I lay back with a sense of relief. I must have slept again, for when next I stirred and looked around the sun was high, the room hot. My thirst was unbearable now. I tried to call out but could manage only a croak. I leaned over, wincing at a sharp pain from my left arm, and banged on the floor.
To my relief I heard movement downstairs, then foot-steps. Guy came in, carrying a large flagon and a cup. His face was drawn with anxiety and lack of sleep.
'Wa – water,' I croaked.
He sat on the bed and lifted my head to the cup. 'Do not gulp it,' he said. 'You will want to, but you must take small sips or you will be sick.' I nodded, letting him trickle water slowly into my mouth. My throat seemed to sing with relief as it passed down. He sat with me thus for several minutes, letting me drink slowly. At length I lay back, noticing that my arm was bandaged.
'What happened?' I whispered.
'You were brought here insensible last night, on a cart with that man Barak and the girl Bathsheba. You are suffering from the effects of smoke and you have a burn on your arm.' He looked at me seriously. 'The fire has caused much damage. Two streets at Queenhithe were quite burned down. Thank the Lord they were so close to the river – they were able to draw water from there.'
'Is anyone hurt?'
'I do not know. Your friend Barak has gone to rouse Lord Cromwell, he says he will need to deal with this. Barak was affected by the smoke too. I told him he should not go out but he insisted.'
'Bathsheba,' I said. 'The girl, how is she?'
Guy's face darkened. 'She has been stabbed in the stomach, there is little I can do. I have given her some drugs to ease her pain and she is sleeping. But it is only a matter of time. Who did that to her, Matthew?'
'The same villain who set fire to the house and left me and Barak to burn to death. There were two more bodies there, the girl's brother and the watchman.'
'Dear Christ.' Guy crossed himself.
'Barak is right: Cromwell's intervention will be needed here or there will be a great hue and cry.' I closed my eyes. 'Dear God, is this to be Scarnsea again, a host of innocent people torn from the world in blood and violence?'
Guy continued to look at me, sternly but also doubtfully, in a way he never had before.
'What is it?' I asked.
'I went out to buy some things I needed while you were sleeping. There are rumours abroad that the fire was started by supernatural means, that there is magic involved. Apparently it was not a normal fire, it roared up suddenly and consumed the ground floor of the house in a moment.'
'It did,' I said. 'I was there. But there is no magic, Guy, I promise you. Did you think I could ever become involved in the dark arts?'
'No, but-'
'No forbidden knowledge, I swear. An ancient way of making fire rediscovered, that is all. It is what I have been working on for Cromwell. I could not tell you.'
He continued to look at me questioningly. 'I see. Your friend distrusts me. Perhaps you did too, if this matter affects Cromwell whom, yes, I see as an enemy. I wondered why you would not tell me more.'
'I don't distrust you, Guy. God's wounds, I think you're the only one left I do trust.'
Guy looked at the cross. 'There is the only one you need to trust and follow.'
I shook my head sadly. 'Where was Christ when that poor girl and her brother were being cut to pieces last night?'
'Watching, in the sorrow you see there in his face, as men used the free will God gave them to do terrible evil.' He sighed. 'Here, take this flagon. Keep taking water but remember, drink slowly.'
WHEN BARAK RETURNED an hour later, Guy brought him to my room and left us together. Barak's eyes were red and smarting and his voice was a strangled croak. His shirt was smoke-stained and the hair on the right side of his head was quite singed away, leaving only stubble. The contrast with the untidy brown locks on the other side was so bizarre I could not help letting out a bark of nervous laughter. He grunted.
'You should see your own face, it's black as soot. And Lord Cromwell's not laughing. He's going to have to put pressure on the mayor and coroner to keep this quiet. The people down at Queenhithe found what was left of George Green's body and the watchman's, little more than charred sticks, and they're talking about magic. You know there's two streets gone? It's lucky there was no wind or the fire could have spread across the City.'
'Was anyone else hurt?'
'A few have burns and plenty more are homeless. The Gristwoods' house is a pile of ashes. Goodwife Gristwood will have no home to come back to.'
'No. Poor old creature.' I paused. 'Well, now I've seen it. That was Greek Fire, wasn't it?'
