Dark Fire (54 page)

‘Having a rest before preparing supper. Even servants need a rest,’ he added pointedly.

I sat opposite him. ‘I have been thinking about Skelly. I shall take him to Guy, see if there may be spectacles he can prescribe that may help his sight.’

Barak stared at me with his sharp eyes. ‘Skelly wouldn’t be able to afford spectacles.’

‘I shall pay.’

He grunted. ‘And if spectacles won’t help him? Will you put him out?’

‘I shall have to. God’s death, Barak, I have to turn a profit. I’d see if there are any charitable foundations that could help him. Come, let’s not quarrel.’

He grunted. ‘Yes, you want me to go down that well tonight, don’t you?’

‘If you will.’

‘I said I would.’ He replaced the mezuzah round his neck.

‘Did you get the message to Cromwell?’

‘I left it with Grey. He made a tart comment about how I kept asking the earl to do things when it ought to be the other way round.’

I smiled. ‘He’s a sober old fellow. You probably rub him up the wrong way.’

‘Like Lady Honor.’ He gave me a direct look. ‘But are you sure the lady is all she seems? Can you see her clearly?’

‘I try to.’ I frowned. ‘Yes, I believe so. I think we can clear both her and the duke from our calculations: that was another wrong trail.’ I studied him. ‘Why do
you dislike her, Barak?’

He shrugged. ‘People with that much pride in rank bring bad luck to those around them. I’ve seen how these fine families spit and scratch at each other around the court. It is
dangerous to get caught in her wake. But never mind that. So she is no longer a suspect. Nor, it seems, are Bealknap and Rich.’

‘Not necessarily. We should wait and see what Cromwell says about them. I hope he can make Marchamount talk.’

‘He can make anyone talk. He’ll show him the rack if he won’t cooperate.’

‘Marchamount has courage under his pomposity. He’s come far from nothing.’

Barak shrugged. ‘If he’s defiant he’ll pay the consequences.’

We stopped talking as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Joan appeared and we went through to the parlour while she prepared supper. It was starting to get dark.

‘Are you fit to go to the well after we have eaten?’

‘Ay,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what came over me earlier. Heat maybe, the strain of it all.’ I looked at him. ‘But I shall hold fast. Let us go tonight, then
perhaps at least we shall have one thing solved.’

O
NCE AGAIN WE WALKED UP
Budge Row and down the dark little alley. A new lock had been put on the door to the orchard, but Barak broke it open as casually
as before. We slipped through the trees to the Wentworths’ wall. Again Barak made a stirrup of his hands and I climbed up, grasping the top of the wall, to take a look. I set my teeth as my
back protested.

There was someone in the garden. I could see two dim figures walking there, one holding a lamp. There was a faint murmur of voices. It was Needler and Joseph’s mother. I thought an old
woman walking with a stick could easily slip in the gloom, then remembered that light or dark made no difference to her. I signed to Barak not to move and stood there uncomfortably, my foot in his
hands and my arms on the wall. I lowered my head so that my pale face would be concealed and waited as the pair came closer. My dark hair, I was sure, would be invisible.

‘She was screaming at me like the devil,’ I caught Needler saying. ‘I can’t manage her any more. She’s terrified under that pert exterior and so’s
Avice.’

The old woman sighed. ‘I must tighten the girls’ reins.’ They were very close now, but I took the risk of raising my head and peeping at their faces. Needler’s heavy
features looked worried. The old woman’s face, like a demon from a painting of hell in the flickering lamplight, wore a frown.

‘We must help them, David—’ she said, then stopped suddenly. She seemed to cock her head. I remembered the blind often have remarkable hearing.

‘What is it?’ Needler asked sharply.

‘Nothing. A fox perhaps.’ To my relief they turned and walked back to the house. I heard no more of what they said. A door shut in the distance and shortly afterwards lights were
extinguished all over the house. I stumbled down again. Barak stood rubbing his hands.

‘God’s death,’ he whispered, ‘you’ve near dislocated my wrists.’

‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t move. The old beldame heard something as it was.’

