Dark Fire

'Shit! Norfolk may be in the know too. That would be far worse than Rich. Lord Cromwell will have to be told about that. Do you think Norfolk's trying to get what was in those papers out of her?'

'Perhaps. There's not that much information in them, but he doesn't know that. But if he's pressing her, why didn't she tell me?' I looked at him seriously. 'I had the sense she thinks Cromwell may not be able to offer protection to his friends much longer.'

Barak shrugged. 'That's the rumour.'

'I'm going to see her again tomorrow. I'll take the papers, say I'd like to go through them with her, use that as an excuse to press her further.'

Barak smiled wryly and shook his head. 'Caught by her rich woman's scent, eh?'

'Yes. I knew the smell on those books was familiar.'

Barak ran his fingers through his hair. 'Perhaps they're all in together. Bealknap, Lady Honor, Marchamount, Rich, Norfolk. That would bake a fine pie.'

'No. That doesn't make sense. Whoever killed the Gristwoods and Leighton – for I think he must be dead too – knows all about Greek Fire. They have the formula, and they're trying to stop people's mouths. If I'm right, Norfolk may be trying to open Lady Honor's mouth. That means he doesn't know about Greek Fire. Not yet.'

'The earl should have had Bealknap and Marchamount and her ladyship in the Tower at the start, shown them the rack.'

I winced at the thought of Lady Honor in the Tower. Barak looked at me. 'Fine feelings won't help us in this,' he said impatiently.

'And if those people were taken to the Tower, how long would it have been before some gaoler or torturer started rumours that Greek Fire's been found and lost again?'

Barak grunted. 'That's why Lord Cromwell won't do it. Though there'll be plenty going to the Tower if he falls. Probably you and me with them, if the pope comes back.' He shrugged. 'At least I've made some progress on other matters. I've found who pock-face is.'

I sat up. 'Who?'

'He's called Bernard Toky. He's from out Deptford way, he started life as a novice monk apparently.'

'A monk?'

'Ay, he can pass for an educated man. But he was defrocked for something, spent the rest of his youth soldiering against the Turk and developed a taste for killing apparently. The other man, the big one, is called Wright. He's an old mate of Toky's. They've been involved in various bits of dirty business, though they've never been caught. Toky had a bad dose of smallpox a few years back, which accounts for his face, but it didn't change his habits.'

'Dirty business for whom?'

'Whoever will pay. Rich merchants with scores to settle mostly, who don't want to dirty their fine hands. He left London for somewhere in the country a few years ago, things were getting too hot for him. But now he's back. He's been seen, although he seems to be avoiding old friends. But I've got people looking for him.'

'Let's hope he doesn't get to us first.'

'And I found the tavern where the compurgators hang out.'

'You've had a busy time.'

'Ay. I told the tavern keeper I'd pay well for information about Bealknap. He'll be in touch. And I went to the tavern where the sailors hang out too. Offered money for information about that Polish cargo. The tavern keeper remembers someone trying to sell the stuff there, a man called Miller. He's at sea now, bringing coal down from Newcastle, but he should be back the day after tomorrow. If we go to the tavern then the innkeeper can introduce us.'

'Excellent. And if we can follow its trail from there to the Gristwoods' house… you've done well, worked hard.'

He looked at me seriously again. 'We've much more to do,' he said. 'Much more.'

I nodded. 'I sat next to a mercer's wife at the banquet, who said a strange thing about young Ralph Wentworth. Told me he drove his mother to an early grave. What can she have meant?'

'Was that all she said?'

'Ay, then she clammed up.'

We both jumped suddenly at a knock on the front door. Barak reached for his sword as we hurried down the stairs. Joan, roused from her bed, was already at the door, a startled look on her face. I motioned her back. 'Who is it?' I called.

'A message,' a childish voice called. 'Urgent, for Master Shardlake.'

I opened the door. An urchin stood, holding a letter. I gave him a penny and took it.

'Is it from Grey?' Barak asked.

I studied the superscription. 'No. This is Joseph's writing.' I broke the seal and opened the letter. It was brief, and asked me to meet him first thing tomorrow at Newgate, where a terrible thing had happened.

Chapter Twenty-three

NEXT MORNING WE RODE out early again. Any hope the storm might have heralded a change in the weather was gone; it was hotter than ever, not a cloud in the sky. The puddles were drying already and a malodorous steam rose from heaps of rubbish washed down from the alleyways.

I had thought there might be an argument with Barak over my plans for the morning; I intended to go to Newgate, then to the Guildhall to present my recommendations for transferring the Bealknap case; while there I planned to seek in the library the books that had been taken from Lincoln's Inn. I would be spending some hours away from the Greek Fire case. However, Barak raised no objection, saying he would visit the taverns again to see if there was more news of the compurgators or of Toky, and to my surprise he offered to come to Newgate with me and see Elizabeth. I promised I would visit Lady Honor again that afternoon to question her.

We rode up to Newgate again and left our horses at the nearby inn. I ignored the hands at the begging grate, and banged on the door.

The fat gaoler opened it. 'The lawyer again,' he said. 'Your client's given us a peck of trouble today.'

'Is Joseph Wentworth here? He asked me to meet him.'

'Ay.' He stood in the doorway, barring our entrance. 'He won't give me a sixpence he owes me.'

'What for now?'

'Shaving the witch's head when she went mad yesterday. After she started screaming and howling and throwing herself around the Hole. We've had to chain her and I got a barber to come and shave her head to cool her wild brain. That's what you're supposed to do with mad people, isn't it?'

Wordlessly, I passed him a sixpence. He nodded and stepped aside, letting us into the dark entrance hall. The heat had now penetrated even Newgate's thick stones and the interior was a warm, stinking fug. Water dripped somewhere. Barak wrinkled his nose. 'This place stinks like Lucifer's privy,' he muttered as we went to where Joseph sat on a bench. He looked crushed and barely brightened when he saw me.

'What's happened?' I asked. 'The gaoler said Elizabeth's run mad.'

'Thank you for coming, sir. I don't know what to do. She'd been the same since the trial, wouldn't utter a word. Then they took that old horse thief away yesterday.' He took out the handkerchief Elizabeth had given him and wiped his brow. 'As soon as the woman was taken out they say Lizzy went mad. Started screaming, throwing herself at the walls. Jesu knows why, the old woman was never kind to her. She had to be restrained, sir, they put her in chains.' He looked up at me in anguish. 'They cut off all her hair, her black curly hair that used to be so lovely, and tried to make me pay for the barber. I wouldn't – I hadn't asked for such a cruel thing.'

I sat beside him. 'Joseph, you know you have to pay them what they ask. If you don't they'll only treat her worse.' He bowed his head and nodded reluctantly. I guessed arguing with the gaolers over money was the only way poor Joseph could preserve a little dignity.

'How is she now?'