The Fire Within

by Samuel T Clayton

  ‘Is he still lying there?’ asked Finn.

  ‘Of course. I couldn’t move him. He’s a big fella.’

  ‘We should go back and try.’

  ‘Where do we move him to, Finn? The river? Too far.’ Tristan sounded annoyed as he continued to come to terms with his plight. ‘’Tis too late now anyhow. The watchmen would have found him already, and with Ratface’s description, everyone will be looking for me soon. Why do you think I came through the park? We can’t risk getting you involved. Otherwise, they will string up the both of us.’

  Finn was not surprised by his friend’s outburst, but he knew he had to calm him down for they needed a solution, and fast. ‘Sit down. Let’s see if there’s a way out of this.’

  ‘Believe me, I already thought of everything,’ said Tristan while taking a seat on the ground, resting his back against the wall and his arms on his knees. He could not hide his despair. ‘Ratface would have raised the alarm by now. He told me so. Watchmen, and soon the townsfolk, will all be on the lookout. I cannot go home. They will head there first. My mother, Finn, what will she think? What will those bastards tell her?’

  ‘I will tell her the truth,’ Finn reassured Tristan with a veracity that removed most doubt in Tristan’s mind. With an audible sigh, Finn sat down next to his friend.

  ‘I can’t take my chance with the law. ‘Tis my word against Ratface’s. Who do you think they’ll believe? Him, of course! Everything’s a fucking mess, Finn. I thought about going to the barber, but I killed someone while carrying one of his packages and I can’t risk making him part of this. They cannot trace this back to him. And if they ever put him on trial, he’ll never go back to The Clink! I don’t want to say it, but you know he was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, Finn. I can’t let that happen. And I lost his parcel! All that gold! You know the rules. He made it clear. I saw what he did to people who failed him. Besides, even if he spared me, he won’t be able to protect me, and I’m not going to hide away like some common criminal for the rest of my life.’

  Finn listened carefully to Tristan’s rambling, his friend’s predicament not lost on him for one second. They both thought long and hard, and they came to the same conclusion, but neither one wanted to say it until Finn finally spoke up. ‘You have to get out of here. Flee. Go to the docks, get on the nearest boat and don’t look back. Forget about your life here.’

  ‘How did it come to this?’ Tristan’s mind was still reeling with the night’s events and how his whole, seemingly unshakeable world had collapsed in the blink of an eye.

  Finn grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. ‘Tristan, listen to me. You have to go. Now. Stay in the shadows. Take your time and make sure no one sees you. Go to the stairs by my father’s shop at midnight. Our skiff will be waiting for you. There will be some food and whatever coin I can gather in a barrel. Take it. Find a ship, stow yourself away, somewhere safe and out of sight.’

  ‘My mother…’

  ‘I will tell her everything when the time is right.’

  Tristan could only see the outline of Finn’s face. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I will be fine. No blame will come my way. The barber can’t hurt me. I delivered my parcel, remember. I will tell him what happened, how you protected him by fleeing from here.’ Finn’s voice saddened suddenly. ‘Tristan, when we suffered, my father always said, “In despair, there is hope”. Right now, your hope lies in a new life far away from this place. Wherever this life may take you, never lose sight of hope.’ He took a deep breath and held out his hand. ‘This is farewell, my friend. Don’t fret. I will tell your mother everything. And Tristan, I will come looking for you. That I promise!’

  Tristan knew that his friend was right. There was no other way but to get on a boat and flee London. He grabbed Finn’s hand, then leaned forward and hugged him, culminating years of friendship into one single moment.

  ‘Farewell, my friend. I look forward to the day when our paths will cross again.’ He held up his palm. ‘Brothers.’

  Finn did the same, just smiled and said nothing for there was nothing more to be said.

