'They say the king's manners can be rougher than the duke's.'
Lady Honor raised her eyebrows. 'You should be careful what you say.' She looked around quickly. 'But no, you are right. Have you heard the tale that the duke's wife once complained to him about his flaunting his mistress before her, and the duke ordered his servants to sit on her till she was silent? They kept her lying on the floor till blood flowed from her nose.' Her lip curled with disgust.
'Ay. You know, I have a workfellow just now whose origin could not be lower, and he and the duke have much the same manners.'
She laughed. 'And you stand between the highest and the lowest, a rose between the thorns?'
'A poor gentleman only.'
We both laughed; then our laughter was lost in a tremendous crash of thunder right above us. The heavens opened and a great torrent of rain fell down, soaking us in an instant. Lady Honor looked up.
'O God, at last!' she said.
I blinked the rain out of my eyes. The cold water was indeed marvellous after the broiling heat of the last days. I gasped with the relief of it.
'I must go in,' Lady Honor said. 'But we must talk more, Master Shardlake. We must meet again. Though I have no more to tell about Greek Fire.' And then she came close and quickly kissed my cheek, a sudden warmth amidst the cold rainwater. Without looking back, she ran though the door to the stairs and closed it. As the rain pelted down on me I stood there with my hand on my cheek, overcome with astonishment.
Chapter Twenty-two
I RODE AWAY FROM THE House of Glass through sheets of rain that fell straight and hard, bouncing off my cap like a million tiny pebbles. But the storm was quickly over; by the time I reached Cheapside the last fading rumbles of thunder were sounding. The sewer channels had been turned into streams, fed with refuse from lanes that had been turned from dust to mud in half an hour. The last light of the long summer evening was fading and I jumped as Bow bells sounded loudly behind me, striking the curfew. The Ludgate would be closed and I would have to ask for passage through. Chancery was plodding on, his head down. 'Come on, old horse, we'll soon be home.' I patted his wet white flank and he gave a little grunting whicker.
The extraordinary conversation with Lady Honor went round and round in my head like a mouse in a jar. Her kiss, while chaste, was a daring thing from a woman of rank. But it was only after I had got her to admit she had read the papers that her tone became intimate. I shook my head sadly. I was attracted to her, all the more so after this evening, but I must be wary; this was no time to allow my mind to be cloyed by affection for a woman. Tomorrow would be the second of June, and only eight days left.
There was a stir about the Ludgate; men were going to and fro with torches to one side of the ancient gatehouse that held the debtors' prison. I wondered whether someone had escaped, but as I drew closer I saw a small part of the outer wall, where scaffolding had been erected, had collapsed. I pulled Chancery to a halt in front of a constable, who stood examining a pile of flagstones in the road with a lantern, watched by the gatekeeper and some passers-by.
'What has happened?' I enquired.
He looked up, doffing his cap when he saw I was a gentleman. 'Part of the wall's collapsed, sir. The old mortar was crumbling and the workmen dug it out today, then the storm soaked what was left and some of the wall fell down. It's ten feet thick, or the prisoners would be scrambling out like rats.' He squinted up at me. 'Pardon me, sir, but are you able to read old languages? Only there's something written on these stones, like pagan symbols.' There was a note of fear in the man's voice.
'I know Latin and Greek.' I dismounted, my thin pantofle shoes squelching on the wet cobbles. A dozen ancient flagstones lay in the road. The constable lowered his lamp to the inner surface of one of the blocks. There was some sort of writing carved there, a strange script of curved lines and half-circles.
'What do you think it is, sir?' the constable asked.
'It's from the time of the old druids,' someone said. 'Heathen spells. The stones should be broken up.'
I traced one of the marks with my finger. 'I know what this is, it's Hebrew. Why, this stone must have come from one of the Jews' synagogues after they were expelled near three hundred years ago. They must have been used on some previous repair – the gatehouse goes back to Norman times.'
The constable crossed himself. 'The Jews? That killed Our Lord?' He looked at the writing anxiously. 'Perhaps we should break them up after all.'
'No,' I said. 'These are of antiquarian interest. You should tell the alderman – the Common Council should know of this. There is a new interest in Hebrew studies these days.'
The man looked dubious.
'There may be a reward in it for you.'
He brightened. 'I will, sir. Thank you.'
With a last glance at the ancient writing I returned to Chancery, my shoes squelching unpleasantly in the mud. The keeper opened the gate and I rode over Fleet Bridge. I heard a great rush of water beneath me, and it made me think of all the generations who had lived in this City, dashing and scurrying through their lives, some to leave great monuments and dynasties of children, others rushing only to oblivion.
WHEN I REACHED HOME Barak had not yet returned and Joan was abed. I had to rouse young Simon to take the horse to the stables; I felt a little guilty sending the boy stumbling off into the night, heavy-eyed with sleep as he was. I took a mug of beer and a candle and went up to my room. Looking through the open window, I saw the sky was clear, all the stars visible. The heat was gathering again already. Rainwater had come in, dripping on the floor and on my Bible, which stood on a table beside it. I wiped it, reflecting it was many days since I had last opened it. Only ten years ago the very idea of a Bible in English being allowed would have filled me with joy. I sighed and turned to the papers on the Bealknap case I had brought back from court, for I must prepare my recommendations for the council about an application to the Court of Chancery.
It was late when I heard Barak come in. I went to his room and found him in his shirt, in the process of hanging his doublet out of the window to dry.
'You were caught in the storm, then?'
'Ay, I've had a busy time going from place to place and the tempest caught me on my way to the tavern where the compurgators gather.' He gave me a serious look. 'I've seen the earl. He's not pleased. He wants progress, not a stream of refugees.'
I sat down on the bed. 'Did you tell him we've been going back and forth across London day after day?'
'He has to go to Hampton Court to see the king tomorrow, but he wants to see us the day after, and he wants some progress by then.'
'Was he angry?'
Barak shook his head. 'Anxious. He didn't like the idea Rich may be involved in this. I talked to Grey. He gave me disapproving looks like he usually does but he said the earl's a worried man.' I saw again the fear behind Barak's customary bravado, fear for his master – and for himself if Cromwell fell. 'What happened at the banquet?' he asked.
'The Duke of Norfolk was there, in a foul mood and drunk.' I told him all that had passed. I even told him about Lady Honor's kiss, impelled to frankness by the worry I had seen in his face. For good or ill, Barak and I were in this together. I half-expected some mocking remark, but he only looked thoughtful.
'You think she was making up to you because you found out she'd read those papers?'
'Perhaps. There's more besides.' I told him of the conversation I had overheard. 'Norfolk wants something from her, something that Marchamount knows about.'