Miriam Bibby - Mistress Meg 02 - Mistress Meg and the Silver Bell

by Miriam Bibby

  When he saw someone standing in the shade of a blossom-laden tree ahead of him, Zacharias was instantly on guard. He felt for the blade that he carried under the seat and called the young mastiff to alert. Not that there would be much chance against a robber who carried a firearm. Best to just hand over any valuables. Zacharias was prepared for this, with a selection of little items that could be easily found and others that were secreted on the cart and in the horse’s harness. Most robbers would be content with the readily found items and would make off quickly, leaving the more valuable ones still hidden.

  As he grew closer, he saw that it was a woman. That didn’t allay his suspicions - increased them, rather. It could be a trap … as he watched, she hid herself on the far side of the trunk. There wasn’t room to turn the cart round and go back the way he had come. Zacharias watched - and waited. He almost smiled as he saw her peeping round the tree. If her confederates were as obvious …

  “Get on,” he said, quietly to the horse, giving it a gentle slap of the reins. The cart creaked hesitantly forward, with Zacharias prepared for the worst.

  By the time he drew level with the tree, the woman had moved to stand behind it. Zacharias glanced around, waiting for something, someone, to come out into the lane. Eventually, he called out, quite gently, “Hey!”

  Nothing happened. He called again. “Hey! I know ye’re there. Come out where I can see you. I’ll do you no harm.” As he said that, he still held the knife, but he was increasingly sure he would not need it.

  The woman peered round the tree. He thought she mumbled something, but he didn’t hear it properly. He said, “Are you in trouble? Has somebody robbed ye?”

  At that, she stepped out hesitantly to the side of the tree.

  “Nooo …” she said. They looked at each other with recognition. It was the woman he’d seen whilst gathering wood. There was a long pause.

  Eventually Zacharias said, “What’re ye doing here? D’ye need assistance?” She shook her head.

  “No, I’m just - waitin’ on … on …” Her voice tailed away.

  “Oh,” said Zacharias. “Will they be here soon? Your - friends?”

  “Don’t know,” said Ruby. “Soon, I believe …” She thought that they would be here before long, the Frater, the Jingler, Moll and the Frog. She’d sent a boy with a message for the Frater to say what road she’d meet them on and left signs for them. She didn’t know if the message had reached Jack and she didn’t expect Clink to be with them. Clink was for hanging, if not already hanged, she was sure. She had a fleeting vision of Meg’s face with its unusual hazel eyes, and heard her soothing voice. “You don’t know for a certainty that he will hang.” How wrong she had been, the cunning-woman.

  “Oh,” said Zacharias again. Then, “I’m for York, if y’do want to travel with me.”

  “York,” said Ruby, as though she’d never heard of the place. She didn’t really know where she was going with the others. Another town, more pilfering and figging, as purse cutting was known amongst them; more dreams and schemes from the Jingler. And Moll, getting ready to bear another child.

  “Aye,” said Zacharias. “York. So ride along with me, if you like.”

  He didn’t know it, because it didn’t show in Ruby’s face; but there was a big struggle going on in her heart. She was uncertain what to do, but she knew this was a chance - a chance for something different. A different life. A possibility. Of course - there could be danger. This man could be - dangerous. She didn’t know him and she did know the others. But - when had there not been danger?

  Zacharias, sensing her hesitation, held out his hand to her and smiled. Ruby moved slowly towards the cart. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Looking straight into his face, she took his hand and he helped her up onto the wooden board that was the seat of the cart.

  * * * * *

  Amiot wondered who it could be knocking on his door so early in the day. His hand flew to his mouth and he started to chew on a hangnail. Mother Garland wasn’t here at present and he would have to open the door himself - or ignore it. But that hammering had something peremptory about it. As he hesitated, it came again, the sound of a hard, demanding fist on the timbers of his door.

  “Amiot Goldspink!” said a voice. “Be ye there, man?” The thumping started again. It sounded as though they would stave the door in if he did not answer it.

  Amiot said “Aye! Wait ye …” He found that his voice was quavering and he cleared his throat nervously. He opened the door slowly and was quite surprised to see a jovial face that he knew well. It was the ward constable. With him was another man. It took Amiot a little while to place him, then he remembered; it was the undersheriff’s house steward, whom he knew only by sight.

  “Morning to ye, Amiot,” said the constable, cheerfully. “Forgive me for callin’ on ye so early in t’day, but there’s a matter or two we need to ask ye about.”

  “Come in, come in,” mumbled Amiot. He felt as though they could see his face turning from white to pink to scarlet and hear his heart thumping. He had not had the courage to go back to the cunning-woman for another package of the wonderful substance that she had given him; and he hadn’t yet taken his morning’s dose of the daily decoction that still remained. The two men came and sat down, the house steward on a high backed chair near the fireplace, the constable on a bench under the window.

