Have you ever seen a fellow undergo a severe shock? I was once in a tavern when a fight broke out. The winner of the little battle was flushed with booze and victory as his enemy collapsed, when someone told him the other was the son of a duke. The fighter’s face went absolutely white in an instant, as did mine now.
‘Oh, Christ’s pains!’
That was all my money! Everything I possessed to enjoy a swift flight had been inside it. Without it … well, I preferred not to think what would happen without it.
‘What?’ she demanded.
‘Some thieving scrote has cut the laces of my purse! Look! The prick cut the laces with a razor! All my damned money has gone!’
‘Nice try!’ Willyam laughed. ‘So you want us to buy you an ale? Go home and fetch your money, fool!’
Lawyer Abraham was hardly more sympathetic. He roared, slapping his thigh with delight. ‘You mean you got dipped? Someone cut your purse and took all your money? Hahaha!’
‘I’ll buy you an ale,’ Agnis said. I turned to her with relief. She had a small purse and pulled out some coins. ‘These will be enough. Buy me wine, if they have any in this place. It’ll taste of piss, I expect.’
I saw a serving maid and hailed her. Soon Agnis and I were sitting at a certain distance from the other two. I was unimpressed by their lack of sympathy and understanding about the loss of my purse, and more keen to maintain the friendly relations I was building with the fair Agnis. She had, at least, shown sympathy in the way that she had offered to buy me a drink.
Where had I lost my purse? The only place I could think of was at the bonfire, when I was dancing with the little wretch Sarra. She had hands that wandered well, and I could easily imagine that at some point she had pressed her hand to my money and danced away with it. The accomplice, who kept glaring at me, seemed to be about to come to defend his woman’s virtue – that was the impression he had intended to give me, to drive me away. She must have slipped him a nod when she had my purse, and he immediately started to scowl to stop me thinking about whether my belt was lighter than before, and to send me over the horizon before her ‘jealous husband’ could tear my head from my shoulders. Yes. It all made perfect sense. She had distracted me perfectly, and then he had completed the move by driving me away in fear of a lover’s jealousy.
‘What will you do now?’ Agnis demanded. ‘You can’t go home with those men at your door, and you have no money. Will you get some from these fine friends of yours?’
‘What do you think?’ I said, casting a dour glance at the pair of them.
Lawyer Abraham and Willyam were discussing the absence of Bob. ‘Where is he? He should be done by now,’ Lawyer Abraham said.
‘Bob knows what he is about. Perhaps he has just found a good spot and doesn’t want to leave it until he has milked all the pretty cattle in the market!’ Willyam said.
Personally, I found their conversation rather immature. To hear them laugh, and their gleeful bantering comments about fools who could dip and dive but not notice when their own pelf was being cut away, was irritating.
I finished my drink and stood. Agnis rose too, and joined me as I took my leave and walked from the tavern.
‘What will you do?’ she said again.
It was a good question. I fixed a serious expression to my face. It was one that lent me a certain contemplative look, I know, and always tended to secure sympathy from women. It showed my more soulful side.
She sighed. ‘If you’re going to look as mournful as a lost hound, I suppose I’ll have to take you in for a while,’ she said.
The house to which she took me was one of those older dumps out near the river, a short way along Tymberhuth Street, a narrow lane that runs parallel to the river just up from Tymberhuth’s wharf. I said nothing, but it was a scant double stone-throw from where Jeffry died, and as I entered the building, I could not help but think that his corpse could even now be settling underneath the piles just out in the river. It made me shiver.
Her chamber was a small, foul room in the upper storey of the building. Below were storage houses for bales of material, ropes and metalwork of all sorts. There were four flights of stairs – or, rather, two staircases and then two rickety ladders – to scale before reaching her room, which was the topmost garret in the eaves. At least, I thought, she could pull up the ladders if she needed protection from attacking hordes. As an attempt at humour, it failed to lift my spirits. I didn’t mention it to her.
However, when I gained my first sight of the room, I was glad first to see that it contained a large bed. It looked the sort of substantial, rope-sprung bed that would take a fair bit of punishment. There was one aspect of it that did surprise me. I mentioned this to her.
‘Yes, it was my husband. He built it himself. All the work was done below, in the street, and then he brought it up, piece by piece, and put it all together here,’ she said.
‘It must have taken him an age,’ I said, marvelling at it. It was a good six feet long and almost four wide, built of good, strong planks, with legs to keep it free of the floor. The ropes that supported the mattress were woven from one side to the other and then from top to bottom, and the mattress itself must have been fairly recently filled with fresh hay and some sweet-smelling herbs, for the chamber had the smell of summer, and reminded me of lying in a pasture in the sunshine. I could remember several times lying on my back in the fields up above Whitstable, before I escaped my father and made my way to the city to find my fortune. Once, there was a girl called Susan, who had smelled rather like this, too. But then her father got to hear that she had been idling her time away with me, and I caught a blow that blackened my eye for a week. I believe she married the smith. She probably has a miniature tribe of squalling brats by now.
More fool her, I thought.
