by C. J. Sansom
‘No, I think it was our killer,’ I answered quietly. ‘But not as part of his sequence. I think Felday was killed in case we found our way to him, or in case he talked.’ I sighed. ‘Bealknap told Felday I was persistent.’ I looked at poor Felday. ‘I think the killer came to visit him, calling on him as a client to his solicitor. They were probably sitting talking across the table when he thrust the dagger in his heart.’ Sure enough, an empty chair was positioned opposite where Felday sat. I looked again at the solicitor’s oddly peaceful face. ‘By the sound of it Felday was an irreligious man. Just as well for him; if he had been an apostate from the godly men, he would no doubt have been incorporated into the sequence, and he would have died slowly and dramatically.’ I began prowling round the room. ‘He didn’t want Felday found quickly. That’s why he left the window open, to keep the room cool and prevent the smell of death going through the house too quickly.’
‘I’d say he’s been dead a few days,’ Barak said. ‘He’s rotting, you catch the smell close to. God, the bastard is clever.’
‘Come,’ I said. ‘Help me. I want to go through the desk and all these papers. See if there is some sort of clue. A note, a receipt, anything.’
For an hour we searched the solicitor’s office, and the rest of the neat, well-appointed little dwelling. Outside heavy rain started again, hissing on the cobbles and dripping from the eaves. But among all the papers we found nothing, only an empty square of dust on one of the shelves where some papers had been taken, probably Felday’s notes for his spying work. The trail had gone cold.
Chapter Thirty-four
WE RETURNED HOME. I sent a message to Harsnet, then ate a gloomy dinner on my own; Barak did not want any. Felday’s death, coming so soon after Mrs Bunce, was almost too much to bear.
I was almost pleased to have an interruption later that evening, when one of Roger’s clients called in a state of great anxiety. It was Master Bartholomew, who had organized the interlude at Lincoln’s Inn. That was barely three weeks ago, though it seemed an eternity. Two of the actors he employed in his company had been arrested a week before, for possessing forbidden plays by John Bale. While he himself steered clear of religious controversy, Bartholomew found that many of those he worked with now did not wish to be associated with him; such was the climate of fear developing in London.
‘My costume supplier won’t let me have any costumes for my next performance, and a carpenter who was to build the scenery has pulled out. It is a performance of The Castle of Perseverance, at the Lord Mayor’s house next Thursday. They are breaching their contracts, is there nothing I can do? Normally I would have gone to Master Elliard, but since his death . . .’
I told him he could sue, but not in time to save his performance. He could only try persuasion. Master Bartholomew left, gloomy, but less panicked, to try again with his contractors. In the doorway he looked out into the rain that was teeming down again, and raised the hood on his coat. Then he turned to me. ‘Is there no progress on finding Master Elliard’s killer, sir? I heard the inquest was adjourned for the coroner to investigate.’
‘I fear there is no news yet.’
He shook his head. ‘Nor ever will be, perhaps. That’s what happens if you don’t catch a murderer quickly. You never catch them.’
He left. I thought, if he or any of the citizenry knew the true story, what a panic there could be in this anxious city.
NEXT morning I rode out early to the Bedlam. I had passed a disturbed night, constantly waking to the sound of the rain, and was in a tired and worried frame of mind as I rode along, Genesis taking careful steps in the muddy streets. Felday’s death still preyed on me; if I had not become a focus of the killer’s attention he would not have died. But then if he had not been so crooked, he would not have died either. I had had no reply from Harsnet yet, and I had left a message at home saying where I was going.
I had received a brief note that morning from Dorothy. Guy had visited Bealknap, and judged that with care and rest he should recover, though any more purging and bleeding might well kill him. ‘Your doctor friend advises he stay here some days, until he is stronger,’ Dorothy concluded. Reading between the lines I guessed she would rather he had not.
The sight of the Bedlam gates ahead brought me back to the present. As I rode through the yard, I saw two familiar figures come out. It was Daniel and Minnie Kite, Daniel’s large arm round his wife. He looked thoughtful, though Minnie looked more settled. They glanced up as I approached, and I pulled Genesis to a halt.
