The King's Evil (11 page)

'Thank
you, Sarah.'

'See
to the boys first.'

'Have
they behaved well today?'

An
indulgent smile. 'Now and then.'

'Oliver
can be a bully sometimes.'

'Richard
has been the problem today. He will answer back.'

'I'll
speak to them.'

'Not
too harshly,' she counselled.

'They
must learn, Sarah.'

While
she descended to the kitchen, he went off to give his sons a muted reprimand
which was further softened by a good night kiss. He tucked them into their bed.
It was a moment in the day which Jonathan always treasured and he was pleased
that it could now take place again in their own house. Evacuated to Hoxton by
the fire, they had all missed Addle Hill greatly but it was well into the new
year before rebuilding could begin. The area had suffered badly and the
destruction of the once invincible Baynard's Castle had a symbolic meaning for
the whole ward. Like so many others, the Bale household was completely gutted
but its exterior walls, though charred in places, remained largely sound. Once
they were reinforced with additional brickwork, they became able to bear the
weight of new roof timbers and tiles.

As
soon as the shell was completed, Jonathan moved in on his own to rebuild the
house from the inside, using skills which had been honed by many years in the
shipyards. Doing the bulk of the work himself not only defrayed the costs, it
gave him a sense of satisfaction. He was able both to rebuild and improve their
home. He was particularly pleased with his new staircase, made of seasoned oak
and showing evidence of long hours with a plane and a chisel. When the kitchen,
parlour and one bedroom were habitable, his family moved back to share the
house with him and he continued his renovations around them whenever he could
steal a spare hour or two. It was by no means an ideal situation but it was far
preferable to living outside the city wall in Hoxton and, in his case, having
long walks to and from Baynard's Castle Ward every day.

'I
still think that you should have taken it,' remarked Sarah.

'Taken
what?' he asked.

'The
reward.'

'Oh,
no. I could never bring myself to do so.'

'But
you earned it, Jonathan.'

'I
merely did my duty,' he said solemnly. 'A constable is enjoined to arrest
criminals. That is all that I did. It was very kind of Sir Ambrose Northcott to
offer me a reward but it had to be refused. If anybody should have received the
money, it was Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me Thorpe. It was he who alerted me to what
was afoot.'

'Then
you should have taken the reward and shared it with him.'

'No,
Sarah.'

'Why
not?'

'Because
my conscience would have troubled me.'

'Jonathan,'
she argued, 'we need all the money we can get.'

'Not
if it comes from such a source.'

'You
prevented a crime being committed on someone's property. The owner was duly
grateful. He is entitled to reward you.' 'And I am just as entitled to reject
his offer.'

'I
would not have done so.'

'You
might if you knew the circumstances.'

'What
circumstances?'

Jonathan
swallowed the last of his food before he answered. Seated in their kitchen, he
and Sarah were eating a light salad for supper. He washed it down with a mug of
ale then looked across at her.

'A
crime was reported to me,' he continued, 'and I took action. I did so with no
thought of personal gain. Had the theft been from the meanest house in the
ward, I would have responded just the same. I had no notion that the property
in question was owned by Sir Ambrose Northcott.'

'But
it was, Jonathan, and he was deeply grateful.'

'The
size of the reward shows that, my love, but it was offered to me in a way that
I found insulting. A lawyer named Solomon Creech sought me out. A scurvy fellow
who spoke to me so condescendingly that I was hard pressed to hold on to my
temper.'

'Then
his manner must have been insulting,' she said, 'for you are the most
even-tempered person I have ever met. It takes a lot to rouse Jonathan Bale to
anger.'

'Mr
Creech managed to do it,' he recalled bitterly. 'He made it sound as if Sir
Ambrose was doing me a huge favour when it was I, in fact, who helped
him.
I will not be patronised by anybody, Sarah.'

'Do
you think I need to be told that?'

'Least
of all by some wealthy Cavalier.'

'Now
we come to the truth of it.'

'I
felt as if I was being paid off like some menial.'

'Money
is money, Jonathan.'

'Not
when it is tainted,' he said sharply. 'We need no favours. We will manage on
our own somehow. Mr Creech would not believe that I actually refused the award.
He began to chastise me and read me a sermon on gratitude. I tell you this,
Sarah, if I had not turned on my heel and walked away from the man, I might
well have done him an injury. He was truly obnoxious.'

'Would
you have taken the money from Sir Ambrose himself?'

'Not
a penny.'

'Even
though it would have offended him?'

'My
refusal would have been polite, Sarah,' he said evenly. 'I look for no reward
from Sir Ambrose Northcott, whether direct from him or by means of that
damnable lawyer.' He gave a hollow laugh. 'The only consolation is that he did
not send that architect of his to transact the business.'

'Architect?'

'A
cocksure young man called Christopher Redmayne.'

'How
is he involved here?'

'He
designed the house for Sir Ambrose and he lay in ambush to catch the thieves.
He and the builder, one Samuel Littlejohn, were there that night and helped to
catch the villains.'

'That
shows rare courage on their part.'

'They
have a vested interest in the property. I believe that it is the first house Mr
Redmayne has designed. He is a gifted architect.'

'Then
why have you not mentioned him before?'

'Because
I choose to put him out of my mind.'

'For
what reason?'

'I
do not like the fellow, Sarah.'

'Is
he so unpleasant to you?'

'Quite
the opposite,' he sighed. 'Mr Redmayne has tried to befriend me and that is even
worse. I want no dealings with him. He lives in one world, I live in another.
That is that. We have nothing in common. It was an unfortunate coincidence that
we bumped into each other again.'

'Again?'
she echoed. 'You have met him before?'

'Yes.
Close by St Paul's.'

'When
was this?'

'Several
months ago. Just after the fire.'

'Did
you take against him then?'

'Very
strongly, Sarah,' he admitted. 'It is not so much

the
man himself as what he represents. He is one of them. When Lord Protector
Cromwell ruled, I hoped that such creatures would be driven out of London
altogether but they are back in greater numbers than before.'

'Who
are?'

'Elegant
young gentlemen with their easy manners and easy ways, looking down on the
likes of us. Royalists, Sarah. Trailing behind King Charles like his beloved
spaniels and soiling the whole city with their droppings. No,' he said as he
poured more ale from the jug, 'that was another reason to decline the money. I
knew that the architect, too, would doubtless be rewarded for his share in the
enterprise. We would have been joint beneficiaries.'

'Is
that so terrible, Jonathan?'

'Yes,'
he emphasised. 'I would not wish my name to be linked in any way to that of Mr
Christopher Redmayne.'