C. Sansom - Dark Fire

Then at least he had not been killed too. 'Thank you, anyway.' I nodded to Barak, who took out his purse and passed some coins to Miller. 'If you think of anything more,' he said, 'you can reach me by way of the landlord.'

I led the way outside, halting a little way from the inn. The Vintry crane stood outlined against the starlit sky like the neck of a huge swan. I looked out over the dark river.

'Stumped again,' Barak said. 'If only that arsehole captain hadn't gone abroad.'

I raised a hand. 'Think of the dates, Barak,' I said excitedly. 'Master Miller causes a great stir in the tavern in January. That's three months after the Greek Fire was found at Barry's, but two months before the Gristwoods contacted Bealknap as the first step in getting to Cromwell. What were they doing in those months?'

'Building and testing the apparatus?'

'Yes.'

'And trying to produce more Greek Fire, using the formula? The Polish stuff must be part of it.' Barak looked excited.

'Or perhaps they heard the story of the fiery liquid, and sent Toky down here to try and get some to see if it could be of use.'

'But they must have known what they needed and what materials. They had the formula.'

'You'd think so, wouldn't you? So Toky's paymaster, whoever it was, was involved at a very early stage. Working with the Gristwoods. Months before the approach to Cromwell.'

'That doesn't make sense. If he was working with the Gristwoods, why have Toky kill them?' He stared at me. 'Perhaps the Gristwoods went to Cromwell behind their first sponsor's back, perhaps they were looking for a better offer.'

'Then why wait until two months after the approach to Cromwell to kill them? And if the person behind the killings is one of our suspects, the Gristwoods wouldn't use any of them as an intermediary to Cromwell.' I raised my eyebrows. 'I must talk to Bealknap, Barak. We need to lay hold of him.'

He gave me a serious look. 'What if Toky's got to him already? Shit, they got to the founder just before we did – what if Bealknap's dead too?'

'I'd rather not think of that. Come on, we can check at Lincoln's Inn before we go home.' I cast a glance back at the gloomy tavern. It was a strange place. It struck me that it was only at night that London showed its true, sinister face.

At Lincoln's Inn there was only a note from Godfrey to say Bealknap had not returned. His door was padlocked and next morning, when I went in again, it was still locked. His locks and the guards at the gatehouse protected his chest of gold, but of Bealknap himself there was still no sign. And six days left now.

IT WAS TURNING INTO a frustrating morning. After going to Lincoln's Inn to find no trace of Bealknap again, I had ridden over to Guy's, but my note was still on his door. Why could people not stay in one place, I thought as I rode to my next port of call, the house where Cromwell had sent the Gristwoods and Kytchyn, to keep them out of sight.

The house was in a poor street near the river, with flaking paint on the doors and shutters, which were closed despite the heat of the morning. I tied up Genesis and knocked at the door. A large man in a dun-coloured smock opened it. He stood in the doorway, eyeing me suspiciously.

'Yes?'

'My name is Matthew Shardlake. I had the address from Lord Cromwell.'

He relaxed. 'Ay, sir, I had word you would be coming. Come in.'

'How are our guests?'

He made a grimace. 'The old monk's not too bad, but that woman's a termagant and her son's crazy to get out. Any idea how long they're to be kept here?'

'It shouldn't be more than a few days.'

A door opened and Goodwife Gristwood emerged. 'Who is it, Carney?' she asked nervously. She looked relieved when she saw it was only me. 'Master lawyer.'

'Ay. How are you, madam?'

'Well enough. You can go, Carney,' she said in a peremptory tone. The big man made a face and walked away. 'He's an impertinent fellow,' Madam Gristwood said. 'Come into our parlour, sir.'

She led me into a hot shuttered room, where her son sat at a table. He stood when I entered. 'Good day, sir. Have you come to tell us we may go? I want to be back at my work-'

'I am afraid there is still danger, Master Harper. A few days more.'

'It's for our safety, David,' his mother said reprovingly. Goodwife Gristwood had got over her shock, it appeared, and recovered her natural character as one who would rule any roost she landed in if she could. I smiled.

'I would like to get back to my house, though,' she said. 'It has been decided David is to live with me there. He earns enough at the foundry to keep us both. Then when the market improves we shall sell the place. We shall have money then, eh, David?'

'Yes, Mother,' he said obediently. I wondered how long it would be before, like Michael, he kicked against the traces.

'Where is Master Kytchyn?' I asked. 'I need to see him.'

Goodwife Gristwood snorted. 'That creeping old monk? In his room, I should think. Upstairs.'

I bowed to her. 'Then I shall go up. I am glad you and your son are safe.'

'Yes.' Her face softened again for a moment. 'Thank you, sir. You have kept faith with us.'

I mounted the stairs, oddly touched by Goodwife Gristwood's unexpected thanks. She had not asked about Bathsheba Green, perhaps she did not care any more now she had her son. I saw that only one door on the upper floor was closed and knocked quietly. There was silence for a moment, then Kytchyn's voice called hesitantly, 'Come in.'

He had been praying, I saw, for he was still rising slowly to his knees. I saw the bulge of a bandage on one arm through the thin stuff of his white cassock. His thin face was pale, drawn with pain.

'Master Shardlake,' he said anxiously.

'Master Kytchyn. How is your arm?'

He shook his head sadly. 'I do not have the use of my fingers as I did. But at least the arm has not gone bad, I must be thankful for that.' He sat on the bed with a sigh.

'How do you find it here?'

He frowned. 'I do not like that woman. She tries to rule the place. Women should not do that,' he said definitely. I realized he had probably had few dealings with women over the years, so Goodwife Gristwood must terrify him. How at sea in the world he was.

'It should not be for much longer, sir.' I smiled encouragingly. 'There is something I would ask you.'

The scared look returned to his face. 'About Greek Fire, sir?'

'Yes. A question only.'

His shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. 'Very well.'

'They are clearing out the graves at Barty's now.'

'I know. I saw that the day we met there. It is a desecration.'

'I am told there was an old custom there that people buried in the precincts would have something personal buried with them, something that related to their lives on earth. The friars, and the patients in the hospital too.'

'That is true. Many times I have been at vigil for a dead brother. Before they laid him in his coffin they laid a symbol of his life on the body, carefully, reverently.' Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

'I wondered if the old soldier, St John, might have had some of the Greek Fire buried with him.'

Kytchyn stood up, looking interested now. 'It is possible. Yes, I suppose if the monks knew of anything that defined his life it would be that. And they would not know Richard Rich would come and desecrate the graves,' he added bitterly.

I nodded. 'Then I think I should find it before Rich goes digging there. I hope there is time. He has ordered the things they find in the graves be brought to him.'

Kytchyn looked at me. 'Ah yes. Some will be gold or silver.'

'Yes.' I returned his gaze. 'Master Kytchyn, something has troubled me. The monks hid that barrel, and the formula. They knew what Greek Fire could do.'