'Well, here we are. I think I shall take the boat on to Queenhithe, then go home.' She paused. 'Visit me again soon. Give me news of how the converse with Lord Cromwell goes.'
'I will, Lady Honor.' She knew I could not leave the mystery that lay between her and the duke, but clearly she was determined to say no more. I stood up awkwardly and bowed. Planks had been set across the mud. I stepped onto them gingerly and crossed to the steps. By the time I grasped the rail at the stairs and could turn safely, the boat was sculling down the river. I shouldered my way through the crowds to the stables.
I felt as though caught in the middle of some dreadful dance between Lady Honor and Cromwell, used by them both. Yet her indignation at the way the Wentworth hag had spoken to me had been genuine. If I could once get out of the toils of secrets and half-truths, I knew there was no one whose company I would rather have. I rode home with a mind sorely unsettled.
AT LAST I REACHED Chancery Lane. As I let myself into my hall, Barak was walking downstairs.
'You're back early,' he said. 'Thank God. I wasn't sure I could keep her much longer.'
'Who?'
He did not answer, but walked back into my parlour. I followed him. There, sitting uneasily on a hard chair, the brand prominent on her square pale cheek, was Madam Neller.
'She's back,' Barak said. 'Bathsheba Green.'
I looked at Madam Neller. She nodded. 'Came back last night with her brother, looking for shelter. Pock-face almost got them two days ago and they had to run from the friends they were with. I've let them stay, they're at Southwark now.' She looked at me fixedly. 'You promised me two more half angels if I brought you the news.'
'You shall have them,' I said.
She fixed me with her hard stare. 'I've persuaded them to talk to you. Convinced them it's the only course. But not at my house. I'm not having you coming down there and making more trouble. I've lost enough business as it is. More than two half-angel's worth,' she added, giving me a meaningful look.
I reached for my purse, but Barak put a hand on my arm.
'Not so fast. Where will Bathsheba meet us then?'
She smiled, that mirthless slash I had seen at the brothel. 'She and her brother will meet you at the house of Michael Gristwood at Wolf's Lane at Queenhithe. It's empty with his wife gone.'
'How do you know that?'
'Bathsheba told me. George Green broke in there a few days ago. Bathsheba kept pestering him to try and get inside the house. There's something in there she believes Michael was killed for.'
'What was it?' I hesitated. 'A piece of paper?'
She shrugged. 'I don't know and don't care. George got into the house through a window, twice, and it was deserted. I don't think he found what he was after.'
I turned to Barak. 'So much for the watchman. He's still there?'
'Ay, Lord Cromwell wanted an eye kept on the place. He will make the man's arse smart for this. Listen,
'Yes, it would.'
Madam Neller straightened her red wig. 'They'll meet you there tonight, after dark. They'll be in the house watching. If they see anyone other than you two, they'll be off.'
Barak grunted. 'They're an insolent pair.'
Madam Neller shrugged and looked at me again. I passed her two half angels. She bit the coins and slipped them into her dress.
'Tell them we'll be there,' I said.
She nodded, heaved her stocky form out of the chair and left the room without another word. She left the door to the hall open and I watched as she went to the front door. Joan, who was putting down fresh rushes, gave the brothel keeper a scandalized look as the woman let herself out.
Barak smiled. 'Poor Joan. She doesn't know what to make of all these goings on. You'll lose her if this continues much longer.'
'I'll lose more than her,' I said sourly. 'We both will.'
Chapter Thirty-one
BARAK AND I SAT IN an alehouse on the corner of Wolf's Lane, almost opposite the Gristwood house. It was a dingy place, where men of the poorer sort sat at battered tables playing cards or talking. A slatternly girl passed wooden tankards of beer through a hatch in the wall. Opposite me, Barak was looking through the open door at the darkening streets.
'Should we not go now?' I asked.
'It's too early. She said they'd not be there till after dark. We don't want to startle them.'
I sat back. Despite my tiredness and aching back, I found myself seized with a new excitement. It was clear Bathsheba knew more than she had indicated at the whorehouse. Now, perhaps, we could find out how much. I took another drink of the watery beer as Barak studied a group of four men playing dice by the opposite wall. He leaned across to me.
'Those dice are loaded. See the gloomy-looking young fellow in the dull clothes? He's new to town, those others have invited him here to cheat him.'
'The City knows countless ways to cheat people. It's nothing to be proud of. The country has more honest ways.'
'Does it?' He looked at me with frank curiosity. 'I've never been there. All the country folk I meet seem dozy clowns.'
'My father has a farm near Lichfield. Country folk aren't stupid. Innocent in some ways, perhaps.'
'Look, he's having to get his purse out now, silly arsehole.' Barak shook his head, then leaned closer. 'Will you see Marchamount again tomorrow? Try to find out what's going on with Lady Honor?'
'Yes, I will. I'll go to Lincoln's Inn first thing.' I had told him reluctantly of the new mystery my conversation on the river had raised, but I realized that where Lady Honor was concerned I needed to sound the opinion of someone whose mind was unclouded by feeling. He had said I must ask Marchamount for the whole story of what was going on between him, Lady Honor and the Duke of Norfolk. I agreed, though with a sinking heart, for I hated the idea of picking her affairs apart with Marchamount again. 'Maybe there'll be some news of Bealknap, too, at last,' I added, for there was still no word of him. At least on my return from the river I had found a note from Guy, saying he was back and I could call on him on the morrow.
At the far table I saw the young man had been persuaded to start another game. I caught a country accent, he was from Essex like Joseph. I thought of Elizabeth languishing in the Hole, a distracted Joseph wondering what I was doing. 'We must go down that well again,' I whispered.
'I know, but it's risky with the dogs.' He frowned. 'I'll put my mind to how it might be done.'
'Thank you, I am grateful.'
'I see those Anabaptists have repented. It's the talk of the streets.'
'Are people disappointed that there won't be a big burning?'
'Some are, but it's a thing many prefer not to see.'
'I have always feared it,' I said. 'When I was first in London as a student it was fashionable to support reform in the Church. Even Thomas More supported it. But then forbidden Lutheran books started to appear and when More was made chancellor the burnings started in earnest. He was a great believer in burning as a purge for sin and to create fear. And it did. The time came when there were few who hadn't been to a burning, if only because it might be noticed if they didn't go.'
'I don't remember much about the days before Lutheranism, I was just a child.' Barak laughed sadly. 'Only the smell of shit my dad brought everywhere with him, making me escape to my schoolwork in the attic. Poor old
