Dark Fire (30 page)

Her son reappeared, a large key in his hands. He unlocked the door and we entered the yard. It was indeed a good place for Michael and Sepultus to have chosen; the high wall enclosed it on three
sides and the windowless rear of the adjacent house occupied the fourth. There was a pile of pipes and valves, for Leighton’s work on the conduits, no doubt. Blackened patches all over the
walls caught my eye, like the ones I had seen in the Gristwoods’ yard only larger.

Goodwife Gristwood and her son were standing nervously by the gate. I gave David Harper a reassuring smile – he looked as though he might run off any minute.

‘Master Harper,’ I said, ‘tell me: does anything unusual strike you about this yard?’

He looked around. ‘Only that it’s been given a good clean recently.’

I nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. It’s spotless.’

‘Why would anyone want to keep a founder’s yard spotless?’ Barak asked.

‘To hide all traces of what had been here.’ I bent close to him and whispered, ‘I think someone has removed the apparatus, and all traces of Greek Fire as well.’

‘Leighton?’

‘Possibly. Come, I think we should have a look in the house.’

I led the way out of the yard. We knocked again at the house door, but still there was no sign of life. I wiped a hand over my brow; it seemed hotter and stickier than ever up here among the
foundries. All around us the clanging and scrating continued.

‘We can get in via the workshop,’ Harper said. ‘It’s the same key.’ He hesitated, then opened the workshop door and stepped inside calling, ‘Master
Leighton?’ Barak followed him.

‘I’ll stay outside,’ Goodwife Gristwood said nervously. ‘Take care, David.’

I followed Barak in. David opened the shutters and I saw a cluttered workshop, more pipes and valves and pans and an empty furnace. Harper picked up a coal from it. ‘Stone cold,’ he
said.

Set in one wall was a door to the house. Harper hesitated, then inserted the key in the lock and opened it. Another darkened room. I caught a slight, familiar tang and grabbed Barak’s arm.
‘Wait,’ I said.

Harper opened the shutters and turned round. Then his mouth fell open. We were in a parlour, surprisingly well appointed, but it was in chaos. The buffet cupboard had been overturned and lay on
its side, silver plates scattered around.

David Harper had gone pale. He stood with his hand over his mouth. ‘They got him too,’ I whispered. ‘They took the apparatus and killed him.’

‘Then where’s the body?’ Barak asked.

‘Somewhere in the house, maybe. I smell blood.’ Instructing Harper to stay where he was, Barak and I searched the rest of the founder’s home, Barak drawing his sword as we
climbed the narrow stairs. Everything was in order, it was only the parlour that had been wrecked. We returned there to find David Harper had gone outside; through the window I saw him with his
mother, looking at the house with a frightened expression. A man with a load of pans on his back passed by, giving them a puzzled look.

‘They took the body with them,’ I said, ‘together with the apparatus. They didn’t want a hue and cry about a murder in Lothbury.’ I knelt and examined the floor.
‘See, this part of the floor’s been cleaned, there’s no dust.’ I saw a pair of flies buzzing around the overturned buffet, and took a deep breath. ‘Here, Barak, help
me move this.’

I wondered what horror we might find underneath the buffet, but there was only a patch of dried blood. Barak whistled.

‘Where did they get the key?’

‘From Leighton’s body, perhaps.’ I looked over to the front door. ‘They didn’t break the door in. I guess they knocked, and when Leighton answered they shoved him
inside and then followed and killed him. Probably a quick blow with an axe again.’

‘Risky. What if he called out and neighbours came? Harper’s right, the founders are a close lot.’

‘Perhaps Leighton knew them.’ I bit my lip. ‘Or knew someone who was with them. One of our potential conspirators, maybe.’

‘We should ask the neighbours.’

‘We can, but I’m willing to bet they came at night when no one was about. Come, there’s no more we can do here.’

We rejoined Harper and Goodwife Gristwood in the street. Standing together, they were very alike, even to their looks of drawn anxiety.

