Dark Fire (24 page)

He opened it carefully, then poured some on his finger and sniffed. ‘Be careful, it burns like fire,’ I warned as he bent and touched his tongue to it.

To my surprise, he laughed. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘There’s no mystery here. This is aqua vitae, though distilled to a very high
concentration.’

‘Aqua vitae?’ I laughed with astonishment. ‘This new stuff that is distilled from bad wine and prescribed for sore eyes and melancholia?’

‘The same. I think its value overrated, it just makes people drunk.’ He rubbed the stuff between his fingers. ‘A cupful, they say, will blind a horse. Where did you get
it?’

‘On the floor of an alchemist’s workshop that had been – abandoned.’ He looked at me sharply.

‘Never mind where we got it, apothecary,’ Barak cut in. ‘Are you sure that’s what it is?’

Guy gave him a long look, and I feared he would order him from his shop, but he turned to me with a smile. ‘I believe so. Though the thickness of the liquid and the fiery taste suggest the
concentration is very strong. I believe I may even be able to tell you where it came from. But first, there is a way of proving what it is. I will show you. It is quite spectacular, Master Barak.
Wait a moment.’

He put the bottle down carefully, then left the room.

‘Listen to me, Barak,’ I said. ‘Guy is a friend: have a care how you speak to him. And he is not one to be bullied like that doorkeeper. You will only anger him.’

‘I don’t trust him, on his looks.’

‘I think that’s mutual.’

Guy returned, carrying a candle and a small glazed dish. He closed the shutters, then carefully tipped a little of the liquid into the dish. Then he touched the candle to it.

I gasped, and Barak stepped back, as a blue flame flared in the bowl, rising two inches into the air.

‘You’ll burn the shop down!’ Barak exclaimed. Guy only laughed again.

‘The flame is too weak to set anything alight and it will die in a moment.’ Sure enough, as we watched, the blue flame sank as quickly as it had risen, turned yellow, guttered and
went out. Guy smiled at us. ‘There. That is a characteristic of aqua vitae, that blue flame. It was certainly a very strong mixture.’ He opened the shutters again. ‘Note there is
no smell or smoke.’

‘You said you might know where it came from,’ Barak said, his tone more respectful now.

‘I did. We apothecaries are ever on the lookout for new herbs, new concoctions, from the strange parts of the world Englishmen voyage to nowadays. It is the constant topic at the
Apothecaries’ Hall. A few months ago we heard of a cargo that had been landed at Billingsgate from a ship that had ventured into the Baltic trade, to the lands of endless snow. They brought
back a cargo of a colourless liquid they say men drink there. When people tried quaffing it here, as they would beer, it made them very sick. This sounds like the stuff.’

‘What happened to the cargo?’

‘That I do not know. I think one or two of my brethren went after it as a curiosity, but were told it had been sold. You would need to enquire among the sailors’ taverns to find
more.’

I nodded thoughtfully. A thick, viscous liquid that burned in a strange way. In some ways it sounded like Greek Fire, but in others quite unlike. The liquid in the monastery had been black, with
a strong smell, Kytchyn said, and the flame we had just seen could never have set light to a ship. But what if this stuff was part of the formula, what if it changed its behaviour if other things
were added?

‘What do you know of alchemy, Guy?’ I asked. I took the alchemy books from my satchel and laid them on the table. ‘These books are so full of mysteries and jargon I can scarce
understand a word.’

He picked one up and leafed through it. ‘Alchemy has given itself a bad name. Perhaps worse than it deserves. The alchemists like to keep their trade cloaked in secrecy and fill their
books with references only they can understand.’ He laughed. ‘Some of the old books I think nobody understands.’

‘And it impresses people, makes them think there must be a great mystery there to be uncovered.’

Guy nodded. ‘But in that they are no worse than some physicians with their ancient remedies and secret formulae. Or lawyers, for that matter: in some courts you plead in old French no
ordinary mortal could comprehend.’

There was a bark of laughter from Barak. ‘He has you there.’

Guy raised a hand. ‘And yet alchemy is part of natural science, the study of the world around us. God has left signs and clues in the world, that by struggling we might come to understand
things: cure diseases, grow better crops—’

‘Turn lead into gold?’ I hesitated. ‘Set water on fire?’

‘Perhaps. And the task of alchemy, like astrology and medicine for that matter, is to read those clues.’

‘As rhinoceros horn is supposed to bring virility, the clue being its resemblance to the male organ. But, Guy, so much of this looking for signatures and correspondences is mere
fraud.’

‘Yes, it is. I agree that the manner in which alchemists profess secret, arcane knowledge is often no more than a trick to keep their trade inaccessible.’

‘So you think, like most, that alchemy’s a suspect trade?’

‘Not altogether. There are plenty of rogues who claim to have found the philosopher’s stone that can turn base metal into gold, but for each one of them there is another who has
striven to make real achievements by careful observation, by study of how substances are made up and how they change. How the four elements of earth, air, fire and water interact to make all the
things we know. How heat can change one thing into another – wine into aqua vitae, for example.

‘And everything comes from the four elements. Earth, air, fire and water. Any new material that appears, like that strange stuff, can be broken down into those essential elements and
reconfigured.’

He smiled. ‘There is nothing truly new in the world. No new elements, at least. But a good alchemist may, for example, discover by careful observation how to melt down ores in the furnace
in such a way as to produce better iron, as they are doing in the Weald now.’

‘Or how to make a finer form of pewter,’ I said, remembering Goodwife Gristwood’s story of Sepultus’s failed experiments.

