‘Surely,’ Lizzie protested, ‘no decent man would pay such a creature to do his bidding.’
Ned said, ‘As I’ve already explained to Master Thomas, Black Harry worked for the Inquisition in Spain and carried out some of their worst atrocities.’
‘But that sort of thing doesn’t happen in England,’ she said.
‘Three men were sent to the stake in Windsor a mere few weeks ago because they believed the wrong things,’ I said.
‘That’s not the same thing at all,’ Ned observed. ‘I deplore the burning of heretics. It’s bad theology and it doesn’t work. It only creates martyrs. But, at least when the Church hands unrepentant, misguided people over to the magistrates for execution there has been an open process of law. What powerful patrons use Black Harry for is work done in secret: removing obstacles from their path, silencing noisy opponents, disposing of critics.’
‘Yes,’ Bart agreed, ‘that’s exactly what people say Black Harry does. Dr Banfry, the vicar at St Thomas-in-the-East, was fished out of the Thames just after Easter. He had preached mightily against religious images and attracted large crowds. The bishop couldn’t drag him into his court because he had preached before the king and his majesty liked his style.’
‘So was it the bishop behind the Aldgate murder?’ I asked.
‘Possibly. There are various rumours but no one really knows. There’s one person I’ve heard talk of, but I only remember him because of his name – Dr London.’
‘London,’ I exclaimed. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. He was behind the Windsor burnings, though he’s only a tool in the hands of more powerful men. But all this high politics is not to the point. We’re here to save Adie and the children from someone who is a complete stranger to morality and human decency. Bart, is there anything else you know about Black Harry; any information that will arm us against him?’
Bart’s brow wrinkled in concentration. ‘Folk say his gang is small – men who’ve been with him a long time. He doesn’t trust newcomers. There’s scapegraces as would like to join him, but he’ll have none of them. Apart from that I don’t know … Oh, yes, one other thing: his base is somewhere in Essex.’
‘Then that’s where they’ll have taken their hostages,’ I said. ‘Not that it helps us much. We don’t have time to mount a search. All we can do is make sure we get Holbein to the bridge tomorrow. He is our bargaining counter – with him we can force Black Harry to do a deal. Ned, can you come with me to see van der Goes? We’ll escort Lizzie safe home on the way. Bart, you had better stay here now that it’s light. Keep out of Sight and don’t answer the door if any of Ned’s customers come calling. So’ – I stood up – ‘the time for talk is over. Let us go – and pray God our mission is successful.’
Half an hour later Ned and I were riding along Bride Lane. When we reined in outside the goldsmith’s house we received the first of the shocks that day was to bring. There was a bundle of straw hanging from the door jamb.
‘Plague!’ Ned exclaimed. He fumbled a medallion from his scrip, kissed it and held it out to me. ‘The Fourteen Holy Helpers,’ he said. ‘Beg their protection.’
I followed his example but was more interested in a written note pinned to the door frame. Jumping down, I read the brief message. ‘No entry. One pestilence victim within. Master van der Goes continues his business at his house in Chiswick.’
‘Curse this delay!’ I muttered. ‘We’ll have to go upriver. It will be quicker than riding against the incoming traffic. Ned, find us a boatman while I lodge the horses.’
I led our two mounts to the Red Hand inn and left them with the ostler. By the time I returned Ned was seated in the stern of a wherry moored at Bridewell Dock. As I stepped down into the boat, he said, ‘The waterman says he only does cross-river ferrying. I’ve had to pay him extra to go to Chiswick.’
‘These fellows know their business,’ I muttered. ‘They can spot a customer in a hurry and know how to turn it to their advantage.’
It was a long haul against the current for our waterman and I fretted as Westminster, the noblemen’s waterside mansions and then the open fields slid slowly past. After what seemed hours we disembarked at the landing stage and walked into Chiswick village. We asked the first passers-by for directions and soon found ourselves before a recently built house set in its own garden.
‘Your van der Goes must be a wealthy man,’ Ned observed.
‘And grown so by stealing business from honest English tradesmen,’ I growled.
When we were shown into his presence, John of Antwerp was his usual over-boisterously hospitable self. He settled us in a pair of elaborate, padded armed chairs and .offered refreshments. Dry though my mouth was, I declined.
‘No time for pleasantries,’ I insisted. ‘We’re here on very urgent business. Where is Master Holbein? We must see him.’
Our host shrugged. ‘You still haven’t found him, then? I’m sorry …’
I raised my voice. ‘Please don’t keep up this pretence of ignorance. I know your friend is in trouble and forced to hide from his enemies. I am not an enemy but I must see him. Four lives depend on it.’
‘Four lives?’ Van der Goes raised his eyebrows in seemingly genuine surprise.
‘Yes, including his two sons.’
That shook him. ‘Carl and Henry? What has happened to them?’
‘They’ve been captured by the men who are looking for Holbein. They’re being held to ransom.’
‘Holy Mother of God!’ He crossed himself. ‘That is terrible. Johannes will be appalled to hear it.’
At last I had driven a wedge into the Fleming’s secrecy and loyalty. I hammered it home. ‘The children’s salvation lies in his hands.’
‘His life for theirs?’
‘There is no other way.’
He sat in silence for several moments, stroking his bushy beard. Then he said, ‘You place me in a difficult position. Some days ago Johannes came to me in great distress. He had been attacked on his way home from the royal court by men intent on murder. He was lucky to escape. He asked me to hide him. Of course, I agreed. That is what friends do. He didn’t tell me who his enemies were and I didn’t ask. All he would say was that he had an important message for someone of high rank and that he didn’t know how he was going to deliver it with assassins on his trail. I offered to take it for him but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was too dangerous and that I would be safer knowing nothing about the business.’
‘If our friend gives himself up, I will personally see that his message is delivered. You have my solemn word,’ I said.
‘After his death,’ van der Goes muttered grimly, ‘you can decide whether or not to keep your promise.’
‘I can’t force him to give himself up,’ I said. ‘But I must give him the choice. The children deserve that – and so does he.’
Our host shook his head. ‘He loves those boys dearly. He has a family in Basel but they mean little to him compared with his English sons. They are excellent lads.’
‘Indeed they are. I would be proud to be their father and, if I were, I think I would do anything for them.’
‘Anything? ’Tis a word easy to say.’
There was another agonised silence. Eventually he looked straight at me. ‘Master Treviot, what would you do in my position? If I came to you with the story you have just told me, would you lightly break your oath to an old and very dear friend and deliver that friend into the hands of violent enemies?’
‘I certainly would do no such thing lightly. I would want to satisfy myself that you were utterly trustworthy and not someone in league with my friend’s enemies. I would hope that I could be confident of the honesty of … a brother goldsmith.’ The last words almost stuck in my throat.
Van der Goes stood up. ‘Very well, this is what I will do. I will take you close to where Johannes is and I will speak with him in private. If he agrees to see you, I will bring you to him. So, let us go. We must travel back downriver. I have my own little barge.’