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.
Chapter Twenty-six
THAT NIGHT I SLEPT DEEPLY, exhausted. I woke with a leaden feeling of tiredness and the realization that I should have to face Cromwell that afternoon. The third of June. In exactly a week's time the demonstration would be due. My back ached horribly from pulling Barak out of the well. I lay there, wondering how much longer I could keep up this pace, cope with the constant danger.
I did Guy's exercises carefully, in case I did more harm than good, then went and looked out over my garden, the flowers wilting in their beds under a sun whose heat was powerful already. I thought of Joseph's farm, his crops shrivelling in the fields. I would have no news for him this morning after all; we still did not know what was down that well. Barak had manfully offered to try again: but not tonight, for they would certainly be on watch. I wondered if they had guessed at our purpose. Barak had left no sign the well had been disturbed; most likely they thought they had surprised a pair of burglars. I scribbled a hasty note to Joseph, saying it would be another day or two before I got back to him and asking him to keep faith with me.
Barak was already at breakfast when I went downstairs. Joan was serving and kept giving us worried glances; these last few days she had noticed how tense I seemed. I had told her that Chancery had simply collapsed and died of heatstroke, but I suspected she did not believe me.
'Well, what now?' Barak asked after she had left.
'I'll go to Lady Honor's first, question her again. If I go early I'm most likely to catch her in.'
He was as ebullient as ever. 'What's it they say? A ship could be rigged in the time it takes a lady of fashion to get ready. I see you've put a new doublet and robe on for her.'
'Might as well look my best.'
He took a deep breath and made a grimace. 'We've to see the earl at one. He wants us at Whitehall. I hope you find out something new from Lady Honor. Shall I come with you?'
'No. I thought perhaps you might visit Madam Neller again; see if there is any news of the girl Bathsheba. I'll come back here and meet you at twelve. And I'll send Simon to Leman, asking him to come here at two. Then we can go to Lincoln's Inn and confront Bealknap.' I did not want Barak to know that after seeing Lady Honor I planned to visit Guy and tell him more about Greek Fire. I felt obscurely that the fact the Romans knew of it or something similar, but had been unable to develop it, went to the heart of the matter.
I saw Barak was giving me one of his keen looks and wondered if he had noticed something unusual in my manner. He was sharp enough for anything. I remembered anew that his loyalty was to Cromwell, not to me.
'We have that inn to visit tonight,' I said, 'where they tried to sell that Polish stuff.'
'Yes. I suppose it'd do no harm to see old Neller, remind her we haven't forgotten her. I'd rather not hang about here thinking about our meeting with the earl. But are you sure you'll be safe on your own?'
'Ay. I'll be going by public ways, and I'll be keeping a careful eye out.'
We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Joan stood there, a look of surprise on her face. 'There's a messenger, sir, from Lord Cromwell's office. He has a new horse for you, sir.'
Barak got up, nodding. 'I sent a message to Grey yesterday afternoon, saying your horse was killed and asking for a new one to be sent. You've no time to go to the market.'
'Oh.'
'You need a horse, we can't go everywhere by water. I asked for a younger horse, better able to keep up with Sukey.'
'Oh,' I said again. I was suddenly filled with anger. Did Barak think Chancery's loss could be repaired so casually? Yet from a practical point of view he was right. I went outside. Simon had brought both horses round. Barak's sleek mare was accompanied by a big brown gelding. I patted it. It seemed placid enough. Yet it felt almost a betrayal to see this animal in Chancery's place.
'What's his name?' I asked Simon.
'Genesis, sir. Though as he's a gelding he won't be able to generate a foal, will he?' Simon smiled shyly, pleased at his own cleverness.
I looked at the pattens on his feet. 'How are you managing with those?'
'Very well, thank you, sir. They are easy on the feet after a while.'
'The effort was worth it, you see.' I gave him two notes. 'Take this to Master Wentworth's lodging house, please, and the other to the stall of a Master Leman, at Cheapside.'
I heaved myself into the saddle. Barak had come to the door, that speculative look still on his face. I gave him a brief wave and rode off.
I decided to go to Lady Honor's house by the quieter route, via Smithfield and entering the City through the Cripplegate. It would give Genesis a chance to get used to me. I rode on steadily, half an eye always open for danger. I had brought the Greek Fire papers with me and they bumped against my side in the knapsack I had used yesterday to hit Wright. I shuddered again at the thought of his axe.
My thoughts turned to the Wentworths. What in God's name was going on in that family? I could not see any of the family engaged in what now seemed likely to be more than one murder. The old woman was harsh and ruthless, but her interest was only in her family and her blindness prevented her taking an active role in any devilry. The two girls too surely had no horizons beyond their family and a good marriage; if Sabine was engaged in some girlish fancy for the steward that was surely not so unusual. Both were classic Little Lady Favours, well-brought-up, well- mannered girls as content with their lot as cows in a field.
I turned my thoughts to Sir Edwin. He was a man consumed by fury and sorrow and it was hard to guess what he was like in normal circumstances. From all I had heard he seemed to be a typical rich merchant, concerned above all to build up his and his family's status. Needler, the steward, was a nasty piece of work but his main interest seemed to be keeping well in with the family. All normal, really. In fact the only members of the Wentworth household whose behaviour was abnormal were Elizabeth, whom I believed innocent, and Ralph himself.
We had reached Smithfield. I looked around the open space, St Bartholomew's Friary and the hospital still empty and guarded. By the market I saw men in City livery stacking temporary seats in tiers. Others were hammering bolts with chains attached into a long wooden pole. I remembered Vervey telling me there was another burning planned for the next week, a pair of Anabaptists who denied the sacraments and would hold all goods in common. I shuddered, praying they might repent and be spared this horror, and turned the horse towards the priory
