Bealknap nodded, stunned into silence, and led the way across Gatehouse Court. He had a room on the first floor of a corner building, up a narrow flight of creaking stairs. His chamber was plainly furnished, a poor-looking desk and a couple of battered tables heaped untidily with papers. The room was dominated by a huge iron-bound chest that stood in one corner, made of thick boards and secured by iron bands and padlocks. It was said about the Inns that all the gold Bealknap earned went in there and that he passed his evenings running it through his fingers and counting it. He hardly spent any, though; it was known that tailors and innkeepers had been chasing him through the courts for years for money he owed.
Bealknap looked at the chest and seemed momentarily to relax. Many lawyers would have been embarrassed to have such stories of miserliness spread about them, but Bealknap seemed not to mind. Keeping the chest in his office was safe enough for he lived in rooms next door, and with its guards and watchmen the Inn was as safe a place as anywhere in London. Yet I remembered what the Gristwoods' killers had made of the chest in Sepultus's workshop.
Bealknap took off his cap and ran a hand through his wiry blond hair. 'Will you take a seat, Brother?'
'Thank you.' I sat by his desk, casting an eye over the papers. To my surprise I saw the crest of the Hanseatic League on one document, French writing on another.
'You have business with French merchants?' I asked.
'They pay well. The French are having problems with the Custom House these days.'
'Not surprising as they threaten war on us.'
'That won't happen. The king knows the dangers, as the duke was saying at lunch.' He waved the subject away. 'In God's name, Brother, what is this about Michael Gristwood?'
'He was found dead yesterday morning at his home. His brother was murdered too. The formula is gone. You know what I am talking about.'
'My poor friend. This is very shocking.' His eyes darted all over the room, avoiding mine.
'Did you tell anyone apart from Serjeant Marchamount about the formula?' I asked.
He shook his head firmly. 'No, sir, I did not. When Michael brought me the papers he found at Bart's I said he should get them to Lord Cromwell.'
'For payment, though they were the king's by right. Was that your idea, or his?'
He hesitated, then looked at me directly. 'His. But I didn't quarrel with him about that, Brother. It was an opportunity, and only a fool passes those up. I offered to go to Marchamount for him.'
'For a fee?'
'Naturally.' He raised a hand. 'But – but Lord Cromwell accepted the position, and I was only a poor intermediary-'
'You are a shameless fellow, Bealknap.' I looked at the papers again. 'You could have taken them to the French, perhaps. They might have offered more to keep this secret out of Cromwell's hands.'
He jumped up, agitated. 'God's death, that would have been treason! D'ye think I'd take the risk of being gutted alive at Tyburn? You have to believe me.'
I said nothing. He sat down again, then laughed nervously. 'Besides, I thought the whole thing was nonsense. After I took Michael to Marchamount he paid me and I heard no more till just now.' He jabbed a finger at me. 'Don't try to involve me in this, Shardlake. I'd no part in it, on my oath!'
'When did Michael first bring you the papers?'
'In March.'
'He waited six months after finding them?'
'He said he and his brother the alchemist had been experimenting with the formula, making more, building some sort of apparatus to fire the stuff at ships. It made no sense to me.'
It was a similar tale to Marchamount's. 'Ah yes,' I said, 'the apparatus. Did they build it themselves, I wonder?'
Bealknap shrugged. 'I've no idea. Michael said only that it had been made. I tell you, I know nothing.'
'They said nothing of where the apparatus, or the formula, were kept?'
'No. I didn't even study their papers. Michael showed them to me, but half of them were in Greek and what I could read sounded like nonsense. You know some of those old monks were jesters? They'd forge documents to pass the time.'
'Is that what you thought those papers were? A jest, a forgery?'
'I didn't know. I introduced Michael to Marchamount and then I was glad to be shot of the matter.'
'Back to your compurgators, eh?'
'Back to business.'
'Very well.' I rose. 'That will do for now. You will tell no one Michael is dead, Bealknap, or that we have spoken, or you will answer to Lord Cromwell.'
'I've no wish to tell anyone, I don't want to be involved at all.'
'I am afraid you are.' I gave him a tight smile. 'I will see you at Westminster Hall on Tuesday for the case. By the way,' I added with apparent casualness, 'did you resolve the problem with your corrodiary?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Strange, I did not think friaries took on pensioners living in.'
'This one did,' he said with a glare. 'Ask Sir Richard Rich if you don't believe me.'
'Ah, yes, you mentioned his name at Augmentations. I did not know you had his patronage.'
