BARAK LAY IN THE SAME ROOM where the Anabaptist McKendrick had died, in the same bed, a cheap candle on a chair beside it. His clothing had been removed and the blankets covered only his lower body; his strong scarred torso was as pale as though he were dead already. He lay on his side, a bloodstained bandage covering the place on his back where he had received the sword-thrust. His right arm, the stump of the wrist thickly bandaged, lay on a pillow. I put a hand to my mouth.

The door of the little room opened and a man with a lamp entered. I recognized Guy’s assistant, Francis Sybrant. His brow furrowed when he saw me.

‘You, sir? You were here before – to see that other man who was attacked–’

‘The porter said you brought Barak in. How – ?’

‘I was coming on duty earlier this evening. I come by the back ways, always. Often one finds sick beggars, sometimes people who have been injured and abandoned, though never like this.’ He looked at us accusingly. ‘You left him there?’

‘No! We were prisoners, we could do nothing. Dear God, you must have come on him just in time.’ I thought, perhaps my prayers had been answered after all. ‘Please, this man is a good friend, can you tell us – ’ my voice faltered – ‘will he live?’

Sybrant looked at us dubiously. ‘That wound in his back – it was made by a sword?’

‘Yes.’

‘It has damaged no vital organs that I can see, but between that and what was done to his hand – he has lost much blood. Too much for him to survive, I fear.’

‘He is a strong man.’

Sybrant shook his head. ‘He would need to be exceptionally so to survive this. Has he family?’

I exchanged an anguished look with Nicholas. I had put thoughts of Tamasin from my mind. ‘Yes,’ I answered haltingly. ‘And a child. His wife is expecting another.’

Nicholas said, ‘Perhaps it may be better if she is not told till the doctor comes.’

Sybrant said, ‘Dr Malton has been sent for.’

‘You are right, Nicholas,’ I said. ‘I will wait for Guy.’

Nicholas turned to Sybrant. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

The old man looked at the ashen figure on the bed. ‘Only pray, sirs, pray.’

GUY ARRIVED SOON AFTER, a heavy bag over his shoulder. He appeared shocked, haggard, for he had known Barak and Tamasin almost as long as I. He looked at us, then at Barak lying on the bed. He drew in his breath sharply. ‘What happened to him?’

‘There was a sword fight; he was stabbed in the back and his hand sliced off.’

‘Dear Jesus!’ Guy looked angry. ‘Was this sword fight part of this mission of yours?’

I lowered my eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘Were you there?’

‘Yes. But we were taken prisoner. We have only just been released.’

Guy moved across to the bed. ‘Does Tamasin know?’