Revelation (64 page)

'Guy—'

He raised a hand. 'No. Please go. I have an appointment to go and visit Adam at the Bedlam.' He gave Barak a sudden hard look, and
I
realized he was wondering if
I
had told my assistant about his confusion about Piers.
'I
have not—
' I
began.

'Go, Matthew, please.' His cold, angry tone struck me to the heart.

Barak and
I
left the shop. As we untied the horses Barak asked curiously, 'What is it you haven't told me?' 'Nothing. Private matters of Guy's.'

We rode away in silence.
I
almost groaned aloud at the thought of the harm
I
had done to our long friendship.

Chapter
Thirty
-
eight

W
E
rode home
. The streets were thronged. Most of the city constables seemed to be on patrol, together with several guards in Bishop Bonner's livery. Many people gave them hostile or frightened looks. I thought of those who had been arrested, of the danger to Cranmer. I wondered what the godly men were doing, keeping out of sight, probably, waiting till the storm died down. But this latest persecution would only encourage them to see themselves as martyrs. It occurred to me that Harsnet, as a royal official and a radical, might himself be in danger. Or would the protection of Cranmer and Lord Hertford be enough?

I was exhausted; at home I went up to bed and slept for several hours, then had a gloomy dinner on my own, Barak and Tamasin staying in their room. Seymour's men must have reached Hertfordshire by now. I went to bed early. In the morning there was still no word. Barak joined me at breakfast. 'What's happening?' I said.

'Maybe Seymour's men are dealing with Goddard quietly up there,' Barak said seriously.

I shook my head. 'They should tell us,' I said. A thought struck me. 'Where is Tamasin? Is she missing breakfast again?'

'She's still abed.' Barak looked at me seriously. 'She's guessed some
-
how that there's been another killing, but I didn't tell her where I went yesterday. She's getting mopish, she just lies in bed. She looked so - sad.'

'Why is it you can no longer communicate, do you think?'

'I don't know.' As so often, he changed the subject. 'You're not going to report young Piers, then?'

'No.'

'What is it between him and the old Moor?' Barak looked at me curiously.

'I think the need for someone to care for, and to pass on his knowledge to, is so strong that it has taken him over. But in the end it does not matter. At least now he is rid of that boy. I hope he has escaped, gone somewhere far from London.'

'If he has any sense he will have. He'll know that if he's tried for theft, he'll hang.'

I stood up abruptly. 'I am going to the Bedlam,' I said. 'Guy said he was going to visit Adam there. I will try and talk to him, make him see sense.'

Barak looked dubious. 'He's pretty angry,' he said.

I almost said, attend to your wife, she is angry too, but bit back the words. 'I can't let it rest like this.'

'Do you want me to come?'

'No. No, I'll go alone.'

He gave me a worried look. I could see he was concerned that the strain was becoming too much for me; his own face looked strained enough. I put my hand on his shoulder.

'I'll ride,' I said. 'I'll be safe. Send word if there is any news from Hertfordshire.'

I
reached
Bishopsgate without incident. But as I rode through the gates into the Bedlam yard I heard an unexpected sound: a woman screaming and sobbing in dreadful fear. For an awful moment I feared the killer had misdirected us again and the seventh killing was to be here, now. Then I saw that a woman was hammering and banging on the closed doors of the Bedlam building, screaming to be let in. A little crowd of passers-by had gathered, some laughing at this latest example of the antics of the mad. I wondered why no one came to open the door. Then, as I rode up to the crowd, I saw that the woman was the keeper Ellen. I dismounted and hastily tied Genesis to the rail.

Ellen took no notice of the crowd. She had flattened her whole body against the door as she screamed in what seemed an extraordinary terror. 'Let me in, Master Shawms! Please! Please!' I elbowed my way through the crowd and laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Ellen,' I said quietly.

She did not look round. She went rigid and seemed to press herself even more tightly against the door. 'Who is it;' she whispered.

'It is I, Master Shardlake. What on earth is the matter?'

'For pity's sake, Master Shardlake, make him let me in.' And with that her knees gave way and she slid down the door, still pressing herself against it, sobbing wildly.

I banged on the door. 'Shawms!' I shouted. 'Open this door! What is happening?' I heard voices whispering, just inside. And from further back in the building I heard people shouting, and thought I heard Adam's voice among them.

A key turned and the door opened to reveal Shawms, the big keeper Gebons behind him. Gebons was frowning; Shawms looked angry. As soon as the door opened sufficiently Ellen threw herself inside and flattened herself against the opposite wall. She stood there, breathing heavily. A gaggle of patients stood in the open door of the parlour, their expressions fearful. The old woman Cissy took a couple of shuffling steps forward, hesitantly stretching out an arm. 'Oh, Ellen,' she muttered. 'Poor Ellen.'

I saw that the doors of all the patients' rooms were shut. I heard the man who believed he was the King demanding his subjects behave themselves, while from down the corridor the one-time scholar was banging himself against his door with loud thuds. Between them I heard Adam's voice calling to God to help Ellen, save good Ellen.

Shawms shut the front door in the faces of the curious onlookers. 'What are you doing to these people?' I demanded.