‘Good morning,’ I said. ‘You have been visiting Adam?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Daniel said.
‘I am meeting Dr Malton here shortly, he is making one of his visits.’
Minnie’s face lightened. ‘He is a good man. I believe he is helping Adam. He says it will take a long time, but I think my son is somewhat better.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Sometimes now he will pay us a little attention. Stop praying, just for a short while. And he will eat too. I wonder - I wonder whether he may be able to follow me into my trade after all.’ He looked at me almost pleadingly, so I could supply an answer.
‘Perhaps one day,’ I said noncommittally.
‘But I’m not sure it ever was the work Adam wanted.’ Minnie looked at me. ‘I do wonder if my son is angry with us for some reason. The way he still treats us.’
‘If you wait a little, Dr Malton will not be long. You could talk to him.’
They looked at each other dubiously. ‘Perhaps we—’ Minnie said, but her husband shook his head.
‘No, chick. We must go to service. In these days, we must show our support to our preacher.’ He looked at me again, and something had closed up in his face.
‘How is Reverend Meaphon?’ I asked neutrally.
‘He is very worried, sir. These are days of persecution.’ He looked at me. ‘We fear in our church that one of our neighbours, Reverend Yarington, has been arrested. He has not been seen for days. None of his congregation will say what has happened, but Reverend Meaphon is sore distressed. He says Christian folks must stand together against the devil in these days, and he is right.’
‘Then I will leave you. Shall I ask Dr Malton to call upon you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘That would be kind.’
They left me. I wondered at how even Minnie seemed to be putting her church before her son now. If Adam had become angry with her in the past, perhaps that was why. Everything was polarizing. Last week a traditionalist priest had been arrested for pricking his finger and letting drops of blood fall on to the holy wafer in an effort to prove to his congregation that the bread indeed turned into the body and blood of Christ on consecration.
I Tied Genesis up outside the long, low asylum building and knocked at the door. Keeper Shawms answered; at the sight of me he frowned, then forced his expression into a semblance of a smile. ‘Master Shardlake,’ he muttered.
‘Good day. I am meeting Dr Malton here.’
He stood aside for me to enter. ‘He ain’t here yet. But Ellen is with Kite. He is getting the best of care.’ Shawms’ voice was respectful, but there was a nasty look in his eyes.
‘Good. The first report to the court is due in a week. I shall want to see it before it is sent. How is Adam?’
‘That black doctor says he is improving, though I can’t see it. He and Ellen like to get him out of his chamber, have him sitting in the parlour. But it upsets the other patients.’
‘I am sure you cope.’
I had been aware of muffled shouting nearby, and now a door opened and the fat keeper Gebons appeared, red-faced. ‘His Majesty is in a fierce state, sir,’ he told Shawms. ‘Wants his crown mending. Can you settle him?’
Shawms sighed heavily, brushed past Gebons and threw the door of the chamber wide. Inside I saw the old man who believed he was the King, sitting on his commode in his patchwork robe. The paper crown on his head had had an accident, several of its points were flattened. ‘You will repair my crown!�
� he shouted, waving a fist. ‘You are my subjects and you will obey me!’
Shawms grabbed the paper crown from his head and crushed it in a meaty fist. ‘That for your crown!’ he snapped. ‘One day you will babble so far you will not be able to pull your tongue in again. Now be quiet, or no lunch.’ The fat old man seemed visibly to shrink into himself, then buried his face in his hands and began to weep. Shawms left him, slamming the door behind him.
‘There, that’s shut him up,’ he told Gebons with satisfaction. ‘Now, Master Shardlake, we are busy, as you see. I will leave you to go to Adam’s chamber.’
The door of Adam’s room was open. Ellen was seated on a stool opposite him. Adam was still chained; there must be no repeat of what had happened at London Wall. ‘Come, Adam,’ Ellen was saying, ‘take the spoon and feed yourself. I am not going to put it into your mouth like a little baby. Come on.’ She put on a babyish voice. ‘Goo-goo, ga-ga.’
To my surprise, Adam responded to her gentle mockery with a smile, quickly suppressed. He sighed, but took the spoon and bowl, and under Ellen’s watchful eye he ate the pottage.
