172288.fb2 Dark Fire - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 26

Dark Fire - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 26

Chapter Twenty-five

SOME HOURS LATER, as the heat of the day began to fade, I sat under the shade of a trellis in my garden. I had told the crowd in the street that I had been the victim of a robbery, bringing forth mutterings about the type of people living at the old friary. The innkeeper had insisted a cart be sent for to remove the horse, which was blocking the narrow street, and that I pay for it. When the cart arrived I had a ridiculous urge to ask the driver to take Chancery's corpse to my house; but what would I do with it there? As they loaded him on the cart, to take him to the Shambles, I walked down to the river to catch a boat. I blinked back tears. There was no point in going to Lady Honor's now, I was too dusty to present myself at the House of Glass, and my legs were trembling as I walked.

I closed my eyes at the memory of the sudden stillness in Chancery's eyes. He had died of shock as much as loss of blood and I blamed myself; for days I had ridden him beyond endurance through London in the heat. The poor old horse, with his quiet gentle ways. Young Simon wept when I told him Chancery was dead. I had not realized the boy was so fond of him; he had seemed more taken with Barak's mare.

I remembered the day I bought Chancery. I had been eighteen, not long in London, and he was the first horse I had bought for myself. I remembered how proud I had been as I led the pretty white creature with the broad hooves from the stables, how gentle he had been from the start. I had promised myself I would put him out to grass, but now he would never enjoy those last years in the orchard behind my garden. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes again. I wiped them away.

There was a cough at my elbow and I turned to find Barak, looking hot and dusty.

'What's happened? The boy tells me your horse has died.'

I told Barak of the attack. He frowned as he sat beside me. 'Shit, that's more bad news for the earl tomorrow. How did they know you were going there?' He thought a moment. 'It was Bealknap's property. That points to him.'

I shook my head. 'Bealknap had no idea I was going there today. No, I think Toky was following me again. I wasn't looking round me as I should, I was careless. I had an – an – encounter with Sir Edwin Wentworth at the Guildhall. They knew who you are,' I added. 'They know you have been looking for them.'

'Word's got around.' He shook his head. 'What did Lady Honor have to say?'

'I didn't go to see her. I was covered in dust and blood and sore shaken.'

'We've only eight days.' He eyed my face. 'Have you been weeping?'

'For Chancery,' I said, my voice gruff with embarrassment.

'God's death, it was only a horse. Well, I've been working while you've been sitting here. I've found a man Bealknap used as a compurgator, vouching for the good character of people he'd never heard of.'

I sat up. 'Where is he?'

Barak jerked his head towards the house. 'In there. He keeps a clothing stall in Cheapside, works for Bealknap on the side. I've put him in the kitchen. Want to talk to him?'

I followed Barak to the kitchen, trying to pull myself together. A middle-aged man sat at the table. He was plump and respectable looking, which no doubt was why Beak knap had chosen him. He rose to his feet and gave a deep bow. 'Master Shardlake, sir, a pleasure to meet you. Adam Leman, sir.'

I sat down opposite him, while Barak stood looking on.

'Well, Master Leman, I hear my brother in the law, Stephen Bealknap, has employed you as a compurgator.'

Leman nodded. 'I have assisted him.'

'To swear to the good character of men held in the bishop's gaol under benefit of clergy.'

He hesitated. I noticed his eyes were watery, and his nose a mess of broken red veins. A drunk, probably unable to run his stall properly and in need of extra cash for strong beer.

'Master Bealknap is kind enough to pay me a retainer,' he said cautiously. 'Perhaps I do not know all the gentlemen whose character I swear to as well as I might, but I feel I am doing a Christian service, sir. The conditions in the bishop's gaol-'

I cut through his nonsense. 'You pretend to know people you have never heard of and pervert the course of justice for money. We both know that. Now, have a beer.' I nodded at Barak, who fetched a jug from the cold cupboard. Leman coughed, then sat up in his chair.

