by C. J. Sansom
‘I’m not sure we should do that,’ I said urgently. ‘It is what he would expect. We could be riding into a trap.’
‘But if Sir Thomas can get some men,’ Barak said, ‘and we can ride there in force—’
‘The hunchback’s right,’ Seymour said. ‘This creature’s got something waiting for us up there. It would be better for me to send a couple of trusted men up to that village, my steward and another man, an ex-soldier, who was with me in Hungary. They can spy out the land, find out whether Goddard lives there, make contact with the local magistrate. They can report back tonight. Coroner Harsnet, you should tell the Archbishop what has happened, then I will report to him personally as soon as I have news.’
‘We should storm the place,’ Barak pressed.
‘Let’s see the lie of the land first,’ Seymour said ‘We can go to that village in force tomorrow.’ He looked at the coroner. ‘But we shall need the Archbishop’s approval.’
Despite his insulting behaviour towards me, I looked at Sir Thomas with a new respect. He had been an ambassador with a fighting army in Hungary, he was thinking strategically.
‘I should go with your men,’ Harsnet said.
‘No, Gregory,’ I said. ‘There is every chance that the killer will recognize you, given how he has been following us. It may be possible for Sir Thomas’ men to make enquiries without showing who they are.’
‘You think this man’s possessed by the devil,’ Seymour said. ‘We have to show as much cunning as he does.’
Harsnet frowned. ‘We need reliable men,’ he said after a pause.
Seymour laughed. ‘Do not worry, coroner, my steward is reliable and sober. He even goes to church on Sundays when I do not need him to organize some hunting.’
Harsnet looked at me. I nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said reluctantly.
Seymour looked at the watchman, Padge. ‘And I’ll get someone to replace him and keep people away. You’d better keep him safe somewhere for a bit, ply him with drink. His big ears have been flapping all this time.’ The watchman gave him a bitter look, but dared say nothing. ‘Janley should go back to the tavern,’ Seymour concluded. He grinned at us suddenly. ‘The chase is on, gentlemen, the hunt is nearly over.’
WHEN HE HAD LEFT, Harsnet ordered Janley and the watchman to remain in the conduit-house and asked Barak and me to step outside. Mercifully the rain had ceased and a weak sun was trying to penetrate the clouds.
‘You suggested there might be a trail, Barak?’ Harsnet said. ‘Shall we see? Then I must go and report to the Archbishop.’
Harsnet was silent, thoughtful, as the three of us went through the outer gate, following the wall that bounded the precinct. A gate led us into an orchard, reminding me again of the aftermath of Roger’s death at Lincoln’s Inn.
Barak led the way through the long grass around the trees. My shoes and netherhose were getting a further soaking from the grass. ‘Can’t see anything,’ he said. ‘Everything is sopping wet. No, wait, look there.’ He pointed to the ground. A single long line ran through the grass. It had left a heavy impression.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘A wheelbarrow,’ Barak said. ‘Wherever he was hiding Lockley, he must have had some distance to bring him. This is how he did it.’
‘But a man carrying a body in a wheelbarrow would be noticed.’
‘Not if he had a cover over it. I wonder where this leads.’ He began following the thin line through the orchard. The trail led us back towards Aldersgate Street. It followed a gap in a hedge and disappeared in the short grass of a pathway round a field. Barak looked towards the distant road.
‘The time and care he takes,’ Harsnet said. ‘He must have killed Lockley them come back for Mrs Bunce, and kept Lockley’s body somewhere before putting him into the conduit yesterday.’
‘And what he did to Mrs Bunce must have taken most of the night,’ I said quietly.
‘How could he overcome both of them?’
‘Perhaps somehow he got them both to take dwale. Perhaps he came in late and persuaded them to take a glass of beer with him. He is clever enough for anything,’ I added bitterly.
‘And now he wants us to go to that village,’ Barak said.
‘Yes.’ Harsnet looked at me. ‘I think you are right. The seventh vial will be poured out somehow in that Hertfordshire village. I should have gone with them.’
I admired his courage, but could not agree. ‘The chance to make some enquiries by stealth could make all the difference.’
