Revelation: A Matthew Shardlake Mystery (Matthew Shardlake Mysteries)

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘It will,’ he said quietly. He smiled at me. ‘I am sorry for my anger earlier. You will still come to dinner tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I wonder if Yarington had any family. I will find out from the servants.’ He turned as the guards appeared in the doorway. Abigail and Toby slumped between them, looking terrified. ‘I must go with them.’ Harsnet bowed quickly, and walked away.

  ‘I don’t envy them,’ Barak said as the two were led away.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  BARAK AND I walked back to Chancery Lane. I was bone-tired, the stitches in my arm tweaking and pulling.

  ‘We should have a few hours’ sleep when we get back,’ Barak said. In the moonlight he too looked exhausted. ‘There’s Adam Kite’s case tomorrow, then Smithfield with Harsnet, then the dean.’ He groaned at the thought of it all.

  We walked on in silence for a while. Then Barak said, ‘That poor arsehole Yarington a lecher, eh?’ He sounded almost back to his usual mocking self, perhaps glad to be dealing with ordinary human weakness again after the horror at the church.

  ‘Yes. And the killer knew that somehow.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. If we can find out, we may have him.’

  ‘What will he do next?’

  ‘It’s impossible to say. As Hertford said, the fifth prophecy is vague.’

  ‘What do you think those people are hiding - Lockley and the dean? They’re hiding something.’

  ‘Yes, they are. We must find out tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you think they were part of some nest of sodomites? The monasteries were full of those filthy creatures.’

  ‘I don’t know. Lockley certainly didn’t strike me as being inclined that way.’

  ‘You can’t always tell.’

  ‘You sound as fierce against sin as Harsnet.’

  He grinned. ‘Only sins I don’t feel drawn to myself,’ he said with a flash of his old humour. ‘ ’Tis always easy to condemn those.’

  We arrived back at Chancery Lane. ‘I must go and see that boy Timothy first thing,’ I said wearily. Behind a window I saw a lamp raised. Harsnet’s man Orr, on watch.

  ‘What if he makes a run for it in the night?’

  ‘He won’t run. I told you, he needs a new place.’

  ‘And how are you going to conjure that out of thin air for him?’

  ‘I have an idea. I will not let him down. Now come, I am too tired to talk more. We need a few hours’ sleep, or we shall be seeing double tomorrow.’

  WHEN We REACHED home I asked Barak to have me wakened no later than first light, and wearily mounted the stairs to bed. Exhausted as I was, I could not sleep. Lying in bed in the darkness I kept turning Yarington’s terrible death over in my mind, trying to fit it into the pattern of the others. At length I got up, threw my coat over my nightshirt and lit a new beeswax candle. The yellow glow spreading from my table over the room was somehow comforting.

  I sat at the table, thinking. I was sure the killer had been there when we got Adam down from London Wall. Yarington had been there too. Was that when the killer had decided that Yarington would be his next victim? No, that spectacle had been planned a long time, and Yarington’s fornication with that poor girl had been known to the killer. But how, when the cleric had kept it so secret? It had not been a matter of common knowledge like Roger’s and Dr Gurney’s turning away from radical reform, or poor Tupholme’s noisy affair with Welsh Elizabeth.

  It was important to see that boy tomorrow, find out if he knew anything. I had not seen nearly enough evidence to be sure that Goddard was the killer. But if not Goddard then who was he, this man who knew about medicine and the law and mixed, or had mixed recently, with the radical sectaries? I wondered uneasily whether Harsnet was pressing the radical reformers enough for information; he would be far gentler with his own people than with Abigail.

  The old law book was on my desk. I had borrowed it from the library. I opened it again to the case of Strodyr, smelling dust and ancient ink again. Strodyr too must have planned his killings with care, to go undetected for years. I read again how he refused to say anything at his trial but that he had often raged ‘most obscenely’ against the wicked trade of whores. Did our killer too somehow believe he was doing God’s work, or was it all some terrible game? Or were both the same in his unfathomable mind? I remembered the German Anabaptists, who in overthrowing society in Münster believed that in their violence they were pushing forward God’s will, bringing Armageddon about all the faster. Perhaps the killer believed each step was a symbolic fulfilment of the Revelation prophecies, that he would bring about the end of the world. I resolved to talk to Guy again. At last, I fell asleep.

