by C. J. Sansom
'No.' Guy looked taken aback. 'That surprises me.'
'She told me herself
'She is gentle with Adam, but very firm. It has had an effect. The other day he even talked of normal everyday things for a minute. He said the weather is getting warmer, he did not feel so cold. But still I cannot get him to explain why he feels such a sense of sin. I wonder what brought it on.'
'What do his parents say? I saw you leave with them after the court hearing.'
'They say they have no idea. I believe them.'
'Thank you for doing this. Adam cannot be — easy to work with.'
Guy smiled sadly. 'He touches me, yet intrigues me too. So like you with Bealknap, my motives are not all pure.'
'I ought to visit Adam again.'
'I am going to see him again tomorrow morning. Would you like to come?'
'Very well. If I can.'
'You do not sound as if you want to.'
'I find it distressing. He is in such pain. And religious madness makes me think of the man we are hunting, and who has been hunting me.' I looked at my arm. 'How can he believe that what he is doing is inspired by God?'
'Have we not seen enough these last years to know that men may do cruel, wicked things, yet believe they have communion with God? Think of the King.'
'Yes. Belief in God and human sympathy can be very different things. Yet the killer is something different again. That obsessive savagery.' I looked at Guy. 'He still has three murders to commit. And if he succeeds, I, like you, do not think he will stop. I told Cranmer so today.'
'No. Such a momentum would have to be carried forward. Till he is caught, or dies.'
'How will he feel if he pours out the seven vials of wrath and the world does not end?'
'There have been many in these last years who thought they knew when the world would end. When it does not they go back to Revelation for the clues they have missed. And that is easy. It is not a story in sequence but a series of violent narratives giving alternative ways in which the world will finish. So they find a new formula.'
I nodded slowly. 'Does he suffer, I wonder?'
'The killer?' Guy shook his head. 'I do not know. My guess would be the acts of killing are a sort of ecstasy for him, but perhaps, that apart, he lives in a world of pain.'
'But he conceals it — he is able to live a normal life or something like it. Without standing out.'
'Yes. I think among the many things he is, he is a good actor.'
'Is it Goddard?' I shook my head. 'I don't know. Harsnet still thinks he is possessed.'
Guy shook his head. 'No. He is an obsessive, and all obsessions come from some maladjustment of the brain. Not the devil.' He set his lips. I thought, why are you sure?
We were silent for a moment. Then I asked, 'What happens after the vials are poured out? In Revelation. What comes next?'
Guy rose and went to his bookshelf. He brought down a New Testament and turned to Revelation.
'The seven vials of wrath are in Chapters 15 to 16. Already before then there has been another version of the end of the world, disasters coming when the seven angels blow their trumpets.' He turned the pages with his long brown fingers. 'Hail and fire, a mountain falling into the sea. But there is not such concentration on the torments of men as there is in the story of the seven vials. Perhaps that was what attracted the killer.' He paused, turned the page. 'The judgement of the Great Whore comes after.'
'When I read them, those passages seemed more obscure than most. Who is the Great Whore meant to be?'
Guy smiled sadly. 'It used to be thought she symbolized the Roman Empire, but now the radicals say she represents the Church of Rome. And after that, war in Heaven and Jesus' final victory.'
He passed the book across to me. I had studied the passages about the seven vials to exhaustion, but now I read on, aloud. 'I saw a woman sit upon a rose-coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns.' I remembered the painting of the creature in the Westminster chapterhouse. 'And the woman was arrayed in purple and rose colour ... And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of whoredom and abominations of the earth ... and the beast that was, and is not, even he is the eighth, and is of the seven, and shall go into destruction ... her sins have reached into heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities' I put the Testament down with a sigh. 'I can make little sense of it.' ‘Nor I.'
We both jumped violently at a loud hammering on the door to the street. We exchanged glances. As Guy crossed to open it, the inner door opened and Piers came in. I wondered whether he had been listening outside again.
'Who is it?' Guy called out.
'It is I, Barak!'
