OUTSIDE, BARAK TOLD ME brusquely to wait while he fetched the horses. I stood on the steps of the Domus, looking out across Chancery Lane. For a second time Cromwell had casually dropped me into an affair with dangerous ramifications. But there was nothing I could do; even if I had dared defy him, there remained Elizabeth.
Barak reappeared, riding his black mare and leading Chancery. I mounted and we rode to the gate. His expression was closed, serious. Barak, I thought, what sort of a name was that? It wasn’t English, though he seemed English enough.
We had to pause in the gateway as a long procession of sulky looking apprentices wearing the blue and red badges of the Leather-sellers’ Company marched past. Longbows were slung over their shoulders, and a few carried long matchlock guns. Because of the invasion threat, all young men now had to undertake compulsory military practice. They passed up towards Holborn Fields.
We rode downhill to the City. ‘So you were at the scene of this demonstration of Greek Fire, Barak?’ I said, adopting a deliberately haughty tone; I had decided I was not going to be intimidated by this rude young fellow.
‘Keep your voice down.’ He gave me a frowning look. ‘We don’t want that name bandied abroad. Yes, I was there. And it was as the earl said. I would not have believed it had I not seen it.’
‘Many wonderful tricks may be performed with gunpowder. At the last mayor’s procession there was a dragon that spat balls of exploding fire—’
‘D’you think I don’t know a gunpowder trick when I see one? What happened at Deptford was different. It wasn’t gunpowder: it was like nothing that’s been seen before, in England, anyway.’ He turned away, steering his horse through the crowds going through the Ludgate.
We rode along Thames Street, our progress slow through the lunchtime crowds. It was the hottest time of the day and Chancery was sweating and uncomfortable. I felt sunburn prickling on my cheeks and coughed as a swirl of dust went into my mouth.
‘Not far now,’ Barak said. ‘We turn down to the river soon.’
I voiced a thought which had occurred to me. ‘I wonder why Gristwood did not approach Lord Cromwell through Sir Richard Rich. He’s Chancellor of Augmentations.’
‘He wouldn’t trust Rich. Everyone knows what a rogue he is. Rich would have kept the formula and bargained with it himself, and probably dismissed Gristwood into the bargain.’
I nodded. Sir Richard was a brilliant lawyer and administrator, but he was said to be the most cruel and unscrupulous man in England.
We entered the maze of narrow streets leading down to the Thames. I glimpsed the river, its brown waters alive with wherries and white-sailed tilt boats, but the breeze that came from it was tainted; the tide was still out, the filth-strewn mud stewing in the sun.
Wolf’s Lane was a long narrow street full of old houses, decayed-looking cheap shops and lodging places. Outside one of the larger houses I saw a brightly painted sign which showed Adam and Eve standing on either side of the philosopher’s egg, the legendary sealed vase in which base metal could be turned to gold, an alchemist’s sign. The place was in dire need of repair, plaster was peeling from the walls and the overhanging roof lacked several tiles. Like many houses built on Thames mud, it had a pronounced tilt to one side.
The front door was open, and I saw to my surprise that a woman in a plain servant’s dress was hanging onto the jamb with both hands, as though afraid of falling.
‘What’s this?’ Barak asked. ‘Drunk at one in the afternoon?’
‘I don’t think it’s that.’ I had a sudden feeling of dread. Then, seeing us, the woman let out a screeching wail.
‘Help! For Jesu’s sake, help me! Murder!’
Barak jumped down and ran towards her. I threw the horses’ reins quickly over a rail, and ran over. Barak had the woman by the arms; she was staring wildly at him, sobbing loudly.
‘Come on, girl,’ he said with surprising gentleness. ‘What ails you?’
She made an effort to calm herself. She was young and plump-cheeked, a country girl by the look of her.
‘The master,’ she said. ‘Oh, God, the master—’
I saw that the wood of the doorframe was splintered and broken. The door, which hung from one hinge, had been battered in. I looked past her and down a long dim corridor hung with a faded tapestry showing the three kings bearing gifts to the infant Jesus. Then I gripped Barak’s arm. The rushes on the wooden floor were criss-crossed with footprints. They were dark red.
‘What has happened here?’ I whispered.
Barak shook the girl gently. ‘We’re here to help. Come on now, what’s your name?’
Whoever smashed their way in could still be here. I gripped the dagger at my waist.
‘I’m Susan, sir, the servant,’ the girl said tremulously. ‘I’d been shopping in Cheapside with my mistress, we - we came back and found the door like this. And upstairs my master and his brother—’ She gulped and looked within. ‘Oh, God, sir—’