by C. J. Sansom
I heard voices nearby, and recognized Daniel Kite’s, raised in anger.
‘Where is he?’ I asked.
‘The parlour. They must have come in the back way. Sure you don’t want to see the scholar?’ he added, the mockery now clear in his voice.
‘No,’ I answered curtly. ‘Take me to the Kites.’
Gebons led me into a small room with cheap stools set around, a scuffed table and a fire lit in the grate. The walls were bare. Minnie Kite sat on a stool, looking utterly dejected, while her husband argued with a plump, surly-faced man in a black jerkin.
‘You could try to make him eat!’ Daniel was shouting.
‘Oh, ay. Get one of my keepers to force him to his feet then another to force the food into his mouth. They haven’t the time, and they don’t like doing it, he frightens them. And by Mary he’s frightening enough the way he lays there gobbling and muttering and calling God’s name, no wonder half my keepers say he’s possessed! The food’s put in there and he can eat it or no as he wills.’
‘Is there a problem?’ I asked quietly. ‘You must be Keeper Shawms,’ I added as the fat man turned. ‘I am Master Shardlake, the Kites’ lawyer.’
Shawms looked between me and the Kites. ‘How come you can afford a lawyer, when you say you can’t afford my fees?’ he asked them in a bullying voice.
‘I have been appointed by the Court of Requests,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ he sneered. ‘Poor man’s lawyer, then, for all your fancy rig.’
‘Who can apply to the court to have your fees waived, and any question of mistreatment considered,’ I replied sharply. ‘Tomorrow, if I am unsatisfied with what I see today.’
Shawms looked at me from deep-set piggy eyes. ‘That boy’s hard to take care of . . .’
‘He only needs feeding,’ Minnie said. ‘And someone to put a blanket round his shoulders when it slips off.’ She turned to me. ‘It’s so cold in there, and this wretch won’t lay a fire—’
‘Fires cost money!’
I turned back to the Kites. ‘Perhaps I could see Adam.’
‘We were about to go in.’
‘See him if you want to,’ Shawms said. ‘You’ll get no sense from him.’ He glared at me. I realized that for him Adam was a troublesome nuisance; he would not be sorry if he died. Nor would the Council; for them it would be a problem solved.
‘And afterwards, Master Shawms,’ I said, ‘I would like a word.’
‘All right. Come on then. I’ve no time to waste.’
We Were led to another of the green doors. It was locked; Shawms unlocked it and glanced in. ‘He’s all yours,’ he said, and walked away.
I followed Daniel Kite into the room. It was light, whitewashed, the shutters partly open. As Minnie had said, it was bitterly cold. There was a dreadful stench, a mixture of ordure and unwashed skin. The place was furnished only with a truckle bed and a stool.
A tall teenage boy with filthy black hair knelt in a corner, his face to the wall, whispering to himself, the words coming so fast they were hard to follow. ‘I repent my sins I repent please listen please listen in Jesu’s name . . .’
He was dressed in a food-stained shirt and leather jerkin. A large dark stain on his hose showed he had soiled himself. There was a fetter round his ankle, a chain running from there to an iron ring in the floor. Minnie approached and knelt by her son, putting an arm round his shoulders. He took no notice at all.
‘The chain’s to stop him running out to the churchyards,’ Daniel Kite said quietly. He did not approach Adam, merely stood beside him with his head bowed.
I took a deep breath and went over to the boy, noticing he was a broad-shouldered lad, though reduced now to skin and bone. I bent to look at Adam’s face. It was a pitiful sight. The boy might once have been handsome, but now his features showed such misery as I had never seen. His brows were contorted into an agonized frown, his wide terrified eyes stared unseeingly at the wall, and his mouth worked frantically, strings of spittle dripping on his chin. ‘Tell me I am saved,’ he went on. ‘Let me feel Your grace.’ He stopped for a moment, as though listening for something, then went on, more desperately than ever. ‘Jesu! Please!’
‘Adam,’ his mother said in a pleading voice. ‘You are dirty. I have brought you new clothes.’ She tried to pull him to his feet, but he resisted, squeezing himself into the corner. ‘Leave me!’ he said, not even looking at her. ‘I must pray!’