Guy threw open the door. I caught a glimpse of Sukey, tied to the rail beside Genesis. She was breathing heavily, Barak must have ridden here fast. There was no sign of drunkenness about him today, he was sober and alert, his expression hard and serious. He stepped inside.
'There has been another killing,' he said. 'There's some strange mystery about this one. Dr Malton, sir, can you come with us?'
Chapter Thirty-one
'WHO!' I ASKED.
Barak glanced at Piers. Guy turned to the boy. 'Would you fetch my horse to the front of the house?' he asked. Piers hesitated for a moment, then went out. Barak looked between us. His face was set hard.
'It's Lockley's wife.'
'He has killed a woman?' Guy gasped.
'Sir Thomas sent a man round to keep guard at the inn. He was too late. He found her lying on the inn floor. She's been mutilated. The message said something strange, something about poisoned air. We're to join Harsnet there at once.'
'What about Lockley?'
'I don't know.'
Through the window I saw Piers leading Guy's old white mare round to the front. We went outside.
'May I come too?' Piers asked Guy as we mounted.
'No, Piers, you have studying to do. You should have done it last night.' The apprentice stepped back, an expression of angry sulkiness momentarily crossing his face.
'How much does that boy know about what has been happening?' I asked Guy as we rode quickly up the street.
'Only that there has been a series of murders. He could not fail to see that,' Guy added with a touch of asperity, 'as he has been helping me at the autopsies. He knows he must hold his tongue.'
'You know he listens at doors,' I said. Guy did not reply.
WE RODE ON rapidly, up to Smithfield and on to Charterhouse Square. The square was deserted except for two men standing at the door of the inn, under the sign of the Green Man. One was Harsnet and the other was a tall man carrying a sword, who was coughing into a handkerchief. I saw some of the beggars standing by the chapel, looking on from a distance but not daring to approach. We pulled up and tied the horses to the rail next to Harsnet's. Guy went over to the tall man. 'What ails you?' he asked quietly.
The man lowered his handkerchief. He was in his twenties, with a neat black beard. He stared for a moment at Guy's dark face, then said, 'I do not know. I came here two hours ago. I knocked but could get no answer.' He coughed violently again. 'The shutters were all closed so I broke in. There is a woman lying on the floor, she's — mutilated.' He spluttered noisily. 'There's something in the air in there, it's poisonous, it burns at my throat.'
'Let me see,' Guy said. He gently opened the man's mouth and looked in. 'Something's irritated your throat,' he said. 'Sit down on the step, try to breathe easy.'
'It was horrible. Like something grasping to take your breath.'
I looked at the door: the lock was smashed. The guard had pulled it shut again when he came out.
'Have you been inside?' I asked Harsnet.
'No. I looked in — one sniff was enough; it's like this fellow said, like something trying to rip your throat out.' He looked at Guy. 'How do you come to be here, sir?'
'I was with Dr Malton when the message came,' I said. 'Dr Malton may be able to help us. Guy, what d
o you think can have happened to the air?'
'There is only one way to see.' He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, held it to his nose and threw the door wide open. I took a step back as something sharp and stinging caught my nostrils. Guy went in. With the shutters drawn the interior was dark. I made out a large pale shape, spotted with darker patches, lying under the open serving hatch. A body.
Guy stepped rapidly to the shutters, throwing them open. A draught of fresh air was immediately drawn into the room with the light. We looked in from the doorway. I saw the tavern was in chaos, overturned chairs and tables everywhere. The pale shape under the serving hatch was indeed Mistress Bunce, lying face down on the stone floor. Her coif had been removed, revealing her long dark hair. Her dress had been pulled up to beneath her armpits, and her underskirt torn off; it lay bundled up under one of the tables. Her plump, pale body was half naked, her arms tied behind her with rope.
'Shit.' Barak breathed.
I saw red weals at her wrists where the poor woman had struggled to free herself, but the knots were tight. There was another piece of cloth lying beside her face, something dark red on top of it.
'Dear God, what has he done to her?' Harsnet breathed. I saw his hands were clenched tight.
