Authors: C. J. Sansom
W
E HAD HAD AN
unsuccessful afternoon, all the more frustrating after Cromwell’s demand for urgency. We had taken a wherry back to Temple Stairs,
then walked up to Chancery Lane.
Leman was waiting there, a little the worse for drink, I saw, and we walked him up to Lincoln’s Inn. Once through the gates he looked round nervously at the imposing buildings and the
black-robed barristers walking by, but perhaps the thought of the money to come gave the red-faced stallholder a measure of courage, for he allowed us to lead him to Bealknap’s chambers.
We climbed the narrow steps to Bealknap’s door only to find it closed, a heavy padlock through the handle. Enquiry of the barrister who occupied the chambers below brought the curt
response that Brother Bealknap had gone out early that morning and that he preferred not to enquire after his doings.
Frustrated, we went across to my own chambers. Godfrey was in the outer office, going over some papers with Skelly. He looked up in surprise as I came in with Barak and Leman in tow. I left them
in the office and went with Godfrey to his room.
‘No problems with your work,’ he told me, ‘but I’m afraid you’ve another case gone. The house conveyance down by Coldharbour.’
‘God’s death, as if I haven’t enough to worry about.’ I ran my hands through my hair. ‘These are all new matters that are going too, new clients.’
Godfrey looked at me seriously. ‘You ought to look into this, Matthew. It seems that someone is putting out bad words about you.’
‘You’re right, but I haven’t time now. I won’t have before next Thursday.’
‘You’ll be free then?’
I smiled wryly. ‘Oh, yes. One way or another.’ I noticed that Godfrey looked tired and felt a twinge of conscience. ‘Are my matters taking up much time?’
‘No, but I had some news this morning. I’m to be fined ten pounds for my insolence to the duke.’
‘That is a heavy load. I’m sorry, Godfrey.’
He looked at me seriously. ‘I may have to take up your offer to loan me money. Though it will do you no good if it gets out you are supporting me.’
I raised a hand. ‘That is the least of my worries at the moment. You shall have it.’
He leaned forward and grasped my hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘Let me know what you need.’
He looked relieved. ‘I must work out how much I can raise myself. So far as I am concerned it is all money spent on God’s work,’ he added piously.
‘Yes.’
‘How goes it with the Wentworth case?’
‘Slowly. Everything goes slowly. Listen, Godfrey, I need to speak to Bealknap, but he’s out. Can you watch for him, tell him I wish to speak to him urgently? Tell him it is the
business we discussed before and I want him to contact me at once.’
‘Ay, all right.’ He looked at me curiously. ‘Is this the other matter you are working on?’
‘It is.’
He nodded at the door. ‘You have acquired some odd work fellows.’
‘Yes, I’d better get back to them. Pox on Bealknap, he’s probably drumming up shady business in the City. That bottled spider has such a reputation his neighbour downstairs
won’t even take messages for him.’
‘He is a worshipper of money, a slave to Mammon.’
‘Him and half of London.’
I went back to the outer office. Leman sat at the window, looking idly at the lawyers’ comings and goings. Barak was standing at Skelly’s desk, listening with interest as the clerk
explained how copying was done.
‘Come, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘Godfrey will let us know when Bealknap arrives.’
‘I should be at my stall,’ Leman said. I agreed to let him go, for I could hardly keep him all day and the Cheapside stalls were near enough to send Simon to fetch him. Barak and I
walked back to my house.
‘You work poor Skelly hard,’ Barak said. ‘He told me he’s been there copying since seven.’
‘It takes him two hours to do what most scribes could do in one,’ I snapped. ‘You don’t know what it’s like employing people. It’s not easy.’
‘No easy life for Skelly, either.’
I did not reply.
‘There’s something I’ve been thinking about,’ he said. ‘If a man steals a sack of apples, and they’re worth more than a shilling, he’s hanged at
Tyburn.’
‘That is the law.’
‘Yet often enough people don’t pay their debts, do they? That arsehole Bealknap for one from what you say. Your fellow Skelly was copying out a writ for debt, which said the debtor
was “scheming fraudulently and craftily to defraud him”.’
‘Those are the standard words on the writ.’
‘Yet even if the debtor is found guilty, shown to be a liar who has taken a man’s money, he will have to pay the money back, but nothing else will happen to him, will it?’
I laughed. ‘God’s death, Barak, is that all you have to worry about?’
‘Turning things over keeps my mind from my worries.’
‘The difference is that in a matter of debt the parties are arguing over a contract, whereas a thief simply takes what is not his. And in a civil court you don’t require the strong
evidence you need to hang a criminal.’
Barak shook his head cynically. ‘We saw what criminal trials are like that day at Newgate. I think the point is more that thieves are poor men while those who make contracts are
rich.’
‘A poor man may make a contract and be cheated as much as a rich one.’
‘And if a poor man is cheated by a rich one, what’s he to do? He can’t afford to go to court.’
‘He can go to Poor Man’s Pleas,’ I said. ‘I agree the poor are disadvantaged in the law. But the law can still bring justice. That is its purpose.’
Barak looked at me askance. ‘You’re a simpler man than I thought if you believe that. But then you’d see things from the viewpoint of a man of means, one who can tilt his cap
at a fine lady of title.’