‘Is he like this all the time?’ I asked Minnie.
‘Always, now.’ She relinquished her hold, and we both stood up. ‘He never wants to rise. His sighs of despair when he is forced to stand are piteous.’
‘I will get my physician friend to call,’ I said quietly. ‘Though - in truth, while he is like this, if I can make sure he is cared for he may be better off here.’
‘He must be cared for,’ she said. ‘Or he will die.’
‘I can see that. I will talk to Keeper Shawms.’
‘If you would leave us, sir, I will try and clean him a little. Come, Daniel, help me lift him.’
Her husband moved to join her.
‘I will speak to the keeper now,’ I said. ‘I will meet you in the parlour when you are finished.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Minnie gave me a trembling smile. Her husband was still avoiding my eye. I left them and went in search of Shawms, full of anger at the way Adam had been left to wallow in his own shit. The horror of what his broken mind was experiencing was beyond my understanding, but lazy, venal officials I could deal with.
SHAWMS WAS in a little room of his own, sitting drinking beer and looking into a large fire. He stared at me truculently.
‘I want that boy fed,’ I snapped. ‘By force if need be. His mother is changing his clothes and I want to see he is kept clean. I shall be applying to the court for an order that his welfare is properly attended to, and that the Council be responsible for his fees.’
‘And till then who’s to pay for all this work my keepers will be put to with him, to say nothing of calming the patients who fear they have a possessed man in their midst?’
‘The Bedlam’s own funds. By the way, do you have a doctor in attendance?’
‘Ay. Dr Frith comes once a fortnight. He’s a great one for his own potions, but they do no good. There was a herb-woman used to call, some of the patients liked her but Dr Frith sent her away. I don’t appoint the doctors, that’s for Warden Metwys.’
‘Does a priest come?’
‘The post is vacant since the old priest died. The warden hasn’t got round to dealing with it.’
I looked into his fat red face, angry at the thought of the helpless mad being left to such as he and the lazy warden.
‘I want a fire made up in that room,’ I said.
‘You go too far now, sir.’ Shawms protested. ‘Fires are extra, I won’t pay for those out of the Bedlam funds. Warden Metwys would have my job.’
‘Then I’ll apply for the fees to be waived, not for the Council to pay them.’
Shawms glowered at me. ‘You take liberties, crouchback.’
‘Fewer than you. Well?’
‘I’ll order a fire set.’
‘See you do.’ I turned and left him without another word.
I RETURNED to the parlour, and sat there, deep in thought. Adam Kite had shaken me; whatever ailed him so terribly, there was no question of applying to the court for a declaration he was compos mentis. My only hope was that Guy could help him in some way.
I looked up as the door opened. A white-haired woman was led in by a younger woman in a keeper’s grey smock. I was surprised to see a woman keeper, but guessed they would be needed if the female patients were to preserve any modesty. The white-haired woman’s head was cast down, and she walked with a leaden tread as the keeper guided her to a chair by the window. She slumped there, heavy and lifeless as a sack of cabbages. Seeing me, the woman keeper curtsied. She had an arresting face, too long-featured to be pretty but full of character and with keen, da
rk blue eyes. The hair round the sides of her white coif was dark brown. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties.
‘I would like Cissy to sit here for a while, sir,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘She’s very mopish today and I want her out of her room. I’ve brought you some sewing, Cissy, you like making the smocks whole again.’ It was strange to see her speak to the much older woman as though she were a child. Cissy raised dull eyes as the keeper took a sewing bag and a torn smock she had been carrying in the crook of her elbow. She laid the smock on Cissy’s knees and placed a threaded needle in her plump hand. ‘Come on, Cissy, you’re a wonderful needlewoman. Show me what you can do.’ Reluctantly, Cissy took the needle.
‘She won’t be any trouble.’ The woman curtsied and left me with Cissy, who began sewing, never looking up at me. So not all the keepers are brutes, I thought. Shortly after, the Kites returned. I rose and told them of my conversation with Shawms.
‘So Adam must stay here?’ Minnie asked.
‘This is the safest place for him, until he can be brought to his right mind.’
‘Perhaps this is meant,’ Daniel Kite said. He looked at me with sudden defiance. ‘Sometimes God visits the most terrible trials on those he loves most, like Job, Reverend Meaphon says.’
