The King's Evil

The hammer rose and fell with precision until the long nail had been driven deep into the joist, securing yet another floorboard. Jonathan gathered up his tools to put back in their box then examined his hands. Three small blisters decorated one palm.

'I have grown soft,' he said with a resigned smile. 'When I worked as a shipwright, I could hold a hammer all day without getting blisters. My hands were made of leather in those days.'

'I prefer them as they are,' she said, cupping them between her own palms before giving them a gentle kiss. 'When you have washed them, your food will be ready.'

'Thank you, Sarah.'

'See to the boys first.'

'Have they behaved well today?'

An indulgent smile. 'Now and then.'

'Oliver can be a bully sometimes.'

'Richard has been the problem today. He will answer back.'

'I'll speak to them.'

'Not too harshly,' she counselled.

'They must learn, Sarah.'

While she descended to the kitchen, he went off to give his sons a muted reprimand which was further softened by a good night kiss. He tucked them into their bed. It was a moment in the day which Jonathan always treasured and he was pleased that it could now take place again in their own house. Evacuated to Hoxton by the fire, they had all missed Addle Hill greatly but it was well into the new year before rebuilding could begin. The area had suffered badly and the destruction of the once invincible Baynard's Castle had a symbolic meaning for the whole ward. Like so many others, the Bale household was completely gutted but its exterior walls, though charred in places, remained largely sound. Once they were reinforced with additional brickwork, they became able to bear the weight of new roof timbers and tiles.

As soon as the shell was completed, Jonathan moved in on his own to rebuild the house from the inside, using skills which had been honed by many years in the shipyards. Doing the bulk of the work himself not only defrayed the costs, it gave him a sense of satisfaction. He was able both to rebuild and improve their home. He was particularly pleased with his new staircase, made of seasoned oak and showing evidence of long hours with a plane and a chisel. When the kitchen, parlour and one bedroom were habitable, his family moved back to share the house with him and he continued his renovations around them whenever he could steal a spare hour or two. It was by no means an ideal situation but it was far preferable to living outside the city wall in Hoxton and, in his case, having long walks to and from Baynard's Castle Ward every day.

'I still think that you should have taken it,' remarked Sarah.

'Taken what?' he asked.

'The reward.'

'Oh, no. I could never bring myself to do so.'

'But you earned it, Jonathan.'

'I merely did my duty,' he said solemnly. 'A constable is enjoined to arrest criminals. That is all that I did. It was very kind of Sir Ambrose Northcott to offer me a reward but it had to be refused. If anybody should have received the money, it was Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me Thorpe. It was he who alerted me to what was afoot.'

'Then you should have taken the reward and shared it with him.'

'No, Sarah.'

'Why not?'

'Because my conscience would have troubled me.'

'Jonathan,' she argued, 'we need all the money we can get.'

'Not if it comes from such a source.'

'You prevented a crime being committed on someone's property. The owner was duly grateful. He is entitled to reward you.' 'And I am just as entitled to reject his offer.'

'I would not have done so.'

'You might if you knew the circumstances.'

'What circumstances?'

Jonathan swallowed the last of his food before he answered. Seated in their kitchen, he and Sarah were eating a light salad for supper. He washed it down with a mug of ale then looked across at her.

'A crime was reported to me,' he continued, 'and I took action. I did so with no thought of personal gain. Had the theft been from the meanest house in the ward, I would have responded just the same. I had no notion that the property in question was owned by Sir Ambrose Northcott.'

'But it was, Jonathan, and he was deeply grateful.'

'The size of the reward shows that, my love, but it was offered to me in a way that I found insulting. A lawyer named Solomon Creech sought me out. A scurvy fellow who spoke to me so condescendingly that I was hard pressed to hold on to my temper.'

'Then his manner must have been insulting,' she said, 'for you are the most even-tempered person I have ever met. It takes a lot to rouse Jonathan Bale to anger.'

'Mr Creech managed to do it,' he recalled bitterly. 'He made it sound as if Sir Ambrose was doing me a huge favour when it was I, in fact, who helped him. I will not be patronised by anybody, Sarah.'

'Do you think I need to be told that?'

'Least of all by some wealthy Cavalier.'

'Now we come to the truth of it.'

'I felt as if I was being paid off like some menial.'

'Money is money, Jonathan.'

'Not when it is tainted,' he said sharply. 'We need no favours. We will manage on our own somehow. Mr Creech would not believe that I actually refused the award. He began to chastise me and read me a sermon on gratitude. I tell you this, Sarah, if I had not turned on my heel and walked away from the man, I might well have done him an injury. He was truly obnoxious.'

'Would you have taken the money from Sir Ambrose himself?'

'Not a penny.'

'Even though it would have offended him?'

'My refusal would have been polite, Sarah,' he said evenly. 'I look for no reward from Sir Ambrose Northcott, whether direct from him or by means of that damnable lawyer.' He gave a hollow laugh. 'The only consolation is that he did not send that architect of his to transact the business.'

'Architect?'

'A cocksure young man called Christopher Redmayne.'

'How is he involved here?'

'He designed the house for Sir Ambrose and he lay in ambush to catch the thieves. He and the builder, one Samuel Littlejohn, were there that night and helped to catch the villains.'

'That shows rare courage on their part.'

'They have a vested interest in the property. I believe that it is the first house Mr Redmayne has designed. He is a gifted architect.'

'Then why have you not mentioned him before?'

'Because I choose to put him out of my mind.'

'For what reason?'

'I do not like the fellow, Sarah.'

'Is he so unpleasant to you?'

'Quite the opposite,' he sighed. 'Mr Redmayne has tried to befriend me and that is even worse. I want no dealings with him. He lives in one world, I live in another. That is that. We have nothing in common. It was an unfortunate coincidence that we bumped into each other again.'

'Again?' she echoed. 'You have met him before?'

'Yes. Close by St Paul's.'

'When was this?'