‘What’s happened, sir?’ Harper asked. ‘Is Master Leighton—’

‘He is not there. But I am afraid there are signs of violence—’

Goodwife Gristwood gave a little moan.

‘I am concerned for the safety of you and your son, madam,’ I said. ‘Is the watchman still at your house?’

‘Ay, he brought me here, then I sent him back.’

I turned to Harper. ‘I think your mother should stay with you for now. I will try and find somewhere safer.’

The old woman gave me an appalled look. ‘What did they do? For Jesu’s sake, what did Michael and Sepultus
do
here?’

‘Meddled with dangerous people.’

She shook her head, then looked at me again, her mouth tightening into its old hardness. ‘That whore,’ she asked abruptly, ‘did you see her?’

‘I tried to, but she ran away.’ I turned to David. ‘Is it possible someone could carry away that apparatus without being noticed? Perhaps on a cart?’

He nodded. ‘People are always trundling carts through Lothbury with goods to take to customers and the shops. Day and night too when we’re busy.’

I nodded. ‘Ask around, would you, among the neighbours? Just say Leighton’s missing. Would you do that?’

He nodded, then put his arm round his mother. ‘Are we truly in danger, sir?’

‘I think your mother may be. Who knows where she is?’

‘No one save me and the watchman at Wolf’s Lane.’

‘Tell no one else. Can you read?’

‘Ay.’

I scribbled my address on a piece of paper. ‘If you have any news, or require anything, you can reach me here.’

He took it, nodding. His mother clung to his arm. I was glad they had each other; they had no one else now.

I
WAS WEARY
, but insisted on stopping at a barber’s for a shave in preparation for the banquet. Barak waited for me, then we caught a boat back to
the Temple and walked home. I insisted on resting before getting myself ready. I dozed an hour and woke feeling unrefreshed. The sky was as leaden, the air as close, as ever. How I wished the
weather would break. I got up, feeling stiff, and for the first time in days did some of Guy’s back exercises. I was bending over, trying to touch my toes and getting nowhere near, when there
was a knock at the door and Barak entered. His eyes widened in surprise.

‘That’s a strange way to pray,’ he said.

‘I’m not praying. I’m trying to find some relief for my sore back. And haven’t you the manners to be asked to enter a room before barging in?’

‘Sorry.’ Barak sat down cheerfully on the bed. ‘I came to tell you I’m going out. An old contact of mine has some information on the two we’re after. Pock-face and
his big mate. I’m going to meet him, then I’m going to see the earl.’ His expression grew serious. ‘Tell him about Rich. He may want to see you.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Very well. You know where I’ll be. And ask if he can find somewhere safe for the Gristwoods.’

Barak nodded, then gave me a warning look. ‘So far we’ve had more requests for him than information.’

‘I know, but we’re doing all we can.’

‘You’ll have to ride to Lady Honor’s house alone.’

‘It is still light.’

‘Afterwards I’ll find that tavern where Bealknap met my stepfather. It’ll keep me occupied while you’re at the banquet.’

‘Very well.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to have a crack at that well later? After the banquet?’

I shook my head. ‘I’ll be too tired, I have to get some sleep. I have to pace myself, Barak,’ I added irritably. ‘I’ve more than ten years on you. Just how old are
you, by the way?’

‘Twenty-eight in August. Listen, I’ve been trying to puzzle something out. I can understand whoever organized the killing of the Gristwood brothers keeping the formula close, perhaps
to sell abroad when things have quietened down. But why try to kill the founder Leighton? Why kill everyone associated with this?’

‘They could have killed Leighton just as a way of getting to the apparatus. We know they’ve no care for life.’

‘And they’re keen to get you. They don’t seem to like you being on the case.’

I frowned. ‘But is that just because I might uncover who is behind this, the person who is paying these rogues? Or is it that they fear I might find something out about Greek Fire? Is that
why those books have gone?’

Barak’s eyes widened. ‘You can’t still think it may all be a fraud, surely? Not after what you’ve seen and heard?’

‘There’s something that’s not right. I must go to the Guildhall, find copies of those books.’ I clutched at my head. ‘God’s death, there’s so much to
do.’

