by S. J. Parris
‘Is he a good man?’
She looked at me sharply. ‘What, you don’t think so? I thought he was one of yours.’
‘I hardly know what to make of him. I think he’s a man with an unshakeable sense of right and wrong.’
‘They’re the most dangerous.’ She swallowed her drink. ‘He does some good, I can’t deny that. He takes seriously his duty to care for the poor and the outcasts, which is more than many so-called men of God bother with. But I wish he would leave off his mission to terrify my child into the arms of Christ because he’s afraid I’m raising him as a secret Mohammedan. Joe even gave me back—’ She stopped, biting down her words, as if afraid of saying too much.
‘Show him,’ Anneke urged, leaning forward to pour herself another shot. ‘He might be able to help.’
Leila rose reluctantly and took the key from around her neck to unlock the cupboard where she kept the opium. She returned with what looked like a silver necklace glinting between her fingers. When she dropped it into my lap, I recognised it immediately.
‘A misbaha,’ I said, turning the beads over between my fingers. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the silver worn smooth in places from years of use.
Leila nodded approvingly. ‘Ignorant English people think it is a rosary. I suppose it would be as dangerous to be caught with either. These were my father’s prayer beads. They were one of the few precious things I was able to bring from Spain with me when I was taken to England. I gave them to Joe to wear in secret, to honour my parents, who he never knew. When he told me a few weeks ago he didn’t want them any more because Captain Fortescue said all the Mohammedans were burning in Hell, including his grandfather, I swear, I almost went after your friend and tore his throat out. Instead I lost my temper at Joe.’ She took the beads from me and caressed them under the pad of her thumb. ‘Joe cried and said he was sorry. He promised to wear them for my sake. But he knew to keep them secret – he would not have lost them or let them be stolen. This is how I am certain he hasn’t run away, and I fear for him. Anneke found these this evening, on the riverbank.’
‘I was out there earlier,’ she said, pulling her stool closer to me. ‘I went with a customer – there’s an abandoned boat on the mudbank there where you can get some privacy and not have to lie on the wet ground. The tide was out, so after he’d gone, I walked along the edge to see what had washed up, especially by the stairs. There was a bear-baiting tonight too, that always brings well to-do people across the river, you’d be amazed what they drop as they’re getting in and out of boats.’
I nodded, thinking of Joe combing the graveyard for lost valuables, embarrassed that I had not thought before of how many people lived by scavenging in this city.
‘There’s a little jetty between Goat Stairs and Falcon Stairs,’ Anneke continued. ‘The boatmen don’t use it for passengers because it’s mostly rotten, they just tie up there if they’re having a break. But as I was walking past, I saw something glinting. I climbed out along it and found the beads on a post at the end. I knew they were Joe’s, so I came straight to Leila.’
‘What time was this?’ I asked.
‘Not long after eight,’ she said immediately. ‘I can be sure because my client finished his business just as the bells at St Mary Overy struck eight. I said to him, “That’s good timing.” He didn’t think so – he said his wife was expecting him home at seven.’
I turned to Leila. ‘When did you last see Joe?’
‘I passed him at the Unicorn around three this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I was on my way out, I’d had a message to go down to the Cardinal’s Hat, there was a girl there needed treatment for a nasty – well, you don’t need to know. Joe was in the yard, brushing down a horse – he said he’d see me at home if not before. He usually finishes work around seven but he’ll stay to earn extra if it’s busy, so I wasn’t worried when he didn’t come back by eight. Until Anneke turned up with the misbaha.’ Her face drew tight and I saw how afraid she was, and how hard she was trying to hide it. ‘Joe would not have been parted from this willingly. So I can only think that he must have been taken, and dropped it on the jetty as a sign.’
‘Taken somewhere by boat, you mean? But in broad daylight – that means he must have gone willingly, otherwise people would have noticed a scuffle, surely?’
‘You’d be surprised. People turn a blind eye to anything in Southwark.’
‘He’s right, though,’ Anneke said. ‘It’s busy out on the riverfront, someone would have remarked on a child being bundled into a boat against his will. Maybe Joe knew the person.’