He looked as though he would have liked to strike me, but kept his voice calm. 'Ellen there needed a lesson. Thanks to you she has taken over the welfare of Adam Kite and makes so bold as to tell me how he should be treated. Now she is moving on to the other patients, demanding that drivelling old dolt Cissy be released into the care of her family.' He glared round at the old woman, who shrank back into the doorway. 'As though her family wanted the trouble, any more than Ellen's family want her.' His voice rose. 'Have you not yet grasped what this place is, Ma
ster Shardlake? It is a rubbish-
heap, where people of wealth leave their mad relatives. We may have our charity cases and sometimes people even get cured, or pretend they are to get out. But mostly it is a rubbish heap, one that generates gold for Warden Metwys as rubbish generates rats.'

'Ellen is a member of your staff even if she was a patient once. What in the devil's name have you done to her?'

Shawms laughed then, right in my face. 'Is that what she told you? Ellen is still a patient, she always will be. I have given her some of the duties of a keeper, for she is good with the patients, if too soft with them.' He looked at her. 'But sometimes she gets above herself, and I have to remind her of who and what she is by putting her outside.' He turned to Ellen, who was still holding herself rigid against the wall, breathing heavily, her eyes averted from the closed door. 'That is her madness,' Shawms continued brutally. 'She can't bear to go outside, says the world sways and rocks and will swallow her up. She's been like that ever since she was set on by a gang of youths down in Sussex where she comes from, and they made a woman of her before her time. Ain't that so, Ellen?'

Ellen forced herself to stand away from the wall. She clasped her hands in front of her. 'Yes, Master Shawms,' she said calmly. She looked from him to me, her long face filled with shame. 'So now, Master Shardlake, you know all about me.'

I felt great pity for the poor woman, but knew instinctively that to show it would be the worst thing I could do.

'It does not matter, Ellen,' I said quietly. 'Listen, poor Adam is distressed. Will you come with me and help him? You are better with him than anyone. If you feel able.'

She gave me a grateful look. 'Yes, of course,' she said quietly, and began walking steadily down the corridor, feeling for her bunch of keys. I turned to Shawms. 'I hope Adam is not too disturbed by this incident; I should have to report it to the court.' He gave me a vicious look. As I turned away Gebons gave me a look of something like admiration.

I joined Ellen at the closed door to Adam's room. 'Ellen!' he cried from within. 'What have they done to you?' 'It's all right,' Ellen called. 'I am here.' 'Has Dr Malton not arrived?' I asked her.

'No, sir, he was expected but is not here.' Ellen's voice and manner were almost normal now, just a little shaky, as though her earlier wildness had been a dream. She opened the door. Within, Adam was standing as near to the door as his ankle chain would allow him. His face was red, his frantic expression turning to relief as Ellen entered.

'Are you all right?' he asked her. 'You were screaming.'

'Yes, Adam. Do not disturb yourself, sit down.' I saw a stool had been brought into the room. The boy hesitantly sat down on it. 'It was Dr Malton's idea to bring that in,' Ellen told to me. 'Make him sit instead of crouching praying on the floor.'

For the first time, I realized, Adam had shown concern for someone else. Then he turned his wasted face to me, and said something I did not understand.

'My concern for Ellen was honourable, sir, please say you saw that it was so if you are asked. I was not sinning again, even in thought. It was not like the wicked reverend's woman.' Then his thin face twisted into an agonized rictus and he would have sunk to his knees had not Ellen held his shoulder. 'Come, Adam,' she said. The boy put his head in his hands and began to cry.

And then the connection came to me. His vicar, Meaphon, was friends with Reverend Yarington. Timothy had described the boy who had visited the prostitute Abigail as tall and dark. Adam was tall and dark and his mother had told me that once he had been good-looking, until this desperate obsession had reduced him to skin and bone.

I
stepped forward. 'Adam, does the name Abigail mean anything to you?'

At that the boy wriggled out of Ellen's grasp and crouched against the wall, staring at me in horror. 'My sin is discovered,' he whispered. 'Oh God forgive me, do not strike me down.'

'Sir, what are you doing?' Ellen asked indignantly.

'Turning a key which must be turned,'
I
said.
I
knelt down beside Adam, making my voice calm. 'Adam, you came to Reverend Yarington's house once with a message from your own vicar, did you not?'

He looked at me with terrified eyes. 'Yes.'

'Abigail saw you and invited you in. She felt the need for a young man. She taught you things you had thought on but not experienced yet. Am
I
right?'

'How can you know that?' he whispered. 'Has God marked you as the instrument of my punishment?'

I
smiled gently. 'No, Adam. Yarington's stable boy saw someone from the stable.
I
just realized it might be you. That is all. Abigail has run away and
I
needed to find her in connection with a case.'
I
must not tell him Yarington had been murdered.

'That is my great sin,' he said.
'I
knew if my parents and the church found out they would cast me away, for
I
have lost my place with the elect.' Adam looked at me. 'You will not tell my parents, sir?'

'No.
I
promise.'

'I
was wax in her hands,' Adams said. 'Jesus, my shield, seemed powerless. She must have come from the devil.'

'She was only a poor woman. Helpless herself, in the power of that hypocrite Yarington.'

'Yes. He is a hypocrite.' He nodded frenetically.
'I
knew
I
should tell my parents, the church —
I
turned to God for guidance but could feel nothing, nothing. Has He abandoned me?'

'I
am no theologian, Adam. But one thing is for certain, you have not abandoned Him. Only sought to reach Him in the wrong way, perhaps.'

It was too much for the boy, he buried his face in his hands and began weeping again. I stood up painfully, my knees creaking. I turned to Ellen. 'I must leave now. The information Adam has given me is important. For a — a case. I do not know when Dr Malton may come. May I leave Adam with you;'