‘It beats me what you can hope to find from a lot of old books.’ He sighed. ‘Four possible suspects now. Bealknap and Rich. Marchamount. And Lady Honor. Make sure you question
her tonight.’

‘Of course I will,’ I snapped.

Barak gave his sardonic smile. ‘You’re sweet on her, you’re still a man of juice under all that learning.’

‘You’ve a coarse tongue. Besides, as you pointed out yourself, she’s out of my league.’ I looked at him. He had mentioned seeing a girl on the first night he came to my
house, but beyond that I knew nothing of what women there might have been in his life. Many, I guessed, for all the fears of the French pox these days.

He lay back on the bed.

‘Bealknap and Rich,’ he said again, ‘Marchamount and Lady Honor. One or more of them a murdering rogue. So much for people of rank being honourable, not that I ever believed
it.’

I shrugged. ‘The idea of raising oneself up to gentle rank has always seemed a worthy thing to me. But perhaps that ideal will turn to dust, like Erasmus’s hopes of a Christian
commonwealth. In these whirling days, who knows?’

‘Some things last,’ he said. He smiled. ‘I said I’d show you this, remember?’

‘What?’

Barak sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. There was something gold on the end of a chain, glittering against his broad chest. It wasn’t a cross, it looked more like a little cylinder. He
lifted the chain over his head and proffered it. ‘Take a look.’

I examined the cylinder. The surface had been engraved once but the gold was worn almost smooth with time. ‘It’s been passed down my father’s family for generations,’ he
said. ‘It’s supposed to be to do with the Jewish religion. My father called it a mezzah.’ He shrugged. ‘I like to have it by me, to bring me luck.’

‘The workmanship is fine. It looks very old.’

‘The Jews were kicked out more than two hundred years ago, weren’t they? One of them must have kept it when he converted and passed it down. A reminder of the past.’

I turned it over in my hands. Tiny as it was, the cylinder was hollow, with a slit down one side.

‘Father said they used to put a tiny scroll of parchment in there and put the mezzah by the door.’

I handed it back. ‘It’s remarkable.’

Barak replaced it, buttoned up his shirt and got up. ‘I must be gone,’ he said briskly.

‘And I should get ready. Good luck with the earl.’

As the door shut behind him, I turned to the window and looked out over my parched garden. The clouds were so heavy now that although only it was only late afternoon it was dim as dusk. I
unlocked my chest and began reaching for my best clothes. Somewhere, away over the Thames, a distant rumble of thunder sounded.

L
ADY
H
ONOR
’
S HOUSE WAS
in Blue Lion Street off Bishopsgate. It was a
big old four-storey courtyard house, the front giving directly onto the street. It had been sumptuously refurbished in the recent past. I could see why it was known as the House of Glass; new
diamond-paned windows had been put in along the whole frontage, with the Vaughan family crest in some of the centre panes. I studied it: a rampant lion with sword and shield, the epitome of martial
virtues. There was something feminine about the overall effect, however; I wondered if the work had been done since Lady Honor’s husband died.

The front door was open, with liveried servants standing outside. Although I was dressed in my uncomfortable best, I worried that I would appear an unsophisticated fellow for I was unused to
mixing in such high company. I pulled a little ruff of silk shirt above the collar of my doublet to display the needlework.

I had ridden Chancery to the banquet; the old horse appeared recovered from his recent exertions and trotted along happily enough. A lad took the reins as I dismounted and another servant bowed
me through the front door. He led me through a richly decorated hall into a large inner courtyard. Here too all the rooms had large glass windows, and heraldic beasts had been carved on the walls
as well as the Vaughan crest. There was a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, with just enough water emerging to make a merry, tinkling noise. Opposite, a large banqueting hall occupied the
first floor. Candles flickered behind the open windows, casting ever-changing shadows on the people moving to and fro within, and there was a merry clatter of cutlery. It struck me that if Lady
Honor had been involved in the Greek Fire business, it was certainly not because she needed money.