Skelly, who had been standing open-mouthed, nodded and went into my office. A minute later Barak returned, Bealknap beside him. The rogue's eyes were full of fear.

'Is this true? Serjeant Marchamount is murdered? I feared it when I heard-'

'It is, Bealknap, though you'll say nothing, I order you by Lord Cromwell's authority. But I think no one who has any association with Greek Fire is safe any more.'

He waved his hands in angry desperation. 'But I've told you a dozen times, Shardlake, I've had nothing to do with it! It's over the priory matter that Sir Richard's been putting pressure on your cases, it's not about Greek Fire! I had nothing to do with the pestilential stuff beyond being a messenger!' Between fear and anger he was almost dancing; I had him worried now.

'You told Rich nothing about Greek Fire, I hope?'

'And get on the wrong side of the earl? Of course not!'

I handed him the list. 'Here, these are the cases I've lost recently. Can you confirm these are the ones Rich took from me?'

Bealknap ran his eye down the paper, then shook his head. 'I don't know. Sir Richard only told me he was going to damage your trade as a warning, he didn't say which cases he'd take!' He paused, running a hand through his wiry blond hair. 'Listen, if I'm in danger I need protection,' he said fiercely. 'I won't be struck down like Marchamount!'

'Why not?' Barak asked. 'Who'd miss you?'

'Bealknap,' I said quietly, 'I need to see Sir Richard Rich with this list. I need to know which cases he took away. It has a bearing on the other matter. Do you know where he is?'

'He should be at St Paul's at noon to hear Archbishop Cranmer preach. The archbishop is giving the lunchtime sermons this week, as Bishop Sampson's in the Tower. Half the king's council will be there.'

'I'd forgotten. Barak, we'd better go there. I need to show him this list.' I turned to Bealknap. 'Thank you. As for protection, perhaps you should lock yourself in your chambers the next few days with your chest of gold.'

'But – but I've business.'

I shrugged. Bealknap set his jaw, then turned and went out, slamming the door behind him. Through the window we saw him scurrying back to his chambers, glancing nervously around as he went. 'I doubt anyone will be after him,' I said. 'He knows nothing. Like Lady Honor.'

'You're sure he's telling the truth? He really knows nothing about Greek Fire?'

'Oh, yes. He's so scared for his skin he'd have thrown himself on our mercy if he thought he might meet Marchamount's fate. Now come, Barak, we must see Rich and find out whether he put that warehouse on the list.'

'What if he didn't?'

'Then we investigate the place.'

Barak nodded. 'And meet Toky and Wright with surprise on our side for once.'

Chapter Forty-two

AS WE RODE DOWN Fleet Street and into the City I noticed the bank of cloud was spreading, filling the whole western sky.

'Probably the heavens will just tease us with a half-hour's rain like last time,' Barak said.

I remembered the night of the banquet. Returning home to fetch the horses, I had found a short note from Lady Honor – Thank you for your care for my safety. I am always watchful. I had smiled and folded it into my pocket. I sighed, wondering if my idea about the warehouse had anything in it. It had fired Barak up, and me too, but that was only for lack of any other leads.

We rode up Warwick Street, the great Norman cathedral looming above us. I could see little dots moving on the flat roof under the giant wooden spire. Londoners often went for a stroll up there to enjoy the views of the City, and it had been crowded in the hot weather: like the river, the roof was a place to catch a little breeze and escape the City smells.

'Let's hope we get somewhere with Rich,' Barak said. 'Only two days left, my master's enemies circling everywhere.'

'That warehouse was taken out of my hands at the end of May,' I said. 'Just after Cromwell instructed me. The conveyance was almost complete.'

'But who would have known then that you were acting in this?'

'Toky and Wright could have been watching us from the first day we went to the Gristwoods and told their master I had been set on to the matter. Yet-'

'What?'

'As I said yesterday, so many times they've been just ahead of us. As though someone close by was telling them our every move. But who?'

He laughed wryly. 'Joan Woode?'

'Hardly.'

'But who else has been near from the start?' He frowned. 'Only Joseph.'

'About as likely as Joan, I'd say. Even if Joseph wasn't a supporter of Cromwell.'

'And the earl has told nobody but Grey. He's been with the earl longer than Joan has with you. And he's as reformist as they come.'

I nodded. 'Then perhaps I am imagining it after all.' I wiped my brow; the air was distinctly clammy. I turned to Barak. 'I must visit the Wentworths' home today, confront the family with what we found. Will you come with me? I scent danger.'

He nodded. 'Ay. I'll come, if time allows.'

I felt a surge of relief. 'Thank you, Barak,' I said. He nodded gruffly, awkward as ever with praise. 'If we find Rich,' he said, 'you shouldn't let him know you're concerned particularly with the warehouse. He could have added it to his list to keep you clear of the place.'

'I know. That's why I got Skelly to add the names of a couple of cases that haven't been taken away. I'm going to ask Rich which ones he took away and observe how he reacts.'

'He may lie.'

'I know. He's good at dissembling, no lawyer does it better. And he's brutal enough to strike down anyone who gets in his way like a fly.' I bit my lip. It would take boldness to confront Richard Rich, privy councillor and, still, possible murderer.

'And if he satisfies you it wasn't him that took the warehouse out of your hands?'

'Then it was someone else. Either way, we go there today.' And if we found Greek Fire and Barak wanted to take it for Cromwell, I thought, what then? We were directly under the cathedral now, its great bulk shutting out the sky. 'Come,' I said, 'we can leave the horses at that inn.'

We stabled the animals and passed through the gate into St Paul's churchyard. I expected to see a great crowd round St Paul's Cross, where the preachers always stood, but the cobbled yard was deserted save for a few people waiting at the staircase leading to the roof. A couple of flower sellers stood by the door, doing a good trade in nosegays. They at least had done well out of the hot weather.

'Are we too early?' I asked Barak.

'No, it's nearly twelve.'

I accosted a passer-by. 'Pardon me sir, is the archbishop not preaching here this lunchtime?'

The man shook his head. 'He's preaching inside. On account of the hanging this morning.' He nodded to the wall behind me. I turned and saw a temporary gallows had been erected; sometimes people whose crimes had particularly sinful implications were hanged in the churchyard. 'A dirty sodomite,' the man said. 'The archbishop shouldn't be polluted by his presence.' He went to join the queue for the roof. I glanced at the figure hanging from the rope, then quickly looked away again. A young man in a cheap jerkin: no one had come to pull on his legs and he had strangled slowly, his face purple and hideous. He had died in terror. For a moment I felt surrounded by death. I took a deep breath and followed Barak, who was already at the cathedral door.

St Paul's Walk, the huge central nave with its vaulted stone ceilings, was the greatest marvel in London and normally visitors from the country would have been walking to and fro, gazing up in wonder while the cutpurses and bawdy women circled around the pillars waiting for their chance. But today the nave was almost empty. Further up the cathedral, though, a large crowd stood around the pulpit. There, under the brightly coloured painting of the Last Judgement showing death leading the estates of the realm to heaven and hell, which Cromwell had not yet removed, a man in a white cleric's robe and black stole stood preaching. Barak took a chair and stood on it, peering over the heads of the crowd and drawing disapproving glances from those nearest him.