‘My poor friend. This is very shocking.’ His eyes darted all over the room, avoiding mine.
‘Did you tell anyone apart from Serjeant Marchamount about the formula?’ I asked.
He shook his head firmly. ‘No, sir, I did not. When Michael brought me the papers he found at Bart’s I said he should get them to Lord Cromwell.’
‘For payment, though they were the king’s by right. Was that your idea, or his?’
He hesitated, then looked at me directly. ‘His. But I didn’t quarrel with him about that, Brother. It was an opportunity, and only a fool passes those up. I offered to go to Marchamount for him.’
‘For a fee?’
‘Naturally.’ He raised a hand. ‘But—but Lord Cromwell accepted the position, and I was only a poor intermediary—’
‘You are a shameless fellow, Bealknap.’ I looked at the papers again. ‘You could have taken them to the French, perhaps. They might have offered more to keep this secret out of Cromwell’s hands.’
He jumped up, agitated. ‘God’s death, that would have been treason! D’ye think I’d take the risk of being gutted alive at Tyburn? You have to believe me.’
I said nothing. He sat down again, then laughed nervously. ‘Besides, I thought the whole thing was nonsense. After I took Michael to Marchamount he paid me and I heard no more till just now.’ He jabbed a finger at me. ‘Don’t try to involve me in this, Shardlake. I’d no part in it, on my oath!’
‘When did Michael first bring you the papers?’
‘In March.’
‘He waited six months after finding them?’
‘He said he and his brother the alchemist had been experimenting with the formula, making more, building some sort of apparatus to fire the stuff at ships. It made no sense to me.’
It was a similar tale to Marchamount’s. ‘Ah yes,’ I said, ‘the apparatus. Did they build that it themselves, I wonder?’
Bealknap shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Michael said only that it had been made. I tell you, I know nothing.’
‘They said nothing of where the apparatus, or the formula, were kept?’
‘No. I didn’t even study their papers. Michael showed them to me, but half of them were in Greek and what I could read sounded like nonsense. You know some of those old monks were jesters? They’d forge documents to pass the time.’
‘Is that what you thought those papers were? A jest, a forgery?’
‘I didn’t know. I introduced Michael to Marchamount and then I was glad to be shot of the matter.’
‘Back to your compurgators, eh?’
‘Back to business.’
‘Very well.’ I rose. ‘That will do for now. You will tell no one Michael is dead, Bealknap, or that we have spoken, or you will answer to Lord Cromwell.’
‘I’ve no wish to tell anyone, I don’t want to be involved at all.’
‘I am afraid you are.’ I gave him a tight smile. ‘I will see you at Westminster Hall on Tuesday for the case. By the way,’ I added with apparent casualness, ‘did you resolve the problem with your corrodiary?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Strange, I did not think friaries took on pensioners living in.’
‘This one did,’ he said with a glare. ‘Ask Sir Richard Rich if you don’t believe me.’
‘Ah, yes, you mentioned his name at Augmentations. I did not know you had his patronage.’
‘I don’t,’ he answered smoothly, ‘but I knew the clerk had a meeting with Sir Richard Rich. That was why I urged him to hurry.’
I smiled and left him. I was sure I was right about corrodians, I would check. I frowned. There was something about Bealknap’s response to my question about the corrodian that did not ring true. He had been frightened, but had seemed suddenly confident when he mentioned Richard Rich. Somehow that worried me very much.
Chapter Thirteen
I WALKED TIREDLY DOWN Chancery Lane to my house. Barak would be back by now. I had enjoyed the respite from his company. I would have liked nothing better than to rest, but I had said I would go to Goodwife Gristwood’s that day. Another trip across London. But we had only eleven days left now. The words seemed to echo in time with my footsteps; eleven days, eleven days.
Barak had returned and was sitting in the garden, his feet up on a shady bench and a pot of beer beside him. ‘Joan is looking after you, then,’ I said.
‘Like a prince.’
I sat down and poured myself a mug of beer. I saw he had found time to visit the barber’s, for his cheeks were smooth; I was conscious of my own dark stubble and realized I should have had a shave before such an important dinner. Marchamount would have mentioned it had I come on less serious business.
‘What luck with the lawyers?’ Barak asked.