the entrance hall, I bowed and thanked him for his intervention as I strapped it back onto my belt. He moved as if to shake my hand, but my present condition evidently made him think better of it. Instead he looked down at me with a crease in his brow as his fingers worried at the front of his robe.
“Doctor Savolino—I hardly know how to apologise for this insult to your person and your integrity. That a friend of Her Majesty’s court should have been treated so … But you understand there is a delicate relationship in this town between the cathedral foundation and the civic authorities. The cathedral remains powerful and”—here he gave a nervous little laugh—“for the moment, wealthy. There have been occasions when we have felt it necessary to intervene in matters of city governance, and this creates a certain, ah—
“I thank you for your support, Dean Rogers,” I reassured him. “The only way for me to answer these charges, it seems, is to find out who really killed the apothecary.”
The dean looked doubtful. “But how could you begin to do that?”
“I might consider the motive of the man who wants me found guilty.”
His face tensed at this.
“I am sure Doctor Sykes was only acting as he thought best.”
I was poised to argue but was aware of Samuel’s sharp gaze boring into me.
“Of course,” I murmured.
The dean looked relieved. Why was everyone so afraid of Sykes, I wondered?
“Harry would have come for you himself, but the walk would have been a trial for him. He sent Samuel with the bail money, but asked me to accompany him to support the case for your innocence.”
I glanced at Samuel. “It was good of you both to take the time.”
Samuel merely offered a thin smile.
“A condition of the bail is that your whereabouts are now Harry’s responsibility,” the dean continued, as we stepped out into the High Street and began to walk in the direction of the cathedral, attracting curious glances along the way. “I’m afraid you will have to leave your lodgings at the Cheker and stay in his house until the assizes.”
I nodded, keeping my face steady, but this news was a blow. To be trapped there, under Samuel’s eye, with the prospect of his relaying my every word back to Langworth, was not how I had envisaged my return to freedom. I had to find some means to get Samuel out of the way; without his influence, there was a chance Harry might listen to me. I was already compromised on every side: Langworth knew who I really was and to the rest of Canterbury I was now a suspected murderer. I badly needed even one ally here, and I had no choice but to trust Harry. The fact that he had paid my bail out of his own pocket suggested that he had a little faith in me—or at least respect for Walsingham—which I might hope to work on, if only I could do something about the brooding, watchful presence of his servant.
I glanced over my shoulder at Samuel; at my side, the dean was earnestly explaining how helpful it would be in my current situation if, for the sake of public opinion, I were to be seen frequently at divine service in the cathedral in the company of the canons. Samuel walked a few paces after us, dressed in his customary doublet and breeches of plain black linen, his hands folded behind his back, as if he were our appointed escort. I noted with distaste how several long strands of black hair still clung stubbornly to the front of his bald scalp like the legs of spiders. Tall and bald, the old monk had said of the man who came to give bread to the beggar children. Was it Samuel, at the bidding of his powerful friends? He caught me looking at him and returned my stare with a raised eyebrow, as if daring me to state my challenge. Calmly I shifted my attention to the dean, who was still talking though I had not heard a word, recalling as I did so what Harry had said about Samuel carrying his messages to Walsingham. That was the answer. I was so pleased with the idea that I had to stop myself smiling like a half-wit. Samuel must be made to carry a letter to London; not only would that take him out of the way, but I would contrive to include an invisible message in the letter that the bearer should be detained and taken for questioning.
“And I should be honoured if you would accept,” the dean said, laying a hand on my shoulder before withdrawing it in haste and surreptitiously wiping it on the side of his robe.
“The honour would be mine,” I replied, smiling, though I was not sure what I had just agreed to.
“Splendid. Directly after Evensong, then—you and Harry can come together. I keep a plain table, as you will see—no untoward extravagance, as befits a servant of God and Her Majesty, I assure you”—here he gave his nervous little laugh again—“though I venture to boast that my cook has talents enough to make a feast from the simplest fare.”
Ah. So I had been invited to dinner.
“I am easy to please at table, sir. So long as it is hot and filling.”
This was untrue; such atrocities as the English practised upon their food I found baffling and almost impossible to stomach, though I had been obliged to accustom myself to it over the past year. But my denial seemed to please the dean.
“The best kind of guest,” he beamed, as we reached the Christ Church gate. “Very well, then. I shall leave Samuel to deliver you safely to Harry and will see you at divine service this evening.” His brow furrowed again as his eyes travelled over me. “I trust you have a change of clothes?”
“Do not fear, sir—I will have shed all traces of the gaol by this evening,” I reassured him.
He sighed. “If only one could wash away the stain to one’s reputation so easily,” he murmured, before taking his leave and passing through the gate in the direction of the Archbishop’s Palace.
Samuel gestured towards the cathedral with his head and I stepped through the archway. Tom Garth appeared from his cubbyhole to stare at us and even moved forward as if he would speak to me, but I walked on without a word. My thoughts now were all on the purse I had stuffed behind the hay bales in the stable of the Cheker; once I had thanked Harry and found a way to dispatch Samuel to London, my first priority must be to retrieve it. And then what? I rubbed my forehead, catching again the sickening smell of dead flesh still clinging to my fingers. Go after Sykes? Could I find a way to get into his house and find some proof to connect him to the death of Fitch before the assizes?
Samuel and I walked in silence to the door of Harry’s house. Perhaps he thought, as I did, that to speak was the surest way to betray oneself. I had no idea how much he guessed I knew about him, but between us there was a wariness and suspicion so pronounced you could almost hear it crackling in the air; I sensed it as if we were two strange dogs circling each other, each waiting for the other to bare its teeth first. He paused with his hand on the latch.
“You should not expect to find him in a good humour, after your antics.” He did not even give me the courtesy of looking at me while he spoke.
“My antics, as you call them, consist of no more than being falsely accused by a man who has judged me because my face and voice are unfamiliar to him.”
Samuel sniffed.
“Nonetheless, you have cost my master dear. No one asked you to come here,” he added, unnecessarily.
I bit my tongue and looked at the ground. Someone did ask me to Canterbury, I wanted to say, and she still has faith in me. Though I feared I was running out of time to justify it.
“I am sorry to have caused him trouble, and I will tell him so,” I said. Samuel hesitated, but seemed wrongfooted by my show of humility. He could find nothing to say in response, and instead opened the door.
“By the cross, you are determined to be a thorn in my side, Bruno.” Harry heaved himself up from his familiar place in the front room when I entered. Grey afternoon light fell across his face and his bushy brows cast his eyes into shadow. “You must be parched. Samuel, fetch our guest a jug of beer and some bread.”
“Thank you. I will reimburse your expenses—”
He waved a hand, as if this were unimportant.
“Of course you will. That’s not my worry. Christ’s body, you stink, man—where have you been?”
“I will tell you everything in due course—there is much to tell. But first, with this arrest, it is essential that I get a message to Walsingham—some intervention by his hand may be my only hope at the assizes. And the message must be taken with the utmost urgency.” I looked at him expectantly. Slow realisation dawned on the old man’s face as his servant came back bearing a tray.
“But—Samuel would be gone for some days.” His voice rose a notch and I realised that, for all his gruff show
