‘How do I get to the cesspit?’ I asked.
She pointed up the passage. ‘There’s a little door by where the altar was. The pit’s in the cloisters. Hold your nose, though.’ She paused. ‘Try and help us, sir. This is a hellish place to live!’
‘I’ll do what I can.’ I bowed and walked to the door she had indicated, which hung drunkenly from loose hinges. I felt sorry for the old woman; there was little I could do in the short term with the case going up to Chancery. But if Vervey bribed the Six Clerks’ Office, that might help.
The former cloister yard had been converted too, the roofed walkway filled with more wooden partitions between the pillars to make a quadrangle of tiny ramshackle dwellings. Rags hung at the windows in place of curtains; these were hovels for the poorest of the poor. I blinked in the sunlight reflected from the white quadrangle stones where once the friars had paced.
The smallest of the little dwellings had an open door, from which a horrible stink issued. Holding my nose, I looked inside. A hole had been dug in the earth, with a plank set on bricks thrown across. It was a ‘whistle and thud’ cesspit, and should have been twenty feet deep so the flies could not reach the top, but from the cloud of them buzzing round the planks I guessed it was no more than ten feet deep. I held my nose as I looked down the dark, evil-smelling pit. It had not even been lined with wood, let alone the mandatory stone: no wonder it leaked. I remembered what Barak had said about his father falling down one of these pits and shuddered.
I stepped outside with relief. I must visit the house next door, the one the council owned, then get back to Chancery Lane. The morning was wearing on, the hot sun near its zenith. I paused and rubbed my sleeve across my brow, easing the uncomfortable weight of my satchel.
Then I saw them. They stood one on each side of the door to the church, so still that I had not immediately noticed them. A tall thin man with a pale face as pitted with pox marks as though the devil had scraped his claws across it, and on the other side an enormous, hulking fellow who kept small frowning eyes fixed on me as he hefted a chopping axe, the shaft cut short to make a fearsome weapon, in his big hand. Toky, and his mate Wright. I swallowed, feeling my legs begin to tremble. Other than the door to the church there was no way out of the cloister yard. I glanced along the rows of doors but all were shut, the inhabitants no doubt out at work or begging in the streets. I felt for my dagger.
Toky smiled, a broad smile that showed a perfect set of white teeth, as he lifted his own dagger. ‘Didn’t see us following you, did you?’ he asked cheerfully in a sharp voice with a country burr. ‘You’ve been getting careless without Master Barak at your side.’ He nodded at the cesspit. ‘Fancy going down there? They wouldn’t find you till they cleaned it out, wouldn’t notice the smell with what’s down there already.’ He grinned at Wright. The big man nodded briefly, never taking his gaze off me. His eyes were focused and still, like a dog stalking its prey; Toky’s glittered with the bright cruel intensity of a cat’s. He smiled with pleasure.
‘Whatever you are being paid,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady, ‘Lord Cromwell will double it in return for the name of your employer, I promise.’
Toky laughed, then spat on the ground. ‘That for the tavern keeper’s son.’
‘Who is paying you?’ I asked. ‘Bealknap? Marchamount? Rich? Norfolk? Lady Honor Bryanston?’ I watched their faces for any sign of recognition, but they were both too professional for that. Toky spread his arms and began moving towards me while the big man stepped to the side, raising his axe. Toky was trying to nudge me towards his confederate, so he could make the killing blow, guiding me to the slaughter like a sheep. ‘Help!’ I called out, but if anyone was within the wooden hovels they were not going to intervene. None of the window curtains stirred. My heart thudded in my breast and despite the heat I felt cold, paralysed. I was done for this time. I almost gave in. Then in my mind’s eye I saw Sepultus Gristwood’s shattered face and I resolved, if I was to end like that, at least I would go down fighting.