Guy crossed to the body and stood looking down at it. Quickly, he crossed himself. Harsnet, watching from the doorway, narrowed his eyes at the gesture. 'It is safe to come in,' Guy said quietly. 'The fumes are dispersing. But put handkerchiefs to your noses and mouths, take shallow breaths.'
Harsnet and Barak and I drew out our handkerchiefs and stepped cautiously inside. 'What was that stuff?' Barak asked.
'Vitriol,' Guy answered. 'In a very powerful concentration.'
We looked down at the body. The white flesh on the trunk and legs bore big red marks that looked like burns. To my horror, half the woman's posterior had been burned away, leaving a huge, monstrous red wound. Yet there was no blood around her, only a pool of colourless liquid.
'What is this vitriol?' Harsnet asked Guy. The air was much clearer, but there still a faint harsh tang. 'For God's sake, what did he do to her?' His voice rose.
'Vitriol is a liquid that burns and dissolves everything it touches,' Guy answered grimly. 'It is well known, alchemists make it up frequently to dissolve stone. They think it has special powers because gold is one of the few things it cannot destroy. It must have taken hours to do this, using repeated applications.' Then Guy did something I had never seen him do before, no matter what awful things he had to look upon. He shuddered violently.
Harsnet bent to the liquid under the body. 'What's this?' He put out a finger.
'Don't touch it!' Guy shouted, and Harsnet quickly stepped away. Guy took a spatula from the pocket of his robe and touched it to the liquid. There was a faint hiss and it began to smoke. 'Vitriol,' he said. 'See how it has eaten into the wood. It has even marked the stone flags.'
‘If it's so poisonous,' I asked, 'how did he manage to wait here for hours?'
'I suspect it was night, and he had those large shutters giving on to the yard open. Even so he would need to keep going over to the window.'
Barak was looking through the serving hatch. Cups and pewter goblets stood on a draining board; more lay in the washing bowl. It seemed the killer had come just after the tavern closed; perhaps he had been a late customer.
'Janley!' Harsnet called. The guard entered reluctantly, staring with horrified eyes at the mutilated corpse. 'Search the rest of the building,' Harsnet ordered. 'Go on!' Reluctantly, his hand on his sword, Janley opened a door to the inner chambers and stepped through.
'Was it Lockley?' I breathed. 'Is he the killer?'
'Perhaps Lockley's been killed too. Perhaps he's in another room,' Barak said. He wiped his brow, he was sweating.
'And the fifth angel poured out his vial upon the seat of the beast.' I quoted from the Book of Revelation, the chapters we all knew now. ‘And his kingdom waxed dark; and they gnawed their tongues for pain, and blasphemed the God of Heaven for sorrow and pain of their sores, and repented not of their deeds' Guy bent and, very carefully, turned the brutalized body over.. He let out a groaning sigh. I made myself look at Mistress Bunce's face. The lower half was covered with blood. I will never forget the eyes, wide open, bulging from her face in her last horror and agony. Guy felt her jaw, then took out his spatula and gently touched the piece of cloth beside her face, and the red thing on top of it. He took a corner of the cloth and covered it. 'What. . .' I asked.
'It is her tongue. He gagged her with this cloth while he tortured her. Then at the end he removed it. To fulfil the part of the verse that talks of gnawing tongues. He pulled out the tongue and snapped her jaw shut on it.' He touched the slack face. 'Yes, he broke her jaw doing it. At some point after that she died; her heart probably gave out.'
'What sort of creature could do this to a woman?' Harsnet asked, incredulous.
'She's not the first person he's tortured to death,' Barak said. 'The cottar was cut up and left to die. But this is even worse.'
'When the Bible talks of the seat of the beast,' Harsnet said, 'it means the place ruled by the devil, not a human — a human rear. This is like some hideous blasphemous joke. A devil's jest.'
We all turned as Janley returned through the inner door. 'There's nothing,' he said. 'The rest of the house looks normal.'
'Did Lockley do this?' Harsnet asked.
Barak looked at me. 'Begins to seem like he's the killer after all.'
'I still can't see it. I could see him having knowledge of dwale, but what about the legal knowledge that letter to Roger demonstrated? I wouldn't have said Lockley was someone who could write a proper letter.'
