Dark Fire (17 page)

‘Amen,’ I said.

Marchamount sighed. ‘Then one day last March Brother Bealknap came to my office asking to see me. He told me what Michael had found at St Bartholomew’s. He wanted an introduction to
Lord Cromwell.’ He spread his hands. ‘I thought it was all some mare’s nest and I laughed at Bealknap. But when he brought me the papers I could see there was something here that
should at least – ’ he hesitated – ‘be taken further.’

‘Yes, I have the papers now.’ I frowned. ‘March, you said. But Michael Gristwood found those papers last autumn. What happened in the six months between?’

‘I wondered about that. Michael told me he and his brother had spent the winter building the apparatus used to project the stuff from old plans and experimenting to make more of the Greek
Fire.’

I remembered the burn marks in the Gristwoods’ yard. ‘Had they succeeded?’

He shrugged. ‘They said so.’

‘So, you helped Michael Gristwood to a meeting with Lord Cromwell. Did Gristwood offer to pay you?’

He gave me a haughty look. ‘I had no need of their money. I helped them get the papers to the earl because it was right and proper. Of course, I could not approach the chief secretary
myself.’ He waved a hand self-deprecatingly. ‘My contacts do not quite reach his circles. But I know Lady Honor, a fine woman and discreet as any female in England, and she does know
the earl. A fine woman,’ he repeated with a smile. ‘I asked her to take the papers to him.’

It would be another foot in the doors of power for you, I thought. ‘But you could not give her the formula itself?’

‘That was not in my gift. I do not think anyone apart from the brothers has seen it since they tore it from that parchment. Michael told me they had done that, but not where it was kept.
And the pair wanted money for it. Michael was quite open about that.’

‘But as monastic property those papers belonged to the king. Gristwood should have taken them to Sir Richard Rich, as Chancellor of Augmentations, to pass to Lord Cromwell.’

Marchamount spread his hands. ‘I know that, of course, but what could I do? I could not
make
Gristwood give me the formula, Brother Shardlake. Naturally I told him he should have
given it straight to the proper authorities.’ He raised his chin and looked down his nose at me.

‘So you gave the papers to Lady Honor with a message.’

‘I did. And a message came back through her, from the earl, for me to give to Gristwood. Afterwards two or three further messages passed through my hands. They were sealed, of course, so I
knew nothing of what they said.’ He spread his hands. ‘I am afraid that is all I know, Brother. I was a mere messenger, I know nothing about this Greek Fire, nor even whether it was
genuine.’

‘Very well. Serjeant, I must repeat you are to speak to nobody about this.’

He spread his hands. ‘Of course. I am at the service of Lord Cromwell’s investigation.’

‘Tell me if you are approached in any way, or if you remember anything that could be useful.’

‘Naturally. I believe we shall be meeting again on Tuesday, by the way; we are both invited to Lady Honor’s banquet.’

‘Yes.’

‘A lady of distinction,’ he said again, then looked at me sharply. ‘Will you be questioning her?’

‘At some point. And I shall probably wish to speak to you once more.’ I rose. ‘I will leave you to your business for now. I look forward to Tuesday.’

He nodded, then leaned back and smiled, showing his white teeth. ‘Is Greek Fire genuine, then?’ he asked suddenly.

‘I am afraid that is a question I may not answer.’

He inclined his head, then gave me a penetrating look. ‘So you are working for Lord Cromwell again,’ he said quietly. ‘You know, many think you deserve the coif of a serjeant:
you should be pleading before Common Pleas, not oafs like Forbizer. Yet you have been passed over a few times. Some say it was because you were out of favour with those that matter.’

I shrugged. ‘I cannot help what people say.’

He smiled again. ‘Many say Lord Cromwell may soon be out of office. If the king puts Queen Anne away.’ He shook his head sadly.

‘Again, I cannot help what people say.’

Marchamount was sounding me out, I knew, wondering if I was one of the many who, hearing the rumours, might switch to the religious conservatives. I said nothing, merely folded my hands in front
of me.