‘Exactly. It is usually a matter of separating out some impurity of an earthy nature.’ He smiled. ‘I am with those thinkers who consider God means us to uncover the secrets of
the earth by the slow, sure path of observation rather than mystical formulae in ancient books. Even if they do come up with some strange notions, like the man in Poland who says the earth goes
round the sun.’

‘Yes.’ Something had stirred a memory. ‘A furnace, you said. You remind me that metals are forged in furnaces. So alchemists must often work with founders, as they all have
furnaces.’

‘Of course,’ Guy agreed. ‘I make do with a fire here to distil my herbs, but to melt ores and metals a furnace would be needed.’ He frowned. ‘This is a strange
discussion, Matthew. What has it to do with this – ’ he glanced at Barak – ‘this case of yours?’

‘I’m not sure.’ I frowned in thought. ‘A founder would also be needed to make, say, a large metal tank with a pump and pipes.’

‘Yes. Alchemists often have arrangements with the Lothbury founders to assist them. It has to be someone they trust, of course, if they’re to share their secrets.’

‘Guy,’ I said excitedly, ‘do you remember that young founder I met last week? Would he know who might work with alchemists up there? And perhaps one who works with the City on
the water conduits, works with pumps and valves?’

He hesitated. ‘Perhaps. That would be a specialized trade. But Matthew, if this is a dangerous matter, I would not involve him.’

‘Lord Cromwell may command it,’ Barak said.

Guy turned to him. ‘He may command what he wishes,’ he said imperturbably.

Barak glared. ‘Yes, my Spanish friend, he may.’

‘God’s death, Barak, be quiet,’ I said angrily. ‘I understand, Guy. I can find what I need as easily from the City records, see whom they employ on the
conduits.’

Guy nodded. ‘I would prefer that.’ He turned back to Barak. ‘And by the way, sir, I am not Spanish. I come from Granada, which was conquered by Spain fifty years ago. My
parents were Moslems who were expelled from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella. Along with the Jews – yours is a Jewish name, I think.’

Barak reddened. ‘I am English, apothecary.’

‘Are you now?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah well. Thank you for your understanding, Matthew. I wish you safe in your quest.’ He shook my hand, then looked at me wryly.
‘Your eyes are alight, Matthew, alight with the prospect of progress in your chase. May I keep those books, by the way? I should be interested to look through them.’

‘Please do.’

‘If you want to talk more, I am here.’ He gave Barak a cold look. ‘So long as foreigners are allowed to remain.’

O
UTSIDE
I
TURNED
angrily on Barak. ‘Well done,’ I said. ‘Your manners really helped our enquiries.’

He shrugged. ‘Insolent old Moor. God’s teeth, he’s an ugly creature.’

‘And you,’ I snapped, ‘you are what you call everyone else – an arsehole.’

Barak only grinned.

‘Since you probably lost us Guy’s help in finding the founder, you can go up to the Guildhall and ask for details of all the founders they employ on the conduits. I am going to Wolf’s Lane to ask Goodwife Gristwood a few more questions. If Michael and Sepultus were visiting the founders, she must have known about it.’

‘I thought we were going across to Southwark to find the whore.’

‘I’ll meet you at the Steelyard steps in an hour and a half. Who knows, I may even have time to grab a pie from a stall.’ I wiped sweat from my brow, the heat of the afternoon
was punishing. Barak hesitated and I wondered if he were going to argue: I felt so angry I would almost have welcomed it. But he only smiled, mounted his black mare and cantered away.

A
S
I
RODE THROUGH
the narrow streets to Queenhithe my anger ebbed. I found myself once more watching fearfully for dangerous
movements in the shadows. The streets were empty, people indoors avoiding the heat if they could. I felt my cheek prickle with sunburn and pulled my cap lower. I jumped as a rat scurried from a
doorway and ran down the street, hugging the wall.

The Gristwoods’ house was unchanged, the split and broken front door still in place. I knocked, the sound echoing within. Jane Gristwood herself opened the door. She wore the same white
coif and grey dress and there was a new unkemptness about her appearance; I saw food stains on the dress. She stared at me wearily.

‘You again?’

‘Yes, madam. May I come in?’

She shrugged and held the door open. ‘That stupid girl Susan’s gone,’ she said.

‘Where’s the watchman?’

‘Drinking and farting in the kitchen.’ She led me past the ancient tapestry into the dowdy parlour and stood there waiting for me to speak.

‘Any more news on the house?’ I asked.

‘Yes, it’s mine. I’ve seen Serjeant’s Marchamount’s lawyer.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘For what it’s worth. I’ll need to take in lodgers
– a fine class of tenant I’ll get in this mouldy hole. He had my money, you know.’

‘Who?’

‘Michael. When we married he got a big dowry from my father, to get me off his hands. That’s all gone and this is how I’m left. He couldn’t even bring any decent
furniture from the monasteries, just that ugly old wall hanging. Did you see that whore?’ she concluded bluntly.

‘Not yet. But I have a query, madam. I believe Sepultus may have worked with a founder in his recent experiments.’

The frightened look that came into her face told me I had hit the mark. Her voice rose.

‘I’ve told you: I’d no interest in his mad doings beyond worrying he’d blow up the house. Why are you asking me these questions? I’m a poor widow alone!’

‘You are keeping something back, madam,’ I said. ‘I must know what it is.’

But she had stopped listening. She was staring out at the garden, her eyes wide. ‘It’s him again,’ she whispered.

I whirled round. A gate in the wall was open and a man was standing there. I dreaded seeing the pockmarked man but it was a stocky, dark-haired young fellow who stood there. Seeing us looking,
he turned and fled. I stepped to the door, then paused. Even if I caught him, what then? He could overpower me easily. I turned back to Goodwife Gristwood. She had sat down at the table and was
crying, her thin body wrenched with sobs. I waited until she calmed down.