‘This may be a warning, to remind folk the end-time is coming, that they must give up their sinful ways. Perhaps that is why Adam frightens folk, he reminds them that they too should pray for salvation.’
‘No!’ Minnie rounded on her husband. ‘God would not try a poor believer so.’
‘Who are you to say what God may do in His wisdom?’ he snapped. ‘If this is not God’s work, it is Satan’s, and he is possessed as some people say.’
They were both at breaking point, I saw. ‘He is ill,’ I said gently.
‘You would say so,’ Daniel Kite replied. ‘You are not a right believer!’ He looked between his wife and me, then turned and went out.
‘Do not be angry with him, sir,’ Minnie said. ‘He casts around in desperation for answers. He loves our boy.’
‘I understand, mistress. I promise I will do all I can. Adam will be looked after now and I will see what can be done for his poor mind. I will be in touch again very soon. And tell me at once if his care does not improve.’
‘I will. We visit every day.’ She curtsied, and went out after her husband. I turned to see Cissy looking at me, a spark of curiosity in her dull eyes, but when I met her gaze she dropped her head to her sewing. I heard footsteps, and the woman keeper came in, looking concerned.
‘I heard raised voices,’ she said. ‘Is Cissy all right?’
‘Yes.’ I smiled ruefully. ‘It was only my clients.’
She went and looked at Cissy’s sewing. ‘This is good work, t’will be as good as new.’ She was rewarded by a fleeting smile from the old woman. She turned to me again.
‘You have been visiting Adam Kite, sir?’
‘Ay.’
‘His poor parents.’ She hesitated, glancing at the open door. Then she said quietly, ‘Many here are afraid of Adam, fear he is possessed. And Keeper Shawms hopes that without care he will waste away and die.’ She frowned. ‘He is a bad man.’
‘I have just given Keeper Shawms a warning. He will find himself in trouble with the courts if he does not give Adam proper care. Thank you for your information.’ I smiled at her. ‘What is your name?’
‘Ellen Fettiplace, sir.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘What ails poor young Adam, sir? I have never heard of a case like his.’
‘Nor I. I am having a doctor come to look at him. A good man.’
‘Dr Frith is no use.’
‘I am glad to see at least one keeper here cares for her patients.’
She blushed. ‘You are kind, sir.’
‘How did you come to work here, Ellen?’
She looked at me, then smiled sadly. ‘I used to be a patient.’
‘Oh,’ I said, taken aback. She had seemed the sanest person I had met there today.
‘They offered me a position as an under-keeper when I was - was better.’
‘You did not want to leave?’
The sad smile again. ‘I can never leave here, sir,’ she said. ‘I have not been outside in ten years. I will die in the Bedlam.’
Chapter Four
I WAS BUSY in court over the next two days, but Thursday afternoon was free and I had arranged to take Roger to see Guy. It was Maundy Thursday, the day before Easter, and as I walked back from the court at Westminster to Lincoln’s Inn I saw the churches were again full. Tomorrow the great veil that shrouded the chancels during Lent would be removed, and those who cleaved to the old traditions would creep to the Cross on their knees. After Mass the altars would be stripped of their vestments in commemoration of Christ’s betrayal after the Last Supper, while down at Whitehall the King would wash the feet of twelve poor men. I felt sad at how little any of it meant to me now. There were four days’ holidays to come, but to me they would be empty and dull. At least when Lent was over Joan, my housekeeper, had promised me roast saddle of beef.
The weather was still cold, the sky iron-grey although there had been no more snow. I called in at my chambers before going to fetch Roger, and was pleased to see that a large fire had been lit. Barak and my junior clerk, Skelly, were both busy at their desks. Barak looked up as I took off my fur-edged coat and warmed my hands before the fire. He had had a shave on Sunday, but I noticed his brown doublet had a button missing, and there was what looked like a beer stain on the chest. I wondered if he had been out all night, and thought again about Tamasin. The two lived quite near Guy’s shop, and I resolved that on the way back from taking Roger I would call in on them, as though by chance.
‘I called at the court office,’ Barak said. ‘They’re going to hear Adam Kite’s application next Tuesday, at the same time as the Collins case.’
