Revelation

'He must gain something. In his disordered mind. I think he has an insane compulsion to kill. He would not be the first.'

'Madness? If you are to justify that definition, sir, if it is to be more than just a word, you must tell me in what ways his mind is disordered, how and why he is mad.'

'I cannot,' I admitted. 'I can only tell you that there have been similar cases in the past.'

'When?' he asked, surprised.

I told him about Strodyr and De Rais. When I had finished he spread his hands, gave me a sad smile.

'But surely, sir, those are further examples of possession rather than madness as we know it. Whatever that ex-monk Dr Malton may say.'

'Perhaps there will never be an explanation for such men as these.'

'But surely possession is an explanation,' Harsnet said. He leaned forward. 'Acts that make sense only as a wicked mockery of true religion.'

'True religion?' I asked quietly. 'Is that how you would describe the Book of Revelation?'

'How else?' Harsnet spread his hands wide. 'It is a book of the Bible, and all of the Bible is God's word, telling us how to live and find salvation, how the world began and how it will end. We cannot pick and choose which parts of the Bible to believe.'

'Many have doubted whether the Book of Revelation is inspired by God. From the early church fathers to Erasmus in our own day.'

'But the church fathers did accept it. And Erasmus remained a papist. Not a true Bible man. The Book is Holy Writ, and the devil has entered this man to make him blaspheme.'

I did not reply. Harsnet and I would never agree. To my surprise, he smiled suddenly. 'I see I will not convince you,' he said.

I smiled back. 'I fear not. Nor I you.'

He looked at me, not in a hostile way but with compassion. 'I am sorry my wife was so insistent about the virtues of the married state. Women these days will say what they please. But she has a point. Matthew, I may call you Matthew—'

'Of course—'

'I have watched you with interest this last week. Working together gives one a chance to weigh up a man. You are clever, and a moral man.'

'Thank you.'

He looked at me earnestly. 'You were a successful lawyer, who was close to Thomas Cromwell in his early days. You could have been one of the commissioners appointed to do away with the monasteries, I think.'

'I did not want that job. It called for more ruthless men than I.'

Harsnet nodded. 'Yes, a moral man. But a moral man should surely not lack faith.'

'I shared my law chambers once with a good man, a man of the new faith. He left to become a preacher on the roads. I think he is still out there somewhere. I often think of him. But then I have known good men who cleaved to the old faith too.' I looked at him. 'And evil men of both.'

'I think you are uncertain, you are indeed what the Bible calls a Laodicean.'

'Laodicea. One of the churches St John of Patmos criticized in Revelation. Yes, I am uncertain.' I let a coldness enter my voice. I did not want this conversation, I did not want Harsnet trying to convert me in his patronizing way, but I did not wish to be rude to him. His compassion was sincere, and I had to work with him.

'Forgive me,' he went on, 'but do you not think perhaps the state of your back makes you bitter, resistant to God? I saw how it affected you when Dean Benson mentioned the King's mockery of you at York. Sadly that is the sort of thing some men will remember, to throw in your face.'

Now I felt anger. He had gone too far. 'I was a hunchback when I was a man of faith,' I said firmly. 'If I am a doubter now, a Laodicean as you say, it is because for ten years I have seen men on both sides who talk of the glory of God yet harry and persecute and kill their fellow men. By their fruits shall you know them, is not that what the Bible says? Look at the fruits of religion in these last ten years. This murderer has many examples of cruelty and violence to inspire him.'

Harsnet frowned. 'The agents of the Pope show true religion no mercy, and we have to stand fast. You know what Bonner is doing. I do not like hard measures, I hate them, but sometimes they are necessary.' A tic flickered on his cheek momentarily.

'What do you believe, Gregory?' I asked quietly. 'Like Cranmer, that the King has been appointed by God to supervise the doctrine of the Church, that all should be in accordance with his will?'

'No. I believe the true Christian church should be self-governing. No bishops, nor ceremonies. As it was in the early church, so it should be at the end. I believe the end-time is coming,' he concluded.

'Yes. I thought you might.'

'I see the signs, the strange things everywhere in the world like those great fish the waters threw up and the persecution of Christians. The Antichrist is here and he is the pope. This is no time for half-measures.'

'I believe the Book of Revelation was written by a false prophet,' I said. 'Who repeated his dreams and fantasies.'

I thought Harsnet would burst out angrily but the compassionate look remained on his face. He sighed heavily. 'I see you believe what you say, Matthew. And I can see things from your point of view. Believe me, I do not like the things I sometimes have to do, like the way I had to conduct that inquest.' The tic fluttered again on his cheek, twice. 'I prayed hard that day. And I believe that God answered me, confirmed that I must keep the truth of poor Elliard's death secret. I never act without praying, and God answers, and then I know that I have taken the right path.' He smiled. 'And in the end I answer to him, not to mortal men.' He looked at me with passionate seriousness. 'I too doubted when I was young, I think we all doubt then. But one day when I was praying for enlightenment I felt God came to me and it was as if I wakened from a dream. God's love for me was clear, as though my mind had been washed clean.' He spoke with passion.

'I thought I felt the same, once,' I said sadly.

'But it was not enough?'

'No.'

Harsnet smiled. 'Perhaps that time will come again. After this horror is over.' He hesitated, the shyness showing through again. 'I would like to be your friend, Matthew,' he said. 'I am a loyal friend.'

I smiled. 'Even to Laodiceans?'

'Even so.'

I shook his hand. And I wondered whether at the end of this trail of horror, I would regain my faith, or he would lose his.

Chapter Twenty-nine

IT WAS DARK when I rode back along the Strand, weary after the long day, past the houses of the wealthy that lined the road from Westminster to London. Gentle yellow candlelight flickered in their windows, lighting the road dimly. There were few people about after the London curfew, but as always these days I was watchful.

The air was still mild, but damp, and looking up at the sky I saw the stars were hidden by cloud. We were going to have rain. The stitches on my arm pulled painfully. Tomorrow if time allowed I would go and see Guy and ask when I might have them out. I wanted to talk to him again too, about Adam Kite and about what sort of creature the killer might be. The conversation with Harsnet had remained in my mind; I did not believe the killer was possessed, but was unsure that I really had any better idea what he was. And I did not know when he might strike again, or where.

When I entered the house Harsnet's man Orr was sitting in the hall, reading a Testament.

'All quiet, Philip?' I asked him.

'Yes, sir. I walked up and down the street a few times, made myself seen. Just the normal traffic. A lot of legal men, a pedlar with his cart crying his wares most of the morning.'

'He's a long way out. I shouldn't think he'd get much passing trade here.'

'So many workless men have gone for pedlars these days, they are getting everywhere.'

'True.' I passed inside, glad Orr was there. I liked his solid conscientiousness. His presence would be a deterrent if our dreadful visitor thought of doing more damage to us.