C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'Yes, Mistress Joan.' Peter sidled out of the room. Joan smiled at

me.

I smiled back. 'Degree matters for everyone, does it not? Even kitchen boys.'

'It's as much the fear of losing a place. So many beggar boys in London now, you can always find one cheaper than the one you have.'

'Yes. Such competition brings fear.' When this was over, I decided, I would hire a man, too, to help Joan. I could easily afford it.

I went upstairs to change into my best robe. Although the day was the warmest so far, I felt cold, and the stitches in my arm ached as I dressed. I ran over the arguments I had prepared for Adam's case, for the court to receive regular reports on his care, and for his fees to be met out of the Bedlam funds. I had arranged for Guy to be present to testify that Adam was so ill he needed the court's protection. As for his release, I felt there was no question now but that he was safest where he was.

Would he ever be cured, I wondered, or would he stay forever imprisoned in that terrible agony of soul? And what of the killer we were hunting? Did he suffer? My sense was that he enjoyed what he did, the meticulous planning and the cruel execution. Already, somewhere out there, he was planning his next killing. I had the part of the Book of Revelation that dealt with the seven angels off by heart now: 'And the fifth angel poured out his vial upon the seat of the beast; and his kingdom waxed dark; and they gnawed their tongues for pain.' The seat of the beast, I knew, was supposed to be the lair of the devil. 'They gnawed their tongues for pain.' I shivered.

BARAK WAS WAITING for me in the crowded vestibule of the Court of Requests. I looked around the familiar scene: the parties sitting round the walls watching the lawyers negotiating in the centre of the room. I recognized an elderly couple sitting with my fellow-'pleader in Requests, Brother Ervin. Ervin gave me a curt nod; I had greatly added to his workload by standing out of most of my cases. I would lose money by this, I supposed, though that was the least of my worries; I had enough. The old couple, who were pursuing a claim against their landlord and had come all the way from Lancashire to find justice, gave me hurt looks. Daniel and Minnie Kite stood huddled together in the doorway with Guy, dressed in his physician's robe and cap. Barak and I joined them.

'Adam's not here, sir,' Daniel said anxiously.

'We are a little early. They will bring him.'

'Will they be gentle with him;' Minnie asked anxiously.

'This judge is a fair man. Is Reverend Meaphon not with you today;'

'He's been detained at a neighbouring parish. The minister there is sick.'

I was interrupted by a hard tap on my injured arm, which made me wince. I turned to find myself looking at a short, spare man in his forties, dressed in an expensive fur-lined coat, a silk velvet cap on his head. His thin face had the red puffiness and broken veins of a hard drinker.

'Are you here for that Kite boy;' he asked in a peremptory tone. I bowed. 'I am, sir.'

'I am Sir George Metwys. Warden of the Bedlam. I am here at the request of Archbishop Cranmer.' He glared at the Kites and at Guy. 'I do not know why the Archbishop has interested himself in these people.'

'I am grateful for your attendance, sir,' I said smoothly. 'Perhaps you could indicate whether you will be opposing my applications. For Master Kite's welfare to be reported regularly to the court, and his fees to be paid from the Bedlam funds.' Paid by you from the profits you take from the paying inmates, I thought. You will have a little less to get drunk on.

'I won't be opposing,' Metwys grunted. 'I've had a hint from Cranmer's people. Though if I had my way—' He broke off as a rattling sound and then a groan echoed round the crowded chamber. Everyone turned round. Keeper Shawms, assisted by two stout under- keepers, was dragging Adam into the vestibule. His legs were chained together, and the keepers held him up by his stick-like arms. He was trying to sink to the floor to pray, groaning when they would not let him. Shawms looked red with embarrassment. Daniel Kite bit his lip and his wife let out a sob. Adam, his head bowed, did not even look at us as he passed. He gave off a foul odour.

I watched as the keepers manhandled Adam on to a bench and sat beside him. On either side people shuffled away, one man crossing himself. Somehow the spectacle of Adam's condition seemed more terrible in this familiar environment, than it had in the Bedlam or even when he was shrieking on top of London Wall. Minnie made a move towards him. Guy laid a restraining hand on her arm. 'Not now,' he whispered.

'What an exhibition,' Metwys said. He glared at Adam and his keepers. Shawms, seeing the warden, rose and bowed deeply.

We waited uncomfortably for a further half-hour. From where Adam sat there was a periodic clank of chains as he tried to lurch down on to his knees. Guy went over to try and talk to him but today he made no impression; he returned defeated.

Barak had been watching the scene fixedly. 'Jesu,' he muttered as Adam tried to lurch forward again. 'This is a nightmare.'

At last the usher appeared and called everybody into court. I went to the advocates' bench in the front and laid out my papers. Metwys took a seat at the back, away from Adam and his keepers. Barak and Guy and the Kites sat with Adam on a bench near the front. Judge Ainsworth appeared from an inner door and sat down on his bench. As he cast his eyes over the court Adam let out a groan. Ainsworth looked at me.

'I think we will take the case of Adam Kite first,' he said. 'Brother Shardlake?'

I outlined my applications. Ainsworth nodded slowly, then cast a sharp look at Shawms. 'This poor creature looks to be at death's door,' he said. 'Are you feeding him?'

Shawms rose, looking red and uncomfortable. 'Sometimes he will not eat, your honour. He has to be spoon-fed like a child, and sometimes he spits it out over the keepers.'

'Then you must redouble your efforts, fellow.' He turned to Metwys. 'Sir George, you are Warden. What say you to these applications?'

Metwys rose. 'I am willing to consent, your honour. I wish to discharge my responsibilities to the best of my abilities. But it is our rule that we only take people in the Bedlam who can be cured, and for a limited time.'

'But surely there are many who have been there for years, their relatives paying for their keep?'

I thought of the keeper Ellen, who had said she could never leave.

Metwys looked as if he might choke. 'Only when their relatives cannot care for them themselves.'

'And are rich enough to pay to be rid of them.' Ainsworth tapped his quill on the desk. 'I am minded to grant this order, though normally this would be a matter for the Court of Wards and Liveries. But I am concerned at how long this situation may last.' He turned to Guy. 'Dr Malton, you have been treating this boy. What do you say?'

Guy stood. 'Adam Kite is very sick, your honour. He has come to believe himself cast out of God's favour, for reasons I do not fully understand. Yet I believe that I can help him.'

'Then he is not some wild heretic?'

'No, your honour. Though I can see how his actions could be interpreted in that way.' He paused. 'From the point of view of public order he is best kept where he is. But I too would not want him to be left in the Bedlam indefinitely.'

'That would be a little unfair on Sir George Metwys' purse.' Ainsworth permitted himself a little smile, then looked again at Adam.

'Is there any point in my questioning him?' Ainsworth asked me. 'None, your honour. I doubt Master Kite is even clear where he

is.

'Yet you think he can be helped; How long do you think you will need?'

Guy hesitated. 'I do not know. But I am willing to treat him without payment.'