  Tristan started walking, then turned around. ‘Tell my mother there’s a loose floorboard under my bed. I don’t know what Madam will do to her when the news reaches them. There’s enough coin for her to start a new life too.’ He struggled to swallow with his dry mouth. ‘Tell her that I love her. And tell her that I will see her again.’ In this life or the next, he thought.

  Finn stood still and watched the darkness envelop Tristan. He continued to watch the empty space, hoping that he would soon be awaken from this hellish nightmare. But nothing happened, so he started on a slow jog towards The Smoking Cod to ready the boat.

  Chapter 10

  The cool breeze that kept most people in their homes also brought with it a dark cover of cloud. It suited Tristan who had managed to make his way to a stable not far from the barber’s shop. He needed shelter until he could get to the boat, and the stable seemed like a good choice. It was not too far from the river and the way he saw it, even though he had never ridden one, he could always get on a horse if he needed to escape in a hurry. At the entrance stood a large wooden cask filled with water and he quickly helped himself to a few mouthfuls before he headed inside.

  Three lanterns attached to posts dimly lit the place and provided enough light for him to head into the nearest stall, away from the main passage that led to the living quarters. The occupants would either be having their evening dinner inside or at the tavern nearby, but he was not taking any chances. The horses did not seem to mind him. They neighed softly as he negotiated his way through the stalls all the while being very careful not to cause a commotion by tripping over troughs or racks. He knew what they did to priggers. He would be killed twice over if they caught him now and then added horse thievery on top of his list of transgressions.

  Tristan was so focused on where he put his feet that he bumped his head hard on the bottom edge of an empty bucket that hung on one of the dividing walls. He bit on his tongue to stop himself from cursing out loud and only when he started to taste metal did he stop. Then he got an idea. With the horses now used to his presence and with no other immediate danger, he grabbed the bucket above his head, exited the stall and quickly, yet steadily, walked back to the cask at the stable’s entrance.

  After filling the bucket, he headed deeper into the stable until he found a ladder that was mounted to the wall. It took him to a hayloft overhead. Sitting down, he used some loose straw and water to scrub off the dried blood from his jacket, breeches and stiletto, but only with partial success as very little light reached the loft upstairs. He guessed that he had about another three hours until midnight.

  Even with his mind still racing, Tristan suddenly realised how tired he was, and he lay down on the floor, covering his body with straw to give him some warmth. It did not take long for him to descend into a chaotic, restless slumber. Big headless men carrying iron cages chased him down a dirt road. He saw Ratface holding up a noose and cackling like a mad man when he ran past him. He came to a river, but a huge waterfall to his right had created an impassable raging torrent. The sound of the roaring waterfall was deafening and created the need to relieve himself. Suddenly he awakened.

  Tristan’s muddled mind was trying hard to split reality from dream. He slowly shrugged off the drowsiness and once again became familiar with his surroundings and dire circumstance. He sat up straight and pricked up his ears. The sound of the waterfall was still audible even after he had shaken his head a couple of times to get rid of the noise. Then he realised it must be a horse relieving itself downstairs. He crept to the edge and looked down. It was not a horse. Directly underneath the loft, a groom, who was endowed like a horse, was releasing a constant stream of urine that splashed and frothed as it jetted into the earth. The man finished up, muttered something to himself, then turned around and disappeared back into the living quarters.

  Tristan stood up and dusted
himself off. A sudden movement inside his coat startled him. Whatever it was had been quiet up until now, but the creature must not have liked his weight on it because it violently started to claw its way up to his chest. Ripping the coat open he flailed violently with arms and hands to get rid of the intruder. His right hand connected and the squealing rat flew into the hayrick. Another one had snuck up into his breeches and was moving around between his legs. He tried to grab it through the cloth but the rat sunk its teeth into his groin next to his scrotum. It was close enough to his dangling bits for Tristan to throw all caution to the wind and with lightning speed, he ripped his breeches down, jumped and shook, until the rat fell to the ground, making a hasty retreat to where it had come from. They’re after the blood! While Tristan quickly dressed, he listened for any noise from down below, fearing that someone might come to inspect the racket. No one came.