  I WAS STILL deeply asleep when Joan knocked gently at the door. I rose slowly, my back stiff and sore, although my arm ached less. I decided to leave off the sling. I went to the window and looked out. The sky was lightening, clear and blue with light fluffy clouds. For the first time in several days I did my back exercises, grunting as I twisted and stretched. Then I dressed and went downstairs. I scratched at my stubbly cheeks, conscious I needed a visit to the barber.

  In the parlour Barak, dressed in his shirt and upper hose, was already breakfasting on bread and cheese and wizened apples.

  ‘Last year’s apple crop is drying out quickly,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll get Peter to open up a new barrel. They’ll be fresher.’

  ‘Is your arm better?’

  ‘Yes, it is today.’

  ‘Young Piers did a good job, then.’

  I pulled the loaf towards me. ‘Is Tamasin not up yet?’

  ‘Just. She is getting lazy.’ I looked at him and he reddened. ‘Her bruises are going down, and her mouth is healing, but she still doesn’t like to be seen. She’ll be all right in another day or two. She’s still furious about that tooth-drawer asking her to sell him her teeth.’

  ‘She could have been killed that night,’ I said seriously. ‘And it happened because of our work. My work.’

  Barak put down the remains of his apple. He was silent a moment, then said, ‘I hate this job, chasing after this lunatic or devil-possessed man or whatever he is. I suppose I’ve been taking it out on Tamasin.’ He shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘Why?’ I asked gently.

  ‘Because she’s there, I suppose. It’s no way to treat your wife, I know.’

  I asked quietly, ‘Do you still want her for your wife?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ He glared at me, and I wondered if I had gone too far, but then he sighed and shook his head. ‘I know I’ve been a churl, but—’ he ran his fingers through his thick, untidy brown hair—’somehow you get into a way of behaving and it’s hard to get out of it.’ He sighed again. ‘But when all this is over I’ve decided to leave the Old Barge and see if I can’t find a decent little house for us to rent nearer to Lincoln’s Inn.’

  I smiled. ‘That is marvellous news. Tamasin will be so pleased.’

  ‘And I’m going to stay home more. Spend less time in the - er - taverns.’ His hesitation made me wonder if Tamasin’s suspicions had been right and he had been seeing other women.

  ‘Have you told her?’ I asked.

  ‘Nah. I’ll wait till things have settled down a bit.’

  ‘But you should tell her now.’

  He frowned. I realized I had gone too far. ‘I’ll tell her when I think it’s right,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’ll get dressed, then I’ll tell Peter to get Sukey and Genesis saddled and ready.’ He got up and went out.

  His mention of Peter reminded me of my promise to the boy Timothy. I paused to eat some bread and cheese, slipped one of the wrinkled apples into my pocket and went to the kitchen. There I found Joan and Tamasin. Tamasin was sitting at the table, slicing vegetables for the evening meal. Her bruises were less puffy now, but still horridly colourful, red and black, and her face was still swollen. Joan looked up at me and smiled, but Tamasin put a hand up to hide her face.

  Jo
an was washing, bent over a large wooden bucket. Her face, surrounded by her white coif, was red as she kneaded the wet fabric. I reflected with a pang of guilt that she was near sixty now. Her late husband had once been my steward, and when he died fifteen years ago I had kept her on as housekeeper. It was an unusual arrangement for a single man, despite the difference in our ages, but I had always liked her quiet, motherly ways. I had been going to ask her if she knew of any help that might be needed in the houses near by, but last night a new idea had occurred to me. ‘I wonder, Joan,’ I said, ‘if you could use the help of another boy in the kitchen.’

  She thought a moment. ‘Peter has a lot to do, between the stables and helping me in here.’ She smiled tiredly. ‘But I do not know how he would take to having a second boy around.’

  I smiled. ‘This boy is younger than Peter. We would make it clear he is the senior. I need to talk to this other boy some more, though.’