‘Well done, Ellen,’ I said. ‘I have never seen Adam smile before.’
She got to her feet and made a little curtsy. ‘I did not see you, sir.’ She blushed.
‘I am meeting Dr Malton here.’
‘Yes, I knew he was coming. I try to make Adam laugh. I have not quite managed that, but I got a smile as you saw.’
‘Yes.’ Adam was now eating as fast as he could. He ignored me.
‘I hear the King has proposed legislation forbidding women to read the Bible,’ Ellen said.
‘Yes, that is right. And uneducated folk.’
She smiled sadly. ‘Everything is going back to the old ways. Well, perhaps that has to be, it is the new ways that brought poor Adam to this pass.’
I looked at her, wondering whether it was because of some religious nonconformity that Ellen was not allowed to leave the Bedlam. But she had spoken with detachment. I looked again at Adam’s chained leg. ‘Ellen,’ I said quietly, ‘I do not know why it is you may not leave the Bedlam, but if I can help you in any way I would be pleased.’
She gave her sad smile again. ‘Thank you, sir. But I am happy enough.’ Yet her expression was sad. I thought, how can such an intelligent woman bear to spend her whole life in this place, secondhand news her only knowledge of the world outside?
Adam, having bolted down his pottage, curled himself over and began to pray. ‘Heavenly father,’ he whispered. ‘Forgive me, I have sinned against the light. The light—’
‘I will let him pray a little now he’s eaten,’ Ellen said, ‘until Dr Malton comes. That is another of his ideas, to bargain with Adam, allow him some time to pray but insist he does other things too.’
‘Is there any change in him?’
‘A little, I believe. But it is hard work. He woke yesterday saying he believed the birds singing outside were crying out against his sins.’
‘This is harrowing work for a woman, Ellen,’ I said. ‘I could not do it. It must be hard for you, spending all your time with these folk. None of them can be easy.’
She frowned a little. ‘Who is easy in this world?’
I realized I had offended her. There was a moment’s awkward silence. ‘I saw Adam’s parents,’ I said. ‘They say he has made some progress.’
‘Yes. I think his father feels helpless, it is sad to see that big man standing there, totally at a loss for what to do.’
‘But no more difficulties from Keeper Shawms?’
‘No.’ She smiled again. ‘Thanks to you, sir. He lets me take Adam into the parlour to mix with other patients now. Dr Malton says it is important for Adam to have other people around him, to try and take his attention from that doleful world in which he has set himself.’
‘Shawms says Adam still upsets the other patients.’
‘Less than he did. They call on him to be quiet, to stop praying. That is no bad thing for him.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Everyone here can cope with everyone else’s problems. But usually not their own.’
‘No indeed,’ said a voice from the doorway. Guy came in. To my surprise he had a copy of the New Testament under his arm. He looked tired and I felt guilty for sending him running off to Lincoln’s Inn the night before. ‘How is Bealknap?’ I asked.
‘Dr Archer should be arraigned for assault,’ he said. ‘Apparently Master Bealknap had gone to him with no more than a prolonged stomach ache. He was not eating and so had grown weak. All Archer’s bleeding and purges have done is make him weaker yet. I am not surprised he thought he was dying. I have prescribed good food and bed rest for a week, then he can go to his chambers and hopefully look after himself.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
‘I fear Mistress Elliard was not pleased when I said he should be under someone’s care just now.’
‘Dorothy still finds it hard to cope. Finding Bealknap collapsed on the doorstep reminded her of Roger’s death.’
‘She is a charitable woman. I am afraid I played on that a little. But Bealknap is my patient now, I must put him first.’
‘I suppose so.’ Damn the wretch, I thought.
‘I said I would visit him again tomorrow evening, see how he goes.’
‘Did you bring a priest?’
‘No. He does not need that. Bringing one would only set him thinking his end was upon him again.’
‘Come to dinner at Lincoln’s Inn tonight after you have seen him. As a reward for your trouble. And I will give you Bealknap’s fee.’
Guy smiled. ‘He is a strange man. He answered all my questions about his symptoms readily enough, for he was in great fear. But after I told him he was not going to die he hardly said a word more. Gave me no thanks, nor you.’
