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office.
    ‘You are agitated, Simon. I heard most of what that clerk said – the echoes of this church carry long and clear – although I did not catch his name.’
    ‘Amadeus Sevigny, Yorkist clerk, a nephew of my enemy Malpas.’ This time Simon held Eleanor’s grey-eyed gaze. He noticed her long lashes, the finely etched brows, the lips still red even without any carmine. He thought she looked tired and wan, yet this was a face that plagued his dreams and left a soreness of heart that could not be soothed. He curbed his agitation. He had lost this woman to his brother, and, after Edmund had been murdered, to God.
    Unnerved and most uncomfortable with such a feeling, he rose and went across to study a painting of the Resurrection of the Dead that decorated the plaster above the squint. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The dead were rising from their long sleep as if from a good night in bed. Some came to life yawning and stretching; a few immediately sprang up to eternal life. Others were slugabeds, so lazy that angels armed with crowbars levered their coffined lids and gently roused them into eternal wakefulness.
    ‘Is it serious?’ Eleanor abruptly asked. ‘Don’t hide from me, Simon.’
    Roseblood looked over his shoulder. ‘York will invade. Civil war is imminent.’
    ‘And the King?’
    ‘Poor Henry, long-jawed, bewildered, his dark eyes full of sadness, cowers like a bird in its cage when the cat is around. York’s badge, the fetterlock, and his insignia, the white rose, are appearing all over the city, on the great crosses at Cheapside and St Paul’s; even on the doors of Beaufort’s quarters at Greyfriars.’
    ‘And you, Simon, why are you being threatened?’ She laughed softly. ‘Of course I know, but why now?’
    ‘I am Beaufort’s man. I control the babewyns and the gargoyles of London, the scavengers, muckrakers and gong men in every ward. I can spread rumour and collect gossip. I speak for the King, his Queen and the Beauforts on the city council. My spacious tavern can host special guests. I can bring in and dispatch whomever I want. If Beaufort wishes to send someone abroad, I can arrange it. If he or the Queen want to receive some secret envoy, their wish is my command. If a street fight begins, I can whistle up my hoard of rifflers and ruffians. York and his henchmen, Malpas and Sevigny, would love to destroy that.’
    ‘But why now? Why has Sevigny appeared? Surely this is connected to my Edmund’s death. The same deadly game?’
    ‘I think so.’ Simon breathed in the heavy fragrance from the herb pots arranged around the chamber. ‘Yes, the same deadly game: who will control London? Five years ago, Cade occupied the city. He slaughtered many of the King’s party in an attempt to win it. In the end, he failed. Now Malpas is attempting the same before York marches, and has brought Sevigny in to assist. They will use the law, or in this case, Candlemas.’
    ‘I recall his name. I have heard rumours about the attack. What happened?’
    ‘Oh, Candlemas and his coven failed to steal silver being escorted to the Tower mint.’ Simon grinned. ‘They didn’t realise that there was no silver to rob; just sacks of old iron castings. No, no,’ he waved a hand, ‘I cannot tell you the full story. Four of the robbers were taken and tried before the justices at the Guildhall. Malpas had no choice. They had killed a royal serjeant, so they were sentenced to death for treason. Sevigny used the executions to see if Candlemas would appear. The fool did not disappoint him. He and two other rogues took refuge in the sanctuary of St Paul’s. On execution day, they stupidly left this and used a secret tunnel, an ancient sewer that runs close to Smithfield. They were captured and offered pardons as King’s Approvers. They must testify that I was the moving spirit behind the robbery.’
    ‘Were you?’
    Simon just smiled. Despite his sea of troubles, he was quietly revelling in the