  ‘It would be good to have someone else, sir.’

  ‘Then I will see what I can do today.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully. She lifted the bucket of clothes in their dirty water and headed for the yard. Tamasin rose and opened the door for her, then returned to the table.

  ‘Your bruises seem better, Tamasin.’

  ‘They are still a dreadful sight, sir. But I suppose they will be gone soon.’

  ‘How is your mouth?’

  ‘I have little pain there now. That tooth-drawer was good after all.’

  ‘Guy would not have recommended someone who did not know his work.’

  ‘I still can’t believe he offered to buy my teeth, take them all out. I’d be a hideous sight.’

  Her tone was sad, drained of emotion. She looked at me. ‘What happened last night? Jack would not tell me anything when he came in. Just told me to go back to sleep.’

  ‘He would not have wished to worry you, Tamasin. I am afraid there has been another killing.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Were you and Jack in danger?’

  ‘No. No, we found the body.’

  ‘Will this never end?’ she asked. ‘It is having a bad effect on Jack. On you too, sir, I can see that.’ Then she gave a sardonic smile that made her seem years older. ‘Or maybe I mistake the fact that Jack is tired of me for the effect on him of hunting this brute.’

  ‘You still love him?’ I asked directly.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered quickly. ‘But I will not go on like this for ever, I will not be ground down to powder as some women are.’

  I smiled. ‘It was your spirit that attracted him to you in York, I know that.’

  She ventured a smile in reply, but it still held a sardonic edge. ‘Not my pretty face? Not that it is pretty now.’

  ‘Your pretty face as well. And it will heal. Tamasin, perhaps I should not tell you this but I will. Jack still loves you. He knows he has not been behaving as he should. He has told me that when this is over he will move you out of the Barge, to a good house.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘Yes, on my honour. But in confidence, you must not tell him what I have said.’

  She frowned. ‘But why did he not tell me?’

  ‘He only told me because I was goading him. You know what he is like.’

  ‘Do I? I thought I knew him . . .’

  ‘Give him time, Tamasin. I know he can be difficult but - give him time.’

  She looked at me seriously. ‘I will, but not for ever,’ she said quietly. ‘Not for ever.’

  The yard door opened and Joan returned, holding the bucket to her hip. ‘I had better go to the stables,’ I said. ‘Jack will be wondering what has happened to me. We have some visits to make this morning. Think of what I have said, Tamasin.’

  She nodded and smiled. I went out to the stables, where Barak was talking to Harsnet’s man Orr, who straightened his cap as I approached. I liked him. He was quiet, watchful, unobtrusive. ‘A quiet night?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I looked at Barak, feeling a sudden rush of irritation. How could a man be so foolish as to go into a prolonged sulk - for that was how it seemed - with a woman of Tamasin’s qualities? If it had been me and Dorothy - I suppressed the thought.

  ‘Ready?’ I asked brusquely. ‘Then let’s get going.’

  We rode Back through the city to Yarington’s house. The horses plodded along contentedly. When we reached our destination we tied Sukey and Genesis up outside and I feared for a moment the boy had run off after all. If so, my softness might have lost us vital evidence. But Timothy was in the stable, sitting on his bucket beside the horse. He had been crying again; there was a bubble of snot at one nostril.

  ‘Good morning, Timothy,’ I said gently. ‘This is my assistant, Barak.’

  He stared at us with frightened eyes.

  ‘It’s cold in this stable,’ Barak said gruffly. Timothy would remind him of his own urchin childhood.

  ‘I have a position for you,’ I told the child. ‘Working in my house. Kitchen and stable work. How would you like that?’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he brightened. ‘I - I will do my best.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘There is a condition, though.’

  ‘A what, sir?’

  ‘Something you must do for me. You must tell me something. Yesterday you said that you told no one about Abigail?’

  ‘No, sir. I didn’t. I didn’t.’ But he reddened, squirmed uneasily on the bucket. The horse, sensitive to changes of mood, turned and looked at him.

  ‘But there is something else, isn’t there?’

  He hesitated, looked between me and Barak.

  ‘Come on, lad,’ Barak urged.