'Bealknap hasn't paid me, sir. I said I'd do no more work for him till he did. He's the meanest man alive, he'd skin a flea for its hide and tallow. Makes a point of never paying anyone if he can get out of it.' He nodded self-righteously. 'Well, now it's caught up with the bastard. I've told your man I'll help you nail him and I shall. Thank you.' He took a cup from Barak and gulped noisily. 'That's good in this hot weather.' He looked at me sharply. 'You can give me immunity?'

I ever preferred a rogue who would come to the point. I nodded. 'In exchange for an affidavit to go before the disciplinary authorities of Lincoln's Inn. But once we've completed the affidavit I want you to come with me and tell Bealknap to his face what damage you can do him. Will you do that?'

He hesitated. 'How much?'

'A pound for the affidavit, another for coming to see Bealknap.'

'Then it'll be a job I'll be happy to do, sir.' His looked at me curiously. 'You got some grudge against him yourself?'

'You mind your business,' Barak said.

I rose. 'Come then, Master Leman, let us go to my study and prepare this affidavit.'

I spent an hour with the rogue. He signed the document with a scrawled flourish and I sent him on his way with five shillings on account for his fee. As I rubbed sand over the florid signature to dry it Barak laughed.

'I've never seen an affidavit taken before. The way you kept him to the point.'

'It's an art you learn. Now I am hungry. I'll get Joan to make us an early supper.'

'And then – the well?' Barak looked at me. 'We may not get another chance.'

For myself, now the business with Leman was done, the horror of the day's earlier events was crowding back into my mind and the expedition to Sir Edwin's house in the dark was the last thing I wished for. But it had to be done.

'Yes, the well. We'll have to wait till it's dark.' I glanced at the satchel, which I had retrieved from the cloister of St Michael's before returning home, and slung in a corner. 'I'll take the chance to look at those books.'

***

I RETURNED TO MY STUDY after a quick supper. I read for hours, lighting candles as the summer sun dropped to the horizon and the moon came up with the thick, hot darkness. As ever, reading soothed my mind and took me far away from my troubles. I read about Roman experiments with fire weaponry that seemed to come to naught. The name Medea came up again and again; the name of the ancient Greek sorceress who presented her enemy with a shirt that burst into all-consuming fire when it was put on. Placing 'the Shirt of Medea' on victims in the arena was a sport in Nero's time, mentioned in Plutarch and Lucullus. But what was it that made the shirt burn, and why had the Romans not developed this 'infernal fire' for military use?

I read on, finding references to military experiments with a mysterious substance called 'naphtha' that was found in Mesopotamia, on the eastern frontier of the empire. Pliny said it bubbled to the surface from underground and could be set on fire even if it spilled into a river. So God had seeded something in the earth there, as he seeded gold or iron in different places. I knew alchemists were able to locate deposits of some desired substance, such as iron or coal, by studying the nature of the ground, though they had never found deposits of the fabled 'philosopher's stone' that could turn base metals into gold, however often they might gull poor fools into believing they had.

I laid down my book and rubbed my eyes. I must see Guy, I thought. Barak would not like me telling Guy more, so I would have to keep the visit from him. This world of the discovery and transformation of matter was alien to me, yet there was something in these books, some clue, I was sure. Or why had the Lincoln's Inn copies been stolen? Who had stolen those books? Who was it the old librarian was afraid of? I sighed. Every step I took seemed only to throw up more puzzles.

I jumped at a knock on the door. Barak stood there, dressed in black doublet and hose, suppressed excitement in his eyes. 'Ready?' he asked. 'It's time to go to Sir Edwin's.'

***

WE WALKED DOWN TO Temple Stairs to catch a boat. Barak carried a heavy knapsack that he told me contained tools to break the locks on the well cap, candles and a rope ladder to climb down. It felt strange to be out on illicit business at night; if a constable asked to see the contents of that knapsack we would be in trouble. Barak, though, seemed quite unconcerned, nodding and smiling at the occasional watchman who lifted his lamp as we passed.

