Revelation

There was much I could have asked but I held my tongue. Instead I told Guy about Bealknap. 'He went to Dr Archer complaining of weakness and nausea, and he has been purging and bleeding him so that there is little of him left. I feel he may die.'

Guy looked thoughtful. 'I am afraid he would not be the first patient Archer killed with his treatment. He is the most traditional of traditionalists. Yet I ought not to take another doctor's patient.'

'Bealknap wants a second opinion. He begins to realize Archer is doing him harm. He started with fainting and a bad stomach; I think he is quite ill now.'

'Bealknap. I remember that name. He has done you harm in the past, has he not?'

'Yes. He is the greatest rogue in Lincoln's Inn. In fact, I will pay your fee, otherwise you will have to battle for it. I imagine he is making Archer wait for his money.'

'You would help an enemy?'

I smiled. 'Then he will owe me a moral debt. I would like to see how he deals with that. Do not think my motives are of unalloyed purity.'

'Whose are?' He looked sad, then smiled at me. 'I think also you do not like to see suffering.'

'Perhaps.'

The smile faded from my face as the door opened and Piers entered, neat in his blue apprentice's robe, the usual bland respectful expression on his handsome face. Guy stood and touched his arm.

'Piers. Your patient is here. Take him through to the other room, would you?'

Piers bowed. 'Good morning, Master Shardlake.'

I rose reluctantly and followed him out. I had hoped Guy might come to supervise, but he stayed with his book. In the treatment room, with its shelves lined with more apothecary's jars, its long table and its racks of fearsome-looking instruments, Piers smiled and gestured to a stool beside the table. 'Would you bare your arm, sir, then sit there?'

I rolled up my shirtsleeve again. Piers turned and looked over Guy's instruments. I stared at his broad, blue-robed back. When Guy had praised him just now I had seen a haunted look in his eyes, almost as though he were trying to console himself with the boy's skill. But what was he hiding?

Piers selected a small pair of scissors, opened and closed them experimentally, then turned to me with a deferential smile, though I thought I saw cold amusement in his eyes. I watched apprehensively as he bent and snipped the black stitches. He did it gently, though, then took a pair of tweezers and slowly pulled out the broken threads. I sighed with relief when it was over, the constant pulling sensation of the last few days gone. Piers looked at my arm.

'There. All is healed. It is wonderful how Dr Malton's poultices prevent wounds from becoming infected.'

'Yes, it is.'

'There will be a scar of course, it was a nasty gash.'

'You are learning a lot from Dr Malton?'

'Far more than from my old master.' Piers smiled. 'He was one of those apothecaries who believed in exotic herbs prepared in consultation with astrological charts.'

'A traditionalist?'

'If I might dare to say it, sir, I think he was not quite honest. He had the dried-up body of some strange, large lizard with a long tail in his shop. He would cut bits off, powder them up and get people to take the powder. Because the lizard was so strange, patients thought it had some great power.' He gave a cynical smile that made him look older than his years. 'People always believe in the power of the strange and unfamiliar. It is good to be working with Dr Malton now. An honest man, a man of reason.'

'Your old master died, I believe.'

'Yes.' Piers fetched down one of the jars. He opened it, and I caught the sickly smell of the ointment Guy had used before. Piers put some on the end of a spatula and touched it to my arm, spreading it gently. 'It was the smallpox killed him. The strange thing was, he did not dose himself with any of his own remedies. I think he did not believe in them himself. He simply took to his bed and waited to see if the pox would kill him. Which it did. There, that is done, sir.'

I found Piers' even, unemotional tone in talking of his master's death distasteful.

'Had he family?'

'No. There was just him and me. Dr Malton came and did what he could for him, but the smallpox takes its own path, does it not? Sometimes it kills, sometimes it disfigures. My parents died of it when I was small.'

'I am sorry.'

'Dr Malton has been father and mother to me to since I came here.'

'He said he is going to help you train to become a physician.'

Piers looked up sharply, perhaps wondering why I was asking taking such an interest. He knew I did not like him.

'Yes.' He hesitated, then said, 'I do appreciate all the kindness he has shown me.'

'Yes, his kindness is of a rare sort.' I stood up. 'Thank you for seeing to my arm.'

Piers bowed. 'I am glad it is better.'