Harsnet nodded reluctantly. ‘What will he do?’ he asked, his voice full of tension. ‘Who will the seventh victim be? Is it to be one of us, a stranger, or someone else from the abbey? He is probably already dead, another body waiting to be found.’
‘Or is Goddard himself the victim? Someone should check young Cantrell is safe,’ I asked.
‘Ay, not bludgeoned and carted off somewhere in a wheelbarrow.’ Barak’s tone was suddenly savage. The strain showed in his face again. He turned to me.
‘What nightmarish bloody thing is he going to do this time? How will he make the earth quake?’
Chapter Thirty-seven
WE WALKED BACK to where Sukey and Genesis stood outside, cropping the long grass growing against the outer wall. I looked back at the gate where Prior Houghton’s arm had been nailed; I almost fancied I could make out a red outline on the wood. ‘So much violence these last ten years,’ I said quietly. ‘Perhaps the wonder is that more people have not become obsessed with killing.’ My first sight of poor Lockley’s naked, crucified form at the bottom of that hatch came back to mind. I seemed to see Roger’s face less and less often now, as though the later horrors had crowded it out.
‘Where now?’ Barak asked. ‘Go home and wait for further instructions? ’
‘No. Let us go and visit Master Piers now. See if he has been stealing. We may be called to Hertfordshire later.’
‘What if the old Moor is there?
‘Then we make some excuse. And I wish you would stop calling him that.’
‘There’s no ill meant. I’m sure he’s been called worse. Want a hand into the saddle?’
We rode OFF. A little group of half a dozen beggars had gathered on the chapel steps. All had something wrong with them, two carried crutches and the others had pale, sickly-looking faces. The balding boy who had held the horses the day we first visited Lockley and Mrs Bunce was there. Perhaps they had been inside, drawn out by the activity round the Charterhouse gate. Now they began walking and limping towards us, crying for alms. ‘Out of the way!’ Barak called. ‘We’re on urgent business.’
We rode on. ‘Hope Harsnet arranges to question them,’ Barak said. ‘They may know if someone was asking about the Charterhouse. ’
‘He will. He is conscientious and thorough.’
‘Bit of a plodder, though, isn’t he?’
‘He doesn’t have much imagination, I grant you.’
‘Pious hot-gospeller.’
I smiled. ‘You’ve never liked him, have you?’
‘Neither did you, at the start. Remember that inquest he fixed?’
‘He’s better than most of the men who work at the King’s court. He’s got some principles, some humanity. Maybe he’s been a bit slow at times, but he’s never faced anything like this.’ I looked at Barak seriously. ‘None of us have.’
‘You’re right there. You know what scares me most of all?’ Barak asked suddenly.
‘What?’
‘The way every killing seems to be planned to show us the killer is cleverer than we are. He presents them to us like trophies. Yarington, Mrs Bunce, Lockley. The three killings that have happened since we got involved.’
‘I know. He tried to stop me acting, by attacking Tamasin and then me. But when that failed he turned to - as you say, showing he could outwit us.’
‘But why?’ Barak asked. ‘Why?’
‘I do not know. Perhaps it is part of his madness.’
‘And now he gi
ves us his address,’ he said incredulously. ‘That’s mad.’
‘He gave us an address. I am still not persuaded it is Goddard. Surely he would have been known among the sects, at least by description. With that mole on his face they say he has.’ I sighed. ‘I keep asking myself, is there anyone else it could be?’ I laughed, hearing a touch of wildness in my own voice. ‘Do you know, I even considered the possibility that Piers might be the killer.’
Barak shook his head. ‘What the killer does takes so much time and planning, how could Piers do that while working full time for Guy? And Piers doesn’t have anything to do with religious groups, I’d doubt he has any religion at all.’
‘I know. It’s a crazy idea. I’ve got to the stage where I’m clutching at straws.’
‘Because you don’t believe it is Goddard?’
‘I’m just not sure.’ I winced, another slight pull on the reins making my arm hurt.
‘You all right?’
‘Yes. Just my arm. And I’m cold.’
