Revelation

'There is no reason you should. It is a liquid compound of opium and certain other elements, such as vinegar and pig's bile, which induces unconsciousness. Depending on how much is used it can bring relaxation, unconsciousness — or death. It has been used on and off for hundreds of years to render people unconscious before surgery.'

'Then why have I never heard of it? That would save terrible pain.'

He shook his head. 'There is a severe problem with it. The correct dose is very hard to determine, very hard indeed. It depends on many factors: the age of the ingredients, the size and age and health of the patient. It is very easy to give the patient too much and then the physician is left with a corpse. For that reason very few use it now. But I think Master Elliard's killer did.'

'Why?'

'Let me show you something.' He left the room, returning a moment later. I feared what dreadful thing he might return with, but it was only one of Roger's boots. He laid it across his knee and brought the candle to it, illuminating a large dark stain.

'This boot was dry, it must have been on the leg that was sticking out of the water. When I saw that stain I smelt it, then put my finger to it and tasted. The taste of dwale is quite distinctive.' He looked at me. 'The first stage after it is taken is nearly always a sense of euphoria, then unconsciousness. That explains your poor friend's peaceful look.'

'You said it is out of use now. So who would use it?'

'Very few physicians or surgeons, because of the risks. Some of the unlicensed healers.' He hesitated. 'And there was a tradition of its use in certain monasteries.'

There was a moment's silence. Then I said, 'You used it, didn't you?'

He nodded slowly. 'Only when I thought the shock of severe surgery might kill a patient. And I have a long skill in determining dosages. But though it is not used now, the formula is well known among practitioners. It is no secret.'

'But needs great skill to administer.'

He nodded. 'The killer would not have wanted to give Roger a fatal dose. He meant to make that terrible display in the fountain. Drugged him so he would not wake even when his throat was cut.'

'Did the body tell you anything else?'

'No. The organs were otherwise all healthy. They might have been those of a younger man.'

'You make it sound very impersonal, Guy.'

'I have to be impersonal, Matthew. How else would I cope with the things I see?'

'I cannot be impersonal. Not with this.'

'Then perhaps it should be left to others to investigate.'

'I have given Dorothy a promise. I am committed.'

'Very well.' For a moment Guy's face took on that tired, strained look I had seen when I brought Roger to see him. 'There was one thing, a lump on the back of his head. I think whoever your friend went to meet that night knocked him out. When he came round he was forced — somehow — to drink dwale. He passed out, and the killer brought him to Lincoln's Inn.'

'Across the fields and through the orchard door.' I told him about the footprints Barak had followed. 'Roger was a small man, but this brute must still be very strong.'

'And determined. And vicious.'

I shook my head. 'And an educated man. From what you say he has knowledge of the medical profession and perhaps the legal world too, if he could fake a letter from a solicitor well enough to take Roger in, which it seems likely he did. But why? Why kill a man who has harmed no one, and leave that terrible spectacle?'

'He had no enemies?'

'None.' I looked at Roger's boot again, and suddenly it was all too much. My stomach lurched violently. 'Your privy, Guy—' I gasped.

'You know the way.'

I went to the privy at the rear of the house, the usual wooden shack over a cesspit, yet less noisome than most, something scented in the air to minimize the stinks. There I was violently sick. As I walked back to the house I felt weak, my legs shaking.

Low voices came from the consulting room. The door was open and I saw Guy and the boy Piers sitting close together at the table. They had brought the candle over and were looking, rapt, at an open book. I recognized Vesalius' horribly illustrated anatomy book. Piers brushed a lick of dark hair from his face and pointed to the drawing. 'See,' he said eagerly. 'That illustration is just like Elliard's heart.' Piers broke off suddenly, his face reddening, as he saw me. 'Master Shardlake! I — I did not know you were still here. I brought in the book—'

'I saw,' I said curtly. 'Poor Roger. I wonder what he would have thought if he knew the intimate details of his body would become chatter for apprentices. Well, perhaps he would have been amused, though I cannot say I am.' I looked with distaste at the picture, a human abdomen torn open, all the organs exposed.

''Tis only to gain better knowledge, sir,' Piers mumbled. I gave him a cold look, thinking Guy gave him far too much latitude.

'No, Piers, it was my fault.' Guy for once looked discomfited.

'You will be giving evidence at the inquest tomorrow morning?' I asked him.

'Yes. Of course.'