Read Online Dark Fire by C. J. Sansom - Free Book Online Page A

advocacy, sir,’ he had said. ‘Your words moved his conscience.’ Joseph was ever a naive man.
    Now he laid a hand on Chancery’s side, beaming up at me. ‘I have to go with this gentleman, Joseph,’ I said. ‘There is another urgent case I must attend to.’
    ‘Some other poor wretch to save from injustice, eh? But you will be back soon?’
    I glanced at Barak; he gave a brief nod.
    ‘Soon, Joseph. I will contact you. Listen, now we have some time to investigate Ralph’s murder there is something I would have you do for me, if you can. It will be difficult—’
    ‘Anything, sir, anything.’
    ‘I want you to go to your brother Edwin and ask if he will see me at his house. Say I am unsure of Elizabeth’s guilt and wish to hear his side of things.’
    A shadow came over his face. ‘I need to meet the family, Joseph,’ I told him gently. ‘And see the house and garden. It is important.’
    He bit his lip, then nodded slowly. ‘I will do what I can.’
    I patted his arm. ‘Good man. And now I must go.’
    ‘I shall tell Elizabeth!’ he called after me as we rode out into the road. ‘I shall tell her, thanks to you, she is spared the press!’ Barak looked at me, raising an
eyebrow cynically.

    W E RODE DOWN Old Bailey Street. The Rolls House was not far, directly opposite Lincoln’s Inn in fact. A sprawling complex of buildings, it had once
been the Domus Conversorum, where Jews who wished to convert to Christianity were instructed. Since the expulsion of all Jews from England centuries before, the building had been used to house the
Court of Chancery Rolls, though one or two foreign Jews, who had washed up in England somehow and agreed to convert to Christianity, were still housed there from time to time. The Six Clerks’
Office, which administered the Court of Chancery, was located there too. The office of Keeper of the Domus was still combined with the Mastership of the Rolls.
    ‘I thought Lord Cromwell had given up the mastership,’ I said to Barak.
    ‘He still keeps an office in the Rolls House. Works there sometimes when he wants to be undisturbed.’
    ‘Can you tell me what this is about?’
    He shook his head. ‘My master is to tell you himself.’
    We rode up Ludgate Hill. It was another hot day; the women bringing produce into town were wearing cloths over their faces to protect them from the dust thrown up by passing carts. I looked down
over the red-tiled rooftops of London, and the broad shining band of the river. The tide was out and the Thames mud, stained yellow and green with the refuse that poured every day from the northern
shore, lay exposed like a great stain. People said that recently will o’the wisps of flame had been seen at night dancing over the rubbish and wondered uneasily what it portended.
    I made another attempt to get information. ‘This must be important to your master. Forbizer’s not intimidated lightly.’
    ‘He’s a care for his skin like all men of the law.’ There was an edge of contempt in Barak’s voice.
    ‘This sore puzzles me.’ I paused, then added, ‘Am I in trouble?’
    He turned. ‘No, not if you do as you’re told. It’s as I said, my master has a commission for you. Now come: time is important.’
    We entered Fleet Street. The dust hung over the White-friars’ monastic buildings in a pall, for the great friary was in the course of demolition. The gatehouse was covered in scaffolding,
men hacking away at the decoration with chisels. A workman stepped into our path, raising a dusty hand.
    ‘Halt your horses, please, sirs,’ he called out.
    Barak frowned. ‘We’re on Lord Cromwell’s business. Piss off.’
    The man wiped his hand on his grubby smock. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I only wished to warn you, they’re about to blow up the Whiteys’ chapter house, the noise could startle the
horses—’
    ‘Look—’ Barak broke off suddenly. A flash of red light appeared over the wall, followed by a tremendous explosion, louder than a