The Black Book of Secrets

by F. E. Higgins

  ‘They misunderstood you,’ I said.

  He looked up at me. ‘I promised nothing. Jeremiah has no hold over me, but that doesn’t mean I can do anything about him.’ His face was screwed into a deep frown and his eyebrows were almost touching. ‘There are rules and I must obey them.’

  ‘Rules? What rules?’ I asked. But Joe was talking to himself again.

  ‘I gave them money, far more than they deserved, and I told them to be patient. That is all. It is hardly a commitment. But now they treat me as if I have betrayed them. Why must it be in human nature to hear one thing but to believe that it is another?’

  ‘Because we want things to get better,’ I said. ‘Otherwise, we would all give up.’

  Joe closed his eyes. ‘Dum spiro, spero,’ he said. ‘While I breathe, I hope.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Reluctant Messenger

  Down at the Pickled Trout Benjamin Tup was struggling to cope with his customers’ demands. He had never had to deal with a full tavern before and tonight the place was heaving with the villagers, some of whom, such as Perigoe Leafbinder, had never even been over the threshold. They sat and stood and leaned and perched on every available surface in a tight circle, somehow managing at the same time to hold on to a mug or a jug of ale. Job Wright was the only one who was reasonably comfortable, having taken centre stage on a rickety ale-stained table.

  ‘Fellow villagers,’ he boomed to the excited and slightly tipsy crowd, ‘I say the time has come to take back what is rightfully ours. You all saw Horatio this afternoon, a braver man I have never seen. The way he held on to that turkey is something I will not forget for the rest of my years.’

  Horatio blushed at the praise and staggered under the slapping hands that rained down on his back. He covered his ears as deafening cheers rattled his brain.

  ‘But this is only the beginning,’ continued Job. ‘All this time we thought it was Jeremiah who was the source of our misfortune. But now we know, he is merely the lackey of Joe Zabbidou. Stirling was right, Joe is the devil and he is playing his evil games with us. Is there any one of us here who can say we are not in his debt?’

  ‘We all owe him,’ they shouted back. ‘Each and every one of us.’

  ‘He had us fooled,’ said Job grimly. ‘But it’s not too late. We can still stop him.’

  Only one voice dissented and that belonged to Polly. She jumped up on the table and stood in front of Job. The villagers were surprised into an uneasy silence.

  ‘Don’t listen to this,’ she urged. ‘It’s not Joe we have to worry about. It’s Jeremiah. Joe helped you all. Why are you doing this to him?’

  Some of the villagers, the more sober among them, murmured that Polly had a point.

  ‘The girl’s right,’ said Lily Weaver. ‘Shouldn’t we deal with Jeremiah first?’

  Elias Sourdough then climbed up on to the table, which now shook alarmingly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s Joe needs sorting. And if you want proof, listen to this.’ He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper and read from it.

  ‘If you wont to keepe yore seecret leve five shilins at the churche gattes tonite and I’ll say nuffin.’

  The crowd gasped.

  ‘Yes,’ said Elias, ‘a blackmail letter, left secretly in my shop, no doubt by Ludlow, and written by none other than Joe Zabbidou. And this is only the beginning. Who will be blackmailed next?’

  The villagers needed no more convincing, and outside the tavern, hidden in the shadows, with his ear pressed up against the window, Jeremiah Ratchet also heard what Elias had to say. As he listened an ugly wet-lipped smirk spread across his fleshy cheeks. Now he knew everything.

  Inside Polly’s heart sank. I’ve got to tell Ludlow, she thought, creeping out of the tavern and darting away up the hill. She rapped loudly on the pawnbroker’s door until Ludlow finally let her in and brought her through to the back room. Polly stood uncomfortably in front of the fire, twitching and wringing her hands. Her face was pale and she licked her lips nervously.

  ‘What can I do for you, my dear?’ asked Joe evenly.

  ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Something I think you should know.’

  In the corner Ludlow paled. What could she mean? Don’t tell him what we did, he urged her silently.