  “Let me find food and drink for ye …” began Amiot, but the house steward shook his head.

  “No time, Goldspink,” he began. The constable agreed.

  “Aye, nae time, Amiot.”

  “If it’s about the coins,” said Amiot, hoping he didn’t sound as though he was babbling, “I can explain all …”

  His two visitors looked at one another. Were their expressions sly, or simply confused?

  “Coins?” asked the house steward. “No, this is not about coins. It’s to do with the match. Y’know of Master Davison’s win on Sir Garnett, no doubt. Were y’there that day, Goldspink?

  The memory of his visit to the cunning-woman and the words she had said to him came flooding back to Amiot. “A red stone - and a golden letter ‘G’”. He had puzzled over this in the days that followed the match, eventually concluding that the woman was just a charlatan. Now he understood. Not Grasset, not Sir George, not Galingale. Not even Goldspink. Garnett. The name of the Davison horse, which nobody had cared about. His eyes widened and he almost laughed with shock; but the constable was waiting for his reply.

  “I … I …” began Amiot. “No, I was not there.” In the end he had decided that he couldn’t face attending the event and had lurked at home until it was all over. Afterwards he had to face the wrath of the many who had placed wagers with one another and given those coins to him for safe keeping; as well as those that he’d wagered with himself. He had managed to come to some understanding with most of them.

  Fortunately, they were not angry with him - some had raged against the undersheriff, others against Grasset or Philip Widderis, or Sir George Paston who had ridden the Grasset horse. Some had even blamed the horses! They’d taken back their wager money with some relief, or come to some agreement amongst themselves. Some, of course, a fortunate few, a very small minority indeed, had backed the undersheriff’s lad and against all the odds, won. Goldspink had heard some of the arguments that had broken out afterwards in the street and imagined that they’d had quite a lot of difficulty in coming to an agreement. All in all it had been a relief when it was over - except, it appeared it wasn’t all over.

  “We’ve questions to ask of everyone who was there that day,” continued the house steward. “As many as we can, that is …”

  Amiot felt slightly relieved. If they were questioning lots of people then perhaps he was safe. Perhaps. “No, I was not there,” he repeated. “I was not well that day and I kept myself at home.”

  The constable was looking at him curiously.

  “That’s well,” he said. “If y’can prove it.”

  “
I can,” said Amiot, with more confidence. “I’ve a woman that cooks and serves for me, and she was here that day. Mother Garland, y’know her?”

  “Aye,” said the constable. “I’ll speak with her. But …” He paused. Amiot tried to look as unconcerned as he could.

  “What is it that y’need help with?” he asked.

  “We’ll come to that,” said the constable. Suddenly he leaned forward and looked directly into Amiot’s face. “First though - what did y’mean about - the coins? ‘If it’s about the coins’, that’s what y’said.”

  “Ahhhh,” said Amiot. His heart was still pounding and he felt sudden stab of pain in his throat and chest. The room seemed to have turned black and yet the air was full of white whirling sparks. He floated upwards on the white sparks, upwards and upwards. As the constable continued to stare at him, Amiot saw him receding as though he was looking at him down a long, dark tunnel. The constable’s face was the last thing he saw before he fell to the floor.

  * * * * *

  “Never mind the dog, he won’t harm ye,” said Zacharias, as he saw Ruby’s hand go to her mouth at the sight of the mastiff. “Keep harm from ye, more like. What’s your name?”

  “Ruby.”

  “Mine’s Zacharias. Zacharias Kane.”

  “Pleased to know ye.” From the way she said it, he thought Ruby did not know of him or his trade. They drove on for a while in silence. Then Ruby spoke.

  “This your nag?”

  “No,” said Zacharias, “but the cart is mine.”

  “Oh,” said Ruby. It was not much, but he found her little attempts at conversation encouraging enough to ask the question that was in his mind.

  “It was you I saw the other day, when I was gathering wood?”

  Ruby nodded.

  “You seemed - to be in sore trial about something.”

  Ruby half smiled at the use of the word trial.

  “I was.”

  “One of your friends - in trouble?”

  Ruby wanted to say, “What a lot of questions y’do ask,” but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything.

  “A man?” questioned Zacharias.

  Ruby nodded.

  “Well, he must be a fool if he’d make a pretty lass like you unhappy,” said Zacharias with such obvious gallantry that Ruby laughed despite herself.

  “That’s better,” said Zacharias, grinning too.

  “I thank ‘ee for the ‘lass’,” said Ruby.

  “You are pretty,” said Zacharias. “D’ye want to tell me about your - friend?”

  Ruby’s face clouded again and she shook her head. It was an unwritten law amongst those she knew that what was past, was past. She’d known a few who’d ended up with the hangman’s noose around their necks. Once they were gone, they were gone. Life continued. Her companions would go on - with or without her. That was life. That was - death.

