Dark Fire

‘If you will.’


‘I said I would.’ He replaced the mezuzah round his neck.

‘Did you get the message to Cromwell?’

‘I left it with Grey. He made a tart comment about how I kept asking the earl to do things when it ought to be the other way round.’

I smiled. ‘He’s a sober old fellow. You probably rub him up the wrong way.’

‘Like Lady Honor.’ He gave me a direct look. ‘But are you sure the lady is all she seems? Can you see her clearly?’

‘I try to.’ I frowned. ‘Yes, I believe so. I think we can clear both her and the duke from our calculations: that was another wrong trail.’ I studied him. ‘Why do you dislike her, Barak?’

He shrugged. ‘People with that much pride in rank bring bad luck to those around them. I’ve seen how these fine families spit and scratch at each other around the court. It is dangerous to get caught in her wake. But never mind that. So she is no longer a suspect. Nor, it seems, are Bealknap and Rich.’

‘Not necessarily. We should wait and see what Cromwell says about them. I hope he can make Marchamount talk.’

‘He can make anyone talk. He’ll show him the rack if he won’t cooperate.’

‘March amount has courage under his pomposity. He’s come far from nothing.’

Barak shrugged. ‘If he’s defiant he’ll pay the consequences.’

We stopped talking as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Joan appeared and we went through to the parlour while she prepared supper. It was starting to get dark.

‘Are you fit to go to the well after we have eaten?’

‘Ay,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what came over me earlier. Heat maybe, the strain of it all.’ I looked at him. ‘But I shall hold fast. Let us go tonight, then perhaps at least we shall have one thing solved.’




ONCE AGAIN WE WALKED UP Budge Row and down the dark little alley. A new lock had been put on the door to the orchard, but Barak broke it open as casually as before. We slipped through the trees to the Wentworths’ wall. Again Barak made a stirrup of his hands and I climbed up, grasping the top of the wall, to take a look. I set my teeth as my back protested.

There was someone in the garden. I could see two dim figures walking there, one holding a lamp. There was a faint murmur of voices. It was Needler and Joseph’s mother. I thought an old woman walking with a stick could easily slip in the gloom, then remembered that light or dark made no difference to her. I signed to Barak not to move and stood there uncomfortably, my foot in his hands and my arms on the wall. I lowered my head so that my pale face would be concealed and waited as the pair came closer. My dark hair, I was sure, would be invisible.

‘She was screaming at me like the devil,’ I caught Needler saying. ‘I can’t manage her any more. She’s terrified under that pert exterior and so’s Avice.’

The old woman sighed. ‘I must tighten the girls’ reins.’ They were very close now, but I took the risk of raising my head and peeping at their faces. Needler’s heavy features looked worried. The old woman’s face, like a demon from a painting of hell in the flickering lamplight, wore a frown.

‘We must help them, David—’ she said, then stopped suddenly. She seemed to cock her head. I remembered the blind often have remarkable hearing.

‘What is it?’ Needler asked sharply.

‘Nothing. A fox perhaps.’ To my relief they turned and walked back to the house. I heard no more of what they said. A door shut in the distance and shortly afterwards lights were extinguished all over the house. I stumbled down again. Barak stood rubbing his hands.

‘God’s death,’ he whispered, ‘you’ve near dislocated my wrists.’

‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t move. The old beldame heard something as it was.’

‘What in God’s name was she doing in the garden in the dark?’

‘She was with the steward. They wanted to talk alone, I think. I only caught a snatch of what they said. Something to do with the two girls being frightened.’

We waited for a while. An owl swooped down from a tree in the orchard, a white ghostly shape, and some small creature in the long grass screamed as it was carried off. At length I climbed the wall again. The lights were out, the garden silent, the well a dim shape in the moonlight.

‘There’s no sign of the dogs,’ I said.

Barak hauled himself up beside me. ‘That’s strange. Surely if you’d had people trying to break in you’d loose the dogs at night?’

‘I agree, but it seems they haven’t.’

Barak sat astride the wall and pulled a couple of greasy pieces of meat wrapped in paper from his satchel. He threw them on the lawn, then tossed a stone he had found somewhere at the tree. It bounced off with a clack.

‘The Moor said if a dog ate that it’d be asleep in minutes,’ he whispered.

‘You got that from Guy?’

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