Revelation

'Oh, I did not wish to refuse. He told me the post meant one more man of faith at court.'

'He works himself to death, Master Shardlake,' Elizabeth said. 'But we must all play our part as God wills.' She smiled, and I wondered if that was an oblique reference to my single state.

'You said you are thinking of starting a hospital for the poor,' Harsnet said.

I was glad of the change of subject. 'Yes, it was Roger Elliard's idea. To take subscriptions from the members of Lincoln's Inn, perhaps from all the Inns of Court, to fund a hospital for the poor and sick. When I have enough time I intend to start work on the matter.'

He nodded agreement. 'That would be a fine thing. Between these four walls, the King has no interest in spending any of the money gained from the monasteries on replacing their hospitals with something better.'

'No,' I agreed. 'Building palaces is all that interests him, and war with France now the Scots are beaten.'

Harsnet nodded in agreement. 'Ay, and all for vainglory.'

'Gregory . . .' his wife said uneasily.

'I know, my love, we must be careful. But to return to the hospital, Serjeant Shardlake. I would like to help you when your project gets going. I still have contacts at Middle Temple. Where would you build it?'

'I confess I have not thought. Though there is no shortage of land in London since the monasteries went down.'

He nodded. 'Somewhere central. That is where they all gather to beg. We see how they suffer every day. And suffering and uneducated as they are, they lie under a great temptation to doubt God's providence and care.'

'They could be taught the Bible in the hospital,' Elizabeth added.

'Yes.' Harsnet nodded thoughtfully. 'After their bodies have been mended.'

We had finished the meal now. Harsnet caught my eye. 'If you will excuse us, my dear,' he said to his wife. 'Serjeant Shardlake and I need to talk. Shall we go to my study, sir?'

I stood up and bowed to Mrs Harsnet. 'Thank you for that excellent repast, madam.'

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. 'I am glad you enjoyed it. Think, sir, if you were to take a good wife for yourself, you could have such a table every night.'

HARSNET LED ME to his study, a small room whose main item of furniture was a paper-strewn desk. On one wall was a large fragment of stained glass enclosed within a frame, a design of red and white roses with golden leaves on a dark background in between. It had a pleasing effect, lightening the room. 'That came from the old nunnery at Bishopsgate,' he said. 'I thought it a pretty design, and there are no idolatrous representations of saints to spoil it.'

'It is pretty indeed. But, sir — what of Lockley?'

His whole neat, erect posture seemed to sag as he sat down, waving me to a chair opposite him. My heart sank as I realized there was more bad news to come.

'He's gone,' Harsnet said bleakly. 'Made a run for it. When my men arrived at the tavern they found the Bunce woman in a great state. Lockley had gone out to make an order at the brewer's three hours before and never come back. She said he'd been on edge ever since you came.'

'Well, that proves he was hiding something.'

He had laid a hand on the table, and he suddenly clenched it into a fist. 'Lockley gone. He could be the killer.'

'I don't think so. I don't think he is clever enough, apart from anything else. No, it's some secret to do with those connected with the abbey infirmaries. Barak speculated that there might have been some sodomites there, but I doubt that too.'

'I would bring Dean Benson into custody here and now, but that is not so easy. I have an appointment with Lord Hertford tomorrow, I will see what he can do. He will not be pleased,' he added.

'We do not have much luck.'

'And the killer does. Perhaps that should not be a surprise. With the devil inside him, everything he does succeeds. He seems invisible, untouchable.' He looked at me with an intense, haunted gaze.

'He failed with Cantrell,' I said. 'Would the devil have allowed that?'

Harsnet stared at me, suddenly stronger and harder again. 'I know you do not believe the killer is possessed, sir. But how else can you explain someone doing such wicked, evil things? For no possible personal gain.'

'He must gain something. In his disordered mind. I think he has an insane compulsion to kill. He would not be the first.'

'Madness? If you are to justify that definition, sir, if it is to be more than just a word, you must tell me in what ways his mind is disordered, how and why he is mad.'

'I cannot,' I admitted. 'I can only tell you that there have been similar cases in the past.'

'When?' he asked, surprised.

I told him about Strodyr and De Rais. When I had finished he spread his hands, gave me a sad smile.

'But surely, sir, those are further examples of possession rather than madness as we know it. Whatever that ex-monk Dr Malton may say.'

'Perhaps there will never be an explanation for such men as these.'