Marchamount made a little moue. ‘Well, I must not keep you.’ He rose and bowed.

I smiled inwardly at the way he had made the dismissal his. But looking in his eyes I felt again that he was afraid.

O
UTSIDE IN THE COURTYARD
black-robed barristers were heading towards the hall from all directions. I saw Bealknap among
them, walking alone as usual, for he had few if any friends – though he never seemed to care. It was too late to talk to him now, I would have to wait till after the lunch. Joining the crowd
filing into hall, I saw Godfrey a little ahead of me and tapped him on the shoulder.

Lincoln’s Inn Hall looked its very best. Beneath the vaulting hammerbeam roof the richly coloured tapestries glowed in the light of many candles. The dark oak floorboards gleamed with
polish. A throne-like chair had been set for the duke in the centre of the High Table at the north end of the hall. Other long tables, set with the Inn’s best silver, had been placed at right
angles to High Table. People were finding their places; a few students selected for their good backgrounds, short black robes over their gaudy doublets, took the places furthest from High Table.
The serjeants, sweating under the white coifs tied around their faces, sat nearest and the benchers and barristers in between.

As benchers Godfrey and I were entitled to places next to the serjeants, and to my surprise Godfrey shouldered his way to a place as near as possible to where the duke would sit. I sat next to
him. On my other side was an aged bencher called Fox. As he never tired of telling people, he had been a student at Lincoln’s Inn during the reign of King Richard III and had watched the hall
being built. As we took our places, I saw Bealknap arguing with a bencher over a place nearly opposite me. Although he had fifteen years at the Bar, Bealknap’s unsavoury reputation meant he
had never been called to read, yet he was disputing crossly for the place. Perhaps thinking such an argument beneath him, the bencher allowed Bealknap to take the place. He sat down with a smile of
satisfaction on his thin features.

A servant banged his staff. Everyone rose as the officers of the Inn marched up the hall. Among the black robes was one man in the rich scarlet of a peer, his wide collar trimmed with black fur;
Thomas Howard, third Duke of Norfolk. I was surprised to see how small he was. How old, too, for his long face was deeply lined and the hair beneath the wide jewelled cap was thin and grey. He
looked, I thought, insignificant; in ordinary clothes one would not have glanced at him twice. A dozen retainers in the red and gold quarters of the Howard livery spread out and stood against the
walls.

The Inn’s officers bowed and smiled as they bade the duke take his seat. I saw Marchamount take a place at High Table. He was not an officer, but from what he said had been instrumental in
organizing the lunch. He beamed at the crowd, in his element. I wondered how well he knew Cromwell’s, and reform’s, greatest enemy. Curious, I studied the duke’s lined face. It
was as hard as any man’s I had seen, the thin mouth under the prominent nose pursed with severity. Small black eyes surveyed the crowd with lively calculation. The duke’s gaze met mine
for a second and I dropped my eyes.

The first course was brought in, steaming dishes of vegetables carved into the shapes of stars and half-moons, richly sauced with sugar and vinegar and accompanied by cold meat. As this was a
lunch there would be none of the spectacular fare of an evening supper, but much effort had been put into the preparation of the food. I turned appreciatively to Godfrey.

‘This fare is almost worth the company,’ I whispered.

‘Nothing is worth this company.’ Godfrey was staring at the duke, a bitter look on his normally amiable features.

‘Don’t let him catch you giving him foul looks,’ I whispered, but he shrugged and went on staring. The duke was talking to the treasurer, Serjeant Cuffleigh.

‘Our defences couldn’t stand a combined assault by the French and Spaniards,’ I heard the duke tell Cuffleigh in a deep voice.

Cuffleigh smiled. ‘Few have as much military experience as you, your grace. You hammered the Scots for us at Flodden.’

‘I’m afraid of fighting nobody, but the balance of forces needs to be right. When I faced the northern rebels three years ago I hadn’t enough men to meet them, so the king and
I got them to disband their forces with sweet words.
Then
we hammered the churls.’ He smiled coldly.

Marchamount leaned across. ‘And we can’t do that with the French and Spaniards.’