We took the path through Temple Inn, silent and dark save for the occasional flicker of candles at a window. We passed the great round bulk of Temple church, where the crusading Knights Templar had worshipped.

'Those were the fellows, eh?' Barak said. 'The Christian powers were on the march in those days, not forever being beaten by the heathen Turks like now.'

'Christendom was united then.'

'Maybe it will be again if we get Greek Fire. Under us. King Henry's navies burning the French and Spanish navies off the seas. We could cross the Atlantic and take the Spanish colonies.'

'Don't get carried away.' I gave him a cold look. The way he talked of burning navies repelled me. Had he not seen the burnings at Smithfield? Seen what fire did to men? 'Perhaps it would be better if it never came to pass.'

He inclined his head, but did not reply. A moment later he bent down and picked up some of the pebbles that separated the rose-filled flower beds from the path, putting them in his pocket.

'What are you doing?'

'These might come in useful,' he said ambiguously.

The Thames came into view, broad and shining in the moonlight, the lamps on the boats pinpricks on the water. 'We're in luck,' I said. 'There's a wherry at the stairs.'

***

THE MOONLIT RIVER was quiet, only a few boats carrying officials between the City and Westminster. I sat looking at the faint lights on the Southwark shore, thinking of Chancery again. Well, he was gone, gone to nothing for animals have no souls, but that was better than hell, where most men must have their end, perhaps me too for all I knew. I realized that when I was attacked I had thought only of survival, my mind sharpened by danger, I had not thought to pray or of what might happen after if I was killed. Was that sinful? I shook my head; I was exhausted, but I had to stay awake and sharp.

The wherry bumped into Dowgate steps with a soft thud. Barak stepped out, offering me a hand, and we set off to Walbrook.

***

WHEN WE REACHED Sir Edwin's house it was dark, the shutters closed on the ground floor, though the upper windows were open to let in some air. Barak turned into Budge Row and I followed him down a narrow alley, stinking of piss.

'There's an orchard on the other side of that wall,' he whispered, 'and beyond that is Wentworth's garden. I had a look around earlier.' He stopped beside a flimsy wooden door in the wall, then stepped back and put his shoulder to it. It fell open with a crack. He darted inside. I followed, finding myself in a medlar orchard. The white scentless blossoms of that strange fruit, which must be left to hang on the tree till it decays before it may be eaten, showed luminous in the moonlight. A couple of pale shapes rose up in the long grass, making me jump before I realized they were rooting pigs. They ran off grunting between the trees. I looked back at the door: there had been a bolt on the inner side that Barak's shove had ripped from the wood.

'That was someone's property,' I said.

'Hush,' he hissed angrily. 'D'you want any passer-by to hear?' He closed the door carefully, then gestured at the ten-foot-high wall. 'Perhaps you'd've preferred to climb over there,' he whispered. 'Now, come on.'

I followed him through the orchard, jumping again as a clutch of hens fled clucking from under our feet. Barak made for the far wall; this wall was lower, perhaps seven feet high. He gestured to me to stand beside him. His face was alert; he looked as though he was enjoying himself.

'The garden's on the far side. If I help you up, can you drop down?'

I looked up dubiously. 'I think so.'

'Good. Come on, then.' He squatted, making a stirrup of his hands. I reached up, grasped the top of the wall and placed a foot in his cupped hands. He took a firm grip and hoisted me into the air. I scrabbled at the wall and a moment later was lying spreadeagled on top, looking down into Sir

Edwin's garden. The effort had brought me out in a sweat. I blinked water from my eyes, looking rapidly around. Beyond the lawn and the trellised flower beds the rear of the house was as dark as the front, all the windows closed. The round structure of the well was only fifteen feet away.

'Everything quiet?' Barak whispered from below.

'Seems to be. All the lights are out.'

'No dogs?'

'I can't see any.' I had not thought of that, but it was quite likely a wealthy house like this would be guarded by dogs at night.