  ‘I want to help you.’ She was almost apologetic, and then the words tumbled out all over each other. ‘I’m here to warn you. I think you are in danger. Since the turkey fight everyone’s been in the Pickled Trout. They’re all so angry. I’ve heard some awful threats. Something dreadful is going to happen, I just know it.’

  ‘To me or to Ratchet?’ murmured Joe.

  The answer was clear in Polly’s eyes. ‘Now that everyone knows what you do at midnight, they’re all talking about the Black Book. They think you used magic to charm their secrets out of them.’

  ‘Magic?’ Joe raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

  ‘Obadiah said you gave him an enchanted potion to loosen his tongue.’

  Joe’s eyes widened. ‘What pyretic brains these people have. It’s nothing more than brandy, to calm their nerves.’

  ‘Job says you paid all that money so they’d always be in your debt. He says you’re trying to take over from Jeremiah Ratchet.’

  ‘He’s just a troublemaker,’ tutted Joe dismissively. ‘So the villagers have taken a dislike to me because I paid them too much? This is madness.’

  ‘They judge you by the standards they know, and all they know is Jeremiah Ratchet. You promised things—’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted sharply. He never promised.

  Polly corrected herself. ‘They believe you promised them help but now you’ve fallen back on your word, like Ratchet.’ She paused for a second. ‘And then there was the letter.’

  ‘Letter?’ Joe and Ludlow spoke in unison.

  Polly shifted uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t believe it until Elias Sourdough showed it to everyone in the tavern. He read it out. It’s a blackmail letter. He says it’s from you. It says you want five shillings at the church gates tonight to keep quiet about his secret.’

  ‘So that’s why they wouldn’t talk to me,’ exclaimed Ludlow.

  ‘They think I wrote a blackmail letter? For five shillings?’ Joe laughed in utter amazement. ‘They believe I have started to threaten them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Polly hurriedly. ‘And if you want to win back their trust then you have to show that you’re on their side. Before they do something terrible.’

  ‘Whose side do they think I am on?’

  She didn’t answer, just nodded down the hill.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Joe in a voice that was strangely flat, ‘how do I prove otherwise? What would they have me do with Jeremiah?’

  ‘Maybe you could give the potion – I mean brandy – to Jeremiah.’

  ‘And if I do? What then?’

  Polly looked a little embarrassed. ‘Under the influence of the brandy, he is bound to admit to a terrible crime and then you can blackmail him back.’

  I snorted loudly. Joe would never do something as underhand as that.

  ‘This is beyond belief!’ thundered Joe. ‘Blackmail is not my business.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Zabbidou,’ said Polly quickly, shrinking back against the fireplace. ‘I’m only trying to help. Everyone’s so angry with you. I just thought you should know.’

  ‘What of Jeremiah?’ asked Joe suddenly. ‘What does he know of this?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But I’m sure he’s up to something too. He had one of the Sourdough boys in his study the other day. I just wish I knew why.’

  Joe shook his head wearily and leaned against the mantel. ‘How it saddens me to see how quickly men turn against each other.’

  Polly looked desperately at Ludlow. ‘Please be careful,’ she said and then she was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Fragment from

 
; The Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch

  After Polly left Joe took out the brandy and two glasses and set them on the mantel. Then he sat down heavily and closed his eyes. ‘Now we must wait,’ he said.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Should I fetch the book?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  I sat at the table. What else could I do? I was trembling, I had been all day, and my mouth was dry. I heard the church bell ring every hour. Midnight came, and went, and all outside was still. My lids became heavy and I rested my head on the table and began to doze and then to dream. I was running for my life. I knew there was someone behind me but I couldn’t see who it was. Every time I looked back I was blinded by a glinting light that came out of the darkness. My lungs were screaming and my legs were leaden. I tried to call out but I couldn’t open my mouth. Pa emerged from the mist again and threw me to the ground and started to choke me. I could hear Ma and someone else running towards us, their footsteps pounding like hammers.

  I woke, shaking and with my heart racing, but the hammering continued. Someone was banging on the door. Joe was already in the shop. I knew who it was. There was only one man in Pagus Parvus who would feel the need to make his presence known in such a heavy-handed fashion.

