‘I wasn’t to know Rich could be a shield against Cromwell.’
‘He can’t. The earl was outraged at the very idea. He thinks Rich has been exaggerating his powers to Bealknap and Bealknap believed him. He’s sending men out now to find Rich, find out what Bealknap meant. He says if Rich knows about Greek Fire he’ll sweat it out of him one way or another. I don’t envy friend Bealknap afterwards.’
I frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound right. Bealknap’s every sort of rogue, but he’s no fool where his own interests are concerned. He wouldn’t have said what he did unless he knew he was safe. There’s something we’re not seeing.’
‘Another thing the earl said: he knows how you like to find all the facts and lay them flat on the table before coming to a conclusion. He says there isn’t time for that, you’ll have to cut corners.’
I laughed bitterly. ‘In dealing with an enemy as clever as ours and in a matter as complex and secret as this? Does he think I’m a miracle worker?’
‘Maybe you’d like to ask him that. He was prowling around his office at Whitehall like a bear in the pit, ready to lash out. And he’s scared. He says to go to Barty’s now, today. It’s a good time, with Rich taken in to be questioned. He wants that coffin opened.’ Barak slumped down on the cushions. His face had a grey tinge under his tan; the events of last night were catching up with even his powerful constitution.
‘How is your shoulder?’ I asked.
‘Sore. But better than it was. What about your arm?’
‘The same. Bearable.’ I pondered a moment. If I was to go to St Bartholomew’s I wanted to go alone; if there was Greek Fire buried with the soldier, I would take it to Guy. Barak, I knew, would take it straight to Cromwell.
‘I’ll go over to Barty’s on my own,’ I said, my heart suddenly pounding fast. ‘You’re tired, you stay here.’
He looked at me in surprise. ‘You look worse than I do.’
‘I’ve had a chance to rest upstairs,’ I lied, ‘while you’ve been facing the earl in a bad temper. Let me go alone.’
‘What if Toky’s about?’
‘I’ll be all right.’
He hesitated, but to my relief relaxed deeper into the cushions. ‘All right. Jesu, I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired. The earl says Madam Neller will suffer for her betrayal once this matter is over.’
‘Good. I’ll get Simon to bring you in some beer. I’ll be back before dark.’
‘All right.’ He laughed. ‘I think the boy believes I’m a soldier of fortune. He’s always asking me what I do for Lord Cromwell, whether he sends me to battles.’
‘He’s sent us both to one this time. Don’t let Simon bother you.’
‘He’s no trouble.’ He looked at me. ‘Good luck.’
I left the room and stood in the corridor. I felt relieved at Barak’s ready acquiescence, but also guilty. Evidently he trusted me now; I doubted he would have let me go alone on such a mission a week before. I shuddered at the thought that in deceiving Barak, I was deceiving Cromwell too.
THE STREETS WERE quiet in the late afternoon heat as I rode up to Smithfield. As I turned into the open area a cart passed, driven by an old man with a rag covering his face. I saw that it was full of ancient bones, ribcages and sharp pelvises and limb bones piled together in an unholy jumble, skulls peering out with their mocking grins. Rotten scraps of ancient winding sheets trailed through the bones and as the cart passed I caught the damp, sickly smell of the tomb. I knew many skeletons from the monastic graveyards were driven out to the Lambeth marshes and quietly dumped; these must be from Barty’s. I hoped that I would be in time; Rich had said it would be a few days before they got to the hospital graveyard. As I spurred Genesis on across Smithfield, feeling a welcome breeze in my face, I noticed that though the Anabaptists might have recanted the stake stood already planted in the ground, the iron fetters hanging from it a grim reminder of its purpose.
A new watchman from Augmentations stood by the priory gatehouse, a keen young fellow who demanded to know my business. I cursed when I remembered Barak had Cromwell’s seal, but my lawyer’s robe and mention of the earl’s name were enough to gain me entrance. I enquired after progress in excavating the graveyards. Looking surprised, the man said the work on the hospital graveyard had just begun. He called to another watchman, a lantern-jawed old fellow with a limp, to escort me there.
The old man led me through a maze of buildings, some destroyed and others awaiting conversion to residences; across Little Britain Street to the grounds behind the priory hospital. The high crenellated City wall loomed in the distance.
‘Is the work far advanced?’ I asked.
‘They started yesterday,’ he grunted. ‘There’s hundreds of graves to dig up. Filthy business - it’s a known fact corpse odours can bring plague.’