‘That is Bealknap. I will tell you later,’ I added grimly, ‘about something he has done.’
Guy raised his eyebrows. Turning to Ellen, he asked, ‘How is Adam?’
‘He has had some breakfast. Even gave me something like a smile.’
‘Then we make progress.’ Guy went over to Adam and touched him gently on the shoulder. The boy ceased his frantic whispering, sighed and raised his bony head. ‘I need to pray, Dr Malton. I have had no time to pray.’
Guy sat on his haunches to face him. I envied the suppleness of his limbs. ‘I brought the Bible again,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought we could go through some passages. To read the book is as important as prayer in the eyes of God, is it not?’
‘I will go and see to the other patients,’ Ellen said. ‘Cissy is mopish again, she will not do her sewing.’
‘Thank you for all you are doing,’ Guy said.
She curtsied and left us. I watched her go, her long brown hair swinging round her shoulders under her coif. I turned back to Guy, who had the Bible open and was struggling to engage Adam in conversation.
‘If you read the gospels, you will see that Jesus does not want his followers to suffer unnecessarily. He wants them to live in the world, and more than anything to live together in harmony; not to cut themselves off as you have done.’
‘But God does test his people, test their faith. Look at Job. He tested him and tested him.’ Adam banged a skinny fist on the stone floor.
‘Is that what you feel? That God is testing you?’
‘I hope so. It is better than being cast out. To suffer in Hell for ever and ever. I am afraid of Hell, so afraid. I read in Revelation—’
‘Read the four gospels, Adam. You will see that none who repents is rejected. Look at Mary Magdalen—’
But Adam shook his head fiercely then, bent right over and began to pray again, his lips moving soundlessly. The vertebrae stood out on his skinny neck. Guy sighed, then stood up. ‘I will leave him be for a few minutes,’ he said. ‘That is our bargain.’
‘Guy, your patience is as bottomless as the sea.’
‘I am following the trail of a mystery. Trying to understand things by looking at Adam’s reac
tions.’
‘You would not leave him the Bible to read?’
‘Oh no. He would look for all the passages about damnation and being cast out for sin, and clasp them to his heart. I wonder what started this. It is often something terrible that has happened in the real world that causes mad people to withdraw into a world of their own.’
‘His mother still thinks he is angry with her and Daniel.’
‘I think perhaps that is part of the story, but not all.’ He looked over at Adam’s crouched figure, stroking his chin.
‘What inner world has our killer made for himself? I wonder.’ I looked at Guy. ‘He has killed someone else.’ I told him what Bealknap had done, and about the murder of Felday. I spoke in a whisper, that Adam should not hear, but he was so lost in prayer I doubt he would have taken any notice had I spoken normally.
Guy stood thinking for a moment. ‘The killer’s world will be very different from poor Adam’s. I think he is in a state of obsession and self-glorification so strong it can never be mended. You know, Matthew, there are few obsessives in the Bible. Certainly none in the New Testament.’
‘What about St John? What about the Book of Revelation?’
‘Christianity would be better without that book. It preaches nothing but cruelty and destruction. It teaches that the destruction of human beings does not matter, is even to be rejoiced over. It is evil. No wonder it is the book the killer chose.’ He sighed. ‘Matthew, I should spend some time with Adam. We will talk more tonight.’ He smiled. ‘I think his care is assured. Shawms and his master Metwys are afraid of the court.’
‘Guy, ‘I said hesitantly. ‘Can I ask another favour?’
‘Of course.’
I told him about Charles Cantrell’s eyes. ‘Yes I will see him,’ he said. ‘I cannot say what ails him till I see him.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘It may be simple, or he may indeed be going blind.’
‘Then better he should know.’
I left Guy to try and counsel Adam. I was not sorry to go. On the way out I looked into the little parlour. Ellen was sitting with the patient Cissy, trying to make her sew properly, as earlier she had tried to make Adam eat. Cissy sat slumped in her chair, her eyes unfocused. ‘Take the needle,’ Ellen was saying. ‘It is such a pretty blouse.’ I thought there was something almost saintly in her patience. I was sure she heard me come to the doorway, but she did not look up.