  Suddenly she found something that she could say that was appropriate, that was right, that was true. “When I had, he never lacked; and when he had, I never lacked,” she said. That was how it had been for Clink and Ruby, the Egyptian Mort.

  Zacharias nodded slowly. “Share - and share alike.”

  “Yes,” agreed Ruby.

  “Be you hungry?” said Zacharias. “I was thinking of breaking my fast soon.” Ruby realised she was, very hungry. It was surprising how you didn’t think about hunger when you were thinking about death; and then, when life claimed you again, so did hunger. She nodded.

  They found a pretty little dell, with a stream that chuckled as it ran along and birds chirping in the trees, not far from the lane. Zacharias took the horse out of the cart and let him go after hobbling him, with Ruby helping. “Give him plenty of rope to move,” said Zacharias. The horse went to the water and drank, deeply; and turned to regard them with water trickling from his muzzle and a curious look on his face. Then he put his head down to the grass and started to munch.

  “‘E’s content,” said Ruby, smiling again. Zacharias spread bread, cheese, meat and a bottle of ale on a clean cloth on the grass.

  “Got a wife that washes for ye?” asked Ruby, because the cloth was very clean. She felt that it was right that she could be a bit brazen, because he hadn’t held back from asking her a thing or two.

  “No wife,” said Zacharias.

  “Mother?”

  “No mother. No father, neither.”

  “Oh, forgi’ me.”

  “No need for sorrow. Here.”

  While they ate, they talked of apparently unimportant things. Ruby, stealing little glances at Zacharias, felt more at home. When he offered her an apple, she was confident enough to make a jest of it.

  “I’d heard it said t’was Eve tempted Adam wi’ an apple, not the other way round.”

  Zacharias was ready with a reply. “I didn’t take you for a Bible-reader.” Ruby laughed.

  “Can’t read! But Jack, the Frater can - and write too.”

  “Who is Jack? Is that … “

  Ruby, realising what she had said, shook her head. “No. And Jack is just - someone - someone I - knew …”

  By the time they finished the food, the sun was westering.

  “Best be on our road,” said Zacharias.

  “Will ye - we - be at York by darkmans - nightfall, I mean?” asked Ruby.

  “Depends,” said Zacharias. “Nights are light, now, and we can travel by starlight. But there’s the horse to think of too. I’m in no hurry.”

  They harnessed up and Zacharias helped Ruby back onto the cart.

  “Can ye drive?” he asked.

  “Never tried,” said Ruby. She had only ever ridden the donkey before, and pillion on horseback a few times, which had scared her.

  “Care to?”

  “Aye, if y’like!” Ruby sounded quite enthusiastic about the idea. Zacharias got up on his side of the cart and handed her the reins. Ruby, frowning and biting her lip with concentration, said, “What do I do now?”

  “Just tell him to get on, kindly, mind.”

  Ruby made a kissing sound with her lips and slapped the reins lightly, as she had seen others do. The little horse took up the strain and the cart moved off. Ruby turned to Zacharias with a radiant smile.

  “Careful, now,” he warned, as they headed towards a hole in the lane. “Takes a bit of practice.” Ruby soon got the hang of it.

  “Look, he’s got ‘is ear turned back. It’s like he’s listening to me, the horse!”

  “Aye,” said Zacharias. “That’s the way of it, if you treat them kindly.”

  A few miles further along, with Ruby still concentrating on the road ahead, Zacharias suddenly reached down and drew something out, apparently from under the board they were seated on, but in fact from his boot.

  “Here,” he said, “you keep this.” It was a little leather bag. Ruby glanced at it, but was reluctant to take her eyes from the road for too long.

  “What is it?”

  “Give me the reins. Now you can look.”

  Ruby opened the bag. It appeared to contain shiny fragments of metal. She looked across at Zacharias. His face gave nothing away.

  “What is it?”

  “Gold. Gold clippings.”

  “Clippings? But …” Ruby knew well enough where clippings of gold usually came from. “You a clipper?” There was astonishment in her voice and Zacharias knew it would be matched by the expression on her face.

  “No - at least - no, I’m not. I’m a goldsmith. You keep the bag for me. I’ll explain - in a while.”

  A few hours later, they stopped again. Ruby felt she could have travelled on and on, under the starlight, listening to the owls hoot, right into the dawn; but Zacharias said the horse had done enough for the day. So they made camp, in another little dell. This time Zacharias found some wood and struck a fire.

  When he took her in his arms and kissed her, Ruby kissed him back, with a little hesitation at first and then with more warmth and then with passion, running her fingers through his fine dark
hair, something she felt she’d been wanting to do all day. She could feel his body shaking a little. Of course, Zacharias had known other women, but this was different, for some reason. Perhaps it was the May night, or the firelight, or the peace and quiet that closed safely around them like an friendly arm; but this was different.