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your mind for the worst, Joseph.’
    ‘No, sir,’ he said. ‘While you are working for us, I have hope.’
    ‘Prepare for the worst,’ I repeated. It was all very well for Guy to talk of the merit of good works. He did not have to come before Judge Forbizer on gaol-delivery day.

Chapter Four
    I RODE FROM N EWGATE TO my chambers at Lincoln’s Inn, just up the road from my house in
Chancery Lane. When King Edward III ordered that no lawyers should be allowed to practise within the precincts of London, necessitating our removal outside its walls, he did us great service for
the Inn was semi-rural, with wide orchards and the space of Lincoln’s Inn Fields beyond.
    I passed under the high square towers of the Great Gate, left Chancery at the stables and walked to my chambers across Gatehouse Court. The sun shone brightly on the redbrick buildings. There
was a pleasant breeze; we were too far from the City walls here for London smells to penetrate.
    Barristers were striding purposefully around the precincts; the Trinity law term began the following week and there were cases to set in order. Among the black robes and caps there were also, of
course, the usual young gentlemen in bright doublets and exaggerated codpieces strutting around, sons of gentry who joined the Inns only to learn London manners and make social contacts. A pair of
them walking by had evidently been rabbiting in Coney Garth, for a pair of hounds frisked at their heels, their eyes on the furry bodies dripping blood from poles slung over their masters’
shoulders.
    Then, ambling down the path from Lincoln’s Inn Hall with his customary amiable smile on his beaky features, I saw the tall, thin figure of Stephen Bealknap, against whom I would be
pleading in King’s Bench in a few days. He halted in front of me and bowed. The courtesies require that barristers, even when opponents in the bitterest of cases, must observe the civilities,
but Bealknap’s friendly manner always had something mocking in it. It was as though he said: you know I am a great scamp, but still you must be pleasant to me.
    ‘Brother Shardlake!’ he declaimed. ‘Another hot day. The wells will be drying up at this rate.’
    Normally I would have made a curt acknowledgement and moved on, but it struck me there was a piece of information he could help me with. ‘So they will,’ I said. ‘It has been a
dry spring.’
    At my unaccustomed civility, a smile appeared on Bealknap’s face. It seemed quite pleasant until you came close and saw the meanness in the mouth, and realized the pale-blue eyes would
never quite meet yours no matter how you tried to fix them. Beneath his cap a few curls of wiry-looking blond hair strayed.
    ‘Well, our case is on next week,’ he said. ‘June the first.’
    ‘Ay. It has come on very quick. It was only in March you lodged your writ. I am still surprised, Brother Bealknap, that you have taken this up to King’s Bench.’
    ‘They have a proper respect for the rights of property law there. I shall show them the case of
Friars Preachers
v.
the Prior of Okeham.
’
    I laughed lightly. ‘I see you have been ferreting in the Assize of Nuisance Rolls, Brother. That case is on a different point and it is two hundred years old.’
    He smiled back, his eyes darting around. ‘It is still relevant. The prior pleaded that matters of nuisance such as his faulty gutter were beyond the council’s
jurisdiction.’
    ‘Because his priory came directly under the king’s authority. But St Michael’s priory comes under yours now. You are the freeholder and you are responsible for the nuisance
your priory causes. I hope you have better authority than that to hand.’
    He would not be drawn, bending to examine the sleeve of his robe. ‘Well, Brother,’ I said lightly, ‘we shall see. But now we are met, I would ask a question on another matter.
Will you be at the gaol delivery on Saturday?’ I knew that running compurgators in the bishop’s court