‘What in God’s name was she doing in the garden in the dark?’

‘She was with the steward. They wanted to talk alone, I think. I only caught a snatch of what they said. Something to do with the two girls being frightened.’

We waited for a while. An owl swooped down from a tree in the orchard, a white ghostly shape, and some small creature in the long grass screamed as it was carried off. At length I climbed the
wall again. The lights were out, the garden silent, the well a dim shape in the moonlight.

‘There’s no sign of the dogs,’ I said.

Barak hauled himself up beside me. ‘That’s strange. Surely if you’d had people trying to break in you’d loose the dogs at night?’

‘I agree, but it seems they haven’t.’

Barak sat astride the wall and pulled a couple of greasy pieces of meat wrapped in paper from his satchel. He threw them on the lawn, then tossed a stone he had found somewhere at the tree. It
bounced off with a clack.

‘The Moor said if a dog ate that it’d be asleep in minutes,’ he whispered.

‘You got that from Guy?’

‘Ay. I told him the story yesterday while you were asleep. I thought he’d know of something.’ He grinned. ‘I found I got on well with the Moor on better
acquaintance.’

I looked out over the silent lawn. ‘Still no dogs.’

He scratched his chin. ‘What say we risk it?’

I looked at the blank windows of the house. ‘So long as we keep an eye out.’

He looked at me. ‘You all right?’

‘Yes, yes!’

‘Right then, down we go.’

Barak leapt easily onto the lawn and I followed, wincing at the jarring my spine took as I landed. I watched the house as Barak fetched his hunks of meat and replaced them in his knapsack.

‘Best not to leave these, or they’ll know someone’s been here.’

He removed the padlocks from the well, then I helped him off with the lid. The smell was fainter now, but the sight of that black opening still made my stomach clench. Barak unfurled his rope
ladder and climbed quickly down. I kept glancing over at the house. For a moment I thought I saw a movement, a deeper blackness, at one of the upper windows, but when I looked again I saw
nothing.

This time Barak managed to light his candle the first time. I turned from the house as a faint white glow lit the well and leaned carefully over the side. It was shallower than I had expected,
no more than twenty feet. It was weird to see Barak standing at the bottom of that long circular hollow. He was crouching, looking at a huddle of dark shapes. He explored them with his hands. This
time he was quite silent. I could not see his face.

‘What is it?’ I whispered.

He looked up at me, shadows from the candle making eerie shapes on his face. ‘Animals. There’s a cat here, a couple of dogs.’ He bent down again. ‘Shit, there’s
horrible things been done to them – the cat’s had its eyes put out. This is where that neighbour’s retriever went – Jesu, it’s been hanged.’ He half-turned and
examined a larger shape. This time he did cry out, an abrupt shout that echoed off the bricks.

‘What? What is it?’

‘I’m coming up,’ he said abruptly. ‘For God’s sake, keep watch on the house.’

He snuffed out the candle and clambered up again. I peered at the house, my heart beating so fast it made my vision judder. All remained dark and silent. Barak clambered over the top of the
well. His eyes were wide.

‘Help me get the well cap back on,’ he breathed. ‘We have to get out of here.’

We slid the cap back and Barak replaced the locks. With a last look at the silent house we ran back to the wall and clambered over. Back in the orchard, Barak leaned against a tree. He stared at
me, then gulped.

‘Someone in that house has been torturing animals. But not just animals. There’s a little boy down there, a ragged boy of about seven. He’s been – ’ he broke off
‘ – you don’t want to know, but he’s dead and he didn’t die quick.’

‘The mad girl’s brother,’ I breathed. ‘The girl that was put in Elizabeth’s cell.’

‘Perhaps. Whoever took him probably thought a beggar boy wouldn’t be missed, didn’t matter.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘It scared me, I’ll admit. I thought, if
whoever did that came I would be helpless down there. I had to get out.’ His voice trembled.

‘I don’t blame you.’

