Dark Fire (61 page)

‘It’s probably all they have left,’ I said. ‘It would barely cover the bottom of that tank. Nowhere near enough to burn a ship.’

‘I know.’ Barak sniffed his finger, held it from him and sniffed again, as though the dreadful stuff were some wonderful perfume. ‘But there’s enough to show the king,
enough for him to give to his alchemists. This could save the earl—’

There was a laugh behind us, loud and triumphant. We froze, then turned slowly. Toky stood there, a broad grin on his ravaged face. Two others were with him, a short stocky fellow with a
straggly beard and a younger man, less rough-looking than the others. Him I had seen somewhere before. All three had swords raised.

‘Drop the weapon, baldy,’ Toky said in his sharp voice. ‘You’re outnumbered.’ Barak hesitated a moment, then let his sword fall to the floor with a clatter.

Toky grinned again. ‘Well, my beauties, we’ve been waiting for you. By God, you’re hard to kill, but we’ve got you now.’ He nodded at his younger confederate.
‘Master Jackson here saw you drinking beer in Potter’s Lane and hurried back to warn us. We padlocked the door so you wouldn’t think we were here, hid round the corner, then came
back once you’d broken in.’ The bright catlike eyes fairly danced with delight. ‘We thought you’d come up here and we guessed what you’d be looking for. You were so
intent on the Dark Fire you never heard us creep across the boards.’

‘Dark Fire,’ I repeated. ‘So you know that old name.’

‘Ay, it’s a better one than Greek Fire, for this is English Fire now and it will bring a mighty darkness to our enemies. And gold to us.’ His smile broadened. I wondered if he
knew Wright was dead – Barak said they had worked together for years. Perhaps he did not care. He laughed, an eager breathy laugh, then nodded at his confederates. ‘
Cadit
quaestio.
The discussion is over. See, I know some lawyers’ Latin.’

‘So I heard. When you were a novice.’

‘You know that, eh? Ay. Before they threw me out for charging the monks to grope me. I was pretty once.’ He smiled. ‘Kill them both,’ he said.

Barak set his jaw. I stepped back, pointing to the jar. ‘This is all you have left, isn’t it?’ I said hurriedly, talking for my life. ‘You don’t know how to make
more – you failed. The barrel from Barty’s was nearly used up in the demonstrations. It was all a trick to disgrace Cromwell. We know that and so does the earl.’

Toky’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then why are you here? Why not a troop of soldiers?’

‘It was only a guess brought us. We didn’t know where the stuff was. But others will follow soon, you’d do best to turn yourself over to the earl’s mercy now.’

‘Oh, shit,’ the bearded man said, but Toky silenced him with a glare. Toky was frowning now, his ebullience gone. He ran a hand over his pockmarked face, eyes glittering between me
and Barak.

‘Do you know who our masters are?’ he asked.

‘Yes; they will be under arrest soon.’ So there was more than one.

‘Name them,’ Toky snapped.

I hesitated. ‘Richard Rich,’ I said.

Toky smiled slowly. ‘Rich. My arse. You don’t know – this is bluff.’

‘Kill them,’ young Jackson said nervously. ‘Get them out of the way while there’s still time.’

‘Not yet, don’t be a fool,’ Toky rasped. ‘Our masters will need to hear how much they know. Fetch them here, they will have to decide what’s to be done.’

‘Both?’ The young man’s accent had some effort at cultivation; the accent of someone who served a rich master. Where had I seen him before?

‘Ay. Tie them up first.’ He nodded at some coils of rope in the corner. ‘Use what we tied the founder with.’

Our hands were grasped roughly and pinned behind us. I felt a damp, greasy rope passed round them. We were manhandled into a corner and shoved down roughly onto the boards.

‘Hurry, Jackson,’ Toky urged.

With a last worried look at us, the young man left the room. I heard his footsteps descending the stairs. Toky sat on the bale of cloth, looking at us thoughtfully. The bearded fellow sat on the
table, bit off a hunk of bread and washed it down with a swig of beer. He smiled at us, yellow teeth like a rat’s dimly visible in the gloom.

‘You’re a scarecrow-looking pair to have caused so much trouble. Ain’t they, Toky?’

Toky grunted; his ebullience had evaporated.

‘Who are you, anyway?’ Barak asked. ‘I know who Toky is, but not you.’

‘Jed Fletcher, out of Essex, at your service. Old friend of Master Toky’s.’ He gave a mocking bow and turned to Toky. ‘Can we have the candle lit? It’s getting
black as night.’ Outside I heard thunder again; the storm could not be far off.

