Dark Fire

'But your family converted hundreds of years ago. You're as much a member of the Church of England as I am.'

He smiled sardonically. 'When I was a boy I remember at Easter the priest always gave a sermon about how the Jews crucified Our Lord, how wicked they were. Once I let out an almighty fart; I'd been holding it in specially and it was a ripper. The priest looked up and all the boys sniggered. My mother gave me a real beating when we got home. She didn't like my father talking about how he was descended from Jews.' His voice took on the bitter note it had whenever he spoke of her. 'I want another drink.'

'We may be here some time before these sailors arrive. We should stay sober.'

'My head can take some more. I need it. God, I'm supposed to see my girl later, but I don't feel like it. I've no taste for women tonight.'

'She'll think you've tired of her,' I said. I wondered if Barak was one of those who, finding the conquest of women easy, treat it as a light business and never form a lasting relationship. It was of a piece with his restless, roving nature.

He shrugged. 'Perhaps I am.' He changed the subject. 'You'll be seeing your friend Lady Honor again tomorrow.'

'Yes. At the bear-baiting.'

'I haven't been to a baiting for an age. Last time I went to the bull-baiting a great bull tossed one dog so high people in the street saw it above the top of the stadium. It made a real mess when it landed again.'

'I was wondering whether we might try Sir Edwin's well once more tomorrow night,' I said hesitantly.

He nodded. He looked at the giant's bone, still swinging slightly. 'All right. God's death, that gave me a scare last night. I'd swear it was eyes glinting up at me.' He got up and crossed to the hatch where the beer was served. I watched him, frowning. I wondered if it might have been jewellery Barak had seen down the well, the glint of precious stones in the candlelight. But I feared it was not.

The door opened again and half a dozen big heavy fellows tramped in, sunburnt and tired looking. Their hands and smocks were black with coal dust. I wondered if this was Miller and his friends. The landlord signalled to them and Barak joined them at the hatch. The men looked suspicious as they crowded round Barak, who was talking fast. I wondered whether to go over, but nods from the men indicated the conversation had come to a satisfactory conclusion. Barak walked back to me, laying two more mugs of beer on the table.

'That's Hal Miller and his mates. They arrived in London at lunchtime and they've been unloading coal all afternoon, as you can see from their looks. They didn't want to talk to me at first.'

'They looked quite ugly for a moment.'

'Ay, but I promised them money and showed them the earl's seal for good measure. Let them get their beer before we join them.'

The men took their drinks across to a large table in the centre of the room. They looked over at us. Not friendly looks – they seemed worried. But why, if they had wonders to tell, for sailors like nothing better than tale-telling? I was watchful as I followed Barak over to them. He introduced me as one of Lord Cromwell's officials and we sat down. The gritty smell of coal dust made me want to sneeze.

'Been working hard, bullies?' Barak asked.

'All day,' one said. 'Coal for the king's bakeries.' He had a strange, singsong accent and I realized that like many of the collier men he came from the wild northern counties.

'Hard work in this heat,' I ventured.

'Ay, and not well rewarded,' another said, with a meaningful look at Barak, who nodded and slapped the purse at his belt, making the coins jingle.

'Which one of you is Hal Miller?' I asked, deciding to bring matters to the point.

'I'm Hal.' A burly man in his forties, with a bald head and big gnarled hands, spoke up. Keen blue eyes stared at me from his red, dirt-streaked face.

'I wanted to talk to you about a new drink that was brought from the Baltic shores some months ago. I understand you had a part in trying to sell it.'

'I might have done,' he said. 'Why is Lord Cromwell interested?'

'Mere curiosity,' I said. 'He is interested in how it was made.'

'There were others who were interested. Others who threatened me.'

'Who?' I asked sharply.

'A man who called himself Toky.' Miller spat on the floor. 'Bold as a savage for all his poxy looks.'

'The earl can offer you his protection,' Barak said.

'What was his interest in this stuff?' I asked.

'He wanted to buy it from us.'

'Did he now?'

'Ay.' Miller sat silent a moment, then leaned forward, resting his big arms on the table. 'Last autumn I was offered a place on a ship one of the Merchant Adventurers was running up to the Baltic Sea. You know they're trying to open trade up there, break the Hanseatic League's monopoly?' I nodded. 'My mates told me to stay on the colliers and I wish I had. We were three weeks crossing the North Sea and sailing up the Baltic and once we were there we daren't stop at the German ports in case the Hanse merchants had us arrested. We were hungry and damned cold by the time we'd sailed up to the wild parts where the Teutonic Knights rule. By Christ, it's dismal up there. Nothing but pine forests right down to the shore. The whole sea freezes over in winter-'

'You made landfall?' I asked.

'Ay, at a place called Libau. The Polacks there were keen to trade with us. We took on a cargo of furs mainly, and some other curiosities Captain Fenchurch had never seen, like a strange doll that you open up to find other dolls inside. And a barrel of this stuff called wodky the Poles drink. We crewmen tried a little, but the stuff burned like fire. Just a cupful made us sick as dogs. Captain Fenchurch brought half a barrel back with him, though.'

As the soldier St John once brought another barrel back from Constantinople, I thought. 'What happened to it?'

'Captain Fenchurch paid us off in London. With the costs of the voyage he'd made little profit even with the furs, and he'd no plans then for another. So I went back to the colliers. But he gave me a bottle of the Polish stuff as a keepsake and I brought it here. Remember that night, Robin?'

'I'll not forget it in a hurry.' One of the others, a young fair-haired fellow, took up the tale. 'Hal came in and told us all about the Poles, their long beards and pointy fur hats and the dark forests, then he brought out this bottle of pale stuff and passed it round, saying it was what the Poles drank. You warned us it was strong stuff though, Hal, told us only to take a sip.'

'You knew better, though, Robin,' one of the others said, laughing.

'I thought I did,' the fair-haired fellow replied. 'I took a long swig at the bottle and, by Our Lady, I thought my head was going to burst. I spat the stuff straight out, right across the table. It was winter and dark, there were candles on all the tables. The stuff hit the candle and knocked it over and then – by Jesu-'

'What?'

'The whole table caught light. The stuff should have put the candle out, but the whole top of the table burst into a strange blue flame. You can imagine the effect it had. Everyone jumped up – all over the tavern people were shouting out and crossing themselves. Then the fire died as quickly as it started, leaving hardly a mark on the table. It was this very one.' He laid a hand on the scuffed table-top, which was indeed unmarked.

'It was like witchcraft,' Hal Miller said. 'After that I threw the stuff away.'

I frowned. 'You said this was in the winter.'

'Ay, January. I remember we weren't looking forward to the long voyage up the coast in the storms.'