‘I dare say not,’ Cuffleigh agreed hesitantly.

‘That’s why we need peace. A half-baked alliance with a bunch of squabbling Germans is no use.’

Old Brother Fox leaned across to me. ‘I see his grace is talking to the treasurer,’ he said. ‘You know, Thomas More refused the treasurership and was fined a pound. Ah, the
king exacted a higher penalty when More refused to recognize Nan Bullen as queen.’

‘Brother Cuffleigh looks a trifle anxious,’ I said, to divert Brother Fox before he began his reminiscences of More’s time at the Inn.

‘Cuffleigh is a reformer and the duke loves baiting evangelicals.’ Fox, a traditionalist, spoke with satisfaction. The duke was smiling coldly at the treasurer now. ‘Not just
apprentices,’ I heard him say loudly. ‘Even silly little women fancy they can read the Bible now and understand God’s Word.’ He laughed.

‘It is permitted, your grace,’ Cuffleigh replied weakly.

‘It won’t be for long. The king plans to restrict Bible-reading to heads of households. I’d restrict it further – I’d only permit it for the clergy. I’ve
never read it and never will.’

All along the upper part of the tables, where the duke’s words could be heard, men were looking at him, some approvingly and others with set faces. He glanced over the assembly with those
bright, hard eyes and smiled cynically.

Then, before I could stop him, Godfrey rose in his place. All eyes turned to him as he took a deep breath, faced the duke, and said loudly, ‘God’s Word is for all to read. It is the
bringer of the sweetest light there is, the light of truth.’

His words rang and echoed round the hall. All along the tables eyes widened. Norfolk leaned over, resting his chin on a beringed hand, and stared at Godfrey with cold amusement. I grabbed at the
sleeve of his robe and tried to pull him down but he shook me off.

‘The Bible brings us from error to truth, to the presence of Jesus Christ,’ he continued. A couple of students clapped until furious glares from the Inn’s officers scared them
into silence. Godfrey reddened, as though he suddenly realized what an unforgivably bold thing he had done, but he went on. ‘Were I to be killed for my beliefs, I would rise from the grave to
proclaim the truth once more,’ he said and then, to my relief, sat down.

The duke rose in his place. ‘No, sir, you would not,’ he said evenly. ‘You would not, you would be screaming in hell with all the other Lutheran heretics. You should have a
care, sir, that your tongue does not lose you your head and put you in the pit before your time.’ He sat down again. Leaning over to Marchamount, who was glaring at Godfrey as though he could
have slain him, he began whispering in his ear.

‘Jesu, man, what were you thinking of?’ I asked Godfrey. ‘You’ll be disciplined for this.’

He looked at me. His normally soft features had taken on a steely expression. ‘I care not.’ He almost spat the words. ‘Jesus Christ is my Saviour, through grace, and I will not
have His Word made mock of.’ His eyes gleamed with self-righteous anger. I turned away. When his emotions were roused by his faith Godfrey could sometimes change into a different person, a
dangerous one.

A
T LAST THE MEAL
ended. The duke and his retinue filed out and at once a buzz of conversation erupted. Godfrey sat there, taking satisfaction, it seemed
to me, from a myriad stares. Some barristers, the traditionalists mostly, got up and left. Old Brother Fox, looking much disturbed, rose from his bench. I stood up too. Godfrey gave me a
reproachful look.

‘Will you stay a moment?’ he asked. ‘Or do you not wish to be associated with me any more?’

‘God’s wounds, Godfrey,’ I snapped, ‘I’ve work to do, a cartload of it. There are others in the world besides you. I have to see Bealknap before he
disappears.’ And indeed he was even now heading for the door. I hurried after him, catching him as he stepped into the sunny quadrangle, blinking in the light.

‘Brother Bealknap,’ I said crisply, ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘About the case?’ He smiled. ‘Your friend made a monkey of himself in there, by the way. He’ll be disciplined—’

‘It is not about the case, Bealknap. I have a commission, from Lord Cromwell. To investigate the murder yesterday of Michael Gristwood.’