  It was already after midnight. With all the deliveries Tristan had made over the years, his perception of time had evolved so much that he did not need a watch. He found it hard to explain to people, but it was like his body and mind knew the hour, and he was never far off. He climbed down the ladder, walk out into the night and immediately headed for the broken fence. Once on the other side, he safely crossed Stoney Street, then made his way through a maze of narrow alleys until he got to New-Rents Street. Everything was quiet. Tristan dashed across the deserted road and headed straight for the western side of the St Saviour churchyard. He clambered up and over the wall. There were no living souls at this hour and hurriedly, yet surefooted enough to avoid the many graves, he ran across the open field until he got close to the church building that rose majestically into the night sky. He ran along the side of the church until he reached the eastern wall where he crouched down. Quickly he shuffled over to the wrought-iron gate and peeked through the bars. Nothing.

  Tristan sat down and took a breather, resting his back against the cold stone wall and enjoyed the tranquil sanctuary, albeit for a fleeting moment. For the first time since his ordeal had started, he felt a sense of safety. A peculiar calmness came over him and the dark cloud of fear that had been shrouding him ever since Giles’ death gradually lifted. His thoughts were clearer, more focused, and what had initially felt like a lost cause and an uncertain destiny, slowly began to gain purpose. He wanted to stay there and bask in the serenity of the moment, but he knew that death would eventually find him if he did not stay on the move.

  After another look through the gate, he climbed over and walked along the outside of the building until he got to the brewhouse where Cock Alley made a left turn before it sloped down to the river. The Smoking Cod was only a stone’s throw away, and he got ready to dash across the street into the thoroughfare that would take him to Pepper Alley, the stairs and hopefully, freedom.

  He heard the voices first and then he saw the light reflecting off the buildings across the street. Coming from the riverside, someone was heading his way. He quickly ducked into a passage at the side of the brewhouse where empty casks had been stacked as high as the roof. It looked like a good hiding spot, and he crawled over the first couple of barrels and lowered himself into an empty one. The whiff of cider was so thick and overwhelmingly sweet that he could almost taste it. What I wouldn’t give for a tankard filled with the sweet nectar.

  Tristan quickly put the pleasant thought out of his mind and focused on the voices. He peeked over the side of the cask and saw that the view of the street was partly blocked by the corner of the brewhouse, so he crouched down and waited patiently for them to walk past. They stopped right at the entrance to the passage.

  ‘Constable Sharpe said the city marshal put a bounty on his head.’

  ‘So did the lady of the bawdy house. Altogether a nice sum indeed.’

  News has already reached La Boutique? This does not bode well, thought Tristan.

  ‘The little bastard won’t get away! A message has gone to all watchmen, constables and beadles. Everyone will be looking for him. Mark my words gentlemen, tomorrow night, we will see his lifeless body on the bridge, and the three of us will be celebrating a fortunate man’s newfound riches. Pray it be our own.’

  ‘That boy killed a grown man, you dolt. He may be little, but he sure is handy with a dagger. They say the dead fella bled like a stuck pig. You better be ready when we find him.’

  ‘Well, I’ll just have to introduce him to ol’ Sally then.’ The man showed the dagger to the others. ‘See, he’s not the only one with a knife.’ Then he pointed it at the tall one. ‘Be mindful of who you call an idiot.’

  ‘George said the boy killed that man in cold blood. He saw the whole thing. He said the young bastard stabbed the poor fella like he was possessed by an evil spirit. No amount of reasoning could stop him. George said he feared for his own life and that’s why he ran off to raise the alarm.’

  ‘All I know is that the boy’s a lowly miller and deserves what is coming his way, even if it means getting acquainted with Sally here.’

  ‘Best we get going. Stay alert!’

