The King's Evil by Edward Marston Read Free Book Online

kindest word to apply.'
    'Choose
one of your own.'
    'It
is the Sabbath, sir. I will not profane it.'
    The
young man tensed and seemed about to issue a rebuke but the moment quickly
passed. Instead, he burst out laughing at himself. He also scrutinised the
constable's big, oval face with its prominent nose and its square jaw. Two
warts on the left cheek and a livid scar across the forehead turned a pleasant appearance
into an ugly one but there was real character in the face. Dark eyes still
smouldered.
    'I
owe you an apology,' said the young man.
    'Take
your purse back,' said the other, handing it over.
    'And
you deserve my gratitude as well. Who did you say he was?'
    'Tom
Fogge.'
    'Does
he always dress as an old woman?'
    'No,
sir,' explained Jonathan. 'That would make it too easy for us to pick him out.
Tom uses many disguises. I did not recognise him until I saw him brush against
you like that. He has a swift hand.'
    'Not
swift enough to elude you.'
    'Foins
and foists belong in prison.'
    'Foins
and what?'
    'Pickpockets.
St Paul's is one of their favourite places of business.'
    'Not
any more,' said the artist, turning to gaze at it. 'It is a mere shadow of what
it once was. I was trying to capture it on paper before it is knocked down to
make way for a new cathedral. It was once one of the largest churches in
Christendom and had the tallest spire in the whole world until it was struck by
lightning. Even in this parlous state, it has a rare magnificence.'
    'All
I can see are ruins, sir.'
    'That
is because you do not have the eye of an artist. Come,' he said, crooking a
finger. 'Let me show you.' He led the constable across to the stone tomb on
which a sheaf of papers lay. 'Here,' he continued, picking one up to offer to
him. 'Does this not have real splendour?'
    Jonathan
took the drawing and marvelled at it. Though it was executed with charcoal, it
had extraordinary precision and verisimilitude. Every detail had been included
and, as he looked up at the cathedral once more, Jonathan could find no
discrepancy. The one difference between reality and art lay in the spirit which
animated the drawing. What the artist had somehow done was to transform a scene
of unrelieved desolation into one of strange beauty. His drawing was a
celebration of architectural grandeur.
    'Well?'
said the young man.
    'It
is good, sir,' conceded the other. 'Very good.'
    'Inspiring?'
    'To
some degree.'
    'You
like it, then?'
    'I
find it ... interesting, sir,' said Jonathan, unable to tear his gaze away from the
drawing. 'You have captured everything there is to see yet added something else
besides. What it is, I do not yet know but I will find it soon. Yes,' he
murmured. 'It is a fine piece of work.'
    'Keep
it.'
    'Keep
it?' repeated Jonathan in surprise.
    'As
a reward for recovering my stolen purse. It is the least that I can offer you.
I can see that you are taken with it. Have it.'
    'But
it is yours, sir.'
    'It
is only one of several that I have,' said the young man, indicating the sheaf
of papers. 'Do you see? I have two other drawings from this angle and three
from the west side of the cathedral. Besides, I have tired of drawing what
stands before me and have moved on to what ought to take its place. Look at
this.'
    He
picked up the drawing which lay on the board and held it out for the constable
to study it. Jonathan was frankly astounded. He had never seen anything so overwhelming
in size and so stunning in conception. Where the old cathedral had a spireless
tower, the new one was surmounted by a massive dome buttressed by paired
columns. The facade featured a succession of pilastered columns and a portico
which thrust out to lend additional sculptural impact. In place of the present
churchyard was a vast piazza, enclosed by colonnades which reached out from
the .main building like giant arms of marble.
    Jonathan
glanced at the ruins then back at the drawing.
    'Is that what you could see when you looked up?'
    'In
my mind's eye.'
    'It is