Toky nodded at the vase of Greek Fire. ‘No. You know it’s not safe, not with that stuff here.’

‘Who are they, then,’ I asked, ‘these masters of yours?’

Toky smiled evilly. ‘You’ll know them. You that’s gone dining with the aristocracy.’

I felt suddenly cold. The only aristocrat I knew was Lady Honor. And now I remembered where I had seen the young man who was trying to improve his accent. He had been serving at Lady
Honor’s banquet. I stared at Toky. ‘The House of Glass,’ I whispered.

Toky looked at me through the deepening gloom. ‘You’ll see,’ he said. ‘Have patience.’ He reached for the bread. There was silence for a minute. Then I heard a loud
hissing sound from outside. I could not work out what it was at first, then drips began falling from the ceiling and I realized it was raining. Thunder sounded again, a mighty crack right
overhead.

‘It’s come, then,’ Fletcher said.

‘Ay,’ Toky agreed. ‘God’s bones, it is dark. We’ll have that candle lit after all, but keep it on the far side of the table.’ Fletcher set the candle on a
plate, there was a struggle with a tinderbox and a yellow glow spread over the room. Our captors sat back, waiting.

‘Listen,’ Barak said. ‘You know we work for Lord Cromwell. If we’re killed there’ll be a hunt up for you like you’ve never seen.’

Toky smiled sardonically. ‘Piss the tavern keeper’s son. He’s finished.’

‘If you let us go you’ll be richly rewarded.’

‘Too late for any of that, matey.’ Toky sat looking at Barak, his eyes twin glinting points in the candlelight. ‘I don’t like the way you’ve led me such a
dance,’ he said.

‘More of a dance than you think,’ Barak said. ‘Your mate Wright was killed this morning. Took a dive off the roof of St Paul’s.’

‘What?’ Toky leaned forward.

‘Join us, bully, before you join him.’

‘You’ve killed Sam?’ Toky’s voice was a horrified croak. ‘You’ve killed Sam!’ Fletcher looked at him uneasily. Barak had made a bad mistake. Toky
half-rose, then sat down again.

‘By God,’ he said, ‘I’ll see you two die slowly for this. You’ll learn the tricks I know with my knife—’ The look in his eyes chilled me.

Barak leaned back, brushing against me as he did so. He still stared at Toky, but I felt fingers brushing against my belt and realized he was trying to reach my dagger with his bound hands. They
had not thought I might be carrying a weapon too. Taking care not to look at Barak, I edged slightly towards him. I felt the dagger withdrawn. Toky had put his head in his hands, Wright’s
death had affected him badly. Fletcher was still watching him anxiously.

Barak began sawing at my bonds, then lay still again as Fletcher rose and opened the door. Through the hatchway I could see rain sheeting down from the dark sky, a million tiny waterspouts
dancing on the brown river. He closed the door again and returned to the table. Toky sat up. His face was paler than ever, a white oval, the candlelight making tiny pinpoint shadows in the pits of
his face.

‘Any sign of them?’ His voice was composed, but I could sense the pain and fury behind it.

‘No. It’ll be a hard ride in this weather.’

Toky nodded, then sat looking down at his hands. He seemed not to want to look at us now. Barak recommenced sawing my bonds, slowly and carefully so that his movements should not attract
attention. I bit back a cry as the sharp dagger sliced into my skin, then felt the rope fall away. It was hard not to follow the instinct to pull my chafed hands apart. I flexed my fingers
carefully, then palmed the dagger from Barak and began sawing at his ropes in turn, all the while watching our captors. Toky was still absorbed in his thoughts, and Fletcher passed us only an
occasional glance. He was restless, jumpy.

Then I heard feet on the stairs. Fletcher got up. I stopped sawing at Barak’s bonds – surely I was almost through now? I risked a glance at him, but Barak kept his face impassive as
Fletcher opened the door.

Serjeant Marchamount came in, shaking the water from a heavy coat. He looked down at us. There was a cold brutality I had never seen before in his face, the urbane mask quite fallen away.

‘You did get out of your depth, didn’t you?’

We stared at him open-mouthed. Barak was the first to recover his wits. ‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ he said.

Marchamount smiled. ‘You were getting too close, so I decided I’d better disappear. Just as well we’d kept that founder alive here. Toky and Wright took him to Lincoln’s
Inn orchard and hacked the life out of the fool. Then they put my ring on his finger and took the body away on a cart. That hatch is useful for throwing things into the Thames. You’ll be
leaving that way.’