‘Good.’ I was tempted to tell him to get his doublet cleaned up, but did not want to sound like an old woman. And he knew enough not to come carelessly dressed to court. I looked quickly through a couple of new briefs that had come in, then donned my coat again.
‘I am going to take Master Elliard to Guy,’ I said.
Barak had risen and was looking out of the window. ‘What’s wrong with that rogue Bealknap?’ he said curiously.
‘Bealknap?’ I rose and joined him.
‘Looks like he’s about to peg out.’
Through the window I saw my old rival sitting on a bench next to the still-frozen fountain. A knapsack lay on the snow beside him. Even at this distance, his lean face looked an unhealthy white.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ I said.
‘They say he’s been faint and ill for weeks,’ Skelly said, looking at us earnestly from his table.
‘I thought he looked under the weather at the play.’
‘Let’s hope it’s nothing minor,’ Barak said.
I smiled enigmatically. ‘I must go.’
I left them and walked back into Gatehouse Court. I had to pass the fountain to get to Roger’s rooms. Bealknap had not moved. His thin form was swathed in an expensive coat lined with marten, but even so this was not weather to be sitting outside. I hesitated as I passed him.
‘Brother Bealknap,’ I asked. ‘Are you all right?’
He looked at me quickly, then glanced away. He could never meet anyone’s eye. ‘Perfectly, brother,’ he snapped. ‘I just sat down for a moment.’
‘You have dropped your knapsack. It will get wet.’
He bent and picked it up. I saw his hand trembled. ‘Go away!’ he said.
I was surprised to see that he looked frightened. ‘I only wished to help,’ I said stiffly.
‘You, help me!’ He gave a snort of mocking laughter, then forced himself to his feet and stumbled off towards his lodgings. I shook my head and passed on.
ROGER WAS in his outer office. A candle had been lit against the gloomy afternoon and he stood befo
re it, an affidavit in his long fingers.
‘A moment, Matthew,’ he said with a smile. His head moved rapidly, scanning the document, then he passed it to the clerk with a nod. ‘Well done, Bartlett,’ he said. ‘A very fair draft. Now, Matthew, let us go and see this leech.’ He smiled nervously. ‘I see you have your riding boots. Sensible. I will get mine, these shoes would be ruined in the slush.’
He collected his boots, strong old leather ones he often wore, and we walked to the stables. ‘No more sudden falls?’ I asked him quietly.
‘No, thank God.’ He sighed deeply; I could see he was still worried.
‘Have you much work on?’ I asked, to distract him.
‘More than I can handle.’ Roger was an excellent litigator, and since returning to London had built up a formidable reputation. ‘And I have to go and see a new pro bono client tonight, after we have been to the doctor’s.’
A voice calling Roger’s name made us turn. Dorothy was hurrying towards us, an amused expression on her face, carrying a package wrapped in oilskin. ‘You forgot this,’ she said.
Her husband reddened as he took the package. ‘His urine bottle for the physician,’ Dorothy explained.
Roger gave me a wry smile. ‘What would I do without her?’ he asked.
‘Forget your head, husband.’ Dorothy smiled again, then shivered, for she wore only an indoor dress.
‘Go back in, sweetheart,’ Roger said, ‘or you will have need of a doctor too.’
‘I will. Good luck, my love. Goodbye, Matthew. Come to supper next week.’ She turned and walked away, hugging herself against the cold.
‘I hate deceiving her,’ Roger said. ‘She still thinks I have a bad stomach. But I would not worry her.’
‘I know. Now come, and take care you do not drop that package.’
ROGER WAS PREOCCUPIED, saying little as we rode along Cheapside. The traders were packing up their stalls and we had to pick our way between the few late shoppers and the discarded wooden boxes thrown in the road. A pair of barefoot children in rags darted perilously close to the horses’ hooves, picking up rotten vegetables, the dregs of last year’s produce which the traders had thrown away. The beggars were crowded around the Conduit again, and one was waving a stick with a piece of rotten bacon on the end, shouting maniacally from the steps. ‘Help Tom o’Bedlam! Help a poor man out of his wits! See my broken heart here, on the end of this rod!’
