К Сэнсом - Revelation

‘How now, Gib,’ Barak said, sitting beside Rooke. ‘You’re richly dressed for it.’

Rooke nodded to Barak, then looked up at me. ‘Good day, Master Shardlake. Ready for the fight?’

I gave him a stern look. Having their own barrister went to some of my clients’ heads, and they would take the chance to strut and mock; to their own detriment, for the courts demand sober respect. ‘I am ready,’ I said. ‘We have a good case. If we lose, it may be because the court judges you insolent. So watch your words in there. Dressing like a peacock is a bad start.’

Gib reddened. He was one of the many cottars who had set up market gardens on the Lambeth marshes across the river over the last fifteen years; the growth of London meant an endless demand for food in the city. Draining patches of empty bogland, the cottars squatted there without permission from the owners, who had never developed the land and might live far away. Recently, however, the landlords had realized there were profits to be made, and sought to use the manor courts to turn the cottars out and reap the benefits of their work. Gib had applied to Requests against eviction, citing ancient laws, for which I had been able to find rather shadowy precedents, that if a man occupied land under two acres in extent for a dozen years unchallenged, he could remain.

Gib nodded at Bealknap. ‘That old swine Sir Geoffrey seems unhappy with his lawyer.’

‘I know Bealknap. Don’t underestimate him.’ And, in truth, he was a clever lawyer. Today, though, he seemed to have a problem with his papers; he was searching frantically through his bag now. Raising his head briefly and seeing me, he whispered to his client, Gib’s landlord, and they moved away.

I sat on the other side of Gib. He looked at me, eyes greedy with curiosity. ‘They say there’s been a terrible murder at Lincoln’s Inn,’ he said. ‘A lawyer found in the fountain with his throat cut. On Easter Sunday.’

It was as I had feared, the story was spreading. ‘The killer will be rooted out,’ I said.

Gib shook his head. ‘They say they don’t know who it is. What a way to kill someone. Ah well, ’tis the times.’

‘I suppose you mean signs and portents,’ I said wearily, remembering the boatman.

Gib shrugged. ‘I don’t know about that. But there have been some nasty killings lately. One of the marsh cottars was found murdered horribly in January. That was another strange one. I wouldn’t be surprised if his landlord killed him,’ he added loudly. People turned to look.

‘If you don’t control your mouth you’ll lose this case,’ I snapped at him.

‘Here’s trouble,’ Barak whispered. Bealknap had left his client and come over to us.

‘May I speak with you, Brother Shardlake?’ he asked. I noticed he was sweating, though the unheated hall was cold.

I stood. ‘Very well.’

We stepped away a few paces. ‘Your client should not make insulting remarks about landlords in the precincts of the court,’ he said pompously.

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Is that all you have to say?’

‘No – no …’ Bealknap hesitated, bit his lip, then took a deep breath. ‘There is a problem, Brother Shardlake. I have not filed my client’s title to the land.’

I stared at him, astonished. The most routine piece of a lawyer’s work was to ensure the paperwork was properly filed in court. Many were the stories of junior barristers who failed to get their proper paperwork in on time and found their cases thrown out. But Bealknap had been a lawyer twenty years. For once he actually looked straight at me with his light blue eyes. I saw panic there. ‘Assist me, Brother Shardlake,’ he whispered desperately. ‘Assist a fellow-lawyer. Get the case adjourned. I can file the deeds then.’

‘If you file them now the judge might hear you. The plaints office is open.’

‘I have lost them,’ Bealknap said, a sudden frantic blurt. ‘I appeal to you, Shardlake. I was going to bring them today, I thought they were in my bag. I have been ill! Dr Archer has purged me again and all last night my arse was in a bloody sweat –’

Many lawyers would have helped him for the sake of the fellowship of the bar; but I had always set my face against such arrangements at a client’s expense.

‘I am sorry, Bealknap,’ I said quietly. ‘My duty is to my client.’

Bealknap let out a sound between a sigh and a groan. Then he leaned forward, almost hissing. ‘I knew you would not help me, you – you bent-backed toad. I won’t forget this!’

I saw his client, standing a little way off, eyeing Bealknap curiously. Without a word I turned and went back to Barak and Gib Rooke.

‘What was that about?’ Barak asked. ‘He looked ready to fly at you.’

‘He hasn’t filed proof of title. He’s lost the deeds somewhere.’

Barak whistled. ‘Then he’s in the shit.’ I set my lips. Bealknap’s insult only strengthened my determination to stand by Gib Rooke, who for all his bravado was a mere child in the face of the law.

‘What?’ he asked eagerly. ‘What’s happened?’

I explained. ‘If he’d make a clean breast of it, the judge might agree an adjournment if he’s in a good mood. But Bealknap will lie and fudge.’

‘Sir Geoffrey’s done for, then?’

‘He may be.’

Bealknap was crouched on the floor now, looking through his pannier again, frantically, hopelessly. His arms were shaking as he rifled through the bag. Then the usher appeared in the doorway of the courtroom.

‘Let all who have business before His Majesty’s Court of Requests step forward …’

Bealknap looked at him in despair. Then he rose and joined the crowd as everyone stepped forward into the old white-painted hall with its high dirty windows, the judge on his bench in his scarlet robes the only splash of colour.

SIR STEPHEN AINSWORTH, Judge of Requests, was fair but sharp-tongued. As soon as he came to our case he said the court record was incomplete. As I had expected, Bealknap rose and said he had filed the deeds but the court clerk must have lost them, asking quickly for an adjournment.

‘Where is your receipt for the deeds?’ Ainsworth asked.

‘I left it with my clerk, but he has the key to the office and has not arrived. I had to leave early to get here, the Westminster stairs being down –’ I had to give Bealknap credit for quick thinking. But Ainsworth turned to the usher.

‘Have the Clerk of Requests brought here,’ he said.

Bealknap looked ready to collapse as the clerk was brought and confirmed the deeds had never been lodged. ‘I suspect you lied to me there, Brother Bealknap,’ Ainsworth said coldly. ‘Be very careful, sir. Your client’s claim against Gilbert Rooke is dismissed for lack of title. Goodman Rooke, you may remain on your land. You have been lucky.’

Gib grinned from ear to ear. Bealknap sat down, his face grey. His client leaned close and began whispering fiercely, his face furious. I caught the gleam of white teeth, brown wood above. Another who had taken to false teeth.

‘Brother Shardlake,’ Ainsworth continued. ‘I am told you have filed an application in the case of a boy sent to the Bedlam by the Privy Council.’

‘Yes, your honour.’

He tapped his quill on his table, frowning thoughtfully. ‘Do I have the jurisdiction to hear this?’

‘The issue, your honour, is that no enquiry has been made into the boy’s state of mental health. That should be done before a person is deprived of their freedom. It is a matter of due process.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I propose to get a doctor to examine him, sir. But in the meantime, if you will consent to hear the matter, there is also the issue of who should pay the fees they charge in the Bedlam, and of the need to report on his progress. The boy’s parents are poor.’