‘There is no time, boy!’ Okedene snapped. ‘They must be taken before they leave. A citizen’s arrest!’ I saw he was eager to take the chance to capture Greening’s killers himself, and perhaps to lift the cloud of worry from his family. ‘Master Shardlake, have you any other people here who could help us?’ he asked. ‘Perhaps that bearded man in your outer office?’

I sighed. Okedene was right, this might be our only chance. But these were killers, young, fit men, experienced in violence. Nicholas might give a good account of himself but Okedene was no youngster, while I would be of little use in a fight. Nor would Skelly. That left Barak, whom I had sworn to involve no further. But here was a chance to take the killers, present them to Lord Parr myself. Nicholas and Okedene looked on impatiently as I considered. Then I crossed to the door and asked Barak to join us. He rose from his desk, an odd mixture of anticipation and reluctance flashing across his face.

I explained that Master Okedene had been a witness to the murder I was investigating, and he had just seen the killers at the Bacchus Inn. I said, ‘These are dangerous fellows. I doubt we could take them without you. I’ve no right to ask you to come, and if you say no, I’ll understand.’

Barak took a long, deep breath. ‘Is this connected with the – other matter? With Baynard’s Castle?’

I nodded slowly. ‘This may be our one chance to settle both matters.’

Barak bit his lip. Through his shirt he fingered his father’s old Jewish mezuzah, which he wore round his neck as constantly as the Queen had worn the key round hers. Then he said, ‘Have we weapons enough? Young Nick wore his sword into work today, showing off as usual. I have a good knife.’

‘And I,’ Okedene said.

‘Mine is somewhere,’ I said.

‘Then let’s go,’ Barak said. ‘I’ve been out of things a while, but I haven’t forgotten how to fight.’

AN ILL-ASSORTED quartet, we made our way along Fleet Street under a hot mid-morning sun, and under the city wall at Newgate. Skelly had stared as we left; Barak told him cheerfully that if Mistress Slanning called she was to be requested kindly to go and boil her head in a pot. Nicholas loped along, hand on his sword, eyes agleam, clearly looking forward to the fray. There was a reassurance in the presence of his weapon, which I knew Nicholas took pains to keep well-sharpened. But the men we would face were dangerous. I dreaded the thought of anything happening to Nicholas or to Barak, who was stepping along purposefully, his face set and watchful. Okedene and I had to hurry to keep up with them both.

‘What’s the layout of this place?’ Barak asked Okedene.