Dark Fire

The clerk gestured impatiently at a paper. 'It's not mentioned in the surrender deed. Why d'you want it anyway? If you ex-nuns are still meeting together for papist services, that's against the law.'

I led Barak on past a little group of well-dressed men poring over a ground plan which showed the familiar shape of a monastic church and cloisters. 'It's not worth a thousand if we've to bring the building down,' one was saying.

We came to a counter marked 'Pensions'. There was nobody there. I rang a little bell and an elderly clerk appeared from behind a door, looking cross to be disturbed. I told him we wished to trace the address of a former monk. The man began to say that he was busy, we should call back later, but Barak delved in his doublet and produced a seal with Cromwell's coat of arms. He slapped it on the table. The clerk looked at it and at once became servile.

'I'll do anything I can, of course. To help the earl-'

'I'm looking for one Bernard Kytchyn,' I said. 'Former librarian at St Bartholomew's Priory, Smithfield.'

The clerk smiled. 'Ah yes, Barty's – that'll be easy. He'll collect his pension from here.' He opened a drawer and, producing a massive ledger, began leafing through it. After a minute he stabbed at an entry with an inky finger.

'There it is, sirs. Bernard Kytchyn, six pounds and two marks a year. He's listed as chantry priest at St Andrew's Church, Moorgate. It's a wicked scandal, sir, the chantries being allowed to stay open, priests still mumming Latin prayers for the dead day after day. They should bring the chantries down too.' He smiled at us brightly; as we were Cromwell's men he would expect us to agree. I only grunted, however, and turned the ledger round to check the entry.

'Barak,' I said, 'when I go back to Chancery Lane, I suggest you go and find Kytchyn, tell him-'

I broke off, as the door behind the clerk opened. To my astonishment Stephen Bealknap stepped out, a frown on his thin face. 'Master clerk, we had not finished. Sir Richard Rich requires-' He broke off in turn as he saw me. He looked surprised, his eyes meeting mine for a second before angling away.

'Brother Shardlake-'

'Bealknap, I did not know you had an interest in Augmentations pensions.'

He smiled. 'I don't usually. But there… there is a corrodian, a pensioner with right of residence, attached to my property at Moorgate. It seems I have taken on responsibility for him too. An interesting legal problem, is it not?'

'Yes.' I turned to the clerk. 'We are finished now. Well, Brother, I shall see you the day after tomorrow.' I bowed to Bealknap. The clerk replaced his book and ushered Bealknap back to his room. The door closed behind them.

I frowned. 'Corrodies are attached to monasteries, not friaries. What's he really doing here?'

'He mentioned Rich.'

'Yes.' I hesitated. 'Could Cromwell have the clerk questioned?'

'That would be difficult, it would mean Sir Richard Rich would get to hear of it.' Barak ran a hand through his thatch of brown hair. 'I've seen that pinch-faced old arsehole before somewhere.'

'Bealknap? Where?'

'I'll have to think. It was a long time ago, but I swear I know him.'

'We must go,' I said. 'Joseph will be waiting for me.'

I had arranged for Simon to bring Chancery and Sukey down to Westminster so that we could ride back from Westminster to Chancery Lane, and he was waiting by one of the buttresses by the east wall, sitting on Chancery's broad back and swinging his newly shod feet. We mounted, leaving him to walk back at his own pace, and set off.

As we passed Charing Cross, I noticed a well-dressed woman on a fine gelding, her face covered from the sun by a vizard. She was attended by three mounted retainers, with two ladies walking behind carrying posies and looking hot. The woman's horse had stopped to piss and the party was waiting till it had finished. As we passed she turned and stared at me. Her vizard, framed by an expensive hood, was a striped cloth mask with eyeholes and the blank, masked stare was oddly disconcerting. Then she lifted the mask and smiled and I recognized Lady Honor. She looked quite cool, though the mask must have been stifling and women's corsetry is an unkind thing in hot weather. She raised a hand in greeting.

'Master Shardlake! We are met again.'

I reined Chancery in. 'Lady Honor. Another hot day.'

'Is it not?' she replied feelingly. 'I am pleased to have met with you. Will you come and dine with me next Tuesday?'

'I should be delighted,' I said.

I was conscious of Barak at my side, his eyes cast down as befitted a servant.

'The House of Glass in Blue Lion Street, anyone will tell you. Be there at five. It's a sugar banquet only, it won't go on late. There will be interesting company.'

'I shall look forward to it.'

'By the way, I hear you are representing Edwin Wentworth's niece.'

I smiled wryly. 'It seems all London knows, my lady.'

'I've met him at Mercers' Company dinners. Not as clever as he thinks he is, though good at making money.'

'Really?'