Agnis had taken off her shoes. She had dainty little feet, and she sat herself on her bed and let them dangle. ‘So, what now?’ she said.
I gave her my best grin and moved towards the bed.
‘Oh, no. You’re not here for fun and frolics, Master Jack. You are here because, from the goodness of my heart, I have agreed to allow you to stay here one evening. You will sleep down there.’
‘What, on the floor?’
‘If you don’t like it, there’s always the pavement outside. Or you can make your way homewards and see if you can get into your house before the men outside cut your throat.’
I didn’t like that thought, or the cool, convincing manner in which she shared it. I looked at the boards of the floor. They were warped and splintered, and there were gaps between each of them. She saw the direction of my look and must have relented somewhat. ‘I can let you have two blankets and a coat to lie on, if you need.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Who were those men?’
I grunted as I took the blankets from her. They were thick, and I hoped they would protect me from the cold. ‘Spaniards. I met them in the road when one of their number was attacked by some members of the mob, and helped them. But their friend – well, he died last night. I think they blame me.’
‘Why would they blame you?’ she asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘He was out drinking with me, and he died while, well, while I was doing something for Master Blount.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ I said with mournful conviction. Jeffry’s pale face sprang into my mind again and I shuddered. Agnis had passed me an old, heavy coat, and I pulled this on now. It served to keep the worst of the cold from me.
‘Was it to do with the message I gave you?’
‘Yes. It was the first command. I was trying to prevent its execution.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It is best that you don’t. And now Blount has given me this second instruction. And I have to fulfil that too, or he will be most displeased.’
She looked at me long and hard. There was one last blanket and a cloak. She tugged the cloak about her, lay back
on her bed and threw the blanket over her as best she could, then turned her head to me, eyeing me seriously. ‘You are in a mess, really, aren’t you? I’ll come and help you with your task, if you like.’
‘You don’t realize what I must do,’ I said miserably.
‘And you don’t know what I am capable of,’ she replied. ‘It is agreed. You will perform this task for Master Blount, and then he will hear direct from you how helpful I was. You must swear: swear that you will tell him how much I helped, and that you could not have achieved the task without me. You must tell John Blount that.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll tell him,’ I said. I shivered again, lying down on top of one blanket and pulling the other over me. It smelled of mustiness and rat’s piss, but at least it was likely to be warm, I thought. I crooked an arm and rested my head on it.
‘How did you get to know Master Blount?’ she asked.
‘Me? I was just unlucky!’ I said shortly. ‘I used to be happy, but the rebellion came along, and we met, and he thought I … well, he saw something in me which he thought he could use, and so he hired me.’
‘What did he think he could use?’
I felt the bitterness rise. ‘Just because you think me contemptible, doesn’t mean others don’t see my skills,’ I said with some heat. ‘I am known for certain abilities, which are of great use and value to those who are in need.’
‘Naturally. I am convinced of it.’
I accepted her words at face value, although I could not help but think that there was a certain lightness in her tone, as if she was keen to suppress amusement.
She might be a pretty little thing, with a pair of bubbies a man could pillow on for many a long year, but I got the distinct impression that this wench would be hard to live with. She was too self-confident, too certain, and treated men with too much contempt.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I have always been a good sleeper. At home at Whitstable, I would close my eyes and instantly fall into a dreamless slumber. If I were to sit down after eating my meal at noon, I could close my eyes and instantly be gone. It only required that I should rest my arse somewhere and close my eyes. Others, when we were harvesting or gleaning, would watch me jealously, because they were incapable.
Be that as it may, that night I could not sleep at all. I rolled over and over, I lay on my back, on my front, on either side, and still sleep evaded me. My face was cold, so I covered it with the blanket, but then my feet grew chill. I brought my knees to my chest, but then the floor boards dug into my hip. I turned to the other side, and that hip found a protruding nail or splinter, and sleep was despatched permanently.
As the sun began to throw its light over the river, I sat up and pulled both blankets over my shoulders. Crossing the floor, I sat near the window on an old chest. The room had little in the way of decoration. There was this chest, a stool, and a section of an old bench, which she used as a table. It was a mean little chamber, and it led to me wondering how she had survived since her husband’s death. He must have died some little while ago, I assumed, for the lines of hardship were well engraved into her face. She had not enjoyed an easy time of it since his passing.
But she was very pretty when asleep. As the sun rose, it coated her face with a golden hue that made her features stand out with a kind of rosy tint. Her luscious lips became more moistly plump, her great eyes, now closed, seemed even larger and slightly slanted, and as she breathed, that splendid breast of hers rose and fell like … well, like a truly magnificent breast. I could only stare with longing, thinking how much better I would have slept, cuddled up with that warm, sweet-smelling body.
‘Enjoying the look?’
She had not opened her eyes, and I could not discern any change in her breathing. How she knew I was watching her, I do not know, unless she assumed I was some sort of lecherous boor. Which would be a little harsh.
‘The view of the river is fine from here. You can see over most of the buildings.’
‘Yes. It was one reason I liked this room.’ She opened her eyes and gazed at me. ‘You are early to rise. I had assumed you would be lazier than this.’
