Sacrilege (36 page)

Samuel gestured towards the cathedral with his head and I stepped
through the archway. Tom Garth appeared from his cubbyhole to stare at us and even moved forward as if he would speak to me, but I walked on without a word. My thoughts now were all on the purse I had stuffed behind the hay bales in the stable of the Cheker; once I had thanked Harry and found a way to dispatch Samuel to London, my first priority must be to retrieve it. And then what? I rubbed my forehead, catching again the sickening smell of dead flesh still clinging to my fingers. Go after Sykes? Could I find a way to get into his house and find some proof to connect him to the death of Fitch before the assizes?

Samuel and I walked in silence to the door of Harry's house. Perhaps he thought, as I did, that to speak was the surest way to betray oneself. I had no idea how much he guessed I knew about him, but between us there was a wariness and suspicion so pronounced you could almost hear it crackling in the air; I sensed it as if we were two strange dogs circling each other, each waiting for the other to bare its teeth first. He paused with his hand on the latch.

"You should not expect to find him in a good humour, after your antics." He did not even give me the courtesy of looking at me while he spoke.

"My antics, as you call them, consist of no more than being falsely accused by a man who has judged me because my face and voice are unfamiliar to him."

Samuel sniffed.

"Nonetheless, you have cost my master dear. No one asked you to come here," he added, unnecessarily.

I bit my tongue and looked at the ground. Someone did ask me to Canterbury, I wanted to say, and she still has faith in me. Though I feared I was running out of time to justify it.

"I am sorry to have caused him trouble, and I will tell him so," I said. Samuel hesitated, but seemed wrongfooted by my show of humility. He could find nothing to say in response, and instead opened the door.

"By the cross, you are determined to be a thorn in my side, Bruno." Harry heaved himself up from his familiar place in the front room when
I entered. Grey afternoon light fell across his face and his bushy brows cast his eyes into shadow. "You must be parched. Samuel, fetch our guest a jug of beer and some bread."

"Thank you. I will reimburse your expenses--"

He waved a hand, as if this were unimportant.

"Of course you will. That's not my worry. Christ's body, you stink, man--where have you been?"

"I will tell you everything in due course--there is much to tell. But first, with this arrest, it is essential that I get a message to Walsingham--some intervention by his hand may be my only hope at the assizes. And the message must be taken with the utmost urgency." I looked at him expectantly. Slow realisation dawned on the old man's face as his servant came back bearing a tray.

"But--Samuel would be gone for some days." His voice rose a notch and I realised that, for all his gruff show of independence, he was alarmed at the prospect of being left alone.

"Gone where?" Samuel asked, his tone sharp, glancing from me to his master.

"I have no other means to send a message to London," I said, ignoring him and turning to Harry. "In any case, I will be staying here with you. I understand those were the terms on which I was released?"

"You?" Harry looked doubtful. I wondered again how close he was to Samuel and how much he might know of his servant's deceit, but there was no time to worry about that now; I had no choice other than to confide in Harry. There was no one else. "Can you light a stove and cook a meal? Can you lay out my clothes of a morning?"

I smiled in a manner which I hope inspired confidence.

"I can try any task, if you instruct me."

"A philosopher to make my breakfast. There's a fine thing." Harry turned again to Samuel and a look passed between them that I could not read. "Well, I suppose we have no choice. We are all Walsingham's servants, and it appears your recklessness in blundering about this town
with no regard for the sensitivities of position and authority has landed you in a bind that only Master Secretary can get you out of."

I lowered my head and took his reproach without protest; there would be time enough to explain myself to Harry. For now, as I looked at my boots, I fought against a smirk of triumph at the prospect of Samuel's imminent departure.

"I thank you both." Raising my head, I shone the full beam of my most sincere smile at Samuel. "You may be sure Sir Francis will reward you for your trouble."

"Oh, I shall tell him you have promised me so on his behalf," he replied softly, his smile dripping sarcasm.

