What makes you think someone took him? I asked.
She shrugged, helpless.
I dont know Another boy was found dead not long before. On a rubbish heap. Cut in pieces.
I had heard. But there is no reason to suppose they are connected, is there?
The worst is not knowing. It makes you imagine She rubbed brusquely at her cheek with the sleeve of her dress. But it does no good to dwell on it. Let me find Olivier.
Olivier, when he arrived, seemed irritated to see me again, but he reluctantly agreed to pass on my letter to one of the weavers who would be leaving for London the following day. I handed him some coins for the mans trouble and told him the message must be carried urgently to Sir Philip Sidney at Barn Elms, assuring him that the letter was a request for more resources that would allow us to leave Canterbury all the sooner. I asked after Sophia, and he told me curtly that she was sleeping.
You cant keep coming to this house, he said as I was leaving, his hand resting on the latch. My father is afraid you will be noticed. Tomorrow morning I will come and find you at the Cheker and you can give me your news then.
I strongly suspected that this was a ruse to keep me away from Sophia, but for the moment, with her safety still dependent on his familys goodwill, there seemed little point in arguing. I merely nodded and asked him to find me there at breakfast.
It was almost time for me to dine with Harry, but on my way back through the town I made a detour in search of a locksmith. The keys I had taken from Langworths hidden chest were weighing down my pouch. I could only hope that the treasurer had been so occupied with the deans interest in his ledgers that he had not had time to return to his secret room and notice anything was missing. If I could make copies of the keys and restore the originals to the strongbox while Langworth was out at the chapter meeting, there was a chance that my theft might go undiscovered for the moment. Without any clue as to what the keys might open, I was guessing in the dark, but the fact that they had been so carefully hidden meant they must have some significance. There was always a chance that one had been taken from Sir Edward Kingsleys belt as he lay dying. Somehow, I must contrive to find a means of trying the lock of his mysterious cellar during my visit to St. Gregorys later that night.
Tom Garth waved me through the main gate into the cathedral precincts, after I had held up my hands to show him I had no knife at my belt. This time I had thought it prudent to tuck the knife inside my boot. Now that I knew I had an enemy within the cathedral, I had no intention of making myself any more vulnerable than I already felt, working here alone, a stranger and a foreigner with Harry Robinson my only allyHarry, whom I was not sure I could trust and who I knew did not trust me.
It was not yet noon and I had hoped for a chance to talk to Harry alone while Samuel was preparing the meal, but before I could reach his house I spotted him by the Middle Gate, leaning on his stick and deep in conversation with a tall man, almost completely bald and wearing a black clerical robe. Harry nodded a greeting and his companion turned with a flustered expression, his hands folded inside the sleeves of his gown.
Good day to you, Harry announced with a cheerful smile as I approached. Dean Rogersmay I introduce you to the esteemed Doctor Filippo Savolino, a scholar of Padua and Oxford and friend of the Sidney family, who is visiting me from London for a few days? He gave a little flourish with his outstretched hand; I had the impression that he relished the chance to remind the dean of his connections at court.
I bowed to Dean Rogers, curious to see the man who had unknowingly saved me from discovery in Langworths bedchamber earlier. He had a long, equine face, large brown eyes and a harried air about him, as though he were constantly worried that he ought to be somewhere else. He smiled as he shook my hand.
It is a pleasure to welcome you to Canterbury, Doctor Savolino, he said. I hope we will have the honour of seeing you at divine service here during your visit?
I look forward to it. I have heard glowing reports of your music.
Mm. He looked vaguely up at the towers of the cathedral behind me. You will find our services conducted according to the letter of the queens edicts. You know, the archbishop says there has been talk of Her Majesty visiting Canterbury as part of her summer progress next year. Perhaps a favourable report from her friends at court may help to influence her in that direction? His smile grew brighter, but his eyes were sharp.
I inclined my head in acknowledgement.
It is some years since she has favoured us with a visit, he persisted, but Im sure she would appreciate the many ways in which we endeavour to maintain the preeminence of our cathedral, while also fulfilling our duties in the communityah, education of the poor, and so on His words trailed off into a little nervous laugh; it sounded as though he had rehearsed this speech and used it before.