‘The sun’s come out.’
‘I know. But I feel cold so much of the time now.’
Barak and I left for Guy’s house shortly after half past three. The apothecaries were working in their shops at Bucklersbury; through the window next to Guy’s a man in a long robe could be seen, pouring powder into a large apothecary’s jar. We tied the horses up outside. Barak spoke to me quietly. ‘Will you let me take the lead in questioning him?’
‘Do you think I will be too soft with him? I promise I will not.’
He looked at me seriously. ‘I think a bit of rough questioning from me might throw him, take him off balance.’
I thought a moment, then nodded. ‘All right.’
He knocked loudly on the door. We heard footsteps, then Piers opened the door, carrying a candle. He looked at us in surprise. ‘Dr Malton has gone out, sir.’
‘We know. It’s you we’ve come to see, young cock,’ Barak said cheerfully, shouldering his way inside. I followed him in, giving Piers a thin smile. I saw that either Piers or Guy had been experimenting:the table at the end of the room was crowded with flasks and vials of liquid.
‘Cut anyone up today?’ Barak asked.
‘I was upstairs, studying. I do not understand.’ Piers voice was quiet, his expression subservient, but there was anger in his eyes as he turned to me. ‘Why do you allow your man to talk to me thus, sir?’
‘I have some questions. Barak can ask them as one loyal servant to another.’
‘I hear Dr Malton has had some money go missing,’ Barak said. ‘Know anything about it?’
Piers’ expression did not change. ‘I have heard nothing. Surely if Dr Malton has had money missing he should talk to me himself.’
‘Ah, but Master Shardlake here is his attorney.’
Piers’ eyes flicked between Barak and me, disoriented by the rapid-fire questions. ‘I cannot believe Dr Malton has authorized you to question me like this,’ he said.
‘But here we are. Stealing is a capital offence.’
The boy’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have done nothing. I shall tell Dr Malton about this. He will not be pleased with you.’
‘It was he who told us about the missing money,’ I said.
‘Where is your room?’ Barak asked.
‘Up the stairs. But you have no permission to go in there. I have rights as an apprentice!’ His voice rose now, his face reddening.
‘Tough.’ Barak turned to me. ‘Shall I go look in his room?’
‘I will go. You stay here and keep an eye on him.’ I stared at Piers. He was frightened now.
The boy stepped back, blocking the inner door with his sturdy form. ‘No! You have no right!’
Barak drew his sword and used the blade to edge him away from the door. Piers watched with set lips, breathing hard, as I passed through. I mounted the narrow, gloomy staircase. Guy did not trust servants among his equipment; there was no one else in the house. On the upper floor I saw a door was open.
Guy’s precious edition of Vesalius lay on a desk, open at a picture of a skeleton dangling from a gibbet, in the posture of a hanged man. Piers had been engaged in drawing a copy of the revolting thing, a quill was lying on the table. It was very well done.
I searched the room. Among volumes on the bookshelf dealing with medicine and herbs I found a copy of the Black Book, the summary of the most lurid cases of sodomy and fornication that Cromwell’s agents had found eight years before in their investigation of the monasteries. Many copies had been sold to prurient readers. There was a chest containing clothes, some of surprisingly good quality. I explored the bed, turning over the mattress, and there I found a small leather bag. Inside was a collection of silver coins, totalling over a pound: far more money than an apprentice was likely to have. I took it, left the room and returned down the narrow staircase.
Piers was standing against the table, Barak facing him with his drawn sword. As I entered the room I held up the bag. ‘Money,’ I said.
‘So, my pretty, you are a thief,’ Barak said grimly.
A change came over Piers’ face. It took on a hard, calculating look. Now, I thought, the mask is gone. ‘I could say some things about that old blackamoor if I chose,’ he said in a voice that was suddenly sharp as a file. ‘Like how he prostrates himself before a big old cross in his bedroom, worshipping idols. How the priest he goes to is known as a secret papist. How he is a pederast, how he makes me commit immoral acts with him.’
‘That is a lie!’ I shouted angrily.
