C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'I'll start where I like in my own house. Is this how you keep your promise to make things up with Tamasin;'

'None of your business,' he muttered. 'It is my business if you upset her. Where have you been;'

'Drinking with some old mates. In town.'

'You never used to get drunk like this. Why now? Still because of the lost child?' I added more gently. He did not reply. 'Well?'

'I am sick of this business,' he said. 'Sick to the heart, if you must know. He could strike again tonight. We have nothing, nothing but bits and pieces of information.'

'I know,' I replied, more quietly. 'I feel the same. But you have no right to take it out on Tamasin.'

'I didn't.' His voice became truculent again. 'I came in here and she started going on at me for being drunk. I told her to let me be and when she didn't I called her some names. She doesn't know when to let me alone.'

'You could have told her what ails you.'

He looked at me. 'What? Tell her the man who attacked her is still free, we know fuck all and are waiting for him to kill again? Perhaps attack us again? I hate being so powerless. I wish we could get at him.' He shook his head.

'I think you should sleep this off,' I said. 'And when you wake up, apologize to Tamasin. Or you will lose her.'

'Maybe one of Harsnet's devils has entered me,' he said bitterly.

'Ay, from out of a bottle.' I closed the door, leaving him.

STRANGELY, I SLEPT WELL that night, as though my expression of anger and frustration at Barak had released something within me. It began raining heavily as I prepared for bed, drops pattering against the window the last thing I heard. I woke early; the sky was still cloudy, but the rain had stopped for now. It must have gone on all night, for there were large puddles on the garden path beneath my window.

The rest of the house was still quiet; Barak and Tamasin did not seem to be up and I wondered if they had managed to mend things between them at all. From Barak's frame of mind last night, I doubted it. It had felt strange to berate him, for a long time now I had looked on him as a friend rather than a subordinate.

Until some news came from Harsnet's enquiries, and his efforts to put pressure on Dean Benson, there was plenty of work awaiting me at Chancery Lane. First, though, I would visit Dorothy. I wondered how she was faring without Samuel. I wished I had some news of Roger's killer for her. I heard Joan's voice in the kitchen, talking to Orr, but I did not wish to become embroiled in a discussion with her about Tamasin and Barak, and I did not feel like breakfast either, so I left the house quietly. I walked the short distance up Chancery Lane to Lincoln's Inn. The road had turned to mud and I was glad I had put on my riding boots.

At Lincoln's Inn the working day had begun, blacks-robed lawyers stepping to and fro across Gatehouse Court with papers under their arms, the fountain splashing under the grey sky.

Margaret answered the door to Dorothy's rooms. She told me her mistress was at home, going through papers. 'How is she?' I asked.

'Trying to get back to a normal life, I think, sir. But she finds it hard.'

Dorothy was in the parlour. She still looked wan and pale, but greeted me with a smile. 'You look tired,' she said.

'This hunt.' I paused. 'He is still at large. It has been nearly two weeks now, I know.'

'I know you will be doing all you can.' She rose from the table, wiping her quill and setting it by the papers. 'Come, this wretched rain has stopped. Will you take me for a walk in Coney Garth? I need some air.'

'Gladly.' I was pleased to see she could give mind now to such ordinary things. 'You will need boots, the ground is wet.'

'I will get them.'

She left me in the parlour. I stood by the fire, the animals peering at me from the undergrowth on the wooden frieze. Dorothy returned, dressed in a black cloak with a hood and high walking boots, and we went out of doors and crossed Gatehouse Court. Lawyers nodded to us, their stares a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. I noticed Dorothy still resolutely avoided looking at the fountain.

We walked into the bare heathland of Lincoln's Inn Fields. The murderer had escaped this way after killing Roger. Nearby was a long hillock, the sides dotted with rabbit holes, where students would come to hunt their dinner later in the season. We followed a path that led to the top of the hillock, the ground drier there. Dorothy was silent, thoughtful-looking.

'Samuel will have arrived in Bristol by now,' I said.

'Yes. He very much wanted me to go back with him.'

'He also said you would not be driven away from your home.'

'No, I will not. I will stay here until the killer is caught. And there is business I must finish here. Master Bartlett has kindly made a summary of monies due to Roger for his cases. And I am not lonely. Many kind people have visited.' She smiled sadly. 'You remember Madam Loder, who was at the dinner last month. She called to see me two days ago. I had no sooner sat her down on some cushions and handed her a glass of wine then she leaned forward and those false teeth of hers fell out on her lap.' She laughed. 'Poor woman, she was very embarrassed. She is going to have some firm words with the tooth-drawer who prepared the denture.'

Her words reminded me of Tamasin's experience. I wondered whether Mrs Loder ever thought to wonder where those teeth of hers came from.

'Are you still taking care not to go out unaccompanied?' I asked. 'It is only a precaution, but I think it is as well.'

'Yes.'

'Will you stay in London, do you think, or go to Bristol? In the long run?'

She sighed. 'I think it would be hard for me to buy a house in London. But perhaps in Bristol I could.' She raised her eyebrows. 'Treasurer Rowland has sent a message; kindly worded, but he made it clear he wants me out of our rooms as soon as possible now.'

'He is a heartless man.'

She shrugged. 'There is a vacancy at the Inn now, he will want to fill it.' She gave me a searching look. 'Samuel would like me to move back to Bristol permanently. But it is not just obstinacy that makes me stay. It is too early to decide on something like that.' She sighed. 'It is hard to think clearly. Everywhere the empty space of Roger's absence follows me. It is like a hole in the world. Yet do you know, I realized this morning that I had worked for half an hour without thinking of him. I felt guilty, as though I had betrayed him.'

'I think that is how grief is. The hole in the world will always be there, but you begin to notice the other things. You should not feel guilt.'

Dorothy looked at me curiously. 'You have known grief too?'

'There was a woman I knew who died. In the plague of 1534. Nine years, but I still think of her. I used to wear a mourning ring for her.'

'I did not know.'

'It was after you and Roger went to Bristol.' I looked at her. 'Dorothy, may I ask you something?'

'Anything.'

'The business you feel you must stay for. Is part of it waiting for the killer to be caught; Because I do not know when that will be.'

She came to a halt, turned and laid a hand on my arm. Her pale face, outlined by the black hood, was full of concern. 'Matthew,' she said quietly. 'I can see this dreadful thing is burning you up. I am sorry it was me that set you on this hunt. I thought officialdom did not care. But now I know they are seeking this man, I want you to leave the matter to them. This is having a bad effect on you.'

I shook my head sadly. 'I am bound tightly into the hunt for him now, bound into those official chains. He - he has killed again.'

'Oh no.'

'You are right, Dorothy, the horror eats into me, but I have to see it through now. And I have involved others too. Guy, Barak.' And even if I was willing to leave the killer alone, I thought but did not say, would he leave me; 'Do not be sorry,' I continued. 'We think we may know who the killer is. We will catch him. And one thing we are certain of now is that Roger was a chance victim, in the sense that the killer could equally have chosen someone else.'