"I will return to the inn for my belongings and come back with the letter I need Samuel to take," I said. "The dean has asked me to be present at Evensong tonight, Harry, and to accompany you to his table for supper."

Harry grunted.

"Well, it won't do any harm for folks to see you showing a bit of Christian piety," he muttered. "God alone knows what they are saying about you in the town. And what they will say of me for giving you lodging."

"My name will be cleared at the assizes," I said.

"Maybe." He did not sound convinced. "But mud sticks. Come back with your things, then, and make yourself comfortable. Samuel can ready his horse."

"I hope he is a fast horse," I said, with a meaningful look at Samuel to let him know I was in earnest.

"He's the only horse we have, so you'll have to make do," Harry snapped back, and his tone warned me not to overstep the mark. I was fortunate that he was willing to part with Samuel at all.

I wolfed down the bread so quickly that I could not swallow it fast enough and it lodged like a ball in my upper chest; I had to sip at the beer to try and shift it, pain shooting into my dry throat as I doubled over.
Samuel watched me with contempt for a few moments before stalking from the room in silence.

"There is much I need to say to you," I told Harry, when I had recovered enough to speak.

"Take your time. Collect your things, and you and I shall talk," he said. "You may as well bring your horse--there is stabling here and Samuel's will be out. Save you paying at the inn." This time there was a kinder note in his voice. My earlier doubts began to recede and I dared to hope that I might yet be able to confide in Harry and find him ready with some advice. My spell in the gaol and my appearance before the mayor, when I had been so relieved to see the dean and even Samuel, had served to remind me of how alone I was in Canterbury, and how vulnerable. There was no question in my mind that Langworth and Sykes between them had contrived to have me arrested to stop me asking questions. Their plan had been thwarted by Harry's willingness to stand bail and the dean's testimony, and I imagined they would not be pleased by the fact that I was once more abroad in the city. I would have to keep my wits about me; if the process of the law did not serve their purpose in removing me, there was every chance they might decide to bypass it. After all, I had seen what they did to William Fitch, even if I did not yet know which of them had done it.

A
hot wind whipped up the dust in the streets as I made my way through the Buttermarket and on towards the Cheker. Pieces of straw eddied in the air and goodwives clasped their coifs to their heads. After the heavy stillness of the past days the breeze should have been welcome, but it was a sickly wind, humid and pregnant with the promise of a storm. Clouds bore down overhead as if in a basin that threatens to spill over at any moment.

I attracted glances from passersby as I walked but I kept my head down and ignored them, my thoughts once again turning to Sophia. My whole purpose in coming here had been to save her from the taint of murder and now I was faced with the same fate myself. Though I was not yet seriously afraid--I had a quick wit and powerful patrons, which was more than most of those wretches in the gaol could claim--I was nevertheless uncomfortably aware that I was a long way from the protection of Walsingham here, and that local justice was notoriously corrupt. I had no doubt that Samuel would do his best to delay or lose my message altogether, with the aim that I might be convicted before any help could come from Walsingham. My hope lay entirely in the message I had sent to Sidney with the weavers. I knew well enough from my years as a fugitive
that only a fool puts his faith in the fact of his innocence, especially if he is a foreigner.

My heart was heavy as I entered the inn yard. Sophia was just a few streets away, yet it seemed impossible for me to see her until this business was all over, my innocence proved, and the real murderers brought to justice--if such a conclusion was even possible. As an accused man facing trial in a few days, my comings and goings would be noticed around the city; I could not risk visiting the weavers' houses and drawing the people's attention to them by so doing. I cursed quietly under my breath; Sophia was out of reach to me until I had found the killer--or killers--and all the while, I imagined Olivier at her side in that attic room, whispering his reassurances into her ear. Even if I were able to clear her name and my own in the assizes, would she not owe him almost as great a debt of gratitude by now?

