Revelation

Finch smiled at us. 'When the steeple collapsed two years ago it was a tragedy, it ruined the interior as well as the roof. We had to redecorate entirely. But sometimes the Lord brings opportunity through misfortune. We got rid of all the statues and other idols, emptied the side-chapels, replaced two broken windows with plain glass.' He smiled happily. 'This is how God means his house of worship to be, not stuffed with gold and incense. I would like to take the rood screen down, though that would get us into trouble. I would show you inside, but Reverend Yarington has the key. He isn't here yet.'

'I see.' I thought of the families killed in the collapse.

Finch winked at me. 'And if Bonner's men say it is too like a Lutheran church we may always say that we could not raise enough money to redecorate. The servants of the Lord must be as wise as serpents, as the book says.'

I looked around at the people in the churchyard. I guessed this had been a reformers' church for some time. These were the sort of folk who attended Meaphon's church, where the Kites went. There were merchants and guildsmen, and a smattering of people from the labouring classes who stood against the wall, looking uncomfortable. There were several clerics there; I saw Meaphon himself, talking earnestly to another merchant. He caught my eye, nodded briefly and looked away. I guessed he was uncomfortable at the way he had backed down before Bishop Bonner the day before. I wondered if the serpent's wisdom of these people would save them from Bonner when he moved against them. I recalled his squat, powerful form confronting me under London Wall, and suppressed a shudder.

Sir Thomas Seymour and Lord Hertford were standing with Harsnet, near the roasting boar, Harsnet talking earnestly to Lord Hertford. Sir Thomas was studying the company with a bored look. He raised his eyebrows when he saw us, and nudged his brother. 'Here's the crookback,' he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

'Master Shardlake.' Lord Hertford nodded to us as we approached. 'And this must be Jack Barak.'

'Yes, my lord.' Barak bowed.

'I remember my poor friend Thomas Cromwell speaking highly of you,' he said, a sad note in his voice. Hertford and his brother were dressed in their best, Lord Hertford in a crimson doublet under a dark cloak with a gold chain round his neck, Thomas in a yellow doublet with slashed sleeves showing a green lining, and a black cap with a bright emerald brooch pinned to it.

'Any news, Shardlake?' Harsnet asked.

I told him of my interviews with Cantrell and Lockley, my feeling Lockley was hiding something. He nodded.

'We'll talk to him again. And Dean Benson.' He gave me one of his stares. 'It looks like Goddard is our man, doesn't it?'

'It is too early to say, I think.'

'Yes, perhaps. I have been unable to find any trace of Goddard's family as yet. I am making enquiries among the guilds, and those who own land around the city.'

'But he was a monk for years,' Sir Thomas said. 'If his family are from near London they should be easy to find.'

'His family may have come here from somewhere else while he was a monk,' Lord Hertford said. 'Many people of wealth gravitate here, especially if they have a relative in London already, to increase their fortune. Or lose it,' he added. 'How is your arm, Serjeant Shardlake? Coroner Harsnet told me you were attacked.' He looked at Barak. 'And your wife, too?'

'Yes, my lord,' Barak answered. 'She got away with some bruises and a broken tooth.'

Sir Thomas clapped Barak on the shoulder. 'I would not have taken you as a married man, I thought you another young roisterer.'

'Not any more, Sir Thomas.'

'This affair could not have come at a worse time,' Lord Hertford said. 'Those butchers are still being questioned about Lent breaches. But they won't give Bishop Bonner any names, brave men.'

'I think this man is possessed,' Harsnet said.

'Whatever he is,' Hertford said, 'we must catch him.'

A serving man appeared at our side, offering us platters of roast pig. I looked over to the cooking fire. The pig was cooked through now and the serving men, wiping their brows, stepped away from the fire which still burned merrily, throwing up bright yellow sparks as the boar fat sizzled. Dusk was falling rapidly; beyond the houses to the south, the Thames shone a white colour now as the sun fell to the horizon.

'I can smell bad fish somewhere,' Barak said.

'So can I. It must be coming from the river.' And indeed the smell of roast meat was now unpleasantly mingled with a salty, fishy smell.

'Where is Reverend Yarington?' someone asked. 'He should be here by now.'

I winced as Sir Thomas grasped me by my bad arm. 'Harsnet says one of those ex-monks you saw lives on Charterhouse Square.'

'The lay brother, Lockley, yes. In a tavern there.'

He frowned. 'I know those houses and taverns built round the sides of the old precinct. The largest house there is where Lady Catherine Parr lives. I have visited her there.'