C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'What if he makes a run for it in the night;'

'He won't run. I told you, he needs a new place.'

'And how are you going to conjure that out of thin air for him?'

'I have an idea. I will not let him down. Now come, I am too tired to talk more. We need a few hours' sleep, or we shall be seeing double tomorrow.'

WHEN WE REACHED home I asked Barak to have me wakened no later than first light, and wearily mounted the stairs to bed. Exhausted as I was, I could not sleep. Lying in bed in the darkness I kept turning Yarington's terrible death over in my mind, trying to fit it into the pattern of the others. At length I got up, threw my coat over my nightshirt and lit a new beeswax candle. The yellow glow spreading from my table over the room was somehow comforting.

I sat at the table, thinking. I was sure the killer had been there when we got Adam down from London Wall. Yarington had been there too. Was that when the killer had decided that Yarington would be his next victim; No, that spectacle had been planned a long time, and Yarington's fornication with that poor girl had been known to the killer. But how, when the cleric had kept it so secret; It had not been a matter of common knowledge like Roger's and Dr Gurney's turning away from radical reform, or poor Tupholme's noisy affair with Welsh Elizabeth.

It was important to see that boy tomorrow, find out if he knew anything. I had not seen nearly enough evidence to be sure that Goddard was the killer. But if not Goddard then who was he, this man who knew about medicine and the law and mixed, or had mixed recently, with the radical sectaries; I wondered uneasily whether Harsnet was pressing the radical reformers enough for information; he would be far gentler with his own people than with Abigail.

The old law book was on my desk. I had borrowed it from the library. I opened it again to the case of Strodyr, smelling dust and ancient ink again. Strodyr too must have planned his killings with care, to go undetected for years. I read again how he refused to say anything at his trial but that he had often raged 'most obscenely' against the wicked trade of whores. Did our killer too somehow believe he was doing God's work, or was it all some terrible game? Or were both the same in his unfathomable mind? I remembered the German Anabaptists, who in overthrowing society in Munster believed that in their violence they were pushing forward God's will, bringing Armageddon about all the faster. Perhaps the killer believed each step was a symbolic fulfilment of the Revelation prophecies, that he would bring about the end of the world. I resolved to talk to Guy again. At last, I fell asleep.

I WAS STILL deeply asleep when Joan knocked gently at the door. I rose slowly, my back stiff and sore, although my arm ached less. I decided to leave off the sling. I went to the window and looked out. The sky was lightening, clear and blue with light fluffy clouds. For the first time in several days I did my back exercises, grunting as I twisted and stretched. Then I dressed and went downstairs. I scratched at my stubbly cheeks, conscious I needed a visit to the barber.

In the parlour Barak, dressed in his shirt and upper hose, was already breakfasting on bread and cheese and wizened apples.

'Last year's apple crop is drying out quickly,' he said.

'I'll get Peter to open up a new barrel. They'll be fresher.'

'Is your arm better?'

'Yes, it is today.'

'Young Piers did a good job, then.' I pulled the loaf towards me. 'Is Tamasin not up yet?'

'Just. She is getting lazy.' I looked at him and he reddened. 'Her bruises are going down, and her mouth is healing, but she still doesn't like to be seen. She'll be all right in another day or two. She's still furious about that tootlvdrawer asking her to sell him her teeth.'

'She could have been killed that night,' I said seriously. 'And it happened because of our work. My work.'

Barak put down the remains of his apple. He was silent a moment, then said, 'I hate this job, chasing after this lunatic or devil' possessed man or whatever he is. I suppose I've been taking it out on Tamasin.' He shifted uncomfortably.

'Why?' I asked gently.

'Because she's there, I suppose. It's no way to treat your wife, I know.'

I asked quietly, 'Do you still want her for your wife?'

'Of course I do.' He glared at me, and I wondered if I had gone too far, but then he sighed and shook his head. 'I know I've been a churl, but—' he ran his fingers through his thick, untidy brown hair—'somehow you get into a way of behaving and it's hard to get out of it.' He sighed again. 'But when all this is over I've decided to leave the Old Barge and see if I can't find a decent little house for us to rent nearer to Lincoln's Inn.'

I smiled. 'That is marvellous news. Tamasin will be so pleased.'

'And I'm going to stay home more. Spend less time in the — er — taverns.' His hesitation made me wonder if Tamasin's suspicions had been right and he had been seeing other women.

'Have you told her?' I asked.

'Nah. I'll wait till things have settled down a bit.'

'But you should tell her now.'

He frowned. I realized I had gone too far. 'I'll tell her when I think it's right,' he said brusquely. 'I'll get dressed, then I'll tell Peter to get Sukey and Genesis saddled and ready.' He got up and went out.

His mention of Peter reminded me of my promise to the boy Timothy. I paused to eat some bread and cheese, slipped one of the wrinkled apples into my pocket and went to the kitchen. There I found Joan and Tamasin. Tamasin was sitting at the table, slicing vegetables for the evening meal. Her bruises were less puffy now, but still horridly colourful, red and black, and her face was still swollen. Joan looked up at me and smiled, but Tamasin put a hand up to hide her face.

Joan was washing, bent over a large wooden bucket. Her face, surrounded by her white coif, was red as she kneaded the wet fabric. I reflected with a pang of guilt that she was near sixty now. Her late husband had once been my steward, and when he died fifteen years ago I had kept her on as housekeeper. It was an unusual arrangement for a single man, despite the difference in our ages, but I had always liked her quiet, motherly ways. I had been going to ask her if she knew of any help that might be needed in the houses near by, but last night a new idea had occurred to me. 'I wonder, Joan,' I said, 'if you could use the help of another boy in the kitchen.'

She thought a moment. 'Peter has a lot to do, between the stables and helping me in here.' She smiled tiredly. 'But I do not know how he would take to having a second boy around.'

I smiled. 'This boy is younger than Peter. We would make it clear he is the senior. I need to talk to this other boy some more, though.'

'It would be good to have someone else, sir.'

'Then I will see what I can do today.'

'Thank you,' she said gratefully. She lifted the bucket of clothes in their dirty water and headed for the yard. Tamasin rose and opened the door for her, then returned to the table.

'Your bruises seem better, Tamasin.'

'They are still a dreadful sight, sir. But I suppose they will be gone soon.'

'How is your mouth?'

'I have little pain there now. That tooth-drawer was good after

all.'

'Guy would not have recommended someone who did not know his work.'

'I still can't believe he offered to buy my teeth, take them all out. I'd be a hideous sight.'

Her tone was sad, drained of emotion. She looked at me. 'What happened last night? Jack would not tell me anything when he came in. Just told me to go back to sleep.'

'He would not have wished to worry you, Tamasin. I am afraid there has been another killing.'

Her eyes widened. 'Were you and Jack in danger?'

'No. No, we found the body.'