‘Like fire from a dragon’s mouth.’
He shivered. ‘Ay. The wood caught light immediately, the flames seemed to stick to it and devour it like an animal eating its way along a carcass. Some of the flames fell down on the water and by the throat of God I saw the water burning. Saw it with my own eyes, a patch of flames leaping up and down on the river. For a minute I was terrified the whole river might burn up, fire leaping all the way to London.
‘Then the brothers turned the pipe round at an angle, pumped again, and another long gout of flame, too bright to look at, shot out and hit the stern. It seemed to leap at it like something alive. The boat was burning merrily now. The heat from that flying fire was tremendous. I was twenty feet away but my face felt scorched. Another burst of fire, and another, and then the poor old crayer was blazing from end to end. Everywhere birds were clattering up from the marshes and flying off. By Jesu, I was frightened, I’m no godly man but I was praying to Our Lady and all the saints to protect me and if my master allowed rosaries I’d have been fondling the beads till they broke.
‘We watched the boat, just a mass of flame now, clouds of thick black smoke rising into the sky. I looked at my master. He wasn’t afraid, he just stood watching with his arms folded, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
‘Then I heard the screaming. I think it had been going on for a while but I hadn’t noticed. It was the horses, they’d seen those huge gouts of leaping fire and they were terrified. I ran to them and they were kicking and flailing, trying to escape from the posts. I managed to calm them before they did themselves real harm, for I’ve a way with horses, and thank God there were no more sheets of flame; what was left of the boat was sinking now. When I went back to the jetty it had gone, even the rope holding it had burned away as you can see. My master was talking with the Gristwoods, who were looking pleased with themselves for all that their clothes clung to them with sweat. They began packing up their stuff.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘The river was quiet again, the boat had sunk and the fire on the water had gone out, thank Christ. It was like nothing had ever happened: except a thirty-ton crayer had been burned to nothing in moments.’ Barak took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. ‘And that’s it, that’s what I saw with my own eyes. Afterwards, when the Gristwoods had driven off again, my master told me that what I had seen was called Greek Fire, told me how Michael Gristwood had found the formula at Barty’s, and swore me to secrecy.’
I nodded. I walked to the end of the jetty, Barak following. I looked down into the dark, heaving waters.
‘Were you at the second demonstration?’
‘No. My master commissioned me to find another, larger, ship, an old balinger, and have it taken here, but he attended that one alone. He told me the second ship was destroyed in exactly the same way.’ He looked into the river. ‘So there’s the remains of two of them down there.’
I nodded thoughtfully. ‘So to get Greek Fire to work you need that apparatus. Who built it for them, I wonder, and where did they keep it?’
Barak looked at me quizzically. ‘You believe in it now that you’ve heard what I saw?’
‘I believe you saw something very extraordinary.’
A merchantman came into view, sailing up the middle of the river, a huge carrack returning home to London from some far corner of the world. Its sails were unfurled to catch the light breeze, the high castellated prow riding the waves proudly. The seamen on deck, seeing us, shouted and waved; probably we were the first Englishmen they had seen in months. As the ship passed up to London, I had a terrible vision of it aflame from end to end, the sailors screaming, no time to escape.
‘You know there are many who say the last days of the world are upon us,’ I said quietly. ‘That soon the world will be destroyed, Christ will return and the Last Judgement will come.’
‘Do you believe that?’ Barak asked.
‘Not until now,’ I said. I saw another boat, tiny by comparison, pass the carrack and approach us. ‘Here’s our boatman, we must get back to London, look for that librarian.’
WE GOT THE WHERRYMAN to take us on to Westminster, for the Court of Augmentations’ offices were housed in a room off Westminster Hall. We climbed Westminster Stairs and paused in New Palace Yard to get our breath. The sun was high now; it was another hot day. The water in the fountain was low; I thought of pumps, siphons, tanks.
‘So this is where the lawyers come to argue,’ Barak said, staring with interest at the high north face of the hall with its enormous stained-glass window.
‘Ay, this is where the civil courts sit. Have you never been here?’