'I'm off,' Barak said.

'Are you fit enough?'

'Ay.'

He stared at me with those keen dark eyes, then reached out and shook my hand. To my surprise his eyes were moist. 'We gave them a good run, eh?' he said. 'We did all we could?'

I returned his grip. 'Yes. We did. Thank you, Barak, for everything.'

He nodded, then turned and walked rapidly away across the yard, pulling his cap down low. The messenger had disappeared into the chapel. I felt alone, unprotected. I sat down again.

'Are you truly in danger, Master Shardlake?' Joseph asked quietly.

'I could be. I shall leave now, go home and pack some things, then ride out. There is just one visit I have to make before I go.' I shook his hand. 'Go, Joseph, now. Take Elizabeth and your brother to Essex.'

He shook my hand firmly. 'Thank you, sir, for everything. I shall never forget what you have done.'

I nodded. I could think of no words.

'If anyone asks, I'll say I don't know where you've gone.'

'That would be best. Thank you, Joseph.'

A bell began ringing through the misty morning, calling the members of the Inn to hear the news. A puzzled throng of lawyers appeared, crossing to the chapel. I saw Bealknap darting among them, announcing the news, his face flushed with pleasure at knowing before everyone else. I stood a moment, gathering all the reserves of strength I had left, then went back to my chambers.

I LEFT SKELLY SOME money and instructions to refer Godfrey's and my cases to barristers I trusted with the work. I told him I did not know how long I would be away. Then I slipped out while everyone was in the chapel and walked quickly home. Joan was out; she had taken Simon with her on some errand. The house was still and empty in the quiet morning. I was glad I did not have to explain this latest disruption to her.

I took some money from the store in my room, leaving the rest for her with a note. Then I went out to the stable. Barak's mare Sukey was already gone, but Genesis was standing quietly in his stall. I patted him. 'Well, I think we may be stuck with each other. Lord Cromwell will not be wanting you back.'

And then, quite suddenly, it all overwhelmed me. I thought of my first meeting with Cromwell, at a dinner for reformers more than fifteen years before. I remembered his keenness for reform, his powerful mind, the forcefulness and energy that had held me in thrall. Then the years of power, his patronage of my work and afterwards my disillusion with his ruthlessness and brutality. My break with him three years before and now my failure to save him at the end. Perhaps no one could have saved him after the Cleves debacle, but I laid my head against the horse's flank and wept for him. I thought of that great man of power, now locked in the Tower, where he had sent so many of his foes.

'I am sorry,' I said aloud. 'I am sorry.'

I must leave, I told myself, I must pull myself together. I dried my face as best I could on my sleeve, then rode out into the City. I had one more thing to do.

AS JOSEPH HAD SAID, people everywhere were discussing Cromwell's fall. Looking at their faces, the expression I saw most frequently was fear. For all his brutality, Cromwell had provided stability in uncertain times. And London was a reformist city: if there was to be anything like a return to the old religion it would be unpopular here. I heard someone say, 'The king is to marry Catherine Howard!' and whirled round, but it was only some apprentice shooting his mouth off, he could not know anything. A silent crowd watched as a clergyman, a reformer no doubt, was manhandled down the steps of his church by a squad of the king's guard. I turned quickly away. I realized that, having once been ardent for reform, I had always taken it for granted that London was a safe place for me, even after my enthusiasm evaporated. Now I felt suddenly vulnerable. I realized how Guy must feel most of the time in this city.

I found a hubbub outside the House of Glass. A black carriage with four horses in the shafts was pulled up at the door and servants were piling it high with trunks and boxes. I dismounted and asked one of them whether Lady Honor was indoors.

'Who should I say – hey, you can't just go in!' But I had, tying Genesis to the rail and stepping inside, dodging a lady attendant struggling with an armful of voluminous silk dresses. I ran upstairs to the parlour.

Lady Honor stood before the fireplace, checking items from a long list as a pair of servants manhandled another box out of the door. She wore a light dress such as might be used for travelling in summer.

'Lady Honor,' I said quietly.

She looked taken aback for a moment, then reddened.

'Matthew. I did not expect-'

'You are leaving?'

'Yes, for the country, today. Have you not heard-'

'I know. Lord Cromwell has fallen.'

'One of my friends at court has sent word the duke is displeased about my part in helping him over the Greek Fire business. And helping you,' she added with sudden asperity.

'You have done nothing-'

She laughed bitterly. 'Come, Matthew, we know better than that. When did anyone need to do something to be in danger? Several of my dinner guests have been arrested, and my friend says it might be a good thing for me to disappear for a while, go to my estates until the new dispensation is clearer.'

'So Norfolk's in the saddle.'

'The Cleves divorce and the Howard marriage are likely to be announced in the next few days.'

'My God.'

'I wish I'd never let you involve me in that matter!' she said with sudden anger. 'Now I am going to have to rot in Lincolnshire, for good for all I know.'

I must have looked as stricken as I felt, for her face softened. 'I am sorry, I hate all this hurry. There is so much to organize.' She looked at my bandaged wrist. 'What happened there?'

'It is nothing. I am leaving too. For the Midlands.'

She studied my face, then nodded. 'I see. Yes, you must go too. What happened with the Wentworth girl?'

'She is free.' I sighed. 'And I found the answer to Greek Fire, but too late to save Cromwell.'

She raised a hand. 'No, Matthew, you must not tell me any more.'

'Of course, I am sorry. Honor-'

She gave that wry smile of hers. 'Am I not a lady any more?'

'Always. But-' Although I had not planned the words, they came tumbling out. 'We are both going to the Midlands. Perhaps we could ride together as far as Northampton. And we will not be so very far apart. It is summer, the roads will not be too bad. Perhaps we could meet-'

Her face flushed. She was standing three paces away, and I stepped towards her. I should not want for courage now. But she raised her hand.

'No, Matthew,' she said gently. 'No. I am sorry.'

I gave a long, sad sigh. 'My appearance-'

Then she did close the distance between us and took my arm. I looked into her face.

'Is most pleasing to me. And always has been. Your features are as fine as any lord's. I tried to tell you so, that day by the river. But-' She paused, choosing her words carefully. 'Do you remember also I said once that some men, some exceptional men only, were fitted to rise above their class?'

'Class,' I said impatiently. 'What is class? If you want me-'

She shook her head. 'Class is everything. I am a Vaughan. Once I would have been happy to know you, you are one of those fit to be raised up, as my husband was. But not now, given your past loyalties and who the new powers are in the land. And I will not be lowered to your status, Matthew.' She shook her head again.

'Then you did not love me,' I said.