‘It is all guesswork, my lord.’
‘Yes, it is.’ He nodded grimly.
‘I learned they are digging up the graves of the monks at Barty’s,’ I said, ‘and planning to start on the graves from the hospital. It struck me that the old soldier might have had Greek Fire buried with him. It would be a way for us to get hold of some. I thought I might speak with Kytchyn.’
He nodded. ‘It’s worth a try, I suppose. If I had some, at least I could tell the king we might be able to make more. Do it, but don’t let Rich know what you’re about. Ask Grey for the address of the house where I’ve put Kytchyn and Mother Gristwood. Grey’s the only one who knows it. Almost the only one who’s safe now. And see Bealknap soon. Solve this, Matthew,’ he said with sudden passion. ‘Solve this.’
‘We will, my lord,’ Barak said.
Cromwell was thoughtful a moment. ‘Did you see the Holbein mural on your way in?’ he asked me.
I nodded.
‘I thought that would catch your eye. Realistic, is it not? The figures seem as though they could walk out into the hall.’ He picked up the quill and tore at the remaining vanes. ‘The king magnificent, calves thick and strong as a carthorse. You should see him now, his ulcerated leg so bad that sometimes they have to wheel him round the palace in a little cart.’
‘My lord,’ Barak said quickly, ‘it is dangerous to speak thus—’
Cromwell waved a hand. ‘It relieves me to talk, so you’ll listen. It’s my belief there’ll be no more little princes - he’s so ill I don’t think he’s capable. I think that’s why he was so shocked when he saw Anne of Cleves - he realized he couldn’t raise his member for her. He hopes he may with pretty little Catherine, I’m sure, but I wonder.’ He pulled the last of the vanes from the quill and threw down the bare stalk. ‘And if he can’t, then in a year or less the fault will be Catherine’s as now it is Queen Anne’s. And then Norfolk may find himself out of favour once more. I want to survive till then.’
I felt cold, despite the warmth of the room, at the coldly calculating way he spoke of the king. And to say the king was incapable of fathering more children was bordering on treason. Cromwell looked up, his face grim.
‘There, that’s unsettled you, hasn’t it?’ He looked from one to the other of us. ‘If you fail and that demonstration doesn’t take place you can expect harsh desserts. So don’t fail.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Now leave me.’
I opened my mouth, but Barak touched my arm and shook his head quickly. Bowing again, we left. Barak closed the door behind us very gently.
Grey looked at us anxiously. ‘Are there any instructions?’ he asked. ‘No.’ I paused. ‘Only to give me the address where Master Kytchyn is kept.’
‘I have it here.’ He delved in a drawer, wrote it down and handed it to me. ‘He and the Gristwoods make strange housemates,’ he said with an attempt at a smile.
‘Thank you. Take care, Master Grey,’ I added softly.
Chapter Twenty-nine
BARAK AND I SAT IN a corner of the Barbary Turk. The tavern where Barak had arranged to meet the sailor from the Baltic was a gloomy, cavernous place, smelling equally of stale beer and salt water, for it was right on the river front. Through the small window I could see Vintry Wharf, crowded with warehouses. I was reminded that the warehouse whose conveyancing I had lost was nearby, at Salt Wharf.
It was early evening and there were few other customers as yet. In the middle of the room a huge thigh bone, thrice the size of a man’s, hung in chains from the high rafters. When we had arrived, Barak went to fetch some beer and I looked at the plaque fixed to it: The leg of a giant of old times, dug from the Thames silt, anno 1518. The year I came to London. I touched the thing lightly, causing it to swing gently in the embrace of its chains. It felt cold, like stone. I wondered whether it could indeed be from some gigantic man. Certainly humankind took some troubling forms. I thought of my own bent back and the king’s diseased leg, which perhaps was the cause of all his marital troubles. A touch at my arm made me jump, as though someone had divined my dangerous thoughts. But it was only Barak pointing me to the gloomy corner.
WE HAD HAD AN unsuccessful afternoon, all the more frustrating after Cromwell’s demand for urgency. We had taken a wherry back to Temple Stairs, then walked up to Chancery Lane.