They had already seen me and were staring across at me. The duke raised an arm. ‘Hey, master lawyer! Over here!’
Hell, I thought, what now? I turned Genesis’s head towards the group, praying the horse would continue to behave. I noticed there was a new doorman on the gate, and wondered what had happened to the fat fellow Barak had kicked out of the library. As I pulled up, Rich gave me a cold, angry look, though Norfolk for once looked amiable enough. I guessed Rich had been in the act of welcoming Norfolk to the priory when I turned up and I had a feeling they were not pleased at having been seen together. So febrile was the atmosphere lately that whenever two councillors were seen talking together away from Whitehall, rumours of plots were sparked. And indeed they were an unusual pair to be meeting out here, Cromwell’s protégé and his greatest enemy. I dismounted and bowed to them.
‘Master Shardlake.’ Norfolk’s lined face cracked into a thin smile. ‘Lord Rich, this is a clever lawyer I met at a banquet of Lady Honor’s the other night. Not one of your Augmentations brood, I think.’
‘No, he’s a Lincoln’s Inn deviller, isn’t that so, Brother Shardlake? Though he devils in some strange places - I found him wandering about in my garden a few days ago. You haven’t come to steal my washing, have you?’
I laughed uneasily at the jest. ‘I was passing only, on my way to Bishopsgate. I have a new horse, I wanted to avoid taking him through the City crowds.’
Norfolk turned to Rich. ‘A colleague of Master Shardlake’s was impertinent to me at Lincoln’s Inn a few days ago, read me a lesson on the new religion.’ His cold eyes glittered at me. ‘But you tell me you’re not a Bible puncher, don’t you?’
‘I follow the rules our king has laid down, your grace.’
Norfolk grunted. He turned to Genesis, looking the horse over with a professional eye. ‘That’s an ordinary-looking nag. But you can’t take a horse of spirit to the City. And I suppose you might have difficulty with a hard ride,’ he added brutally, with a glance at my back. He stretched his arms. ‘God’s wounds, Richard, I’ll be glad when parliament rises and I can return to the country. Though you’re another City urchin, aren’t you?’
‘I am a Londoner, your grace,’ Rich said stiffly. He turned to me. ‘The duke has come to discuss the transfer of some monastic lands.’ There was no need to tell me anything at all; he was providing me with an explanation for the meeting in case I spread rumours of conspiracy. What he said might be true: it was well known that Norfolk, for all his religious conservatism, had taken his full share of the monastic spoils.
‘Ay,’ Norfolk said. ‘And you’ve transferred Barty’s to yourself in all but name, eh Richard?’ He laughed. ‘Sir Richard has granted houses round Bartholomew Close to so many of his officials you might as well call this the Smithfield office of the Court of Augmentations. And poor Prior Fuller not yet dead. It’s not true you’re poisoning him, is it, Richard?’
Rich smiled thinly. ‘The prior has a wasting sickness, your grace.’
I guessed the duke’s mockery was intended as further evidence for me that they were not friends. Rich turned aside as a servant appeared at the gate, holding a heavy sack, and murmured something to him. ‘Put them in my study,’ Rich said sharply, ‘I’ll go through them later.’ - Norfolk looked curiously at the sack as the servant went back inside. ‘What’s in there?’
‘We are digging up the monks’ graveyard in the cloister, to make a garden. It seems there is an old custom here that when a man died some personal possession was buried with him. We have found some interesting items.’
I remembered the boys scrabbling in the coffins when I came here to see Kytchyn, the little-golden trinket the watchman had appropriated.
‘Valuable, eh?’
‘Some, yes. Things of antiquarian interest too. Old rings, plague charms, even dried herbs buried with an infirmarian. I have an interest in such things, your grace. My mind does not run on profit all the time,’ he added sharply and I realized that for all his ruthlessness and brutality Rich did not enjoy his reputation for venality.
‘A strange custom.’
‘Yes. I don’t know where it came from. But everyone buried here, whether monk or hospital patient, had something personal buried with him, something that was most characteristic of his life, I believe. We’ll be finished with the monks in a couple of days, then we’ll start on the hospital graveyard. I might have some houses built there.’
I drew a sharp breath as I realized what might have been buried with the old soldier St John. Someone was going to great lengths to conceal all signs of Greek Fire, but what if some was still here at Barty’s, buried under the ground?
I became aware Rich was looking at me. ‘Something piqued your interest, Shardlake?’