  ‘I promise you Abigail will come to no harm,’ I added. ‘But I think there is something more you did not tell me.’

  Timothy breathed hard, the snot quivering at his nostril.

  ‘Tell us, lad,’ Barak said. ‘Master Shardlake’s house is warm. You’ll like it there.’

  ‘I watch people,’ the boy blurted out suddenly. He pointed to a knot-hole in the stable door. ‘Through there. I get tired of being in here all the time.’

  ‘Master Toby did not let you out much?’

  ‘Only to help clean the house. I’m sorry if it was wrong, looking.’

  ‘What did you see?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘Tradesmen who called. The egg-man. The chimney-sweep, and the carpenter to repair the wooden screen when Toby knocked it over. But that was before Abigail came.’

  ‘And after?’

  ‘A man used to come and see Abigail sometimes. When the master was out and Toby had his day off. Toby didn’t know about it.’ He bowed his head.

  ‘Who was he?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t know.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Did he come often?’

  ‘A few times. This winter. When there was snow on the ground.’

  ‘Was he a tall man, a gentleman?’ I asked, thinking of Goddard.

  ‘No, sir.’ Timothy shook his head again. ‘He was young.’

  ‘How young?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know - maybe twenty.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Taller than either of you. Strong-looking, like him.’ He pointed to Barak.

  ‘Fair or dark?’

  ‘Dark. He was handsome. Abigail used to say he had a handsome face.’

  ‘She talked to you about him?’ I tried to keep a tremor of excitement from my voice.

  ‘Not much, sir. I told her I’d seen him. She said the less I knew the less I could tell. She didn’t like me knowing.’

  ‘So he used to visit her secretly.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did she know him before she came here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Timothy said again. ‘Honestly, sir, I don’t know that.’

  ‘Was he in the reverend’s congregation?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t know, sir. I only saw him because he came round the back door. When master was out. Pl
ease.’ He began to look upset. ‘Please, sir, I’ve told you all I know.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Timothy. Now come, you are coming back with us. Barak, take my papers on to court. I will join you there after I have delivered Timothy home.’

  He looked dubious. ‘Shouldn’t you clear it with Harsnet, before taking him?’

  ‘No. Timothy’s master is dead, and I am buying his services.’ I leaned close to Barak. ‘And I want him kept safe at my house. He may be the only one that has seen the killer and lived.’

  ‘Whoever he was trying to describe, it doesn’t sound like Goddard. ’

  ‘No.’ I nodded and looked at him. ‘It doesn’t, does it?’

  Timothy had got to his feet. He laid a hand on the horse’s flank. ‘Please, sir, may I take Dinah too?’

  ‘I am sorry, lad, no. We already have two horses.’

  He bit his lip. I thought, the horse and Abigail are probably the only friends he has ever had. But I could not take another horse I did not need.

  Barak reached out a hand. ‘Come on, sniffly,’ he said kindly. ‘Let’s get you home and safe.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I RODE ALONG slowly back to Chancery Lane, the boy trotting along at my side, one hand on Genesis’ harness to avoid being separated from me in the crowded streets. I reflected that Harsnet would not be pleased at my news, certain as he was that Goddard was the killer. As of course he still might be, but we must find the identity of this man who had visited the prostitute. It was still early, the shopkeepers again opening up and throwing out any beggars they found in their doorways. One, a young man, had collapsed in the street and was being half carried by two others. Timothy looked at the scene then up at me, his face frightened. On impulse I halted and told him to climb up behind me.

  We reached my house, and I could see from his wide-eyed expression that Timothy was overawed by its size. I led him inside and through to the kitchen, where Joan was working. I was pleased to see that Harsnet’s man Orr was helping her, peeling potatoes. Joan exclaimed at the boy’s dirtiness, gave him a bucket of water and ordered him to the stable to wash himself down. He went out obediently. Young Peter was in the kitchen and greeted Timothy with a surly nod. Joan frowned at him. ‘You had better treat Timothy well, he is younger than you and in a new place. You should be pleased he will be doing some of the jobs you don’t like. Now take him those old clothes of yours I looked out to cut up because they had got too small.’