C. Sansom - Dark Fire

'Well? Is there any more news? Have you achieved anything apart from landing me with that menagerie of scared fools?'

'I needed to discover what they knew, my lord.'

'You didn't believe in Greek Fire, did you?' he asked bluntly.

I shifted my feet nervously. 'I needed to trace the matter back to its source-'

'Do you believe in it now?'

I hesitated. 'Yes.'

'So what of the suspects, the people who matter?'

'They all say they know nothing. Lady Honor I have questioned closely.' I repeated all she had had told me.

He grunted. 'She's a fine woman. Pretty.' His hard eyes bored into mine. I wondered if Barak had told him I liked her. I remembered Cromwell was a widower now; his only son Gregory was said to be, like Henry Vaughan, a poor sort of fellow.

'I intend to check her story with Marchamount.'

'Another one who still maintains he knows nothing. Bealknap makes a third.'

'Bealknap has questions to answer. I have found a way of bringing pressure on him, by threatening to expose some of his ill dealings. I shall see him this afternoon.'

'Expose him? To the Inn authorities?'

'Yes.'

He nodded approvingly. 'You do mean business then.'

'I will question him on his involvement with Richard Rich.'

Cromwell's face clouded at that name. 'Yes, you have added him to our list of possible suspects, Barak tells me. Him and Norfolk.' He gave a sudden furious glance at the closed door. I shuddered at the thought of what he would do to the duke if he had him in his power.

'Bealknap and Marchamount are under their respective patronage.' I hesitated. 'I saw them together this morning, at Barty's. I wondered whether they might be plotting some thing together.'

'Everyone is plotting. All my protégés are falling away, becoming spies and enemies, making shift to protect their places on the council if the tide turns against me.' He looked at me again. 'If Bealknap told Rich about Greek Fire, Rich could have told Norfolk.'

'It is all guesswork, my lord.'

'Yes, it is.' He nodded grimly.

'I learned they are digging up the graves of the monks at Barty's,' I said, 'and planning to start on the graves from the hospital. It struck me that the old soldier might have had Greek Fire buried with him. It would be a way for us to get hold of some. I thought I might speak with Kytchyn.'

He nodded. 'It's worth a try, I suppose. If I had some, at least I could tell the king we might be able to make more. Do it, but don't let Rich know what you're about. Ask Grey for the address of the house where I've put Kytchyn and Mother Gristwood. Grey's the only one who knows it. Almost the only one who's safe now. And see Bealknap soon. Solve this, Matthew,' he said with sudden passion. 'Solve this.'

'We will, my lord,' Barak said.

Cromwell was thoughtful a moment. 'Did you see the Holbein mural on your way in?' he asked me.

I nodded.

'I thought that would catch your eye. Realistic, is it not? The figures seem as though they could walk out into the hall.' He picked up the quill and tore at the remaining vanes. 'The king magnificent, calves thick and strong as a carthorse. You should see him now, his ulcerated leg so bad that sometimes they have to wheel him round the palace in a little cart.'

'My lord,' Barak said quickly, 'it is dangerous to speak thus-'

Cromwell waved a hand. 'It relieves me to talk, so you'll listen. It's my belief there'll be no more little princes – he's so ill I don't think he's capable. I think that's why he was so shocked when he saw Anne of Cleves – he realized he couldn't raise his member for her. He hopes he may with pretty little Catherine, I'm sure, but I wonder.' He pulled the last of the vanes from the quill and threw down the bare stalk. 'And if he can't, then in a year or less the fault will be Catherine's as now it is Queen Anne's. And then Norfolk may find himself out of favour once more. I want to survive till then.'

I felt cold, despite the warmth of the room, at the coldly calculating way he spoke of the king. And to say the king was incapable of fathering more children was bordering on treason. Cromwell looked up, his face grim.

'There, that's unsettled you, hasn't it?' He looked from one to the other of us. 'If you fail and that demonstration doesn't take place you can expect harsh deserts. So don't fail.' He sighed deeply. 'Now leave me.'

I opened my mouth, but Barak touched my arm and shook his head quickly. Bowing again, we left. Barak closed the door behind us very gently.

Grey looked at us anxiously. 'Are there any instructions?' he asked.

'No.' I paused. 'Only to give me the address where Master Kytchyn is kept.'

'I have it here.' He delved in a drawer, wrote it down and handed it to me. 'He and the Gristwoods make strange housemates,' he said with an attempt at a smile.

'Thank you. Take care, Master Grey,' I added softly.

BARAK AND I SAT IN a corner of the Barbary Turk. The tavern where Barak had arranged to meet the sailor from the Baltic was a gloomy, cavernous place, smelling equally of stale beer and salt water, for it was right on the river front. Through the small window I could see Vintry Wharf, crowded with warehouses. I was reminded that the warehouse whose conveyancing I had lost was nearby, at Salt Wharf.

It was early evening and there were few other customers as yet. In the middle of the room a huge thigh bone, thrice the size of a man's, hung in chains from the high rafters. When we had arrived, Barak went to fetch some beer and I looked at the plaque fixed to it: The leg of a giant of old times, dug from the Thames silt, anno 1518. The year I came to London. I touched the thing lightly, causing it to swing gently in the embrace of its chains. It felt cold, like stone. I wondered whether it could indeed be from some gigantic man. Certainly humankind took some troubling forms. I thought of my own bent back and the king's diseased leg, which perhaps was the cause of all his marital troubles. A touch at my arm made me jump, as though someone had divined my dangerous thoughts. But it was only Barak pointing me to the gloomy corner.

WE HAD HAD AN unsuccessful afternoon, all the more frustrating after Cromwell's demand for urgency. We had taken a wherry back to Temple Stairs, then walked up to Chancery Lane.

Leman was waiting there, a little the worse for drink, I saw, and we walked him up to Lincoln's Inn. Once through the gates he looked round nervously at the imposing buildings and the black-robed barristers walking by, but perhaps the thought of the money to come gave the red-faced stallholder a measure of courage, for he allowed us to lead him to Bealknap's chambers.

We climbed the narrow steps to Bealknap's door only to find it closed, a heavy padlock through the handle. Enquiry of the barrister who occupied the chambers below brought the curt response that Brother Bealknap had gone out early that morning and that he preferred not to enquire after his doings.

Frustrated, we went across to my own chambers. Godfrey was in the outer office, going over some papers with Skelly. He looked up in surprise as I came in with Barak and Leman in tow. I left them in the office and went with Godfrey to his room.

'No problems with your work,' he told me, 'but I'm afraid you've another case gone. The house conveyance down by Coldharbour.'

'God's death, as if I haven't enough to worry about.' I ran my hands through my hair. 'These are all new matters that are going too, new clients.'

Godfrey looked at me seriously. 'You ought to look into this, Matthew. It seems that someone is putting out bad words about you.'

'You're right, but I haven't time now. I won't have before next Thursday.'

'You'll be free then?'