He went early back to Leadenhall. Despite the hour, he found a tall, stick-thin, dark-skinned man with Sarah in her parlour. She introduced him. ‘Dr Radcliff, this is Saul Mendes, the physician who has worked a miracle on Isaac. Saul has been at his side for most of the night.’
Mendes bowed to Christopher. ‘Sarah has told me much about you, Dr Radcliff.’ The voice was surprising, almost too deep for the body.
‘We are all indebted to you, Dr Mendes. It is a miracle that he lives.’
‘A miracle? No, no, those are the work of God. I am but a humble physician, plying his trade among his own kind.’
Christopher feared that he had given offence until the physician’s eyes told him otherwise. ‘Of course, doctor. How fares the patient today?’
‘Improved. Sarah has nursed him night and day and I am tempted to say that it is her broth that has brought about his recovery. The wound was severe and he left us for a long time. I was very concerned.’
‘You are too modest, Saul,’ said Sarah. ‘The salves you applied and the powder you mixed with his water were efficacious, even though you will not tell me what was in them.’
‘Ah, we physicians have our secrets, too, just like Dr Radcliff.’ He nodded to Christopher. ‘Sarah has told me about the work Isaac did for you. Of course, there must be no more of it. Isaac will need rest and care for a long time yet and anything likely to fatigue him unduly is out of the question.’
Christopher was tempted to reply that Isaac would wish to decide that for himself but this was not the moment. ‘May I speak to him?’
‘You may, but not for long and not without Sarah present to make sure he is not over-taxed. I will return this evening.’
Sarah showed him out and led Christopher up to the bed chamber. Isaac’s eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly. She touched his face and whispered his name. The eyes opened and he smiled. ‘I was sleeping,’ he said.
‘You were not. When you sleep, you snore like a dog.’
‘So Saul has cured my snoring. He is a magician.’
Christopher laughed. Here was the Isaac he knew – frail, yet alert and able to see humour in his own predicament. ‘I would not tire you, my friend,’ he said, ‘but has your memory of what happened returned? Even the smallest thing might prove useful.’
‘I remember nothing, but you mentioned a teston in my strongbox. Why was a teston there? I have more valuable items.’
Christopher explained. ‘It is likely the attack was connected to the false coin.’
‘At least whoever sought it did not find it.’
‘Do you remember where it came from or speaking to anyone about it? A fellow goldsmith perhaps?’
Isaac shook his head. ‘I fear not. Might I have done so?’
‘You might. To my shame, I asked you to.’
‘You will have had good reason, Christopher. Let there be no shame.’
‘That is enough, doctor,’ said Sarah firmly. ‘If Isaac remembers anything more, Daniel will bring a message.’ At the door, she added, ‘Come again whenever you please, doctor. Seeing you will aid his recovery but do not tax him beyond his strength. His memory will return or it will not. Let us leave it in God’s hands.’
‘Why do I spend so much of my life waiting outside your house, Christopher?’ asked Wetherby in mock irritation. ‘It is no occupation for a gentleman and it is damnably cold.’ He folded his arms over his chest to make the point.
‘For the same reason that I spend much of mine running around London on the earl’s business. We are mere servants and must obey our masters.’
‘How fares Isaac?’
‘Awake and lucid, but remembering nothing. I am happy and disappointed both.’
‘I too am happy and perhaps his memory will return. For now, however, you must accompany me back to Whitehall. There the good Earl of Warwick awaits you.’
‘You spoke to him?’
‘I did. He asked to see you himself.’
Christopher sighed. ‘Do you know why? I must be at the sessions house by midday.’
‘I do not.’ He pointed to the cross painted on the door. ‘Whoever did that has a strange turn of humour. You could be boarded up inside and left to rot.’
‘I know. I will have it removed.’
‘Do not delay. Now let us be gone. The elder brother is no more patient than the younger.’
Warwick’s apartment lacked the opulence of Leicester’s and exactly reflected his character: plain, functional oak furniture, neither carpets nor drapes, a portrait of the queen and another, smaller one of a woman Christopher took to be the earl’s wife. He still could not remember whether she was the second or the third but she had been very young when it was painted.
Warwick looked up from the paper he was reading. ‘Dr Radcliff, forgive my not rising. This infernal leg tries my patience.’
‘I grieve that it pains you so fiercely, my lord.’
‘It does. The surgeons advise me to have it off but as that is likely to kill me, for now I shall bear it. Wetherby has told me of your difficulty with the warden. What exactly has he done?’
‘Mr Martin has refused me permission to speak to workers in the mint. I know not why.’
‘And you need to do so in the commission of your task for the Earl of Leicester?’
‘I do, my lord. Until now there has been neither whisper nor hint of who is behind the false testons, but at last a line of inquiry has presented itself.’
Warwick stroked his beard. It was greyer and longer than his brother’s. When he spoke he was precise. ‘Richard Martin is a mercurial soul, whose mood ebbs and flows like the tide according to the state of his gout. With that I can find some sympathy. But he is also ambitious and obsequious in equal measure. Not that there is any excuse for being obstructive. I will write to him today, instructing him to afford you whatever access to his staff you might require.’
‘Thank you, my lord. There is also a second matter.’
‘Yes. Wetherby told me of it. In this case, however, I can be of no help to you. As I understand it, guilty or innocent, the woman will be examined by the magistrate and depositions will be taken. I cannot interfere with the proper process of the law.’
Unlike your less cautious brother who did just that in securing my release from Norwich gaol, thought Christopher. ‘I understand, my lord, but in this case—’
Warwick held up a hand. ‘My decision is made, doctor. Let the law take its course. Is there any other matter that requires my attention?’
‘No, my lord.’ It did not seem an appropriate time to mention his shadow or the plague cross on his house.
‘Then I suggest you concentrate your efforts on finding the coiners. These testons continue to be, to say the least, a grave embarrassment.’
Christopher bowed and took his leave. He had held out no great hope of securing Warwick’s support for Joan but still it was a disappointment. The poor girl would have to take her chances in front of the magistrate.
Warwick had been brief and businesslike and certainly not ill humoured, as his brother could be, yet Christopher had left with the feeling that there had been more to the encounter than he had expected. There had been no need for Warwick to summon him to Whitehall – Wetherby could easily have acted as messenger – yet the earl had done so. The brothers were known to be very close. Perhaps Leicester had asked for Warwick’s opinion of his intelligencer.