‘Leila – I know Joe didn’t tell me the whole truth this morning. Did he say anything more about what he had seen in the Cross Bones the night the girl was killed? If we’re to find him, any detail might help.’ I didn’t say, if we’re to find him alive. She knew what I meant.
‘No detail. But he did say’ – the beads clicked rapidly between her fingers – ‘he was going to get his grandfather out of prison. He knew that Abe hadn’t touched the girl – we all knew that – but Joe said he could tell the constables something that would mean they had to let the old man go.’
‘Because he knew who the real killer was, do you think? And did he speak to anyone?’
She let out a weary sigh. ‘Look, I know you’re a foreigner, but even you must have realised by now – people round here don’t talk willingly to the authorities. See what happened to Abe when he tried to do the right thing and reported that girl’s death. I told Joe to forget whatever he thought he’d seen. The old man went to gaol to keep Joe out of it, I told him, and it would do no good for the child to go about Southwark shouting that he knew what really happened, with the killer still out there.’
‘So he didn’t tell you any names?’
‘I didn’t want to hear them. I told him never to speak of it again, to me or anyone else. But someone knows, don’t they?’ She looked at me and her dark eyes were bright with fear. ‘Someone thinks Joe saw them that night.’
‘Did anyone else see Joe this evening, after you? It might give us an idea of when he disappeared.’ If it was one of the conspirators, I thought, it would have to have been before the bear-baiting began at seven.
‘I went round to the Unicorn to ask the stable boys – no one recalls seeing him much after I did,’ Leila said. ‘In fact, the head ostler was annoyed because it was busy and he thought Joe had given himself the afternoon off. That lad with the scabby face said he saw Joe talking to a man at the entrance to the yard sometime in the afternoon, but that could have been anyone, and the boy was too useless to remember a description, except that the person was tall.’
Ballard was quite tall, I thought. But then so were Titch and Babington, and even Douglas had a way of carrying himself that made his stature seem greater. Any one of them could have got Joe across the river by boat and been back in Southwark in time for the bear-baiting. The mystery was why they would bother taking him north to the City; if you wanted to be rid of someone quietly, Southwark was the obvious place to do it.
‘This jetty – is it near the bear garden?’ I asked.
‘Quite near. I would take you to the place, only…’ her eyes slid sideways to the door, ‘I want to be here in case Joe comes back.’
‘I could show him,’ Anneke said, a little too eagerly.
Leila gave her a tired smile. ‘Steady, girl. I’m not sure he’s allowed what you’ve got to show.’
Anneke put her head on one side and looked me up and down, appraising. ‘What a waste.’
‘I know.’ Leila laughed. I began to feel slightly uncomfortable, with the two of them assessing me as if I were the one for sale.
‘Ladies, let us concentrate on the matter in hand,’ I said, rising from the stool and feeling the effects of the liquor in the hot room. ‘And leave off speculating about what I am allowed. I answer to no one but myself, and idle talk can be dangerous.’ I met Leila’s eye. ‘As you should know better than most.’
She
nodded, looking briefly chastened as she opened the door; a welcome blast of night air rushed in to cool our faces. ‘Let me know if you find anything. I’ll owe you.’
* * *
Anneke hooked her arm through mine as she led me on a shortcut through the alleys towards the river, pressing closer than she needed to; she said I made her feel safe. I held up the lantern Leila had given us and tried to ignore the soft pressure of the girl’s breast against my arm. Anneke was not pretty, but there was a liveliness about her that seemed especially admirable given the life she must lead, and her warmth was making me think too much of my earlier encounter with Sophia.
‘Don’t mind Leila,’ she said, after a while. ‘She is fierce because she worries about Joe.’
‘I get the impression she has a low opinion of men.’
‘So would you, if you had to see the things she sees. Southwark women get the worst of what men can do, and Leila has to clean them up after. It’s no wonder she fights to protect that child like a mother bear.’
