Revelation

'I know. Yet I fear that he will strike again, soon.' I paused, then went on, 'This is affecting me, Guy, not like Harsnet, who thinks we are dealing with a man possessed; nor like Barak, who has never come across the like of this before, and is frightened, thrashing about for an answer. It is the horror of it, it seems to seep into my bones somehow. Oh, I was content before Roger was murdered. Content for the first time in years. And now . . .' I shook my head. 'I think you are right about what he is, Guy; this is some strange and terrible form of madness.' I looked at him. 'You must have suffered mightily all those years ago, to be driven to such a strange and terrible course of study.'

'I did. I told you. And yet all study is worthwhile, observing things and trying to understand their hidden patterns. Medical books alone can become binds and fetters, as can the Bible in the wrong hands.'

'Do you think you understand the pattern of this killer's mind?'

He shook his head. 'No. It is too dark and too strange. With Adam Kite I am hopeful that I will come to understand, but this man — no.'

Again I saw how his thin face was lined with pain. 'You suffer now, too, don't you?'

'We all suffer, Matthew. We have to find our own ways through, with God's help.' He forced a smile. 'I thought young Piers acquitted himself bravely today. He volunteered to come with me, volunteered to go up on that wall with Barak. You see, you had him wrong.'

'I saw him smile as Minnie Kite railed at Shawms. He is not someone you should invest so heavily in.'

'He will learn compassion.'

I did not argue with him then. Yet I doubted what he said was possible. But it also seemed to me then that there was little hope in the world, and a man should not be blamed for clinging on to that which he could find.

Chapter Twenty-one

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time I left the Bedlam. I was exhausted, my arm hurt, and I had not eaten since breakfast. The sun was setting as I arrived home. Barak was waiting for me in the parlour; it was a moment before I remembered he and Tamasin had moved in.

'A message from Harsnet,' he said. 'He's still trying to trace Goddard. He wants us to meet him tomorrow night to report on those two ex-monks. Apparently he's attending the reopening of some church where the steeple fell down. St Agatha's, down by the river.'

'A radical church, no doubt.'

'It is. Someone I worked with under Lord Cromwell used to go there. The vicar is a man called Thomas Yarington. We met him earlier.'

'Did we?'

'He was the white-haired cleric that was with Meaphon. The one who melted into the crowd when Bonner appeared.'

'Oh, him.'

'The note says Sir Thomas Seymour's going to be there too.' He handed it to me. 'Harsnet invites you to dinner as well.'

The note was brief. 'All right,' I said. 'We will go and visit the ex-monks tomorrow, after court. There is a case I must attend myself in the morning, but the afternoon is free, until five, when Roger is buried.'

'Where's the funeral to be?'

'St Bride's. It is to be quiet, only friends and relatives. Samuel will be home now.' I massaged my arm. 'We can see the ex-monk who lives at Westminster first, then ride out to the other one — where is he?'

'Up at the Charterhouse, beyond Smithfield. Lockley, the lay brother.'

'I am going to get something to eat and then I must go to bed. How is Tamasin?'

'She's sleeping too. Her broken tooth has been hurting her. She's going to the tooth-drawer tomorrow.'

'Go up to her. I will see you in the morning.'

I went to the kitchen to get some food. Joan was preparing some pottage, and looked more tired than ever. I had to get her some more help. My stitched and bandaged arm was hidden under my doublet; I did not want to worry her even more than she was already.

'I'll bring you up some cold food, sir,' she said. Looking past her, through the open door to the scullery, I saw Harsnet's man Orr sitting at the table with the kitchen boy Peter. A little book open before them.

'He's teaching Peter to read,' I said.

'Yes, but it's all hot Bible stuff,' Joan answered disapprovingly. 'It'll give the lad nightmares.'

I went up to bed. In my room, I looked through the window. A beautiful spring evening, my lawn a pretty design of crocuses, daffodils beginning to break through. A world away from the turmoil and darkness around me. During the night I had a strange dream of someone whimpering and pulling at my injured arm. When I turned round it was Bealknap, looking weak and wasted. 'You could have helped me,' he said, pleadingly. 'You could have helped me.'

NEXT MORNING Barak and I rode down to Westminster. I felt safer riding, above the crowd and better able to watch it. My arm throbbed, but much less than yesterday. I had to admit Piers had made a good job of his stitching. Barak had been unusually quiet at breakfast, and Tamasin had not made an appearance.