I became aware Rich was looking at me. 'Something piqued your interest, Shardlake?'

'Just that I too have antiquarian interests, my lord. I found some old stones at the Ludgate, from an ancient synagogue-'

'We had best get to business, my lord,' Norfolk interrupted rudely. 'It's too hot to be out in the sun all day.'

'Yes, your grace. Well, good morning, Brother Shardlake.' He looked at me, the grey eyes narrowing. 'Don't devil too far into others' business; remember, you might get your fingers burned.' And with that they turned and walked away to the gatehouse. The duke's retainers looked at me curiously as I turned Genesis round and rode away. I found I was sweating, and not just from the heat. What had Norfolk and Rich met to discuss? Sales of monastic property, or plots against Cromwell? Or Greek Fire? Rich's warning, mentioning fire, sounded like a reference to that. But was it?

It was with relief that I turned into Long Lane and rode away to Lady Honor's, my mind running now on opened graves.

Chapter Twenty-seven

THE HOUSE OF GLASS lay quiet and still in the morning heat. A servant in the Vaughan livery answered the door. I asked if I might see Lady Honor on an urgent matter of business and he admitted me, asking me to wait in the hall. Looking through a window into the inner courtyard, I saw the banqueting hall was shuttered against the heat. One of the panes had a family motto under the coat of arms. I bent to look closer. Esse quant videri. To be rather than to seem. To be a truly powerful noble family at the heart of the king's court, as the Howards were and the Vaughans had once been – I wondered what price would Lady Honor pay to achieve that end. In a few hours I would see Cromwell; I had to find out.

The servant reappeared and said Lady Honor would see me. He led me up to a first-floor parlour. Like the rest of the house it was richly decorated, with tapestries on the walls and an abundance of big embroidered cushions on the floors. There was a fine portrait on one wall, an elderly man in Mercers' Company livery. The face above the short white beard had a kindly look despite the formal pose.

Lady Honor sat in a cushioned armchair, dressed in a light blue dress with a square bodice and a square hood, for once free of attendants. She was reading a book that I saw was Tyndale's Obedience of a Christian Man: the book Anne Boleyn had used to help persuade the king to assume the headship of the Church.

Lady Honor stood. 'Ah, Master Shardlake. You will have read Master Tyndale, no doubt.'

I bowed deeply. 'Indeed, my lady. In the days when he was frowned upon.'

Although her tone was friendly, Lady Honor's forehead was drawn in a slight frown even as she smiled. I wondered if she was embarrassed by that sudden kiss two nights before, and afraid I might remind her of it. I felt suddenly conscious of my bent back.

'How do you like Master Tyndale?' I asked.

She shrugged. 'He makes his case well. His interpretation of the biblical passages has some force. Have you read the exchanges between Tyndale and Thomas More? Two great book writers descending to vulgar abuse in refuting each other's views of God.' She shook her head.

'Yes. More would have had Tyndale burned had he not been safe abroad.'

'The Germans burned him in the end. And Tyndale would have burned More if he could. I wonder what God thinks of them all, if he thinks anything.' An angry weariness entered her tone as she placed the book on the table. 'But of course God watches us all, does he not?'

Her slight undertone of sarcasm made me wonder for a moment if Lady Honor might be one of those whose heresy was the most dangerous of all, one that people scarcely dared speak of: those who doubted God's very existence. It was a thought that clawed at the minds of many confronted with the violent religious conflicts of these days; once or twice it had clawed at mine, leaving me feeling as though suspended over a dark chasm.

'Will you sit down?' Lady Honor asked, gesturing to some cushions on the floor. I lowered myself to them gratefully. 'Some wine?'

'Thank you, no, it is rather early.'

She watched as I unhitched my satchel. 'Well,' she said softly, 'what have you brought for me today?'

I hesitated. 'The papers about Greek Fire, my lady. I know nobody else who has seen them, you see. I would welcome your opinion on one or two matters -'

Anger flashed in her eyes, though her tone remained even. 'So you would find out how much I read, how much I understood. I told you two nights ago, enough to make me wish I had kept my curiosity under control and no more.'

'Enough to make you think Greek Fire might be real?'

'Enough to make me fear it might be, given what it could do. Master Shardlake, I have nothing to add. I told you the simple truth.'

I studied her carefully. Two nights ago she had tried to charm me into believing her, today she was hostile and angry at my questions. Was that because she had truly told me all?

'Lady Honor,' I said, choosing my words carefully, 'I have to make a report to Lord Cromwell this afternoon. I have not got as far as I would like in my enquiries, not least because the founder who aided the Gristwoods in their work has disappeared and has probably been killed. Attempts have also been made on my life.'

She took a deep breath. 'Then all who were involved in the matter are in danger?'

'Those who helped the Gristwoods in their work.'

'Am I in danger?' She tried to keep her composure, but a nerve flickered under her eye.

'I do not believe so. So long as you have truly told nobody but me that you looked in those papers.'

'Nobody.' She took a deep breath. 'And the earl? If you tell him I looked in those papers, he may seek to try my testimony with rougher methods than yours.'

'That is partly why I came this morning so I can make the fullest report to him. Lady Honor, the night I came upon you at that bench at Lincoln's Inn I saw you talking to Serjeant Marchamount. You both looked as though you were discussing something serious.'

'Are you spying on me, then?' she asked angrily.

'I came on you accidentally but yes, I paused and hid to find out what I could hear. I confess it. I caught no words though, I only saw your faces. You both looked worried. As you did when you talked together after the banquet. And the serjeant too had custody of those papers.'

I braced myself for anger, but she only sighed and lowered her head, screening it with an upraised hand. 'Jesu,' she said quietly, 'where have I brought myself with my foolish curiosity?'

'Only tell me everything,' I said. 'I would help you with the earl if I could.'

She looked up then, and smiled sadly. 'Yes, I believe so, for all that you are sent after me like a hunter. I see it in your face. You do not like this work, do you?'

'What I like is neither here nor there, Lady Honor. I must ask what you and the serjeant were talking about.'

She got up and went to the buffet, where a fine gold cup was prominent. 'Gabriel Marchamount gave me this, it is a gift. He advises the Mercers' Company, you know; he used to advise my husband and now he is gone Gabriel advises me on the many legal matters I have to deal with.' She took another deep breath. 'He has been, shall we say, attentive.'

'Ah.' I felt myself redden.

'He has indicated more than once that he would like to take my husband's place.'

'I see. He loves you.'

She surprised me with a sudden mocking laugh. 'Loves me? Master Shardlake, surely you have heard of Gabriel's attempts to persuade the College of Heralds to provide him with a coat of arms, though his father was a fishmonger? He can bring no proof of noble birth and is not sufficiently elevated to get the king to intervene with them. His attempts have failed. But he wants more than anything to have a son who one day can say he is of noble birth. He lusts after nobility as a pig lusts after truffles. So now he is looking for another way to get it. He would like to marry into a noble family.'