C. Sansom - Dark Fire

I heaved myself upright. 'Barak, do you think you are fit enough to come to the Wentworths tomorrow? It will be our last chance.'

He nodded, getting to his feet. 'Ay. It takes more than a sword thrust to lay me low. And what's to fear from a greasy steward, a fat old merchant and a brood of women? I'll come. The business started there after all, didn't it?'

'Ay, and it must end there, before Elizabeth comes back before Forbizer.'

NORMALLY JOAN WOULD have woken us for breakfast, but after seeing the state in which Barak and I had returned home the good woman must have decided to let us sleep. Neither of us woke until nearly midday. I felt much better, though my wrist still hurt, and Barak seemed almost restored to his usual self, though still a trifle pale. It had stopped raining, but the sky was dark and heavy. To my surprise there was no word from Cromwell, only a plaintive note from Joseph begging for news.

'He must have seen the king by now,' I said. 'Surely he'd at least let us know.'

Barak shrugged. 'We're small fry, you and me.'

'Maybe we should send another message?'

'Demanding news! That would be a mighty insolence.'

'At least we can send a message saying if we're not here we'll be at the Wentworths, and ask him if he needs us.' I looked at him. 'Are you fit to go to Walbrook?'

'Fit as a fly. You look better too.' He laughed. 'You're not as weakly as you pretend.'

'It's all right for you to say that at your age. I'm going to write a note, then we ought to go. I'll send Simon, get him to put it into Master Grey's hands himself. That'll be an adventure for him, going to Whitehall. I'll borrow your seal, if I may, so I can stamp it in the wax.' I hesitated. 'I ought to go myself, but there's no time. We should not have slept so long, it is less than twenty-four hours before Elizabeth returns to court.'

WE TOOK A BOAT into the City, then walked up to Walbrook. I had dressed in my robe and my best doublet and urged Barak to borrow my second-best robe to conceal his bandaged arm.

A maid answered the door. 'Is Sir Edwin in?' I asked. 'I am Master Shardlake.'

Her eyes widened a little; she recognized my name. I wondered how much the servants knew of what had happened here.

'He's at the Mercers' Hall, sir.'

'Goodwife Wentworth, then?' The girl hesitated. 'Come,' I said briskly, 'we have business with Lord Cromwell at Whitehall today. Is your mistress in?'

Her eyes widened further at Cromwell's name. 'I'll see, sir. Please wait.' She left us at the door and scurried off into the house. Minutes passed.

'What's keeping her?' Barak asked irritably. 'Let's go in.'

I held him back. 'She's coming.'

The girl reappeared, looking flustered. She took us upstairs, and once again we were led into the parlour with its tapestries and cushioned chairs, its view of the garden and the well. The room was cold today. This time the old woman was the only member of the family present. She was still dressed in black, her dark hood highlighting the paleness of her lined face. The young steward Needler stood behind her, his broad features impassive but his eyes watchful. The old woman had evidently just eaten, for a tray stood on a table at her elbow, with the remains of a dish of spring vegetables and a hunk of cold beef. I saw that the empty plate, the mustard pot and the little salt cellar were all of silver.

Goodwife Wentworth did not get up. 'You will forgive me if my steward stays, Master Shardlake. There are no other members of the family at home just now.' She smiled. 'He can be my eyes. Tell me, David, who is it that accompanies him? He has the steps of a young man.'

'A bald young fellow,' Needler said insolently. 'Though he dresses well enough.'

Barak gave him a steely look.

'He is my assistant,' I told her.

'Then we each have a chaperon,' Goodwife Wentworth said with another smile, showing her horrible false teeth and wooden gums. 'Now, what may I do for you? I understand the business is urgent. Elizabeth returns to court tomorrow, does she not?'

'She does indeed, madam, unless fresh evidence can be brought. Evidence, for example, of what lies at the bottom of yonder well in the garden.'

'Our well?' she asked quietly. 'Whatever can you mean, sir?' Her composure was remarkable.

'The bodies of the animals your grandson Ralph tortured and killed for sport are there. Including Elizabeth's cat that Sabine and Avice brought to him. And a tortured child, a little beggar boy. Whom Needler must have seen, but which you said nothing of at the inquest.' I looked from one to the other of them. They were silent, their faces expressionless.

'The boy had things done to him that would make a hangman sick,' Barak added.

The old woman laughed then, a shrill cackle. 'Are they mad, David? Are they frothing at the mouth, plucking straws from their hair?'

I spoke evenly. 'It must have been hard, these last weeks, for your granddaughters to keep such a secret.'

'Elizabeth is my granddaughter too,' the old woman said.

'Sir Edwin's children are all you have ever cared for. Them and their advancement.'

She was silent for a long moment. Then her lips set hard. 'I see you have learned much.' She sighed. 'It seems I must tell you all. David, I would like a glass of wine. Master Shardlake, you and your assistant will have one?'

I did not answer, surprised by the speed of her capitulation. I looked at the steward.

His face was tense, anxious.

'Get some wine, David,' the old woman said quietly.

Needler went over to the buffet, then turned to his mistress. 'The family had the last of it yesterday, madam. Shall I fetch another bottle from the cellar?'

'Ay, do that. I will be safe enough, I think.'

'Quite safe,' I replied grimly. Needler left the room. The old woman worked her hands in her lap, playing with her gnarled, beringed fingers. 'Elizabeth has spoken, then?'

'Reluctantly, yes. To us and to your son Joseph.'

She pursed her lips again. 'My family has come far,' she said quietly. 'If Edwin had been like Joseph we would all still be country clods, working at that dreary farm. But Edwin has brought us advancement, wealth, the chance for his children to mix with the highest in London. It has been a great consolation to me in my blindness. Now that Ralph is gone our hopes rest on good marriages for Sabine and Avice. It is all we have left.'

'Are they safe for a young man to marry? After what they have done?'

She shrugged. 'They only need a strong lusty fellow to take them in hand.'

Needler returned with a bottle of red wine and three silver goblets on a tray. He laid it on a table and gave a goblet to the old woman, then passed the others to Barak and me. His face was expressionless as he returned to his place behind his mistress's chair. Why were they both so calm? I wondered. I took a sip of the wine. It was sweet and sickly. Barak took a large draught.

'The truth, then,' Goodwife Wentworth said decisively.

'Yes, madam, the truth. If not here, then in court tomorrow morning.'

'Elizabeth will speak for herself?'

'Whether she does or not I shall bring forward the evidence I have. This is your chance to tell me the truth, madam. Perhaps-' I paused, taking another sip – 'something may be done.'

'Where is Joseph?' she asked.

'At his lodgings.'

She nodded then paused, gathering her thoughts. 'David saw it all,' she said. 'From this window. He was cleaning the tapestries; it is a task I trust only to him.' She hesitated a moment, as though listening for something, then continued.

'Elizabeth was in the garden alone that afternoon, sulking as usual. She would have done better to stand up for herself, the way she used to cower in corners like a pissing woman only encouraged the children to be cruel. And children are cruel, are they not? As a hunchback you will know that.'