‘It’s from the time of the old druids,’ someone said. ‘Heathen spells. The stones should be broken up.’
I traced one of the marks with my finger. ‘I know what this is, it’s Hebrew. Why, this stone must have come from one of the Jews’ synagogues after they were expelled near three hundred years ago. They must have been used on some previous repair - the gatehouse goes back to Norman times.’
The constable crossed himself. ‘The Jews? That killed Our Lord?’ He looked at the writing anxiously. ‘Perhaps we should break them up after all.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘These are of antiquarian interest. You should tell the alderman - the Common Council should know of this. There is a new interest in Hebrew studies these days.’
The man looked dubious.
‘There may be a reward in it for you.’
He brightened. ‘I will, sir. Thank you.’
With a last glance at the ancient writing I returned to Chancery, my shoes squelching unpleasantly in the mud. The keeper opened the gate and I rode over Fleet Bridge. I heard a great rush of water beneath me, and it made me think of all the generations who had lived in this City, dashing and scurrying through their lives, some to leave great monuments and dynasties of children, others rushing only to oblivion.
WHEN I REACHED HOME Barak had not yet returned and Joan was abed. I had to rouse young Simon to take the horse to the stables; I felt a little guilty sending the boy stumbling off into the night, heavy-eyed with sleep as he was. I took a mug of beer and a candle and went up to my room. Looking through the open window, I saw the sky was clear, all the stars visible. The heat was gathering again already. Rainwater had come in, dripping on the floor and on my Bible, which stood on a table beside it. I wiped it, reflecting it was many days since I had last opened it. Only ten years ago the very idea of a Bible in English being allowed would have filled me with joy. I sighed and turned to the papers on the Bealknap case I had brought back from court, for I must prepare my recommendations for the council about an application to the Court of Chancery.
It was late when I heard Barak come in. I went to his room and found him in his shirt, in the process of hanging his doublet out of the window to dry.
‘You were caught in the storm, then?’
‘Ay, I’ve had a busy time going from place to place and the tempest caught me on my way to the tavern where the compurgators gather.’ He gave me a serious look. ‘I’ve seen the earl. He’s not pleased. He wants progress, not a stream of refugees.’
I sat down on the bed. ‘Did you tell him we’ve been going back and forth across London day after day?’
‘He has to go to Hampton Court to see the king tomorrow, but he wants to see us the day after, and he wants some progress by then.’
‘Was he angry?’
Barak shook his head. ‘Anxious. He didn’t like the idea Rich may be involved in this. I talked to Grey. He gave me disapproving looks like he usually does but he said the earl’s a worried man.’ I saw again the fear behind Barak’s customary bravado, fear for his master - and for himself if Cromwell fell. ‘What happened at the banquet?’ he asked.
‘The Duke of Norfolk was there, in a foul mood and drunk.’ I told him all that had passed. I even told him about Lady Honor’s kiss, impelled to frankness by the worry I had seen in his face. For good or ill, Barak and I were in this together. I half-expected some mocking remark, but he only looked thoughtful.
‘You think she was making up to you because you found out she’d read those papers?’
‘Perhaps. There’s more besides.’ I told him of the conversation I had overheard. ‘Norfolk wants something from her, something that Marchamount knows about.’
‘Shit! Norfolk may be in the know too. That would be far worse than Rich. Lord Cromwell will have to be told about that. Do you think Norfolk’s trying to get what was in those papers out of her?’
‘Perhaps. There’s not that much information in them, but he doesn’t know that. But if he’s pressing her, why didn’t she tell me?’ I looked at him seriously. ‘I had the sense she thinks Cromwell may not be able to offer protection to his friends much longer.’
Barak shrugged. ‘That’s the rumour.’
‘I’m going to see her again tomorrow. I’ll take the papers, say I’d like to go through them with her, use that as an excuse to press her further.’
Barak smiled wryly and shook his head. ‘Caught by her rich woman’s scent, eh?’
‘Yes. I knew the smell on those books was familiar.’
Barak ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Perhaps they’re all in together. Bealknap, Lady Honor, Marchamount, Rich, Norfolk. That would bake a fine pie.’