The Hand of Justice

Bartholomew started to laugh. ‘Agatha is cooking fish soup with cabbage this evening.’

‘I know,’ said Michael comfortably. ‘But I do not like cabbage, and Tulyet’s wife keeps a good table. Her Lombard slices are among the best in Cambridge. She says her secret is that she fries them in butter, rather than lard, and that she soaks her almonds overnight in wine.’

‘I see,’ said Bartholomew, not very interested in recipes that had no known medical application. ‘But I am worried about the Commissioners — especially Master Thorpe. I would not like to think of him roasted in the fire with Lavenham and Bernarde.’

They watched the apothecary’s apprentices pick their way through the steaming, hissing rubble, hopping lightly so they did not burn their feet. One stood on an unstable timber, and it started to tilt. Bartholomew tensed, anticipating that he would bring the whole fragile structure down on top of him, but the fellow leapt away with impressive agility, and no harm was done.

‘Where is Lavenham?’ Bartholomew called to him, after a scan of the onlookers who fringed the ruins told him the apothecary was still not among them. ‘And Isobel?’

‘We have not seen them since that meeting started,’ replied the apprentice. He grimaced. ‘You would think they would be here, would you not? Trying to salvage what they can, and not leaving the dirty work to us.’

‘Yes,’ said Bartholomew softly. ‘You would.’

‘What will happen to us now?’ grumbled another lad, lifting a plank to look underneath. ‘How are we supposed to work with the premises gone? Does Lavenham have enough funds invested to buy another house, so we can start again? Or do we have to seek alternative employment?’

‘Let us hope not,’ said Bartholomew soberly.

Bartholomew wanted to go home to Michaelhouse, to wash the smoke and grime from his clothes and hair, but a nagging concern for Master Thorpe, Bernarde and Lavenham kept him on Milne Street and he became one of a small crowd that simply could not bring themselves to leave. He kept anticipating that sooner or later an apprentice would pick up a piece of ‘wood’ that was harder, denser and oilier than the others, and they would then know exactly what had happened to the Commissioners. Michael lost interest and wandered away. He had not been gone long before he returned.

‘Look who I found in St Mary the Great,’ he said, smiling as he indicated a soot-stained Master Thorpe. ‘Giving thanks for his deliverance.’

‘To God,’ said Thorpe firmly. ‘Not to the so-called Hand of Justice.’

‘I am glad to see you,’ said Bartholomew warmly, taking Thorpe’s hand. ‘I was worried you might have been trapped inside when the fire took hold.’

Thorpe smiled his pleasure that he should care. ‘I escaped by climbing through a window on an upper floor and jumping to safety. I shouted to Bernarde and Lavenham to follow, but the smoke was swirling around so thickly that I could not see whether they did. It is a grim business when a son hates his father so. Perhaps I was wrong to disown him when he returned with his King’s Pardon.’

Bartholomew raised his eyebrows. ‘You think your son set the fire?’

‘I saw him with Edward Mortimer, watching Bernarde and me as we entered Lavenham’s shop. Who else would want to harm us? Lavenham has no enemies, and neither does Bernarde.’

‘They do,’ said Bartholomew vehemently. ‘The Mortimer clan, for a start.’

‘And who leads the Mortimer clan these days?’ asked Thorpe archly. ‘It is not Thomas or Constantine. It is Edward. And Edward is my son’s friend.’

‘So, they thought they would strike two birds with one stone,’ mused Michael. ‘A hated father, and two Commissioners who were sure to argue against Mortimer’s Mill. How did the meeting go, or should I not ask?’

‘We had not reached a decision,’ said Thorpe wearily. ‘I wanted to set a date for a formal hearing, but Lavenham and Bernarde said the evidence was so clear cut that further enquiries were unnecessary. They wanted a verdict against Mortimer issued there and then.’

‘This is what happens when you appoint Commissioners who have a vested interest in the outcome,’ said Michael. ‘Any discussion is limited to repeated statements of “fact”.’

‘Since we were unable to agree, I said we should ask the King to appoint new Commissioners. Bernarde and Lavenham opposed that, of course.’

‘And then the fire started?’ asked Bartholomew.

Thorpe nodded. ‘The apprentices and Isobel had been sent away for the afternoon so that they would not disturb us. The blaze was not a result of their carelessness, as Tulyet thinks. There were no workmen around, and there were no potions bubbling in the workshop. Our meeting took place in the solar upstairs, and I am sure the fire started directly below us.’