They are all afraid of losing their place, I thought. No wonder my presence here makes Harry nervous.
Im sure she would, I said, and I will mention as much to the Sidney family on my return. The dean smiled gratefully and I could not resist adding, Though she may like to postpone her visit until there are fewer unnatural deaths here.
He blanched.
I pray youour recent tragedy is no matter for joking, Doctor Savolino. It was a dreadful shock to everyone that one of our most respected citizens could be struck down on hallowed ground, but I can assure you that such an occurrence is quite without precedent
Saving Thomas Becket, of course, Harry remarked.
The dean looked irritated.
There is no need for anyone to fear on that accountour magistrate was killed by his wife in cold blood, for profit, and she will pay the price as soon as she is found. As for the unfortunate death of the apothecary this morning, to which I suppose you referit is a clear case of robbery and assault, of which Im sure you see far worse in London. Im afraid the influx of refugees makes such things a hazard. He smiled again, as if everything were now cleared up, but the way he twisted his fingers together betrayed his agitation. Well, I have much to do before this afternoons chapter meeting. You must do me the honour of dining at my table soon, Doctor Savolino. We are always glad of new company.
I glanced at Harry; he sucked in his cheeks and looked away. Why was he so set against the idea of my sharing a table with the dean and the other canons, I wondered.
Youre early, Harry said, after the dean bade us good morning and strode away in the direction of the Archbishops Palace. Samuel is not yet back from his mornings errands. You may as well come in, though.
This was welcome news to me. When we were inside the house, Harry gestured me into the small parlour and offered me the same seat I had occupied the day before. He pulled up a chair opposite and leaned forward, hands resting on his knees.
You heard about the apothecarys murder, then?
More than heard. I found him.
You are not serious?
I told him briefly of my visit to the apothecary earlier and my encounter with the constable. Harrys face grew grave.
This is a bad business, he said, lowering his voice. The whole town is talking about the murder, and you are first witness to finding the body. You could hardly have contrived to make yourself more noticeable. Soon everyone will know your name. Think yourself lucky if they dont try and pin the deed on you.
Me? I laughed, assuming it was one of his dry jokes, until I saw his expression. Why should they suspect me?
Harry rolled his eyes.
Look at yourself. Your skin, your accent. People here like the idea of murderous foreigners. Much easier than accepting one of their neighbours might be a killer.
I nodded grimly.
Well, I will have to rely on the truth. Can you think of any reason why someone would want to kill the apothecary?
Harry shrugged.
Most likely someone felt he cheated them. Maybe he sold them a remedy that didnt work, or prescribed a fatal dose. Apothecaries do nothing but guess, for all they pretend to be men of physic. He chuckled, but this time I did not join in. In any case, what concern is it of yours?
A fatal dose, I repeated. Dosis sola facit venenum. Had Fitch poisoned someone with a fatal dose of belladonna? He had certainly been afraid of doing so, according to the notes that were burned the night he was killed. I wondered if his death might be connected to Edward Kingsleys.
Harry frowned.
What makes you think that?
I hesitated; I could not tell him about the conversation I had overheard between Langworth and Samuel. I had hardly had time to gather my own thoughts about it. Langworth had been to Fitchs shop this morning to remove something; that much was clear. But was it something missed by the person who had ransacked the premises the night before, when Fitch was killedsomething only Langworth knew how to find? Or was it he who had turned the shop upside down? Langworth seemed such a calculating man; I could not picture him chasing Fitch around the workshop in a frenzy, beating his skull in with a poker. The place was left in such disarray, he had said to Samuel; was that an observation or a reproach? I wished I had paid more attention to his tone.
He was killed in the same manner, I said. His head beaten in.
That proves nothing. What else?
Ezekiel Sykes, I said eventually. Is he a good physician?
Hes an expensive one, which some fools mistake for skill. Why do you ask?
Im curious about him. I heard he was something of an alchemist.
Perhaps. Dont all physicians dabble in it? Listen, Bruno. He sighed and laboriously stretched out his stiff leg, massaging it above the knee. You seem determined to fix your attention on the most prominent men of the town. Maybe you have your reasons, but you had better make certain of your suspicions before you dare point a finger, or you will make yourself a target.