'Throw a couple of pebbles before you go over. Here.' I felt some small stones being pressed into my hand. So that was why he had wanted them. I managed to sit upright on the wall and threw one into the garden. It bounced off the well cap with a clunk that would have brought any dog running and barking, but everything remained quiet and still.

'It's all right,' I whispered.

'Get down, then, and I'll follow.'

I put the other stones back in my pocket, took a deep breath and jumped onto the lawn, jarring my spine uncomfortably. I leaned against the wall, conscious that I was trapped there now. If something happened I doubted I could climb up again on my own. There was a scrabbling sound and Barak dropped down beside me. He stood looking round, watchful as a cat.

'You keep watch,' he breathed. 'I'll get that well open.'

He loped quickly across the grass. He dropped his knapsack to the ground and there was a faint clink as he pulled out a couple of tools. I made for the cover of the big oak and sat on the bench underneath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart, watching the still dark house. Barak seemed to know what he was doing, frowning a little as he inserted a narrow metal rod like a jeweller's tool into a padlock. I wondered how many locks he had picked before on Cromwell's orders. The padlock came free. He tossed it to the ground and started on the other. I glanced at the silent house again, thought of the old woman asleep, the two girls, Sir Edwin, the steward Needler. What had happened in the garden that day? This was the bench where Sabine and Avice said Elizabeth had been sitting when they came out after hearing Ralph yell. Elizabeth had told me that if I went to the well, what I saw would shake my faith. I shivered.

Barak grunted as the other padlock came off, and gestured me over. 'You'll have to help me with this. It's heavy.'

'All right.' I felt strangely reluctant to grasp the wooden cap, remembering the dreadful stink I had smelt before, but I helped him slide it off. We propped it against the side of the well and looked down. A few rows of bricks were visible and, below that, darkness. I felt a draught of cold air and caught again the miasma of decay.

'Still smells, then,' Barak whispered beside me.

'It seems less strong than before.'

He leaned over and dropped a pebble down the well. I waited to hear it splash into water or clatter on stone, but there was no sound at all. Barak looked at me. 'Seems to have landed on something soft.' He took a deep breath. 'I'd hoped to get some idea how deep it was. Well, just have to hope the ladder's long enough.' He pulled the rope ladder from his knapsack and quickly secured it to a metal rod in the brickwork where the well bucket must once have hung. He let the ladder go and it unfurled into the darkness. Barak took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and looked at me seriously. I realized he was daunted by the prospect of that descent.

'Give me a shout if anyone stirs. I wouldn't want to be caught down there.'

'I will.'

'I've candles and a tinderbox for when I get to the bottom,' he said. 'Wish me luck.'

'Good luck. And thank you.'

He lifted a hand to his shirt and, loosening a button, put his hand inside to finger his little Jewish symbol. Then he clambered over the side of the well. He found the ladder with his feet and began climbing down. The top of his head vanished into darkness, giving me the strange feeling the well had swallowed him up.

I leaned over. 'Are you all right?' I asked in a loud whisper.

His voice came back, hollow and echoing. 'Ay. That smell's stronger.'

I glanced at the house again. All was still silent.

'I've touched bottom.' Barak's voice echoed with a ringing hollowness. I guessed the well must be deep, perhaps thirty feet. 'I'm on something soft.' He called. 'Cloth. And something else, like fur. Ugh. I'm going to light the candle.'

I heard a scrape, caught a tiny spark far below in the darkness and then another. 'The arsehole won't catch! Wait, there it is – oh, hell!' I jumped back as a startled yell echoed from the pit. At the same moment a sudden flicker of light appeared at a first-floor window in the house.

I grasped the side of the well and leaned in, regardless of the stench. Barak's candle had gone out again. 'There's a light in the house!' I called out. 'Get up, now!'

There was a frantic scrabbling as he hauled himself up. I glanced at the house again. The light had moved to the next window. Someone was walking around with a candle. Had they seen or heard us, or was it just someone going to the privy? The end of the rope ladder trembled as Barak climbed rapidly. I reached in and thrust a hand into the darkness. 'Here!'

