Dark Fire

'I wish I'd never let you involve me in that matter!' she said with sudden anger. 'Now I am going to have to rot in Lincolnshire, for good for all I know.'

I must have looked as stricken as I felt, for her face softened. 'I am sorry, I hate all this hurry. There is so much to organize.' She looked at my bandaged wrist. 'What happened there?'

'It is nothing. I am leaving too. For the Midlands.'

She studied my face, then nodded. 'I see. Yes, you must go too. What happened with the Wentworth girl?'

'She is free.' I sighed. 'And I found the answer to Greek Fire, but too late to save Cromwell.'

She raised a hand. 'No, Matthew, you must not tell me any more.'

'Of course, I am sorry. Honor-'

She gave that wry smile of hers. 'Am I not a lady any more?'

'Always. But-' Although I had not planned the words, they came tumbling out. 'We are both going to the Midlands. Perhaps we could ride together as far as Northampton. And we will not be so very far apart. It is summer, the roads will not be too bad. Perhaps we could meet-'

Her face flushed. She was standing three paces away, and I stepped towards her. I should not want for courage now. But she raised her hand.

'No, Matthew,' she said gently. 'No. I am sorry.'

I gave a long, sad sigh. 'My appearance-'

Then she did close the distance between us and took my arm. I looked into her face.

'Is most pleasing to me. And always has been. Your features are as fine as any lord's. I tried to tell you so, that day by the river. But-' She paused, choosing her words carefully. 'Do you remember also I said once that some men, some exceptional men only, were fitted to rise above their class?'

'Class,' I said impatiently. 'What is class? If you want me-'

She shook her head. 'Class is everything. I am a Vaughan. Once I would have been happy to know you, you are one of those fit to be raised up, as my husband was. But not now, given your past loyalties and who the new powers are in the land. And I will not be lowered to your status, Matthew.' She shook her head again.

'Then you did not love me,' I said.

Her smile was sad. 'Love is a child's romantic dream.'

'Is it?'

'Yes, it is. I admired you, I liked you, yes. But my family's place is what matters in the end. If you came from noble lineage, you would understand.' She gave me a last, affectionate look. 'But you don't. Goodbye, Matthew, keep safe.' And then, with a rustle of skirts, she was gone.

***

I RODE OUT OF Cripplegate an hour later. A throng of people was queuing to pass through, some looking fearful. A group of the king's guard was posted there and I was afraid I might be stopped but I was allowed to pass through. I rode away through the dull afternoon, past Shoreditch and the windmills that turn endlessly on Finsbury Green, and did not pause till I reached Hampstead Heath. There I stopped. I rode off the track into the long grass and looked back at the City. I could make out the bulk of the Tower, where Thomas Cromwell lay now, the river flowing past. London looked strangely peaceful from up there, a tableau rather than a city on the edge of panic as old scores were settled among high-born and low. I felt utterly weary. I would have liked to lie down in the grass and sleep. But I could not. I took a deep breath and patted Genesis. 'We've far to go, good horse,' I said, then turned and rode away, fast, to the north.

Epilogue

30 JULY 1540

I walked down from Chancery Lane to the Temple Stairs, looking keenly about me to see what changes might have occurred, for I had been away nearly two months. In truth people were going about their business much as ever, though there were fewer than usual for there were rumours of plague in the eastern suburbs and many lawyers had left the City. And for those who remained there was a double spectacle today, at Tyburn and at Smithfield.

The letter from Barak had come a few days before. It was brief and to the point.

Master Shardlake,

I am back in London: I still have friends in the king's service and have had word that you and I may safely return to the City. Lord Cromwell is to die, but none of his supporters are to suffer unless they misbehave. Wyatt and other friends of his are free; only the most obstinate reformers remain in prison. If you wish to return to London and meet me, I shall be pleased to tell you more. I hope you are recovered now from the assault upon your person you had in that enterprise.

JB