Dark Fire

He shook his head. 'I do not know, Matthew. In a way I am glad, for I would not wish anyone to have this weapon.' He spread his hands. 'I have distilled it, tried to see how it reacts with other substances, tried to find some clue to what it is. But it has defeated me.'

I felt my heart sink, though at the same time a part of me was also relieved.

'I know some reputable alchemists,' he said. 'They might be able to help, given time.'

I shook my head. 'We have no time. And I would not trust anyone but you to keep this secret.'

He spread his hands. 'Then I am sorry.'

'You did your best.' I went and opened the jar, looking at the brown stuff inside. 'What are you?' I whispered.

'All I can say is it resembles no substance I have ever seen before. Certainly its composition is nothing like that Polish stuff.'

I thought a moment. 'If you cannot work it out, how could Sepultus? By all accounts he was a rogue and no true scholar.'

'He had months to experiment. Did you not say there were six months between the stuff's discovery and his approach to Cromwell?'

'Yes.'

'And the formula may say what the constituent elements are. At least tell him enough to give him more of a start than we have. It must all come down to earth and air, fire and water in the end.' He spread his hands. 'But in which of the millions of possible combinations?'

I nodded sadly. 'Thank you for trying. You know, you are the only man I feel I can always rely on to give me true answers, solve my problems. Perhaps I expect too much.'

'Perhaps you do,' Guy said. 'I am only frail human clay, for all people think I have strange powers to go with my strange looks.'

'Perhaps I should not have asked you to deal with something so devilish.'

He looked at me seriously. 'What will you do now?'

'I don't know what is left. Cromwell asked me to think.'

He nodded at the jar. 'What shall I do with that stuff? May I destroy it?'

I hesitated, then said, 'Yes. Destroy it now. Pour it in the river.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Are you sure? We could both be accused of treason.'

'I am sure.'

His face flooded with relief. He gripped my hand fiercely. 'Thank you. You have done right, Matthew, you have done right.'

***

I WALKED DOWN TO the river and stood on the bank watching the ships unload their cargo. Every week came some new wonder. I wondered whether, one day, a ship might bring something else as terrible and dangerous as Greek Fire here. I thought of St John landing a hundred years ago with his papers and the barrel. He had looked at peace in his grave. I knew now that I could never be at peace if I gave anyone in power the chance of making this thing, no matter what the consequences.

I looked across to the far bank, where I had walked with Lady Honor. The bear pit and bull ring rose high above the houses; I could hear a faint cheering from the bear pit – there must be a baiting on. I wondered if Marchamount had enjoyed his afternoon there. What had happened to him? Part of me felt, like Barak, that the game was played out. But the deadly puzzle still nagged at my mind.

A little way off I saw the tavern where we had met the sailors, the Barbary Turk. I went in. At this hour the place was empty and my footsteps echoed on the boards of the large, dusky drinking room. The giant's thigh bone still hung in its chains. I studied it for a moment, then went over to the serving hatch and ordered a mug of beer from the landlord. He was a burly fellow with the look of an ex-sailor about him. He looked curiously at my good stitched doublet.

'We don't often see gentlemen. You were in here a few nights ago, weren't you, talking to Hal Miller and his friends?'

'Ay. They told me of the time they set their table alight.'

He laughed, resting his arms on the edge of the hatch. 'That was a night. I wish they'd given me some of that stuff – I like novelties.'

'Like the giant's bone?' I nodded towards it.

'Ay, it was washed up just by the wharf here. Twenty years ago, in my father's time. Just appeared in the mud one ebb tide. People went hunting for the rest of the giant, but found no more of him. My father took the bone and hung it up here. Imagine what size the man must have been. But we are told of giants in the Bible, so that must be what it is. Better to have had the whole skeleton, but that one bone's enough to bring people here to look and that's good for trade.'

He would have talked on, but I wanted to be alone and took my beer over to the dark corner where I had sat with Barak that night.

His words, though, kept coming back to me. That one bone's enough to bring people here to look and that's good for trade. I thought of the Gristwoods, working with Toky and Wright and whoever their master was for six months before going to Cromwell, trying to make Greek Fire, hunting out the Polish drink. What a profit they must have anticipated. Profit from what had been, from the start, a plot against Cromwell.