'Did you learn what trouble?'

'No, Bathsheba turned close as an oyster. Then Michael stopped coming. Bathsheba thought he'd left her. She went across to Queenhithe to make enquiries and came back here crying and wailing that he was dead. I told her she should get away, go back to Hertford where she came from. But she didn't want to leave her brother. He's a wherryman on the river.'

'They're close?'

'Close as can be. Then three men came to the house. They weren't cunning like you, they just barged in with drawn swords, told the girls to get out and demanded Bathsheba.'

'And one of them was a tall man with the marks of smallpox.'

'Ay. Face as scored as a butcher's block, and another ugly ruffian with him.'

'Do you know who sent them?'

'No.' She crossed herself. 'The devil perhaps, they had killing looks on them. The girls ran. I sent the boy for George, same as I did today. He came back with a dozen of his mates. By the time they arrived they had Bathsheba in her room and the pock-faced one was beating her. But the wherrymen were too many for them and they ran.'

'Did they get any information from Bathsheba?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I ordered her out of the house. If this place gets a reputation for fighting it'll be the end of it. Some of the girls have already left. Bathsheba came back this morning, asking me to take her on again.' She shrugged. 'I'm short of girls, so I let her. More fool me.'

The door opened and Barak came in, breathless. 'They've got away,' he said. 'Run to some rat hole!' He glared at Madam Neller. 'What's the old troll got to say?'

'I'll tell you outside.' I got to my feet. I took out my purse and laid a gold half angel on the table. 'There's two more if you let me know if Bathsheba returns, or if you find where she is. I mean her no harm, mind.'

The beldame grabbed up the coins. 'And there'll be no trouble from Lord Cromwell?'

'Not if you do as I ask. You will find me at Chancery Lane.'

She pocketed the coins. 'Very well,' she said and nodded briefly.

Barak and I left the place and walked rapidly back to the river stairs, watchful for danger though all was quiet. The Thames was still thronged and there were no boats waiting. Barak sat down on the top step and I followed, removing my satchel, which was making my shoulder ache. I told him what the madam had said. 'By the way,' I added, 'thank you for saving my life back there.'

Barak smiled ruefully. 'And to you for saving mine. That knave would have had my brains out. What about that well? D'you want to go there tonight?'

'No, I have to go to Lincoln's Inn to prepare for tomorrow's case. And I want to find some books on Greek Fire too.'

He looked over the river. The sun was getting low, turning the water silver. 'Tomorrow's the first of June. Nine days left then.' He smiled wryly. 'You do need me, you see?'

I sighed heavily and met his gaze. 'Ay.'

Barak laughed.

'There's something you could do for me tonight,' I said. 'Ask round the taverns at Lothbury, see if anyone knows anything about the Wentworth family, any tales. Would you do that?'

'All right. Never say no to an evening's drinking. I can go to the sailors' taverns too; make some enquiries about that Polish drink.'

I looked across at the palace. Liveried servants were scurrying to and fro outside, and a great red carpet was being unrolled. 'It looks like Bishop Gardiner is having visitors. Look, here's a wherry, let's get away.'

Chapter Eighteen

BARAK AND I SUPPED EARLY at Chancery Lane. We talked little, exhausted by our adventure, but ate in a feeling of better fellowship. Barak left the table early to walk back to the City and spend his evening making enquiries round the taverns. With London as brimful of taverns as churches, I guessed that he had probably trawled them before for information on Cromwell's behalf. It could be a dangerous occupation, I thought. Meanwhile I had the Bealknap case to prepare and some books to look for in the library at Lincoln's Inn. I rose reluctantly and donned my robe once more.

Outside the sun was setting, one of those brilliant red sunsets that can follow a hot summer's day. I shaded my eyes as I turned into the road, looking round for any sign of strangers. Chancery Lane was empty as I walked quickly to the Inn, glad to pass under the safety of the gate.

I saw a long blue-painted coach was pulled up in the courtyard, the horses eating placidly from their nosebags while the driver dozed on his seat. A visitor of rank – I hoped it was not Norfolk come again.

There was a soft glow of candlelight from many windows, barristers working late now the law term had started. A hot dusty smell, not unpleasant, rose from the cobblestones and the setting sun gave the brick walls of Gatehouse Court a warm red glow. A group of laughing students passed on their way to some revel in the City, young lusty-gallants in bright slashed doublets.

As I turned towards my chambers, I saw two people sitting on a bench outside the hall and to my surprise recognized Marchamount and Lady Honor. Marchamount was half-leaning over her, speaking, in a low, urgent voice. I could not see Lady Honor's face, but her demeanour looked tense. I sidled behind one of the pillars of the undercroft and watched. After a moment Marchamount rose, bowed and walked rapidly off. His face was set coldly. I hesitated, then walked across to Lady Honor, removed my cap and bowed deeply. She wore a silk gown with wide puffed sleeves and flowers embroidered on the bodice; I felt conscious of the sweaty stubble that covered my face, for I had still not had time to visit the barber. But maybe she would think I was being fashionable and growing a beard.

'My lady, you are visiting the Inn again.'

She looked up at me, brushing a wisp of hair under the stylish French hood she wore. 'Yes. Another consultation with good Serjeant Marchamount.' She smiled softly. 'Sit beside me a moment. You are coming to my banquet tomorrow?'

I took Marchamount's place on the bench, catching the faint tang of some exotic scent she wore. 'I am looking forward to it, Lady Honor.'

She looked around the courtyard. 'This is a peaceful place,' she said. 'My grandfather studied here – oh – seventy years ago. Lord Vaughan of Hartham. He fell at Bosworth.' There was a burst of raucous laughter as another pair of students crossed the yard. Lady Honor smiled. 'I fear he must have been like these young fellows, he came to the Inns to gain some law to help in running his estates, but he was probably more interested in the revels of the City.'

I smiled. 'Some things never change, even in the topsy-turvy world we have now.'

'Oh, they do,' she said with sudden emphasis. 'Nowadays these students will be of mere gentry birth; they will have their fun, but then they will settle down to the business of trying to make a fortune, which is all men care for nowadays.' She frowned suddenly, making sad dimples at the corners of her mouth. 'Even those one has time for may turn out not to be the gentlemen one thought.'

'That is sad.' I realized she probably meant Marchamount. She had not noticed I had seen them together. I felt guilty for my spying.

'Yes, it is.' She smiled again. 'But you, I think, are more than a mere money grubber. You have a look of inner care that does not go with such preoccupations.'

I laughed. 'Perhaps. You see much, Lady Honor.'

'Not always as much as I should.' She was silent a moment. 'I hear a friend of yours gave the Duke of Norfolk some hard words yesterday. He must be very brave or very foolish.'

'How did you hear that?'

She smiled. 'I have my sources.' Probably Marchamount, I thought. She liked to be mysterious, it seemed.

'Perhaps both brave and foolish.'