The King's Evil

'I would take serious issue with you over that,' said his brother, arching a lecherous eyebrow. 'When I wish to thrill the blood, I do not require the presence of a fine mind. A voluptuous body alone suffices. But come to your latest enthusiasm, brother.'

'It is much more than that.'

'That is what I hoped.'

'Architecture is my obsession.'

'For how many weeks is it likely to last?'

'Indefinitely,' said Christopher with polite vehemence. 'I have found my true metier at last. Architecture embraces all the other disciplines. It combines the severity of the law with the fascination of anatomy, the joy of poetry, the mystery of astronomy and the intellectual stimulus of philosophy. When you add the iron logic of mathematics, you have a profession which outstrips all others. An architect is at once an artist and a scientist. What could be nobler?'

'Nobility can wait,' said Henry, strolling across to him. 'All that I am concerned with is securing a regular income for you. I have seen your drawings and was much impressed. They are brilliant. And I know that you have applied yourself diligently to this new interest.'

'Oh, it is not new, Henry. The seeds were sewn long ago in Rome when I chanced to meet Signor Bernini. He designed the Piazza of St Peter's and much else besides. Albeit a Catholic - I have not dared to breathe his name to Father - Bernini opened my eyes to the beauty of architecture. I have been putting my ideas down on paper ever since.'

'To good effect. You are clearly very gifted.'

'It is one of the reasons I went to Oxford,' continued the other as the glow of idealism lit up his features. 'To watch the progress of the Sheldonian Theatre. It is an extraordinary building. Wren is a genius. His design is breathtaking.'

'I am glad you mentioned your namesake. Christopher Wren is indeed a genius. The Great Fire will be the making of him.'

'In what way?'

'He has been invited to prepare a plan for the rebuilding of the city,' explained Henry knowledgeably. 'Wren is not the only one, mark you. I happen to know that John Evelyn will be submitting his own scheme, as will others. I have also caught wind of a notion put forward by a certain Captain Valentine Knight, involving the building of a wide canal from the River Fleet to Billingsgate. Ha!' he sneered with a gesture of disgust. 'Have you ever heard such nonsense?'

'You are amazingly well informed, Henry.'

'I consort with the right company.'

'Which of these many plans will be adopted?'

'That is the one thing I cannot tell you. They will have to be assessed in due course. But my guess is that Wren will emerge as the leading figure. Pattern yourself on him.'

'That is my intention.'

'Carpe diem, Christopher. Commit yourself. Study in earnest. It will be months before any rebuilding is allowed and that gives you time to hone your skills. Be ready to help the phoenix rise from the ashes.'

'Nothing would please me more!'

'I will do my share,' volunteered Henry. 'It is astonishing what information trickles into my ears. When new houses are in demand, I will assuredly learn who wishes to commission some of them. My advice may even be sought in certain cases. How convenient it would be if I could recommend, as an architect, my own brother.'

Christopher was touched. 'Would you do that for me, Henry?' he said, unused to such filial assistance. 'I would be eternally grateful.'

'You can repay me by harping on my generosity when you next write to Father. Play the architect in your correspondence. Design a Henry Redmayne who is more appealing to a Dean of Gloucester.'

'That is a feat beyond even my talent,' said his brother with a chuckle. 'But I will do my best. As for your offer, I embrace it warmly. I will serve a speedy apprenticeship and be ready when the call comes.'

'Then there is no more to be said.'

They exchanged a warm handshake then Henry drifted to the mirror to make a few adjustments to his apparel. Christopher came up behind him with a knowing smile.

'You are going out this evening, I see.'

'I'll not let a fire deprive me of my pleasures.'

'But all your haunts have been destroyed, surely?'

'Some escaped,' said Henry suavely, brushing a fleck of dust from his sleeve. 'Besides, I am bidden this evening to an establishment in Faringdon Without. That ward was unmolested by the fire. Many who fled from the city have taken up residence there.' He turned to face Christopher and gave a quizzical smirk. 'I suppose that it is no use my inviting you to accompany me?'

'No, Henry.'

'A visit to a house of resort might educate you.'

'Love which has to be bought has no value for me.'

'It is the only kind a man can truly rely on, Christopher.'

'Enjoy it in my stead.'

'Are you not even tempted?'

'Not in the slightest,' said Christopher with a grin. 'I have a far more important place to visit this evening.'

'Where is that?'

'The city of London. If I am to help rebuild it, I must first see the full extent of the damage. That is where I will be while the light holds. You seek out the delights of the flesh, Henry,' he said, guiding his brother out of the room. 'I must go forth to meet my destiny.'

Chapter Three

The man moved swiftly. Making sure that he was unobserved, he pushed aside the charred remnants of the front door and stepped into the house. A timber-framed property with a thatched roof, it had been completely gutted by the fire and nothing survived in any of the rooms to tempt a thief. The man was not concerned with the interior of the dwelling. His interest was in the garden. He clambered through to it. Plants and bushes had been burned away and the little orchard was now no more than a collection of blackened stumps, surrounded by countless shrivelled apples and pears. That did not deter him. The man set about scouring the whole garden, searching the lawn then kicking away piles of ash so that he could examine the scorched flowerbeds. He soon found what he was after - a patch where the earth had recently been disturbed then stamped back into position. A hiding place.

From beneath his coat, he produced a small shovel. Kneeling down, he began to dig quickly but carefully, eager to secure his prize but not wishing to damage it by too vigorous a use of his implement. When he made contact with something solid, he abandoned the shovel and used both hands to scrape the earth away. A first bottle of wine came into view, then a second, then two more, each with the owner's crest upon them. It had to be expensive wine to be worth burying. He dug on until he unearthed a further three dozen bottles of Canary wine, six of brandy and an array of cheeses wrapped up in muslin then stuffed into a wooden box. It was a good haul. What he could not eat or drink himself, he could sell for a tidy profit. He made a mental note to save the Parmesan cheese for his own use.

The man was not finished yet. A property as substantial as this one argued an owner of some wealth. If he vacated the house at speed, he might not have been able to carry away all that he wished. Wine and cheese had been left behind. There was a chance that gold or valuables might also have been buried in the garden to await his return. The man sensed that there were richer rewards still at the bottom of the pit. He reached for his shovel once more. As his hand closed around the handle, however, a large shoe descended on his wrist and pinned it to the ground. It belonged to a brawny constable who loomed over him.

'Have they not suffered enough?' said Jonathan Bale solemnly. 'Their home has already been destroyed by fire. Must they also have their last few possessions stolen by a common thief?'