‘What about his apprentice?’
‘A hulking, insolent fellow, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were another radical. But he was at home with his mother and sisters on the night of the murder, and all agree he got on well with his master. Master Okedene has taken on the boy now.’
‘And the two men Master Okedene’s assistant saw?’
‘Vanished into thin air. From the descriptions they’re not local men. I’d have taken it for a random attack by some beggars, hoping perhaps to steal some paper, which of course has some value – but for one thing . . .’
‘What is that?’
The constable frowned. ‘It was not the first attack on Greening.’ I looked surprised, as though hearing the news for the first time. ‘The apprentice, young Elias, told me that, some days before, he came to work early to find two men trying to break in, smash the lock. He shouted to waken Master Greening, who was asleep within, and called out, “Clubs!”, which as you will know brings any apprentice within reach to aid one of his fellows. The two men fled at once. And according to young Elias’s description, they were not the same men who killed Greening. He sticks to that.’ Fletcher spread his arms. ‘And that is all. The inquest returned its verdict of murder yesterday. I was asked to continue the investigation, but I have no further leads nothing to investigate.’
‘Do you have the names of the suspected radicals Greening associated with?’
‘Yes. There were three.’ Fletcher rummaged among his papers and wrote down the names and addresses of three men. We leaned over the desk as he pointed at each in turn. ‘James McKendrick is Scotch; he works at the docks, used to be a soldier but turned into one of those radical preachers the Scotch have thrown out of their kingdom. Andres Vandersteyn is a cloth merchant from Antwerp; he trades between there and London – they say in forbidden books as well as cloth. The third, William Curdy, is a candlemaker, moderately prosperous. They all attend church regularly on Sunday and are careful what they say in public, but they were all friendly with Greening and sometimes used to meet together at his shop. And they were friends with other radicals of various sorts.’
‘How do you know?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Informers, of course. Mine and the Bishop’s. And I am told that these three have not been at their homes lately.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘They may be keeping out of the way of officialdom.’
Nicholas said, ‘A strange group to meet together. A Dutch merchant trading with the Low Countries would be of gentleman status, a candlemaker would be the middling sort, but a poor printer and a dockworker are from quite a different class.’
‘Some radicals believe social divisions between men are wrong,’ I replied. ‘But meeting together is not an offence.’
‘Nor being Dutch, nor a Scotch exile,’ Fletcher said. ‘More’s the pity, for both groups are often radicals.’ He sighed, shook his head at the restrictions that bound his work, then added, ‘Nonetheless, the Bishop’s men raided Greening’s place back in April – ’
‘I did not know that,’ I said, leaning forward.
‘They raided several print-shops in search of some pamphlets by John Bale that had appeared in London. Printed somewhere in the city. Nothing was found anywhere.’
Yet somehow the most dangerous book in the kingdom had found its way into that shop. ‘What do you think happened, Master Fletcher?’ I asked.
‘Greening obviously had enemies who were out to kill him. But no one seems to know of any. Perhaps there was a falling-out with another radical group; these people will turn from love of each other to hatred over the tiniest point of doctrine. The descriptions of the two sets of people who tried to break in tally with nobody known locally, and this is a close-knit district. You can see why the investigation is at a standstill.’
I nodded sympathetically. ‘If you would not object, I would like to question Master Okedene and his assistant. And the apprentice. Perhaps these friends of Greening’s. And I would like to look at Master Greening’s shop, too. Is there a key?’
Fletcher produced a small key from his desk. ‘I put a new padlock on. You may as well keep this for now. The shop is at the sign of the White Lion. I wish you well.’ He waved his hands at the papers littered around. ‘As you see, I am burdened with duties. This year I have had to hunt for heretics as well as criminals, though the hunt for the former seems to have died down now.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘I saw you at the burning yesterday, on your horse; your friend looked set to faint.’
‘I saw you, too.’
‘I have to carry out the duties the mayor gives me,’ he said defensively, though for a moment his eyes looked haunted.
‘I understand.’
He gave me a hard look. ‘You will report anything you find in this case back to me, remember. I have jurisdiction under the coroner.’