He stared at me aghast as a thought struck him. ‘Could it have been Elizabeth Wentworth who killed the boy? Was that why she lost the will to live after the girl was put in with her? If
that’s the girl’s brother down there—’

I thought a moment. ‘No. Joseph said Elizabeth had a cat she was devoted to. Needler said it ran away, but I think it’s her cat down there. No, it wasn’t her. I think young
Ralph did this. First the animals, then the child.’

‘But then— Don’t you see? This gives Elizabeth a motive to put the boy down the well! You could say it was apt justice for the wretch. Perhaps she found out what he was doing—’

‘But why, when Needler pulled Ralph from the well, did he say nothing about the animals or the dead child?’ I shook my head. ‘He must have seen what was down there. I have to
see Elizabeth again – I have to get her to talk.’

‘If she’s still alive.’

‘I’ll go first thing tomorrow. Thank you for what you did,’ I added awkwardly.

Barak gave me a sombre look. ‘You think me hard, but I’d never hurt a defenceless creature.’

‘I believe you,’ I said. ‘Come, let’s get back to Chancery Lane.’

He nodded. ‘All right. Jesu, I’ll be having nightmares tonight.’

N
EITHER
B
ARAK NOR
I slept well that night. There had been a message from Guy when we returned,
saying Elizabeth was a little better, her fever lower. He also asked me to call on him to discuss ‘the other matter’. Barak had ridden out again to Joseph’s lodging house, with a
message for him to meet us at the gaol at nine.

As I dressed on that seventh of June I thought how much I had to do that day; visit Elizabeth, see Guy, then answer Cromwell’s summons. My heart sank at the thought of that last. There
were only three days left. But by now, hopefully, Cromwell would have questioned Marchamount. If Lady Honor knew nothing, and Rich and Bealknap were out of the picture, that left only him. I hoped
he would lead the way to the Gristwoods’ killers; but what if, under pressure, he gave Cromwell the Greek Fire formula? Well, I thought as I dressed, if he did, that was out of my hands.

Barak wanted to come with me to Newgate. He could not find his riding shoes and asked me to wait for him. I stood outside the house. The morning was hot again but a wind had risen, a hot breeze
that sent little white clouds racing across the sky. Simon appeared, leading the horses.

‘Out again early, sir?’ he asked.

‘Ay. To Newgate gaol.’

The boy squinted at me from under his blond mop, his narrow face full of interest. ‘Has Master Barak been fighting robbers, sir? Is that how he lost his hair?’

I laughed. ‘No, Simon. Do not be so nosy.’ I looked at the sturdy little shoes he wore. ‘Are you used to these now?’

‘Yes, thank you, sir. I can run faster, which is well with all the messages I have run lately.’ He smiled at me hopefully.

‘I suppose it is. Here’s sixpence then, towards new shoes when those wear out.’

I smiled as the boy ran back into the house. It struck me I knew nothing of the poor lad’s background, only that he had come to the door and Joan, liking his looks, had given him a job.
Another of London’s innumerable orphans, no doubt.

Barak appeared and we set off. As we rode down Fleet Street I told Barak my burn was giving me pain and I intended to consult Guy after we had seen Cromwell. I was worried he might want to come
too, but he only nodded. His face was still marked with the shock of what he had found down the well; I was surprised how deeply it had affected him. But then, of course, he too had once been a
beggar boy.

Joseph was waiting outside the gaol. He looked tired and unshaven, his cheeks sunken. He could not go on like this much longer. I told him I had had word Elizabeth was a little better, and that
seemed to cheer him.

The gaoler answered our knock. ‘William!’ he called out. The fat turnkey appeared.

‘We would see Mistress Wentworth,’ I said.

‘How is she this morning?’ Joseph asked at the same moment.

‘I don’t know,’ the turnkey answered. ‘No one’s been up there – we don’t want her fever. Apart from that black apothecary; he came again yesterday, but
maybe gaol fever doesn’t affect such as him.’

‘Will you take us to her?’

The turnkey grunted, but led us away to the stairs. It was a relief not to have to see the Hole again. I turned to Joseph as he followed me up the winding stair. ‘I have some news,’
I said. ‘Some fresh evidence at last. I want to try again to get Elizabeth to speak.’