A hard hand grasped my own. My back screamed in pain as I helped Barak up. He scrambled out as though the devil were behind him and stood panting beside me, looking over at the house. His eyes were wide and there was a rotten, meaty smell on him. The candlelight was still there, but no longer moving, flickering at one of the windows. Was someone looking out? We were a good distance from the house and partly shaded by the tree, but the moonlight was bright.

'Here, come!' Barak whispered urgently. He had grasped the well cap. 'They may not have seen us. If someone comes out, run!'

We slid the cap back into place and Barak scrabbled for the padlocks he had laid on the lawn. He put them back in place, moving with smooth, practised speed.

'The light's gone out!' I whispered.

'Right, nearly done.' He shut the second padlock with a click and stepped away. Just then I heard the creak of a door opening, and a voice I recognized as Needler's called out, 'Hey! Who's that!'

Barak turned and ran for the wall. I followed; he had already bent and made a stirrup of his hands. I glanced back: it was hard to make anything out across the lawn and flower beds but there seemed to be dark shapes in the open doorway. Then I heard an angry bark.

'Dogs,' I hissed.

'Get up, for Jesu's sake!'

I grasped the wall, put my feet in Barak's hands, and again he hauled me up. I almost overbalanced but managed to sit astride the wall. I looked back fearfully to see two large black dogs loping across the flower beds, not barking now but running towards Barak in deadly, intent silence.

'Hurry!'

He grabbed the top of the wall and, setting his feet against the bricks, began hauling himself up. The dogs were almost on him. Behind them I heard footsteps. Needler was following. Then Barak cried out. One of the dogs, a big mongrel, had his shoe and was holding on, growling evilly. The other dog leaped up at me. I almost overbalanced but managed to hold on. Fortunately the wall was too high and the creature fell back. It stood, paws against the wall, barking angrily up at me.

'Help me, for Christ's sake!' Barak hissed. For a second I could not think what to do, then remembered the pebbles in my pocket. I pulled out the largest and threw it straight at the eyes of the dog that held his foot.

It yelped and jumped back, startled. It only lost its grip for a second but that was enough for Barak to haul his leg up and we both half-dropped, half-fell into the long grass of the orchard, just as Needler's voice shouted again from the other side of the wall. 'Who's that? Stop!'

We lurched back into the cover of the trees, half-expecting the steward's face to appear over the wall, but he remained on the other side, where the dogs were barking frantically. No doubt he was afraid to pursue us on his own. I heard a voice that sounded like Sir Edwin's calling from the lawn. Barak grasped my arm and led the way through the orchard at a fast limp. We went back through the broken door into the lane, back into Budge Row and down Dowgate. Only then did he stop, leaning against a wall and lifting his foot to examine it.

'Are you hurt?' I asked anxiously.

'Just a graze. Thank Christ I had my pattens on, look.' He showed me where the dog's teeth had gouged bite marks in the wooden soles, then looked at me keenly. 'Would that steward have recognized you?'

'He didn't get close enough to see.'

'Just as well he's a coward and didn't come after us, or you'd have had some explaining to do.'

I looked nervously around the deserted street. 'Sir Edwin will rouse the constable.'

'Ay, just give me a minute.'

'What – what made you cry out in the well?' I asked. 'What did you see?'

He looked at me grimly. 'I'm not sure. There are clothes down there, cloth and fur. And I seemed – I thought I saw eyes down there.'

'Eyes?'

He swallowed again. 'Dead eyes, glinting in the candlelight.'

'Whose eyes? For God's sake, whose?'

'I don't know, do I? Small eyes. Two pairs at least. It gave me a shock.'

'There's a body down there? More than one?'

'God's death, I'd hardly a second to look before you called to me to get out!' Barak shook his head. 'I don't know. I felt bones crunch, though, little bones. I'm sure that's what it was.' He lifted his hand to his shirt again and touched the talisman inside, then stepped away from the wall.

'Let's get out of here.' Still limping, he led the way back to the river.