‘Wright’s dead,’ Toky said with a grim look at me. ‘They threw him off the roof of St Paul’s. I want my revenge with them.’

‘So it’s him they’re all talking about all over the City,’ Marchamount answered casually. He took off his coat, revealing a fine doublet embroidered with little diamonds.
‘People were talking of some plot to kill Cranmer.’ He looked at Toky. ‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘Do what you like with them later. I’ve sent Jackson on, by
the way. We’ll have to wait a little for a full house: this rain is turning the streets into rivers.’ He sat on the edge of the table, folding his plump hands together. He looked
thoughtful. ‘So. Cromwell knows we haven’t been able to make any more Dark Fire, does he? But not our names?’

‘No,’ I said. There was no point in denying that now.

‘Was the alchemy too hard for you?’ Barak asked scoffingly.

For answer Marchamount crossed and struck him savagely across the face. ‘I’m a serjeant, churl, you’ll take a respectful tone when you talk to me.’

Barak stared boldly back at him. ‘That didn’t stop you conjuring up a common fraud. That’s all this is.’

‘No, it is not,’ an aristocratic voice said from the doorway.

M
ARCHAMOUNT AND THE
two villains bowed deeply as the Duke of Norfolk entered, rain falling from his fur-lined coat, young
Jackson following him. I realized he must have been at the banquet as Norfolk’s servant, not Lady Honor’s, and felt relief as well as horror as I understood just how high the plot
reached.

Norfolk threw his coat to Fletcher, then stared at me with that cold haughty look of his. There would be no mercy from him, I knew. He walked over to the bale of cloth. Fletcher hastily rose to
allow him to sit down.

‘Well, Master Shardlake,’ he said, ‘I’ve had a wet trip across the river in the pissing rain thanks to you.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Yet you did well, considering
the forces against you.’ He laughed. ‘More forces than you guessed. I wouldn’t have minded a man like you on my side. But you’ve different loyalties, eh? Now, what does
Cromwell know?’

‘He knows by now that the Gristwoods were unable to make Greek Fire,’ I lied.

‘And how did you discover that?’ His tone was conversational.

‘By going back to how it began.’

‘Ah yes, the monk Kytchyn. I expect he’s squirrelled away in one of Cromwell’s safe houses by now?’

‘Yes, he’s safe. Then I delved into the old sources. I realized there was a missing element that’s needed to make Greek Fire, something that can’t be found in England.
But perhaps you have travelled the same path. Is that why Marchamount took the books from Lincoln’s Inn?’

Marchamount nodded. ‘Ay. And threatened the librarian with the duke’s retribution if he asked any questions. It seems we have been following the same path, Shardlake. I have driven
my mind to aching with those books. But I know we shall never be able to make Greek Fire in England.’

Norfolk nodded. ‘But you didn’t know I was behind the plot, or that Marchamount here was my man?’

‘No, they didn’t.’ Toky said.

‘Let the crookback answer.’

‘No.’

Norfolk nodded slowly. ‘Did you guess what our first plan was?’

‘I think you planned to give Greek Fire to the king yourself, but when Sepultus Gristwood failed to make it you decided to turn it into a fraud to get Cromwell into worse odour with the
king.’

Norfolk gave a bark of laughter. ‘Why’s the crookback not a serjeant, eh, Gabriel? He could outwit you in court any day.’ Marchamount scowled.

‘By God,’ the duke continued, ‘Sepultus Gristwood and his brother angered me. Going to Gabriel and promising they could make Greek Fire, him running to me saying we had the
last nail for Cromwell’s coffin. Then every week they said it would take a little longer, said there was another element they needed to find – it was months before they finally
confessed they’d failed. It was Gabriel’s idea to turn it against Cromwell, he’s a clever fellow after all. And to make sure we dealt through intermediaries to give the story
credence. He’ll have his knighthood when Cromwell’s gone, eh?’ He clapped the serjeant on the shoulder; Marchamount reddened with embarrassment.

‘So, no Greek Fire for the king. You should see him when he is in a rage. It is – spectacular!’ Norfolk threw back his head and gave a bark of laughter. Marchamount and
Fletcher joined in sycophantically, though Toky sat glaring at us, fingering the dagger he had pulled from his belt.

‘Cromwell is tottering,’ the duke said more quietly. ‘This failure will bring him down. Then, when I step into his shoes, after a few months Greek Fire will be mysteriously
found again. His alchemists shall have this vase and I shall be celebrated as the one who rediscovered it.’

‘You can’t make more,’ I said.