Revelation

'My costume supplier won't let me have any costumes for my next performance, and a carpenter who was to build the scenery has pulled out. It is a performance of The Castle of Perseverance, at the Lord Mayor's house next Thursday. They are breaching their contracts, is there nothing I can do? Normally I would have gone to Master Elliard, but since his death—'

I told him he could sue, but not in time to save his performance. He could only try persuasion. Master Bartholomew left, gloomy, but less panicked, to try again with his contractors. In the doorway he looked out into the rain that was teeming down again, and raised the hood on his coat. Then he turned to me. 'Is there no progress on finding Master Elliard's killer, sir? I heard the inquest was adjourned for the coroner to investigate.'

'I fear there is no news yet.'

He shook his head. 'Nor ever will be, perhaps. That's what happens if you don't catch a murderer quickly. You never catch them.'

He left. I thought, if he or any of the citizenry knew the true story, what a panic there could be in this anxious city.

NEXT MORNING I rode out early to the Bedlam. I had passed a disturbed night, constantly waking to the sound of the rain, and was in a tired and worried frame of mind as I rode along, Genesis taking careful steps in the muddy streets. Felday's death still preyed on me; if I had not become a focus of the killer's attention he would not have died. But then if he had not been so crooked, he would not have died either. I had had no reply from Harsnet yet, and I had left a message at home saying where I was going.

I had received a brief note that morning from Dorothy. Guy had visited Bealknap, and judged that with care and rest he should recover, though any more purging and bleeding might well kill him. 'Your doctor friend advises he stay here some days, until he is stronger,' Dorothy concluded. Reading between the lines I guessed she would rather he had not.

The sight of the Bedlam gates ahead brought me back to the present. As I rode through the yard, I saw two familiar figures come out. It was Daniel and Minnie Kite, Daniel's large arm round his wife. He looked thoughtful, though Minnie looked more settled. They glanced up as I approached, and I pulled Genesis to a halt.

'Good morning,' I said. 'You have been visiting Adam?'

'Yes, sir,' Daniel said.

'I am meeting Dr Malton here shortly, he is making one of his visits.'

Minnie's face lightened. 'He is a good man. I believe he is helping Adam. He says it will take a long time, but I think my son is somewhat better.'

Daniel nodded. 'Sometimes now he will pay us a little attention.'

Stop praying, just for a short while. And he will eat too. I wonder — I wonder whether he may be able to follow me into my trade after all.' He looked at me almost pleadingly, so I could supply an answer.

'Perhaps one day,' I said noncommittally.

'But I'm not sure it ever was the work Adam wanted.' Minnie looked at me. 'I do wonder if my son is angry with us for some reason. The way he still treats us.'

'If you wait a little, Dr Malton will not be long. You could talk to him.'

They looked at each other dubiously. 'Perhaps we—' Minnie said, but her husband shook his head.

'No, chick. We must go to service. In these days, we must show our support to our preacher.' He looked at me again, and something had closed up in his face.

'How is Reverend Meaphon?' I asked neutrally.

'He is very worried, sir. These are days of persecution.' He looked at me. 'We fear in our church that one of our neighbours, Reverend Yarington, has been arrested. He has not been seen for days. None of his congregation will say what has happened, but Reverend Meaphon is sore distressed. He says Christian folks must stand together against the devil in these days, and he is right.'

'Then I will leave you. Shall I ask Dr Malton to call upon you?'

'Yes, sir,' he said. 'That would be kind.'

They left me. I wondered at how even Minnie seemed to be putting her church before her son now. If Adam had become angry with her in the past, perhaps that was why. Everything was polarizing. Last week a traditionalist priest had been arrested for pricking his ringer and letting drops of blood fall on to the holy wafer in an effort to prove to his congregation that the bread indeed turned into the body and blood of Christ on consecration.

I TIED GENESIS up outside the long, low asylum building and knocked at the door. Keeper Shawms answered; at the sight of me he frowned, then forced his expression into a semblance of a smile. 'Master Shardlake,' he muttered.

'Good day. I am meeting Dr Malton here.'

He stood aside for me to enter. 'He ain't here yet. But Ellen is with Kite. He is getting the best of care.' Shawms' voice was respectful, but there was a nasty look in his eyes.

'Good. The first report to the court is due in a week. I shall want to see it before it is sent. How is Adam?'