  Jeremiah Ratchet.

  I ran through and saw Jeremiah’s huge silhouette blocking out the light from the moon. His fist was raised ready to come down again, but Joe was already there and opened the door so quickly that he fell in.

  ‘Hurrumph,’ he snorted, predictably, as he steadied himself.

  ‘Ah, Mr Ratchet, what a pleasant surprise.’

  Jeremiah planted his feet firmly on the shop floor and took a good look around as if he was claiming the territory for his own. He saw the frog and for a second the two creatures eyed each other with interest, though Saluki’s waned first. Then he pushed his way past and went into the back room. Joe went after him. I slipped in and sat at the table and shrunk against the wall, trying to hide in the shadows.

  Jeremiah stood at the fire warming the seat of his pants. He folded his arms and wrinkled his nose, as if the place had a bad smell. Joe poured a couple of brandies, large and small, and handed the large one to his visitor. Jeremiah drank it in a single gulp.

  ‘Mr Zabbidou,’ he said, ‘I’ll come straight to the point. I am not the type to mince words. I believe in saying what’s what.’

  ‘And that is?’ Joe was strangely calm, but my stomach was turning over and over.

  ‘You had me foxed for a while, but I’ve worked it out now. I know your game.’

  He waited for Joe to respond, a smug smile across his cheeks, as if he expected praise.

  ‘My game?’

  ‘I’ll not deny it, you’ve caused me and my business no end of trouble. At first I thought you were plotting against me. I’ve seen the comings and goings in the middle of the night. The villagers thought you were some sort of hero, but I couldn’t understand why. To me you were just a nuisance. But now I know what you do and I’m here because I want you to help me.’

  He seemed nervous and droplets of sweat oozed from his hairline. He dabbed at them with his handkerchief.

  ‘What?’ I exclaimed before I could stop myself. I looked at Joe. ‘You don’t believe this, do you?’

  Joe signalled to me to be quiet. ‘How can I help, Mr Ratchet?’

  Jeremiah sighed deeply and sat down heavily, wedging his quivering posterior into the armchair. Then to my astonishment he began to sob. It was not a pleasant sight.

  ‘I wish to unburden myself of a terrible secret,’ he mumbled through his tears. ‘I didn’t know who else to turn to. You are the only one who can help.’

  I could hardly contain myself. Ratchet wanting to confess? Ratchet sobbing? This had to be some sort of trick. But Joe carried on as if this behaviour was completely normal.

  ‘And how can I do that?’ asked Joe kindly.

  Jeremiah looked out through his chubby fingers. ‘With the book,’ he said, ‘the Black Book of Secrets.’

  I shook my head in disgust. Jeremiah Ratchet did not deserve even a drop of ink in that book. I was about to say as much, but Joe spoke before me.

  ‘A wise decision,’ he said. ‘Ludlow, fetch the book, please.’

  I was paralysed with confusion. Joe was going along with this charade. He was going to buy Ratchet’s secret. Why? To blackmail him, like Polly said? Surely Joe would never do anything like that!

  ‘The book, Ludlow,’ repeated Joe pointedly.

  With dragging feet I went to fetch it, aware of Ratchet’s eyes on me all the time. I pulled the book out from under my cushion and was about to lay it on the table when, with a loud sucking noise, Jeremiah launched himself from his chair and came right at me. The speed of his approach was surprising, his bulk gave him great momentum, and I put up my hands to shield myself. Jeremiah threw himself against me and with a violent shove sent me crashing into the table. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the book spin off towards the ceiling, its pages flapping and turning, and then a huge swollen hand reached up and snatched it from mid-air.

  Jeremiah Ratchet was in possession of the Black Book of Secrets.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  An Exchange

  There ensued a rather comical scene. Jeremiah had the advantages of surprise and weight, but these were countered by the brandy he had consumed. Joe was light on his feet and was the faster of the two. With speed that defied the laws of physics Joe leaped over the back of his chair, displaying the grace and agility of a young gazelle. In two strides he was at Jeremiah’s side and he whipped the book from his sweaty clutches. Jeremiah cursed and lurched like a drunken elephant from one side of the room to the other while Joe merely sidestepped his clumsy attempts to grab it back. I watched uselessly from the floor where I had fallen, severely winded, after sustaining the impact of Jeremiah’s full weight.

