit and Simon the horse.'

'It is a fine piece.'

'I should get that corner properly repaired. I shall take it if I go to Bristol. There is so much of Roger in these rooms—' Suddenly she broke off, bowed her head, and began to sob gently. I rose and went round the table to her. Hesitantly, I took her shoulders. 'There now,' I said, gently. It came to my mind that this was the first time I had actually held Dorothy, something that once I had longed to do more than anything.

She reached out and took my hand, a smile coming to her tear- stained face. 'You have been so good, Matthew. What would I do without you?'

Her words and her touch sent a wave of feeling through me. I had to prevent myself from embracing her fully, kissing her. Some thing must have showed in my face, for she released my hand. I stepped away.

'I am not myself,' she said quietly. 'I am suddenly tired, today has been too much. Would you mind if I went to bed now?'

'Of course not.'

'I will take care.'

'Good. I am probably being overcautious.'

'Come and dine after the funeral. Samuel will be here. You have not seen him since he was boy.'

'Yes. I will.' I was suddenly tongue-tied. 'I - I should go.'

'Very well.' She wiped her face. 'There. All over now. But still I find it hard to compose myself She looked at me seriously. 'I need time.'

OUTSIDE I LEANED against the stone wall, breathing deeply. I realized now what I had been hiding from myself: that the fact that Dorothy was single again had kindled old fires. I thought again of her warm shoulders, her hand on mine. Then I thought of Roger, dead in the snow. 'God forgive me,' I whispered to myself.

And then I saw, across the courtyard, a figure standing by the door of my chambers, now closed and locked. It was a woman, a small slight figure, and I realized with a shock of recognition that it was Tamasin. I ran across the yard, my robe billowing around my legs. She was huddled against the door. I saw to my horror that her face was puffy and swollen, one eye nearly shut, her dress torn and her coif askew. She stared at me, trembling.

'Tamasin,' I said. 'Dear Jesu, who has done this to you? Was it—' For an awful moment I thought it might have been Barak.

‘I came to find Jack.' Her voice came thickly through swollen lips. 'We had an argument, he went out again. I could not stand being in that house alone: I kept feeling someone was outside, kept fancying I heard breathing at the door. I had to leave, I was going to your house if Jack was not here. All the way here, I thought someone was behind me.'

'Tamasin

She looked at me, a stare of pure fear. 'Then as I was about to turn in here, someone leaped at me, pulled me into a corner and began beating me—' She broke off, breathing heavily, though she did not cry.

'Who;' I asked. 'Who?'

'His voice was — strange — not like an ordinary voice. He said he knows you and Jack are hunting him, but you would not stop his mission. Master Shardlake, he knows your name, and Jack's. He knows where we live. Who is he?'

I UNLOCKED THE DOOR to my chambers and helped Tamasin inside. I guided her through the dark to a seat in my room, then returned to the outer office. I locked the door and then, with trembling hands, lit a taper from the embers of the fire. I took it through and lit the candles in my room. As the yellow light flickered into the corners I saw that Tamasin was sitting where I had left her, head sunk on her chest. She had pulled off her bloodstained coif and held it in her lap. I poured a goblet of strong wine and held it to her lips. Her teeth chattered. I felt fury towards whoever had ravaged her pretty face; and horror, as well, for an even worse fate might have befallen her.

I sat down opposite her. She took a couple of sips of wine, then she suddenly coughed and put her hand to her mouth. She brought it away with half a white tooth in the palm. She stared at it stupidly, still in shock. Her whole face was bruised, and she had a nasty cut on one cheek.

'Tamasin,' I whispered. 'I am so sorry.'

She looked at me through her swollen lids. 'Why; It is not your fault.' Her voice came thick and distorted.

I hesitated. 'How much has Jack told you of the work we have been engaged on?'

'Nothing. Only that it was a secret matter. I feared it was politics again.'

'It is something worse than that.' I rose to my feet. 'Tamasin, do you know where Jack is?'

She sighed wearily. 'His usual haunts, I expect. The Turks Head tavern by Newgate, or the Red Dog near the Old Barge. He missed lunch, he came back late and we — we had an argument. He stormed out again.'

Damn him, I thought. 'I am going to get the gatekeeper to send someone to find him, and Guy too. You need attention.'

She nodded. 'My face — hurts so much.' She looked at me. 'Do you know who he is, the man who attacked me?'

'I fear it may be the man we are seeking. He attacked you just outside the gate?'

'Yes. He leaped out between two houses. When he left me I managed to get up. I would have gone to the gatekeeper, but his lodge was dark; I came in, I thought I would be safe inside the Inn, and perhaps you might be working late

'I was at Mrs Elliard's,' I said. 'You are sure he said Jack and I were hunting him?'

'Yes.'

Sitting there, I felt my hair rise on my scalp. The killer knew who Barak and I were, that we were after him. But how? 'You said his voice was strange.'

'Yes. Harsh. Guttural. As though he were disguising it.'

'Thank God I was here tonight. Listen, Tamasin, I am going now, to rouse the gatekeeper. I will lock the door.'

'Take care, sir, he may be out there still.'

I TOOK THE DAGGER I kept in my desk and slipped it into my sleeve. In the main office I doused the candles and stood for a moment looking through the mullioned window at Gatehouse Court. A few upper windows were lit. Dorothy's windows were all dark now. The courtyard was empty. I took a deep breath, transferred the dagger into my hand and stepped outside.

I crossed the yard rapidly. Ahead, the gatekeeper's lodge was dark. Either he or his deputy was supposed to keep watch all night, but I knew they often drank themselves to sleep. I took pleasure in banging on the door as loudly as I could. After a minute the gate- keeper opened up. An old soldier, a big, red-faced man, his breath stank of beer. I quickly told him a woman had been attacked and her attacker might still be around, ordered him to rouse himself and send his assistant in search of Barak and Guy.