The stable hands were busy across the yard and I was able to slip into the stall where my horse stood patiently chewing at his hay, his animal smell all the sharper in the heat, but strangely welcoming and wholesome after the foul stench of human waste I had endured in the gaol. He whickered softly at my approach and I laid my head against his neck for a moment as the full weight of my exhaustion began to seep through my body. My eyes drifted closed; I could have sunk to the floor right there and slept, but I caught the scratch of a broom on the cobbles in the yard and roused myself. I felt behind the straw bale and for an awful moment my stomach lurched as I feared the purse had been taken. But more frantic searching revealed that it had only slipped farther down; perhaps the horse had shifted the bales with its movements. I almost wept with relief as I drew it out and tucked it inside my breeches.

Before I reached the door of the inn, one of the stableboys caught sight of me and rushed inside, so that Marina was already waiting for me on the stairs as I entered. She came forward with her arms outstretched as if to embrace me, but drew back at the last minute at the smell, for which I was grateful.

"I knew they would have made a mistake," she cried, though her face
was still anxious. "I was going to give it until tomorrow morning before I let your room to another."

"That was good of you," I said. "A whole day."

"This isn't an almshouse." She folded her arms and looked me up and down. "I sent a boy with your message to Doctor Robinson--was that how they let you go?"

"It must have been." I smiled then, with genuine gratitude. As I had guessed, the constable would have let me rot until the assizes without ever taking word to Harry. I wondered if he was in Langworth's pay as well. On an impulse, I took her hand between mine and kissed it extravagantly. "I don't know how to thank you."

Marina giggled like a girl and gave me a slow, lewd wink. "I daresay we'll think of something. You'll be wanting to clean up, I suppose?"

"I would like that more than anything."

She nodded. "And the rest of my guests will thank you for it, too. I'll have some hot water fetched up to your room, and fresh towels. Bring those clothes down and I'll give them to the laundress--with luck she can have them drying by this evening. We'll have a storm tonight for sure."

"Thank you. Oh, and--may I have another orange?"

She shook her head indulgently, as if at a demanding child.

"You have not paid me for the last one yet. Go on with you, I'll send it up with the rest. Anyone would think you were a great lord, the way you have me fetching and carrying."

I thanked her, forcing myself to smile patiently, and took the stairs to my room. While I waited for the water, I found a clean sheet of paper and wrote a short note to Walsingham using the cipher I was accustomed to use in my communications with him. The orange would be an extra precaution; there was no way of knowing how proficient Samuel might be with ciphers, so I kept the content of my letter to the facts of my wrongful arrest, in case he should work out how to read it along the way. A serving girl arrived with an orange and a bucket of hot water; when she had gone I squeezed a little of the juice into the candle holder as I had
before, crammed the flesh into my mouth, and along the bottom of the letter, below where I had signed off with the symbol of the planet Jupiter, I wrote, using the juice, "Arrest the bearer of this letter on suspicion of murder." I had no great faith that this note would ever find its way to Walsingham, but it was worth a try. As the ink was drying, I stripped off my filthy clothes and tried as best I could to scrub the filth of the past night and day from my skin.

D
RESSED IN CLEAN
shirt and breeches, damp hair clinging to my face and with a full stomach, I waited in the inn yard while a stableboy saddled my horse and loaded him up with my packs. Marina had feigned great offence that I was leaving, but I soothed her by settling my account with a generous tip and assuring her that I would take my supper there the following day when I came to collect my clean clothes. The wind had risen further and I shielded my eyes against the grit blowing in gusts from the flagstones; above me gulls wheeled and shrieked in a sky that had taken on a lurid, shifting light behind the clouds, such as you find sometimes out at sea. A horse whinnied; I turned and caught sight of a figure skulking at the gate of the yard. He leaned against the gatepost and wore a cap with a peak pulled down low over his eyes; in the shadow of the stable building I could not get a clear look at his face.