'Mourning can become a fetter.' She gave me a direct look. 'When Harcourt died I decided I would not let it bind me. He would not have wanted that.'

I saw we had reached Barge House Stairs. A wherry stood there, waiting for business. 'Shall we cross here?' I asked. 'My horse is down by Three Cranes Wharf, we could return there.'

'Very well. A moment – I must send Paul back with a message or Gabriel Marchamount will think I have been robbed.' She walked over to where her servants and ladies stood, and spoke to the men.

Then I turned and saw Sabine and Avice Wentworth standing on the path in their bright summer dresses, their blue eyes startlingly wide, no doubt from nightshade potion. Their grandmother stood between them, her arms linked with theirs, still in her black mourning dress. The girls stood stock-still, looking at me. Their quality of wary, watchful stillness was unnerving.

'What is it, girls?' the old woman asked sharply. Her face was white and papery in the daylight, more like a skull than ever with those withered eye sockets.

'It is Master Shardlake, Grandam,' Sabine said soothingly.

I bowed quickly. The old woman stood still a moment longer, as though sniffing the air. Then her face set. 'I had hoped to hear your enquiries were done, sir. I still wear mourning for my grandson, as you see. I will not come out of it until justice is done to his murderer.' She spoke calmly, looking straight ahead. Lady Honor returned to my side and looked at the Wentworths enquiringly. One of her servants was trotting back to the bear pit.

'You must excuse me, Goodwife Wentworth,' I said. 'I have a lady present.'

'A lady? You? The crookback lawyer?'

'You are hardly one to mock the deformities of others, woman.' Lady Honor spoke sharply.

Goodwife Wentworth turned her head towards the strange voice. 'My deformities came with age,' she snapped back, 'as they will come to you in time. The lawyer's deformity is one he was born with and such things speak of an evil nature.'

'She should be put in the river for speaking so,' Lady Honor said hotly.

The old beldame smiled. 'On, Sabine,' she said. The girls led her on, heads down, but I caught a smile on the older girl's face. I stood looking after them, breathing heavily.

'Who was that beldame?' Lady Honor asked. 'She has a face from a nightmare.'

'Sir Edwin Wentworth's mother.'

'Ah. And the girls would be his daughters.'

'Yes. Thank you for defending me, but there was no need. People say such things.'

'Because they discern it is the way to hurt you.' She looked genuinely annoyed. Frowning, she picked up her skirts and began descending the steps.

In the boat the attendant ladies, one on either side of Lady Honor, cast curious glances at me from under lowered eyelids. They had seen everything. I avoided their gaze. The tide was going out and there was an unpleasant smell now from the rubbish-strewn mud at the river's edge.

Lady Honor turned to one of her ladies, who was trailing a hand in the water. 'Mind out, Lettice, there's a great turd there.' The girl pulled out her hand with a squeal. Lady Honor shook her head slightly at her foolishness. For all she had said she would like to be free of servants it struck me that to be attended everywhere, all your life, by retainers and servants, must make one feel a sort of earthly divinity. No wonder she had such family pride.

The boat bumped into the mud at Three Cranes Wharf. Lady Honor raised her eyebrows and smiled wryly. 'Well, here we are. I think I shall take the boat on to Queenhithe, then go home.' She paused. 'Visit me again soon. Give me news of how the converse with Lord Cromwell goes.'

'I will, Lady Honor.' She knew I could not leave the mystery that lay between her and the duke, but clearly she was determined to say no more. I stood up awkwardly and bowed. Planks had been set across the mud. I stepped onto them gingerly and crossed to the steps. By the time I grasped the rail at the stairs and could turn safely, the boat was sculling down the river. I shouldered my way through the crowds to the stables.

I felt as though caught in the middle of some dreadful dance between Lady Honor and Cromwell, used by them both. Yet her indignation at the way the Wentworth hag had spoken to me had been genuine. If I could once get out of the toils of secrets and half-truths, I knew there was no one whose company I would rather have. I rode home with a mind sorely unsettled.

AT LAST I REACHED Chancery Lane. As I let myself into my hall, Barak was walking downstairs.

'You're back early,' he said. 'Thank God. I wasn't sure I could keep her much longer.'

'Who?'

He did not answer, but walked back into my parlour. I followed him. There, sitting uneasily on a hard chair, the brand prominent on her square pale cheek, was Madam Neller.

'She's back,' Barak said. 'Bathsheba Green.'

I looked at Madam Neller. She nodded. 'Came back last night with her brother, looking for shelter. Pock-face almost got them two days ago and they had to run from the friends they were with. I've let them stay, they're at Southwark now.' She looked at me fixedly. 'You promised me two more half angels if I brought you the news.'

'You shall have them,' I said.

She fixed me with her hard stare. 'I've persuaded them to talk to you. Convinced them it's the only course. But not at my house. I'm not having you coming down there and making more trouble. I've lost enough business as it is. More than two half-angel's worth,' she added, giving me a meaningful look.

I reached for my purse, but Barak put a hand on my arm.

'Not so fast. Where will Bathsheba meet us then?'

She smiled, that mirthless slash I had seen at the brothel. 'She and her brother will meet you at the house of Michael Gristwood at Wolf's Lane at Queenhithe. It's empty with his wife gone.'

'How do you know that?'

'Bathsheba told me. George Green broke in there a few days ago. Bathsheba kept pestering him to try and get inside the house. There's something in there she believes Michael was killed for.'

'What was it?' I hesitated. 'A piece of paper?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know and don't care. George got into the house through a window, twice, and it was deserted. I don't think he found what he was after.'

I turned to Barak. 'So much for the watchman. He's still there?'

'Ay, Lord Cromwell wanted an eye kept on the place. He will make the man's arse smart for this. Listen, if Green was looking for a piece of paper, that would mean Michael had told Bathsheba about the formula.'

'Yes, it would.'

Madam Neller straightened her red wig. 'They'll meet you there tonight, after dark. They'll be in the house watching. If they see anyone other than you two, they'll be off.'

Barak grunted. 'They're an insolent pair.'

Madam Neller shrugged and looked at me again. I passed her two half angels. She bit the coins and slipped them into her dress.

'Tell them we'll be there,' I said.

She nodded, heaved her stocky form out of the chair and left the room without another word. She left the door to the hall open and I watched as she went to the front door. Joan, who was putting down fresh rushes, gave the brothel keeper a scandalized look as the woman let herself out.

Barak smiled. 'Poor Joan. She doesn't know what to make of all these goings on. You'll lose her if this continues much longer.'

'I'll lose more than her,' I said sourly. 'We both will.'