My mind was in a whirl. Cromwell and reform about to fall? I remembered Godfrey’s distress a few days ago, the mutterings everywhere about the queen. Though my faith had reached a low ebb, I felt a clutch of dread at the thought of the papists back in charge, the bloodshed and return to superstition that must follow.
I began walking distractedly about the yard. Now I was saddled with this churl Barak. What was he doing? ‘A pox on it all!’ I burst out aloud.
‘Ho there, what’s this?’ I whirled round to see Barak grinning at me. I reddened with embarrassment.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Things affect me like that sometimes. But I’ve a choleric temperament. His lordship said you were a man of melancholy humour, who keeps his feelings to himself.’
‘Usually I do,’ I said curtly. I saw that Barak carried a big leather satchel slung over his shoulder. He inclined his head to it. ‘The papers from the abbey and some material my master has gathered about Greek Fire.’
He fetched the black mare and we rode out again. ‘I’m starving hungry,’ he said conversationally. ‘Does your housekeeper keep a good table?’
‘Good plain fare,’ I replied shortly.
‘Will you see the girl’s uncle soon?’
‘I’ll send him a note when I get back.’
‘His lordship has saved her the press,’ he said. ‘It’s a nasty death.’
‘Twelve days. We don’t have long, either for Elizabeth or this other business.’
‘It’s all a fog to me.’ Barak shook his head. ‘You’re right to question Mother Gristwood again.’
‘Mother? She’s childless.’
‘Is she? Not surprised. I wouldn’t want to tup her. Nasty old stoat.’
‘I don’t know why you dislike her so, but that’s no basis for suspicion.’ I spoke shortly. Barak grunted. I turned and looked at him. ‘Your master seems very concerned Sir Richard Rich should not be involved.’
‘If he learned about Greek Fire and its loss he’d use it against the earl. My master raised Rich up, as he said, but he’s a man who’d betray anyone for his own advantage. You know his reputation.’
‘Yes. He founded his career by perjuring himself at Thomas More’s trial. Many say that was at your master’s bidding.’
Barak shrugged. We rode on in silence for a while, up towards Ely Place. Then Barak drew his horse in close. ‘Don’t look round,’ he said quietly, ‘but we’re being followed.’
I looked at him in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I think so. I’ve taken a quick look back once or twice and the same man’s been there. Odd-looking arsehole. Here, turn in by St Andrew’s Church.’
He led the way through the gate, behind the high wall enclosing the church, and jumped quickly down from his horse. I dismounted more slowly. ‘Hurry now,’ he said impatiently, leading the mare behind the wall. I joined him where he stood peering round the gateway.
‘See,’ he breathed, ‘here he comes. Don’t stick your head out too far.’
There were plenty of pedestrians around and a few carts, but the only rider was a man on a white colt. He was about Barak’s age, tall and thin, with a thatch of untidy brown hair. His pale face had a scholarly look, though it was pitted as an old cheese with the scars of smallpox. As we watched the man halted, shading his eyes against the sun as he looked up the road to Holborn Bar. Barak pulled me back. ‘He’s missed us. He’ll be looking round in a moment. What a face, he looks as if he’s just been dug up.’ I frowned at his presumption in grabbing at me, but he only smiled back cheerily, pleased to have bested the white-faced man.
‘Come on, we’ll lead the horses round the church and go back by Shoe Lane.’ He took the mare’s reins. I followed him on the path through the churchyard.
‘Who was that?’ I asked as we halted on the far side of the church - somewhat breathlessly, for he had led a brisk pace.
‘Don’t know. He must have been following us since we left his lordship’s house. There’s not many would have the nerve to set watch there.’ He heaved himself deftly into the saddle, and I lifted myself onto Chancery’s back more slowly; after my day of riding hither and thither my back was sore. Barak looked at me curiously.
‘You all right?’
‘Yes,’ I snapped, settling myself in the saddle.
He shrugged. ‘Well just ask, any time, if you want a hand. It’s nothing to me you’re a hunchback, I’m not superstitious.’ I stared after him, speechless, as he turned and led the way into Shoe Lane, whistling tunelessly.
As we rode on to Chancery Lane I was too offended by his insolence to speak, but then I thought I should find out what I could about the wretched man. ‘That’s twice I’ve been watched this last week,’ I said. ‘By that man and before by you.’
‘Ay,’ Barak answered cheerfully. ‘His lordship set me to see what sort of case you were in, whether you might stand up to this job. I told him you had a determined look about you.’