Dark Fire

Barak led me at a half-run into the maze of alleys round Foster Lane. He stopped at last near the Goldsmiths' Hall, leaning against the wall of a candlemaker's shop where a moon-faced apprentice stood in the doorway calling out, 'Tallow candles, farthing a dozen!' over and again. I collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath.

'Take off your robe,' Barak said. 'They'll be looking for a man in lawyer's garb.'

I pulled it off, bundling it under my arm. Barak straightened his doublet and looked around. The apprentice ignored us, calling his master's wares and occasionally pushing a lock of sweat-soaked hair back from his face.

'Come on,' Barak said. 'There'll be a hue and cry out soon. Bishop Bonner will be furious, a sword fight in the cathedral while the archbishop himself was preaching.'

'It'll be a murder hunt. And I'll be identified – a hunchback lawyer will be easily remembered. They'll be looking for a bald young man too. Here.' I gave him my cap – his own had fallen off during the struggle in the cathedral. He put it on.

'Thanks. I have the earl's seal, but we haven't time to argue with thick-headed constables.'

I wiped my brow. Over the roofs I could see the upper storeys of the Guildhall. Was it really only a fortnight since I had stood there as a respected barrister? Before Joseph came and set me on this dreadful, frantic journey?

'What now?' I asked wearily. 'The warehouse?'

'Ay, we should do it now.' He looked at me. 'God's nails, you're sweating.'

'I'm not used to fighting for my life, Barak. And it is so close.' I looked at the sky. The cloud had covered it completely and was thickening, darkening.

'We'll go by the back ways. Come on.'

I followed him through the lanes, jostling people and animals, squelching through the stinking channels. To reach the river we had to cross Cheapside, and as we crossed to the southern side someone called my name. I spun round, fearing to see a constable, but it was only Jephson, an alderman I knew, striding towards us with an attendant in tow. I bowed hastily.

'Master Shardlake, good morning. I must speak with you.' The expression on his round, clean-shaven face was serious. I cursed inwardly. If he had heard the news from St Paul's he might call the constable or even order passing citizens to arrest us. I did not relish a melee in the street. Already Barak's hand was slipping to his sword.

'I must tell you, sir. The Common Council wishes to thank you-'

'What?'

'For ordering those old stones from Ludgate to be brought to our attention. The Hebrew shows they were indeed from an ancient synagogue. Why, we have no other such examples of Hebrew writing in all London.'

My heart lurched with relief. I swallowed. 'I am glad I have been of service, sir. Now, urgent business awaits-'

'We shall arrange for the stones to be displayed at the Guildhall. The Jews are only a memory, but still these stones are a part of our City's history and should be preserved.'

'Thank you, Master Jephson. But now, you must excuse me-' I bowed quickly and turned into the lanes before he could say more.

'Arsehole,' Barak said as soon as we were out of earshot. 'I'd've liked to knock him down, just to prove I'm no memory.'

'I'm glad you didn't.'

He pointed to where a man was selling small ale from a barrel. 'I'm thirsty.'

I needed a drink too and we each bought a half-pint, quaffing it down from the man's wooden cups. As we drank I looked down the lane leading to the river; I felt for a moment someone was watching, but I could identify no one among the sweating, bustling crowds.

***

SALT WHARF WAS a wide triangular inlet which had been carved into the river bank to allow small boats to unload. There was a street of warehouses running along one side of Queenhithe dock. We walked round the dock, where two sea-going ships were unloading oranges, and began to look for Pelican Warehouse.

It was the last of the buildings, hard by the river and solidly constructed of brick, four storeys high. A faded sign showing a bird with a huge beak hung outside. The windows were well shuttered and barred against thieves and the door was secured with a big padlock. Although people were working in the adjacent buildings, Pelican Warehouse seemed deserted.

We walked to the far end of the building, where its south end dropped directly into the river. I looked down at the brown water. The tide was low, revealing green slime on the bottom of the wall. Peering up, I saw an open hatchway at the first-storey level, with a winch to draw goods from boats below projecting from it. A rope hung from the winch, swinging lightly in the cool breeze from the river.

'No sign of life,' Barak said at my elbow. 'I've knocked but there's no reply. There's a hollow echoing sound, like nothing's stored here. Shall I try and break in?'

I nodded and he produced his little metal tool and bent to pick the lock as he had at the Wentworths' well. I looked uneasily across the dock at the men unloading the boat, but they paid us no attention.