  The entire display lasted no longer than a minute. Jeremiah was forced to give up and slid down the wall to sit in a most undignified fashion with his legs splayed and his mouth wide open. His face was bright red, his eyes were bulging and his lungs rattled with every drawn breath.

  Joe stood over him, his clothes dishevelled and his hair wilder than ever. His spidery shadow danced gleefully on the wall. I dragged myself up and joined him.

  ‘I must protest at your behaviour, Mr Ratchet,’ scolded Joe. ‘It is not what I would expect from a man of your standing.’

  Jeremiah struggled to his feet.

  ‘Listen, Mr Zabbidou,’ he said and all pretence of sobbing and remorse was gone. ‘You don’t seem to understand. You’re finished in this place. The villagers are coming to get you. You’ll be run out of here. But before you go, I want the book. And what I want I get.’

  I laughed. Poor Ratchet. He was the one who didn’t understand. Joe would never give up the book.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Joe. ‘The book is confidential and I will never surrender it.’

  ‘Ah now, Zabbidou,’ persisted Jeremiah, and Joe winced with distaste at this familiarity, ‘don’t be like that. What use is the book to you any more? Why take it with you when I can have it and make good use of it? We’re both businessmen, Zabbidou. To keep it would be nothing short of spiteful.’

  ‘Exactly what would you do with it, Mr Ratchet?’ asked Joe.

  Jeremiah looked surprised. ‘Blackmail, of course. Only I’d make a better job of it than you. Five shillings at the church gate? Not very sophisticated, if you don’t mind my saying.’

  I stood open-mouthed at the sheer cheek of the man.

  ‘Joe didn’t write that letter,’ I began, but Joe motioned with his hand for me to be quiet.

  ‘Under the circumstances, Mr Ratchet,’ he said, ‘I do not feel I can take your pledge. I think it is time for you to go.’

  Jeremiah surprised us both and held up his hands in surrender. ‘As you wish,’ he said and made his way meekly into the shop. I watched from the doorway
as Jeremiah stopped at Saluki’s tank and placed his hands on the lid. My mouth went dry. Now what was he going to do?

  ‘Give me the book,’ he hissed at Joe through his yellow teeth, ‘or I will kill your precious frog.’

  ‘I’m warning you,’ said Joe quietly. ‘Do not touch the frog. She does not like it.’

  ‘She does not like it,’ mimicked Jeremiah like a petulant child. ‘Give me the book and it won’t matter.’

  ‘Don’t touch the frog.’ Joe’s voice was menacing.

  ‘Ha!’ shouted Jeremiah and flung the lid away, reached in and grabbed Saluki with both hands.

  ‘No!’ shouted Joe, but it was too late.

  Jeremiah yelped and dropped her. Saluki landed on the floor with a soft thud and sat very still looking a little dazed.

  ‘I think it bit me,’ Jeremiah said and his eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. ‘I think it bit me.’ Undeterred and desperate, he picked up the tank and raised it above his head.

  ‘Give me the damned book or the frog gets it.’

  Joe, and Saluki, looked at him sadly. ‘Believe me,’ said Joe stepping into the shop, ‘it won’t do you any good.’ And at that he handed the Black Book of Secrets to Jeremiah Ratchet.

  Jeremiah’s eyes shone as he snatched the book with a triumphant crow. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  Without another word he stomped out and slammed the door. Gracefully and precisely, Saluki climbed up the counter and back into her tank. Joe replaced the lid and dropped in a couple of bugs and the frog chewed them as if nothing had happened. And it was strange: I never thought a frog could look satisfied but at that moment I swear Saluki did. Her colours glowed with a vibrancy that near lit up the room and her bright eyes seemed to say, ‘You were warned, Ratchet. You were warned.’