We emerged on to Bankside. The sky was clear and a wash of moonlight gleamed silver on the river and the mudflats alongside. Points of light from wherries bobbed up and down further out on the water, and to our right I could see the lights from torches burning at the entrances to the brothels. I hoped I would not run into any of the conspirators on their way home from the Unicorn; Father Prado would have a hard time explaining what he was doing combing the riverbank in the company of a street whore.
‘Over here,’ Anneke said, pulling me towards the shore. Ahead, a long dark shape stood out against the movement of the water.
‘Is that your abandoned boat?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Do you want to go there quickly? It’s dry, better than lying on the ground.’ She gave me the appraising look again from the tail of her eye. ‘A shilling, for you?’
‘No – thank you.’ I tried to soften the rejection. ‘Bit cold. You don’t work at the Unicorn, then?’
She let out a bright burst of laughter. ‘Are you joking? They can afford to be picky at the Unicorn, people pay a lot of money, they want girls who look like well-bred virgins. When Lotte and I came off the boat, we were already much too old for any of the licensed houses. I’m twenty-six, and Lotte twenty-four. Old nags now, both of us. But there are always men whose purses don’t stretch to the licensed houses, so we keep food on the table. Just about.’
‘The boat from where?’
‘What you would call the Low Countries. There are a lot of Flemish girls in Southwark. The Dutch and Flemish merchants know this – when they’re in town on business, they like to be able to relax and speak their own language. I know a little of your language too, if you want that.’
‘English is fine. Is Lotte your friend who has disappeared?’
She nodded. ‘I am worried for her.’
‘Have you told the constables she’s missing?’
She turned and stared at me, then laughed again. ‘Don’t you listen to anything? This is Southwark. Girls go missing every day here, and no one cares about a foreign whore. The only reason they have poor Abe Goodchild in gaol over that girl in the Cross Bones is because they think she was a gentlewoman and they have to make a show of doing something. No one is going to help me look for Lotte. I just hope she hasn’t done anything stupid.’ She bit her lip.
‘Why would she?’
‘She’s been very down lately. She thought she had early signs of the pox. But that’s Lotte – a headache and she’s convinced it’s the plague, a little rash and she’s dying of the French pox. I told her she should let Leila examine her, then she would know for certain, and Leila has treatments, but I think Lotte was afraid of having it confirmed. When she is melancholy, she can sometimes do reckless things. Anyway, you don’t want to hear about her – we’re supposed to be looking for Joe. This is the jetty, here.’
She let go of my arm so that I could walk out to the wooden posts, just visible in the moonlight against the gleam of the river. I could see when I held up the lantern that the boards were half rotted away, and some of the slats were missing. Careful not to lose my footing, I walked the length of the short jetty, watching the black water swirl beneath me in the gaps, testing each plank before I put my weight on it. At the end, I crouched and examined the posts where Anneke said she had found the prayer beads, but I could see no sign of torn fabric or anything that might indicate a struggle. Across the river, a few scattered lights showed the landing stage at Paul’s Wharf; beside it I could make out the façade of Baynard’s Castle. A little further west, though invisible in the dark, was Water Lane, and Salisbury Court, the residence of the French ambassador, where I had lived for two years, and where I had first met Archibald Douglas. He was right; in some ways it did feel as if hardly any time had passed since those days. Here we both were, tangled in yet another plot to put Mary Stuart on the throne – except that my role was to help bring her to the block. I wished I knew what Douglas’s interest was.
I looked back towards Bankside; there would have been plenty of people passing in the afternoon, and boats on the river. Joe could not have been abducted against his will without someone noticing. I picked my way back to Anneke and suggested we walk west towards Paris Garden, the opposite direction to the Unicorn.
‘Why would Joe get in a boat with someone when he was supposed to be at work?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘Threats or promises, what else, with a child? Joe would do anything for his family – if someone told him they would help get his grandfather out of gaol, or said they would hurt his mother, he’d go wherever he was told.’
‘Don’t you find it strange, talking of Joe as he?’
She made a rueful face. ‘My old woman put me to work on my back at twelve. Josefina is lucky to have a mother like Leila, who will do anything to keep her from that. I’ll call her whatever they want if it helps her stay safe. That’s why Leila puts up with that pompous arse Captain Fortescue – because he protected Joe once.’