  Two of them combed the street while the tall one entered the passage, holding his lantern high to get a proper look. He gave the casks closest to him a quick inspection, then carried on to the back of the brewhouse. Moments later, he returned cursing the cold and expressing his desire for a mulled cider. Together again, the three men carried on with their search further up the street.

  Tristan was sure his sigh of relief was audible. To avoid any chance of further misfortune, he stayed for a little longer. Ten minutes later, he climbed out of the barrel and walked to the corner of the brewhouse from where he could look up and down the road. He watched the three men reach the end of the street and expected them to walk up Montague Close but much to his surprise, three more men, all armed with lanterns, came from the opposite way and joined them on the corner. The group stayed there for a while, no doubt exchanging views on the heinous crime before they split up again. No! Three of the men had disappeared into a small lane that would take them to Clink Street, but the rest headed his way.

  The darkness provided enough cover to get Tristan to the other side of the street. The men were not searching. They were heading somewhere, fast and with purpose. He looked for another hiding spot and found one further down the road. The entrance to the Wilson building was a large arch which led to an L-shaped corridor with several small shops on either side. He ran up the stairs into the corridor and stopped at the first entrance, a china shop, a place he knew well for he had looked there for a present for Sissy. It was pitch-black and he found his way by running his hands along the wall. At the shop’s entrance, he pushed right up against the sidewall and placed his hand on his stiletto, waiting for the threesome to pass. He felt a presence. He heard the breathing first and then he smelled him. A blackamoor!

  Tristan tried to unsheathe his stiletto, but a big muscular arm encircled his waist and pressed his arms into his sides. Tried as he might, he could not wriggle out of the strong grip. A hand almost as big as his face came up and covered his mouth.

  ‘Quiet, or I will break your neck!’ whispered the man.

  Tristan stopped moving about and conserved his energy while his mind started working on a plan of escape. Outside he could hear the three men walk past. They were in a hurry, their footsteps rapidly fading in the still of the night. He wondered where they were heading but then quickly turned his attention to the more pressing problem at hand. It did not take him long to devise a plan to outwit his attacker, but what happened next caught him completely by surprise.

  Without warning, the hand came off his mouth, and the arm around his body fell away. He stood motionless, not sure what to make of it. Then he sprang into action, quickly jumping out of the man’s reach, pulling the stiletto out while he turned mid-air. When he landed, he was ready to strike. Neither of them could see in the dark, but when the man spoke, Tristan was sure that he saw a glimmer of white teeth. At least I know where his face is, he thought and kept the knife ready.


  ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ said the black man.

  ‘I find that hard to believe. Moments ago, you wanted to break my neck!’

  ‘You’re the boy everyone’s been looking for. It sounds like I would’ve done the people of London a big favour.’

  ‘You go ahead and try that,’ Tristan challenged him.

  ‘I’m not gonna hurt you. I couldn’t risk you causing a racket and getting us some unwanted attention.’ The black man spoke with a proper British accent, elegantly even, like he was properly schooled. ‘Besides, if I wanted you dead, the deed would’ve been done already. I’ve far more urgent matters to attend to.’

  Tristan realised that the man was speaking the truth. He had felt the power in the man’s arms. It would not have taken much effort. ‘It seems that you’re not in favour with the law either if you’re hiding away in dark corners at this hour.’ Tristan received no answer. ‘Where are you heading?’

  ‘Africa.’

  ‘Africa?’ Tristan had heard some wonderful tales about the rugged, yet beautiful continent. He had to know. ‘What’s waiting for you in Africa?

  ‘Everything.’

  Everything? It was late in the night, and Tristan was tired. Africa sounded as good a place as any. He had made up his mind that the man was not going to hurt him, so he put the stiletto away and sat down on the shop’s windowsill to rest his legs. ‘Looks like fate has the same destination in mind for us because I’m heading for Africa too.’

  ‘I know for certain that fate has brought me here and that murder has done so for you. Tell me, Tresten Conway, will your fate lead to more killing?’