Revelation

WE WERE NOW coming to where the river turned south to Westminster. On the river the wherries had begun work, white sails bobbing on the grey Thames. A bank of cloud had risen, covering the sun. On our side, the low mudbanks were dotted increasingly with pools of water left by the tide. Ahead, standing in the mud by a small pool, we saw a lonely figure outlined against the sky: an elderly labouring man in a grey smock, a wide leathern hat on his head. As we approached he studied us with narrow, frightened eyes set in a weatherbeaten face. Harsnet stepped down from the path into the mud. It quivered as his boots sank in six inches.

'Careful, sir!' Barak called. 'That mud can suck you in!' We followed him carefully to where the old man stood. The pool beside him was circular, shallow, perhaps twenty feet in diameter.

'How now, Wheelows,' the coroner said. 'Have you been here long?'

The labourer bowed low, wincing as he rose. Trouble with his back, I thought sympathetically. 'Half an hour, sir. I don't like it here. It reminds me. And I keep feeling I'm being watched.' He cast scared eyes over the reedbanks on the other side of the path. It was indeed a dismal spot.

'Well, we won't need to trouble you again after this,' Harsnet said. He indicated in my direction. 'This gentleman is helping my investigation. I want you to tell him exactly what happened when you found Dr Gurney's body.'

A look of irritation crossed Wheelows' face. 'I've told the story so many times—'

'Then tell it once more,' Harsnet said, smiling but firmly.

'It was three weeks back, when the snow was still thick on the ground. I was going to Southwark to work, there's new houses going up along the Croydon Road—'

'Where do you live?' I asked.

'Westminster village. I was coming along the path at first light. The river was frozen but the tide still ran and would seep out under the ice and make tidal pools as usual. I was walking along and something caught my eye. One of the pools was a strange colour. I looked and saw it was red, bright red. I couldn't believe it at first. Then I saw a dark shape floating in it, and I went down to look.'

'Were there footprints?' Barak asked.

'Ay.'

'What were they like? Large, or small?'

'Quite large, I'd say.' He shook his head. 'That red pool, standing out against the white snow, it was like something from a nightmare. It turned my stomach.'

'The pool is much larger than the fountain,' I observed. 'Yet it was stained red.'

'You'd be surprised how little blood it takes to turn water red,' Barak said.

Harsnet looked at him in surprise. 'That is strange knowledge for a law clerk. But of course, you worked for Lord Cromwell.'

'So I did,' Barak answered. I saw old Wheelows narrow his eyes. Cromwell's name could still bring fear, even now.

'So he walked here with the body, dumped it and walked back,' I said.

Wheelows looked frightened. 'I heard there was another one, similar, over at Lincoln's Inn.'

'You must keep your mouth shut about that,' Harsnet said sternly.

'I know I must, master,' Wheelows answered resentfully. 'Or end in Marshalsea Prison. You told me.'

'Then carry on with your story.'

'There was a place beside the pool where all the snow was churned up. There was blood there too,' Wheelows said. Where he cut the doctor's throat, I thought. I looked at the pool. The wind made little ripples on the surface.

'What did you do next?' I asked the old labourer gently.

'I went into the pool, turned the body over. I saw it was a gentleman by his clothes. His face was white as bone, was no blood left in him. I saw what had been done to his throat.'

'What was the expression on his face?'

Wheelows gave me a sharp look. 'No one's asked me that before. But it was strange. He looked peaceful, as if he was asleep.' Dwale, I thought. 'So, what did you do then?'

'I ran to Southwark, to find the coroner. I know that's what you must do if you find a body.' He glanced at Harsnet. 'Then ever since I've had gentlemen questioning me, pressing me to keep it all a secret.'

'There is good reason,' I said.

'So make sure you do as you're told.' Harsnet took a shilling from his pocket and passed it to Wheelows. 'All right, you can go.'

The old man bowed quickly to us, cast a last frightened look over at the marshes, then clambered grunting through the mud to the path. He walked rapidly off towards Westminster. Harsnet watched him go. 'I didn't like locking him up,' he said. 'But we had to scare him to keep him silent.'

I nodded, then stared into the tidal pool. 'It's just like Roger. The doctor was lured to a meeting with someone, drugged, then carried out here. His throat was slit and he was dumped in the pool. People walk along this path every day, more when the river was frozen and the wherries weren't running. If the old man hadn't come on the body early it would have made another—' I hesitated — 'spectacle.'

Harsnet looked down the path. 'But how could he drag the body out here? Dr Gurney wouldn't have met anyone on this path at night, surely.'