Revelation

'So he is. He bleeds and purges me constantly, he says my body is badly disordered and keeps producing bad humours which must be forced out.' He put a hand to his stomach and winced. 'He has given me a new purge to take now. The lax comes on so quick it plucks my stomach away.'

'Some doctors think of nothing but purging. Have you thought of getting a second opinion?'

'Dr Archer was my father's doctor. What would going to a second doctor serve except — confusion? And expense. Archer will get me right in the end.' He looked at me defiantly. It surprised me that Bealknap, of all people, should place his trust in a physician who was clearly making him worse. But a man may be as cunning as a serpent in one sphere of life, and naive as a schoolboy in another. I took a deep breath, then said, 'Bealknap, why do you not go and see my friend Dr Malton? Get another opinion?'

'That brown Moor? And what if Dr Archer found out? He would stop treating me.'

'Dr Archer need not know.'

'Dr Malton would want paying in advance, I imagine. A new fee for him.'

'No,' I said evenly. But if Bealknap went to Guy, I would pay him myself rather than leave Guy to chase him for payment.

Bealknap's eyes narrowed into a calculating look. I could see he was wondering whether he could get a free appointment out of this, and thus to his strange way of thinking score a point against me.

'Very well.' He spoke aggressively, as though accepting a challenge. 'I will go. I will hear what he has to say.'

'Good. You will find him down at Bucklersbury. I am seeing him tomorrow, shall I make an appointment for you?'

His eyes narrowed. 'Why are you doing this? To find some profit for your friend?'

'I do not like to see anyone brought low by bad medical treatment. Even you, Bealknap.'

'How can laymen know what is good or bad treatment?' he muttered, then turned and walked away without thanks.

I watched him go, his stick tapping on the stone flags. Why had I done this, I asked myself. I realized that if Guy was able to help Bealknap, which was at least possible, it would be me who in a way would have scored a point against my old enemy. And given myself a sense of virtue, too. I wondered if that was partly why I had offered to help him. But if we never acted except when we were certain our motives were pure, we would never act at all.

Chapter Thirty

FOR THE REST of the day I worked steadily in my office. The rain began again, coming down heavily all afternoon. Barak was there too; in no mood for conversation, occasionally wincing, probably at the pains in his head after his drinking bout; so far as I was concerned, he deserved them. Towards evening a rider came from Cranmer's office summoning me to a conference at Lambeth the following afternoon. I reflected there could have been no dramatic developments or he would have wanted to see me at once. It must be our lack of progress he wished to discuss. I went to bed early; it rained heavily again in the night and I woke a couple of times to hear it pattering on the roof. I thought of the killer, out there somewhere. He could be watching the house now, for rain and cold meant little to him. Or he could be sitting in some room, somewhere in the vast city, listening to the rain as I was, while heaven knew what thoughts went through his mind.

Next morning was fine and sunny again, the warmest day so far. The spring was moving on. Sitting at breakfast I saw Tamasin walking on her own around the garden, pausing to look at the crocuses and the daffodils. She walked back towards the house and sat on the bench next to the kitchen door. I went outside to join her. Her bruises were quite gone now, her face strikingly pretty once again. But she looked preoccupied. She half rose as I approached, and I waved her to stay seated.

'Is that bench not wet?' I asked.

'It is kept dry by the eaves. Your garden is beautiful,' she added wistfully.

'I have had a lot of work done here over the years. How is Jack this morning? I think he did not go out again last night.'

'No. He still had a sore head.' She took a deep breath. 'But he has apologized. He said what he told you, that when this business is over he will move us to a little house somewhere. Perhaps even with a garden. He said it would give me something to do. I wish he had told me first.'

'Would that cheer you?'

'I would like a garden,' she replied in a flat tone. 'But I doubt we could afford that.'

'Perhaps it is time I reviewed his salary.'

'I am surprised you do not dismiss him, after how he has behaved in your house,' she said with cold anger.

'We have all been under great strain, Tamasin.'

'I know.' She looked at me seriously. 'But the troubles with Jack began long before this, as you know.'

'He knows he has done wrong, Tamasin. When all this is over, and you are settled somewhere else, things will be better. You will see.'

She shook her head. 'You know what a sharp tongue he has. He has sulked and got drunk and insulted me before. Then he is sorry and says he loves me, then he does it again and says he is sorry again and so it goes on. It is our lost child that has driven us apart.'

'There are worse husbands,' I said quietly. 'He does not beat you.'

'Am I to be grateful for that?'

'Give him time, Tamasin.'

'Sometimes I think, why should I bear this? I even think of leaving, only I have nowhere to go.' She bit her lip. 'I should not burden you with this, sir.'

'Only you have no one else.' I looked at her seriously. 'For what it is worth I think you should remember Jack is under great pressure now.'

'I used to admire his adventurousness, at the same time as I wanted him to settle down. After this I think he will be only too happy to live a quiet life. But will he want to live it with me?'

'I believe so. I am sorry; it was I who involved him in all this. Because my friend was killed.'

She looked at me. 'How is his widow?'

'She is strong. But the weight of grief still lies full on her.'

Tamasin gave me a searching look. I wondered if she had divined something of my feelings for Dorothy. I rose. 'I have to do some work, then go to Lambeth Palace.'

'The Archbishop?'

'Yes.'

'Take care, sir,' she said.

'And you, Tamasin. You take care too.'

I left her and went round to the stables. I decided not to take Barak with me. Left alone together, perhaps he and Tamasin might be able to talk more. I would have been reluctant to walk to Westminster alone, but felt safer on my horse, though I had not had that sense of someone following me lately. I felt sorry for Tamasin, sorry for Barak too now. I thought again of Dorothy. Doubts came into my mind; my feelings for her might have lain dormant all these years, but there was no reason she should ever feel as strongly. Yet perhaps, in time — I told myself I must wait and see how things developed over the months to come.

Young Timothy was in the stable, scraping dung-laden old straw into a pail. A batch of new straw stood by the door. Genesis stood in his stall, looking on placidly. I was glad to see the horse was at ease with the boy.

'How are you faring, Timothy?'

'Well, sir.' He smiled, a flash of white teeth in his dirty face. It was the first time I had seen him smile. 'Master Orr has been teaching me and Peter our letters.'

'Ah yes, I saw him with Peter. It is good to know them.'

'Yes, sir, only—'

'Yes.'

'He talks about God all the time.'

I thought, and you will have little time for God after your experiences at Yarington's. 'You and Peter are getting along?' I asked, changing the subject.

'Yes, sir. So long as I leave him to his work, and stick to mine.'

'Good. You seem to have made friends with Genesis.'

'He is an easy horse.' He hesitated. 'Do you know, sir, what became of Master Yarington's horse?'

'I am afraid not. Someone will buy him.' Timothy looked crestfallen. 'I do not need another horse,' I said. 'Now come, saddle Genesis for me.'