‘I like to be up early,’ I lied.
‘So you didn’t sleep,’ she said, as if I hadn’t spoken.
‘I always sleep well.’
‘You make as much noise as an elephant, tossing and turning, grumbling under your breath, and then snoring. I thought you’d never go off.’
I forbore to respond to that. My disdain must have been apparent, though, because she gave a little giggle. I’ve known others who use a similar distraction to conceal their embarrassment. I would forgive her.
‘What will you do today?’ she asked.
That was an interesting question. I could go and see whether my house still lay under siege, I considered. I really wanted more money.
‘Will you go and find out what you need to about the man Blount wanted you to deal with?’ she asked.
‘Well, no. I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘He did say it was urgent!’
‘Yes, but I have other things to do. I need to get some money, for example.’
‘You must see Blount, then. He can help and provide some coin for you.’
‘Yes,’ I said reluctantly. ‘But I think maybe I should wait until I have achieved another objective for him, first.’ In my mind was Blount’s face when he heard that I had killed Jeffry, but not done anything about this man Michol. He would be most displeased. ‘In any case, I need to find out more about this Michol.’
‘Shall I go to ask Blount for money, then?’ she asked. She had thrown the blankets aside now, and swung herself from her bed. She went to the farther side of the room, where I saw now that there stood a bowl and jug of water in a second dormer window. She poured a little water into the bowl and splashed it liberally over her face, rubbing at the back of her neck, wiping beneath her chin, and then pulling up her chemise and reaching beneath to rub at her armpits.
I watched as she performed her ablutions. She did so with complete confidence and no shame. It was a delight to watch her, and only when she took up a strip of cloth and dried herself did she turn to me with a cocked eyebrow. ‘Well? Do you approve of the sight?’
‘How could any man not approve?’ I said, I think gallantly.
‘Oh, really,’ she said, and this time she laughed. ‘You are a poor fool, aren’t you?’
I confess that this is one woman I perhaps will never understand.
We left the house soon afterwards, descending to the road.
She took me up to a small alehouse not far from her home, in which there was a good fire roaring, and I gladly took a seat while she ordered a thick barley broth and small ale. I took my share with pleasure and devoured the bowl, resting my ale near the fire. I had a dagger at my belt, and I thrust this into the fire until the blade was good and hot, and then stirred the ale with it until it was warmed through.
I was racking my brains by this time. The food was good in my belly, and the beer was helping, too, but I still had the issue of money. Now that I had been forced to hire Humfrie a second time in a week, I needed more. I couldn’t use the Spaniard’s cash, since that had gone the way of all things in London, into the pocket of a thieving scrote with the morals of a starving rat – unless I could somehow find the man responsible, and I didn’t know how I could do that. What, go and speak to a man, and say, ‘There’s this man who has stolen a purse I meant to have for myself’? No, I didn’t think so either. No one would agree to help me, and the only ones who might would be the sort of men who would cut my ballocks off to see how long it would take me to eat them, and then go and take all the money for themselves.
And where would I find such a man, anyway, someone who would know who had stolen the purse? Falkes was the only man I could think of, and he was out of the way, by some means devised by Blount, I suspected. There was no one else who was so professional about enforcing the rule of villainy in the cit
y. No one who was an enforcer …
I was sitting there some moments before Agnis leaned over and pressed her delicate forefinger to my chin, lifting my mouth closed again.
‘Have you been thinking again?’ she said.
‘I have had a brilliant idea,’ I said.
‘You’re going to see Blount.’
‘No: a much better idea than that!’
It took me a little while to track down Humfrie. He was not at the usual places where I would expect him, and in the end I gave up and asked some men who knew him better than most. I was directed to the cockpit of a large inn over the other side of London Bridge.
The inn was called the Gorge, and it was a conventional enough large hostelry, two storeys high, with handrails about a walkway to each of the chambers. The building was shaped like an ‘L’, built around a large courtyard with rooms on the right-hand side and opposite the entrance, while the third side on the left was given over to stabling for the horses. I asked inside the bar and was directed to the rear of the building, where there was a large, barn-like building, from which emanated a series of horrible noises: men roaring with excitement, and the screeching and raucous clucking of cockerels locked in mortal combat, or waiting their turn.
Entering by the great doors, which were large enough to enclose a wagon, I found myself in a dark chamber. Gradually, my eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light, and I could see that near the entrance was a series of wicker cages, inside each of which was a cockerel. Nearby, a small circular pit had been dug, around which an eager circle of faces leered down at the pair of cocks belting five barrels of shite from each other.
This was a daunting sight. Excuse me, but the sight of an animal’s blood does little more for me than that of another man’s. These creatures were going at it like two fishwives arguing over a herring, hacking at each other with their talons, wings flailing to keep their balance, pecking and stabbing at each other all the while. The men were delighted, but for me it was just, well, repellent.
I was pleased to see that Humfrie did not appear to take any pleasure from the sight. He was at the rear of the crowd, eyeing the two cocks with a sort of professional interest, but not with the keen desire to see maiming or death dealt by one or the other combatants.
A Missed Murder Page 10