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 and Long Lane, where my route lay.
I noticed a little group of retainers in the red and gold Howard livery standing quietly holding their horses by the gatehouse. Then I saw the Duke of Norfolk himself was by the doorway, his scarlet robe a bright slash of colour against the grey stone. He was talking to another man, who stood in the gatehouse doorway with arms folded in a proprietorial gesture. To my surprise I recognized Sir Richard Rich.