I paused for a moment to master the irritation I felt at his tone.
I have accused no one, Harry, and I would not dream of doing so without evidence I was sure of. But if eminent men in the town have committed murder, it is all the more important that they should be brought to justice.
You forget that it is the eminent men who dispense justice, Harry said, with a resignation that suggested such things could not be changed or resisted. I thought of Tom Garth and his fury at Nicholas Kingsley the night beforethe fury of a man who knows he is impotent against powerful interests. He spoke of taking the law into his own handsdid that include murder? Sykes had a part in that story too, though there was still much I didnt know.
I watched Harry as he flexed one bony hand on his knee and studied it. I would make little progress here unless I had him as an ally, but I needed to break his unquestioning trust in Samuel.
The dean seems anxious for the queens approval, I remarked, looking out of the window towards the vast walls of the cathedral outside.
He grunted. Is it any wonder? There are those on the Privy Council who would like to close us down and take the money for the queens treasury, Walsingham chief among them. He shook his head. Lets not pretend to be ignorant of that. But the Prince of Orange changes things. If the queen needs quick money for a war, then I think this time our future might really be in danger. His hand bunched into a fist as he spoke, then he glanced up quickly to gauge my response.
I am not here to find reasons to dissolve the foundation, I said. My business is only what I told you. But if this murder involves someone within the cathedral chapter, I cannot ignore it.
You imply that I would do so?
Not at all, I said, trying to sound reassuring. He sucked in his cheeks for a moment, still holding my gaze.
Are you here to report on me? You may as well be honest.
No, Harry. I am here to find out who killed Sir Edward Kingsley so that his wife need not fear for her life. But it begins to look as if this murder is part of something greater.
He leaned forward, his expression of hostility giving way to interest.
Tell me what you have found out, then.
I hesitated. Its possible that Langworth I broke off at the sound of the door latch; Harry sat upright too.
Only Samuel, he said. You were saying?
I glanced over my shoulder at the parlour door and my hand moved instinctively to the pouch at my belt, where my fingers closed around the shape of Langworths keys.
Nothing. Speculation. Another time, perhaps.
* * *THE MEAL PASSED awkwardly. Harry seemed angry that I refused to speak in front of Samuel, though he did not say as much, and I presumed he was also irritated that I was still concentrating my suspicions on Langworth after his warning. He made a point of talking to Samuel about cathedral business that was of no relevance to me and I was not sure who I resented more by the time we had finished the plain stew of vegetables with thin slices of salt beefSamuel for the dark, insinuating glances he shot from under his eyebrows when he thought I wasnt looking, or Harry for his stubbornness. I was relieved when Samuel cleared the plates away and Harry announced that he must prepare for the chapter meeting.
I told Harry I wanted to accept his offer to show me the cathedral library and he grudgingly agreed to take me on his way to the Chapter House, though his manner towards me was still prickly and I could tell he was disinclined to do me any favours. But the library was close enough to Langworths house to give me a reasonable excuse for being in that part of the precincts while the canons were occupied with their meeting; I hoped I might be able to replace the keys and letter I had stolen before the treasurer noticed anything had been touched.
* * *WHAT IS IT you want to look at, exactly, Signor Savolino? The canon librarian regarded me with caution. He wore his advanced years well, though he stooped a little and I could see the joints of his fingers were stiff and swollen as he leafed absently through a large manuscript volume on the desk in front of him. Light fell through a tall arched window behind him, illuminating his few remaining tufts of hair into brilliant white. When he looked up, his face was deeply scored with lines that branched and bisected around his features like a map of a river delta.
I am interested in the history of Saint Thomas, above all, I said, with a pleasant smile.
An unusual field of study for an Italian Protestant, he remarked, glancing sideways at me as he levered himself up and crossed to the cases against the wall, stacked high with a jumble of books in precarious piles. Many looked to be in poor condition, their bindings gnawed by mice, pages spotted with damp. What good was it, I thought, with a stab of irritation, to save books from the destruction of a library only to neglect them like this, thrown together carelessly like corpses in a plague grave?