Dark Fire

ask for her to be examined-'

'The jury can consider her mental state when she is tried,' Forbizer said shortly, 'if she condescends to plead.' I glanced at Elizabeth. She was looking at me now, but still with that dead, dull stare.

'Your honour,' I said determinedly, 'I would like to cite the precedent of Anon in the Court of King's Bench in 1505, when it was held that an accused who refuses to plead and whose sanity is put in question should be examined by a jury.' I produced a copy. 'I have the case-'

Forbizer shook his head. 'I know that case. And the contrary case of Beddloe, King's Bench, 1498, which says only the trial jury may decide on sanity.'

'But in deciding between the cases, your honour, I submit consideration must be given to my client's weaker sex, and the fact she is below the age of majority-'

Forbizer's lip curled again, a moist fleshy thing against his grey beard. 'And so a jury has to be empanelled now to determine her sanity, and you buy more time for your client. No, Brother Shardlake, no.'

'Your honour, the truth of this matter can never be determined if my client dies under the press. The evidence is circumstantial, justice calls for a fuller investigation.'

'You are addressing me now on the matter itself, sir. I will not allow-'

'She may be pregnant,' I said desperately. 'We do not know, as she will say nothing. We should wait to see if that may be so. The press would kill an unborn child!'

There was more muttering among the spectators. Elizabeth's expression had changed; she was looking at me with angry outrage now.

'Do you wish to plead your belly, madam?' Forbizer asked. She shook her head slowly, then lowered it, hiding her face in her hair once more.

'You understand English then,' Forbizer said to her. He turned back to me. 'You are clutching at any excuse for delay, Brother Shardlake. I will not allow that.' He hunched his shoulders and addressed Elizabeth again. 'You may be below the age of majority, Mistress, but you are above that of responsibility. You know what is right and wrong before God, yet you stand accused of this hideous crime and refuse to plead. I order you to peine forte et dure, the weights to be pressed on you this very afternoon.'

I jumped up again. 'Your honour-'

'God's death, man, be quiet!' Forbizer snapped, banging a fist on his desk. He waved at the constable. 'Take her down! Bring up the petty misdemeanours.' The man stepped into the dock and led Elizabeth away, her head still bowed. 'The press is slower than the noose,' I heard one woman say to another. 'Serve her right.' The door closed behind them.

I sat with my head bowed. There was a babble of conversation and a rustling of clothes as the spectators rose. Many had come only to see Elizabeth; the petty thefts worth under a shilling were of little interest, those guilty would just be branded or lose their ears. Only Bealknap, still lurking in the doorway, looked interested, for those convicted of lesser crimes could claim benefit of clergy. Edwin Wentworth went with the rest; I saw the back of his robe as he walked out. Joseph remained alone on his bench, looking disconsolately after his brother. The sharp- faced young man had already gone, with Sir Edwin perhaps. I went over to Joseph.

'I am sorry,' I said.

He clutched my hand. 'Sir, come with me, come now to Newgate. When they show her the weights, the stone to go beneath her back, it may frighten her into speech. That could save her, could it not?'

'Yes, she'd be brought back for trial. But she won't do it, Joseph.'

'Try, sir, please – one last try. Come with me.'

I closed my eyes for a moment, 'Very well.'

As we walked into the vestibule of the court, Joseph gave a gasp and clutched his stomach. 'Agh, my guts,' he said. 'This worry has put them out of order. Is there a jakes here?'

'Round the back. I'll wait for you. Hurry. They'll take her to the press straight away.'

He shouldered a way through the departing crowd. Left alone in the hall, I sat down on a bench. Then I heard a rapid patter of footsteps from the court. The door was flung open and Forbizer's clerk, a round little man, ran up to me, his face red, robes billowing around him. 'Brother Shardlake,' he puffed. 'Thank goodness. I thought you had gone.'

'What is it?'

He handed me a paper. 'Judge Forbizer has reconsidered, sir. He asked me to give you this.'

'What?'

'He has reconsidered. You are to have another two weeks to persuade Mistress Wentworth to plead.'

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. No one could have looked less like reconsidering than Forbizer. There was something shifty, uneasy, in the clerk's face. 'A copy of this has gone to Newgate already.' He thrust the paper at me and vanished back into the courtroom.

I looked at it. A brief order above Forbizer's spiky signature, stating Elizabeth Wentworth was to be detained in the Newgate Hole for another twelve days, until the tenth of June, to reconsider her plea. I sat staring around the hall, trying to work it out. It was an extraordinary thing for any judge to do, let alone Forbizer.

There was a touch on my arm. I looked up to find the sharp-faced young man at my elbow. I frowned and he smiled again, a cynical smile that turned up one corner of his mouth, showing white even teeth.

'Master Shardlake,' he said, 'I see you have the order.' His voice was as sharp as his face, with the burr of a London commoner.

'What do you mean? Who are you?'

He gave a small bow. 'Jack Barak, sir, at your service. It was I persuaded Judge Forbizer to grant the order just now. You did not see me slip behind the bench?'

'No. But – what is this?'

His smile vanished and again I saw the hardness in his face. 'I serve Lord Cromwell. It was in his name I persuaded the judge to give you more time. He didn't want to, stiff-necked old arsehole, but my master is not refused. You know that.'

'Cromwell? Why?'

'He would see you, sir. He is nearby, at the Rolls House. He asks me to take you there.'

My heart began pounding with apprehension. 'Why? What does he want? I haven't seen him in close on three years.'

'He has a commission for you, sir.' Barak raised his eyebrows and stared at me insolently with those large brown eyes. 'Two weeks' more life for the girl is your fee, paid in advance.'

Chapter Six

BARAK LED ME at a brisk pace to the courthouse stables. My heart still banged against my ribs and the skin on my face had a tight, drawn feeling. I knew Lord Cromwell was not above bullying judges, but he always liked to observe the legal niceties and would not have done this lightly. And Barak was a strange person to use to confront a judge. But though he had risen to be chief minister, Cromwell was the son of a Putney alehouse keeper and was happy to work with men of low birth so long as they were intelligent and ruthless enough. But what in Christ's name did Cromwell want from me? His last mission had plunged me into a hell of murder and violence I still shuddered to recall.

Barak's horse was a beautiful black mare, its coat shining with health. He cantered out while I was still saddling Chancery, pausing in the stable doorway to look back impatiently. 'Ready?' he asked. 'His lordship wants to see you this morning, you know.'

I studied him again as I climbed on the vaulting block and eased myself onto Chancery's back. A hard eye and a fighter's build, as I had observed before. A heavy sword at his hip and a dagger too at his belt. But there was intelligence in his eyes and in the wide, sensual mouth, whose upturned corners seemed made for mockery.

'Wait a moment,' I said, seeing Joseph running across the yard to us, his plump face bright, clutching his cap in his hand. When he had returned from the jakes I told him Forbizer had changed his mind: I said I did not know why. 'Your advocacy, sir,' he had said. 'Your words moved his conscience.' Joseph was ever a naive man.