'Then where is he?' Harsnet burst out. The terrible scene had unnerved him deeply.
'Lockley vanished and Mrs Bunce dead,' I said quietly. 'Goddard vanished and Cantrell attacked. The three who worked at the Westminster infirmary.'
'Surely Goddard attacked the other two,' Harsnet said.
'It could equally be that Lockley attacked Goddard and Cantrell. Goddard's body could be hidden somewhere.' I shook my head.
'That woman didn't work at the infirmary,' Harsnet said. 'She wasn't even a religious woman, from what you told me.' He glanced at the terrible corpse, then turned to Janley. 'For God's sake, cover her up!' The young man took his handkerchief and laid it over Ethel Bunce's ruined face. He looked green. The awful wounds below still lay exposed. Guy stood, fetched the undershirt from where it had been thrown by the killer and covered them.
'You are from Thomas Seymour's household?' I asked Janley.
'Yes. I am his Master of Horse.'
'I'll warrant you didn't expect a horror like this.'
'No, sir. I was sent to guard a tavern.' He laughed then, a little hysterically.
I turned to Barak. 'I think we should give this house a full search. Come on, let's start with the living quarters.'
WE WALKED UP the narrow wooden staircase. There were two bedrooms. The one where Lockley and Mrs Bunce slept together had a cheap truckle bed. There was no other furniture save a large chest full of women's clothes. 'Poor bloody bitch,' Barak said as he searched through them. 'I think Lockley killed her. It can't have been Goddard.'
'Why not?'
'Because he would have had to reconnoitre the tavern, find out their routines and whether anyone else lived here. I can't think of any way to do that other than coming in as a customer. If it was Goddard, Lockley would have recognized him and told us, surely.'
'That makes sense,' I said. I looked at the cheap, worn dresses and large underclothes that Barak had laid on the bed. The violation of the last privacy of the poor woman downstairs felt like a further humiliation of her. 'Come, put those back. Let's see what's in the other room.'
The second bedroom contained broken chairs and other odds and ends, and another chest, locked with a padlock. I set Barak to picking it, a skill he had learned in his days working for Cromwell. After a couple of minutes,
he heaved the lid open, to reveal men's clothes this time, but at the bottom there were a number of small wooden boxes.
Barak took out the boxes and began opening them. One contained two pounds in assorted coins, another some cheap jewellery. But the next contained something very different, a wooden block with a hinge, in the shape of a human jaw. There were holes where teeth could be placed.
'What the hell is this?' Barak asked.
'A block to set dentures in,' I said quietly. I took it from him. 'Remember Tamasin told us the tooth-drawer showed her one. They set teeth in those sockets and fix them in people's mouths. There's an old barrister's wife at Lincoln's Inn who has dentures, but she can't get a block to fit properly, they keep falling out.'
'Maybe she could try some of these,' Barak said. He had opened the remaining four boxes and all contained denture blocks in different sizes. 'What's he got these for?' he asked incredulously. 'Lockley wasn't a barber-surgeon, was he? He worked for one, and left.'
I turned the ugly wooden things over in my hands. The blocks had never been used to house teeth, there were no traces of glue in the tooth-holes. Pictures in my mind came together, some pieces of the puzzle fitting together at last. 'No,' I said quietly. 'He wasn't. I think he was something quite different. Now I understand, now I see what they were being so secretive about. Come, we have to go to Dean Benson, now. Bring those boxes.'
I led the way downstairs. Guy and Harsnet had both sat down at a table marked with the round rings from a hundred goblets of beer. Harsnet looked agitated, Guy drawn and sad. Janley stood by the window, staring out on the tavern yard. Harsnet looked up. 'Anything?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said. 'We need to go to the dean—'
I broke off as there was a sudden loud rumbling noise and the flagstones trembled beneath our feet. Harsnet's eyes widened. 'What in God's name is that?'
'This place is connected to the old Charterhouse sewer system,' I said. 'They must have opened the sluice gate over there. It happened when we came here before. We ought to investigate that cellar. There'll be a way down somewhere.'