I sighed. Why was this converse, like every other I had with him, turning into an argument? We had reached my garden, and I stepped through the doorway without another word. Inside I found a
note from Joseph, bemoaning the fact I had no news for him. He reminded me, as though I needed telling, that Elizabeth would be back in front of Forbizer in just a week. I crumpled the note
angrily. I considered asking Barak if he thought it safe to go back down the well tomorrow night, but thought it better to leave that request till later. Pox on the fellow and his moods.
I told Joan to bring us an early supper. Afterwards I walked back up the road to Lincoln’s Inn, but although all the places of business were long shut the padlock was still on
Bealknap’s door. I returned home and told Barak we might as well ride down to the tavern; there was no point in waiting any longer for Bealknap.
T
HE GIANT
’
S BONE
I had set swinging still turned to and fro in the dim light, creaking ominously in its chains. A man
sitting alone at a table eyed it with drunken, puzzled intentness. Barak reappeared and set two mugs of beer before us.
‘The landlord says Master Miller and his friends don’t usually come in before eight.’ He took a long draught of beer, wiping his hand on his sleeve. ‘I’ve been a
bit of an arsehole this afternoon, haven’t I?’ he added unexpectedly.
‘You could say that.’
He shook his head. ‘It was the earl,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘God’s wounds, I’ve never seen him in such a parlous state. We mustn’t repeat a word he
said about the king. Saying he could have no more children – Jesu.’ He looked nervously around, though no one was near.
‘Why in God’s name did he tell us?’
‘To scare us. Make us privy to his own dangerous words.’
I shook my head sadly. ‘I remember the earl when I first knew him ten years ago. He was only Wolsey’s secretary then, but you could sense the power in him. The confidence, the force.
Today he seemed – desperate.’
‘I think he is desperate.’
I leaned close, lowering my voice to a whisper. ‘But Cromwell can’t fall. Half the king’s council are tied to him and London’s a reformist city—’
He shook his head sadly. ‘Londoners are fickle as seed. I should know, I’ve lived here all my life. No one will help the earl if the Howards turn the king against him. Christ alive,
who would dare defy the king?’ He blew out his cheeks, then shook his head. ‘Did you hear Norfolk referring to my Jewish name? He must have a list of the earl’s people.’ He
laughed hollowly. ‘Maybe he’ll put me in the Domus to be converted. They still put the odd shipwrecked Jew in there, I know.’
‘But your family converted hundreds of years ago. You’re as much a member of the Church of England as I am.’
He smiled sardonically. ‘When I was a boy I remember at Easter the priest always gave a sermon about how the Jews crucified Our Lord, how wicked they were. Once I let out an almighty fart;
I’d been holding it in specially and it was a ripper. The priest looked up and all the boys sniggered. My mother gave me a real beating when we got home. She didn’t like my father
talking about how he was descended from Jews.’ His voice took on the bitter note it had whenever he spoke of her. ‘I want another drink.’
‘We may be here some time before these sailors arrive. We should stay sober.’
‘My head can take some more. I need it. God, I’m supposed to see my girl later, but I don’t feel like it. I’ve no taste for women tonight.’
‘She’ll think you’ve tired of her,’ I said. I wondered if Barak was one of those who, finding the conquest of women easy, treat it as a light business and never form a
lasting relationship. It was of a piece with his restless, roving nature.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am.’ He changed the subject. ‘You’ll be seeing your friend Lady Honor again tomorrow.’
‘Yes. At the bear-baiting.’
‘I haven’t been to a baiting for an age. Last time I went to the bull-baiting a great bull tossed one dog so high people in the street saw it above the top of the stadium. It made a
real mess when it landed again.’
‘I was wondering whether we might try Sir Edwin’s well once more tomorrow night,’ I said hesitantly.
He nodded. He looked at the giant’s bone, still swinging slightly. ‘All right. God’s death, that gave me a scare last night. I’d swear it was eyes glinting up at
me.’ He got up and crossed to the hatch where the beer was served. I watched him, frowning. I wondered if it might have been jewellery Barak had seen down the well, the glint of precious
stones in the candlelight. But I feared it was not.
The door opened again and half a dozen big heavy fellows tramped in, sunburnt and tired looking. Their hands and smocks were black with coal dust. I wondered if this was Miller and his friends.
The landlord signalled to them and Barak joined them at the hatch. The men looked suspicious as they crowded round Barak, who was talking fast. I wondered whether to go over, but nods from the men
indicated the conversation had come to a satisfactory conclusion. Barak walked back to me, laying two more mugs of beer on the table.
‘That’s Hal Miller and his mates. They arrived in London at lunchtime and they’ve been unloading coal all afternoon, as you can see from their looks. They didn’t want to
talk to me at first.’
‘They looked quite ugly for a moment.’
‘Ay, but I promised them money and showed them the earl’s seal for good measure. Let them get their beer before we join them.’
The men took their drinks across to a large table in the centre of the room. They looked over at us. Not friendly looks – they seemed worried. But why, if they had wonders to tell, for
sailors like nothing better than tale-telling? I was watchful as I followed Barak over to them. He introduced me as one of Lord Cromwell’s officials and we sat down. The gritty smell of coal
dust made me want to sneeze.
‘Been working hard, bullies?’ Barak asked.
‘All day,’ one said. ‘Coal for the king’s bakeries.’ He had a strange, singsong accent and I realized that like many of the collier men he came from the wild
northern counties.
‘Hard work in this heat,’ I ventured.
‘Ay, and not well rewarded,’ another said, with a meaningful look at Barak, who nodded and slapped the purse at his belt, making the coins jingle.
‘Which one of you is Hal Miller?’ I asked, deciding to bring matters to the point.