‘Then Balla— Fortescue knows Joe is a girl?’
‘I don’t know about that. But a few months ago he caught a customer at the Unicorn trying it on with Joe. The man was drunk, he’d pushed the child inside an empty stall in the yard and got his old pizzle out, there was no one else about. Suppose he thought a little brown-skinned stable boy was worth nothing, he’d get away with it.’ Her jaw tightened with anger. ‘But the Captain went in after them before anything could happen, and he dragged this man out to the yard and beat him black and blue. The bully boys from the Unicorn had to pull him away before there was murder done. Leila said the fellow was barely breathing when he’d finished. Fortescue has a devil of a temper. So you see why she does what he asks – you keep men like that on your side.’
I nodded. We had reached Falcon Stairs, where a couple of wherries were tethered with tired, cold-looking boatmen huddled inside, no doubt waiting for a fare from those stumbling out of the brothels.
‘I should go home,’ I said.
‘Sure you don’t want company?’
‘I’m tired. Sorry.’
‘Shame. You have a lovely face.’ She reached up a cold hand and stroked my cheek. I flinched in surprise. ‘Well, if you won’t have me, I’d better go and earn an honest living elsewhere. A girl’s got to eat.’
‘I hope you find your friend,’ I said, as she turned to go. ‘And if you think of anything else that might help Joe, you can get word to me at the Saracen’s Head in Holborn.’
‘Why are you doing this for Joe?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing. ‘Or is it for Leila? It wouldn’t surprise me. Most men are scared of her, but you have more…’ she thrust her hips forward and mimed grasping a pair of balls.
‘Because I want to find out who killed the girl in the Cross Bones. I think Joe knows, and I fear that my questions might have made things worse for him. The least I can do is try to help him, if that’s the case.’
She nodded. ‘Must be nice to be the kind of girl who has beautiful men to car
e when you get killed,’ she said, with an edge of resentment.
I thought of the ravaged face I had seen on the table in the leper chapel. ‘I don’t think nice describes her situation,’ I replied, a little curtly, and turned to the boatmen, calling ‘Oars, ho!’
TWENTY-ONE
I walked home to Herne’s Rents dragging my feet as my mind turned over the day’s events. Anneke had let me take Leila’s lantern – she said she could find her way around Southwark in the dark – but the candle was almost burned out by the time I reached Holborn, and I felt obscurely disappointed that there had been no sign of Ben this evening. Once or twice, on the walk up from the river, I had thought I heard a tell-tale clatter of a stone kicked accidentally, or the swish of fabric as someone walked behind me, and whipped around expecting to find him at my back as I had the previous night, but there was no one. His absence made me feel oddly exposed; I had liked the idea that he was keeping an eye on me. I hoped nothing had happened to him; I was already too preoccupied with Joe’s disappearance.
No matter which way I looked at it, everything led back to Ballard. Ballard, who had his own supply of opium; who had lied about being in France when Clara was killed; who had seen Joe talking to me that morning, and whose appearance had frightened Joe so much that he ran off; whose devotion to the plot was so all-consuming I could easily believe him capable of murdering anyone he believed to have betrayed or sabotaged it. Christ, I thought, climbing the stairs to our rooms – I hope Gifford survived their little tête-à-tête.
I had wondered more than once what had persuaded Clara Poole to go to the Cross Bones in the middle of the night; I now realised that Ballard could have convinced her. She was eager to ingratiate herself with the conspirators; if he had said he needed her to pick up an important message there, she would have obeyed without question, to prove her worth. But Ballard had told me he would not take an innocent life, and didn’t Joe count as exactly that – a child who had happened to see something they should not? Poole had called Ballard ruthless – but the priest was also a man who risked his life to bring the sacraments to the sick and dying, who took food to the poor, who had stopped lonely, grieving Savage from throwing himself into the river, and beaten a man almost to death for trying to abuse a child. I had to hope that, having saved Joe once, Ballard would have enough conscience not to hurt him, even if he meant to frighten the child into keeping quiet.