‘Perhaps it is. But part of him would like to. I have seen enough of him to know he would look embarrassed and uneasy at such an accusation. You are a lawyer, imagine how that would look to a jury. Him being an ex-monk. Sodomy is a hanging offence as much as theft. If I lose all I will make sure he loses as well.’ He looked at me grimly.
‘Nasty little arsehole, isn’t he?’ Barak said.
Piers’ next move was so sudden it took us unawares. He reached behind him to the table, grabbed a flask of liquid and threw the contents in Barak’s face. Barak gave a loud yell and stumbled backwards, dropping his sword as he raised his hands to his face. Piers ran to the door, threw it open and fled into the night. I heard his footsteps disappearing into the warren of streets that made up Bucklersbury.
I ran to Barak and gently pulled his hands from his face, dreading what I might find. His eyes were red and weeping, but there were no other marks and I caught the sharp sweet smell of lemons.
‘My fucking eyes,’ he groaned.
‘I’ll get some water from the kitchen. I think it’s just lemon juice, you’ll be all right.’ I hurried out, coming back with a pail of water and a cloth. I squeezed water into his eyes. ‘Blink, you idiot,’ I said roughly.
After a thorough wash the pain in Barak’s eyes subsided, although they remained bloodshot. ‘What’s Guy experimenting with lemons for?’ he asked. ‘They don’t come cheap.’
‘Some cure, I suppose.’
‘That little rat will be miles from here by now.’
‘Yes. I think our best course is to stay here until Guy comes back.’ I sighed. I was not looking forward to his return.
He came in an hour later, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight of us sitting in his shop, Barak still dabbing his eyes with a cloth.
‘What has happened?’
I told him, leaving out Piers’ threats against Guy. When I had finished he sat down on a stool. He looked bereft. He sat thus for several minutes, then rose slowly to his feet. It seemed to me that he had aged ten years. ‘Let me look at your eyes, Barak,’ he said wearily. He took the candle and peered into them. ‘You have been washing them. Good. It was only something I was working on with lemons, a poultice.’ Then he turned to me, and his voice was as I had never heard it, trembling with anger.
‘You should have come to me first. You should not have gone behind my back.’
‘I thought it best for us to confront Piers.’
‘You thought I w
ould obstruct you.’
I had no answer. ‘I have just been to see Bealknap,’ he said. ‘He is better, as I thought, complaining Mistress Elliard’s servants do not empty his piss-bowl often enough. I took that ridiculous man on as a patient because you asked me, just as I involved myself in your hunt for this killer. And this is how you repay me. I thought you trusted me, Matthew.’
‘I did not feel you could see Piers clearly. And this was urgent. And he is a thief, Guy.’
‘And now he has gone.’
‘I am sorry. What can I say?’
‘Nothing.’ He lowered his head, the damp cloth clutched in his hands. There was a silence that lasted only a few moments, but felt like an hour. Then I said, ‘There has been another killing.’ I told him about Lockley, and the note giving Goddard’s address.
He looked at me. ‘There is nothing I can do, is there?’
‘No.’
‘Then I wish you luck in Hertfordshire.’ Guy gave me a look that was stony, almost contemptuous. ‘I will not have Piers prosecuted if he is caught,’ he said. ‘I will not see an eighteen-year-old boy hanged for stealing a little money, as the law prescribes.’ He picked up the bag of coins from where I had put it on his table, slipping it into his robe. ‘There, your evidence is gone. And now I would like you to leave, Matthew. I hope you find Goddard.’ His look said that his involvement in the affair was over.
‘Guy—’
He raised a hand. ‘No. Please go. I have an appointment to go and visit Adam at the Bedlam.’ He gave Barak a sudden hard look, and I realized he was wondering if I had told my assistant about his confusion about Piers.
‘I have not—’ I began.
‘Go, Matthew, please.’ His cold, angry tone struck me to the heart.
Barak and I left the shop. As we untied the horses Barak asked curiously, ‘What is it you haven’t told me?’
‘Nothing. Private matters of Guy’s.’
We rode away in silence. I almost groaned aloud at the thought of the harm I had done to our long friendship.