Читать книгу Rebellion's Message - Michael Jecks - Страница 14

For a long time I remained there deep in thought.

Her words had shocked me. It never would have occurred to me that anyone could think me guilty of committing a murder, and yet Ann thought exactly that, if her face and actions were anything to go by. If she believed me capable of killing a man, who would believe me? Especially since I had bolted as soon as the first man appeared. Not that it was my fault: whoever it was who had knocked me down was surely the guilty man. And yet that man had come in from outside the tavern. No one would have seen him arrive.

Panic set in. What was I, other than a rascal who had run to London at the first opportunity, leaving his home and father alone, to try to make his own way in the world by living on his wits? I was quick with my hands, and competent enough at word-play when it was necessary, but I was not capable of killing in cold blood. How could anyone think I would plunge a dagger into a man’s belly?

The answer to that was easily. This was London. The city was full of men who would draw a knife or sword at the slightest provocation. If a man felt insulted, if a man felt his honour was impugned, if a man felt he was being made to look a fool, let alone if he thought he was robbed, he would be more than capable of killing another. In God’s name, I’d seen it often enough.

I had to get back to the house and speak to Bill. He would know what to do.

Yes. Back to see Bill. That was the main thing. I clambered to my feet and set off back the way I’d come. I peeped out into the roadway and sauntered out among the passers-by, making my way back towards the river, treading carefully amid the horse, dog, cattle and donkey dung that liberally covered the whole of the way. It was a way to distract myself – not that it worked. I was deep in thought as I went. The young gull was dead, I was blamed, and I had no idea who was responsible. I didn’t know who the fellow was, nor why I had been knocked unconscious before he had been killed.

The only thing that made sense was that someone struck me down to rob me and … and robbed him, too. The man with the broad-brimmed hat.

I stopped.

No one would have come through that gate knowing that I was there. Someone appearing behind me would not have known I was there before they opened the gate. Whoever it was didn’t want me dead. They were looking for better prey. And the lad had a well-filled purse. Surely it was a man who saw him in the tavern, guessed he would be in need of a piss after a while, and decided to lie in wait. For him and his money.

Except … I took out the parchment I’d found in the bottom of the stolen purse. It made no sense to me. Just a jumble of letters and occasional strange symbols, and I peered at it with confusion. No one could make sense of a thing like that, surely. Which was the point, of course. A man who had need of such a code had something to conceal.

And the rebels were approaching London just at the time that this fellow appeared and died.

Somehow this reflection was not reassuring.

When I reached Trig Lane, I climbed the rickety steps to the loft and was surprised to see Bill already there. He was over at the paillasse where Ham and I slept, and he sprang up with a face that turned a deep red as I entered.

‘What are you doing back here so soon?’ he growled. ‘If you’re thinking you can have an early night because of one purse, you can think again!’

His aggressive manner drove all thoughts about why he was at Ham’s and my bedrolls. I hastened to explain my predicament.

‘I can’t stay in the streets. I have to talk, Bill. I need help.’

He was mollified by that. He looked at me askance and persuaded me to sit on a stool while he fetched us both wine from a leather flagon. ‘Well?’ he said when we were both seated.

‘Today a man was killed behind the tavern near Ludgate, and people are saying it was me killed him!’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘I was there. That purse I took?’ I explained all about Ann and her companion, then about bolting to the yard and what happened. Bill listened with a frown on his face. I ended, ‘I don’t know what to do!’

‘It was Ann’s friend found this man?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re absolutely certain that you didn’t see whoever it was knocked you down? You don’t know him?’ he demanded.

‘Why are you so suspicious? I don’t have eyes in the back of my head!’

‘Ann’s friend found you, you say?’

‘Yes. He left her outside the tavern when he came back in, according to her.’

‘Does she know who he was?’

‘Who cares? He came through the tavern. He couldn’t have flown from the tavern, out to the alley, then back in to knock me down and kill the other fellow,’ I said sharply.

‘Watch your temper, boy,’ he said.

I swallowed my justifiable irritation. ‘I just spoke to her and she had no idea what the name of the man was, other than that he was called Henry.’

‘Henry? Are you sure?’

‘I think so,’ I said. I was a little perturbed to see how Bill leaned away, staring at me.

He took a long pull at his wine, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I thought his expression was too much like that which he wore when the carts rolled by with men being carried to the gallows: ‘There, but for the grace of God,’ he seemed to be thinking. Now he wore that same expression as he looked at me.

‘You’ll have to keep your head low, then. Perhaps you ought to go back to Kent and hide out there.’

‘But I can’t!’ That was unthinkable. ‘I can’t run away from the city! My father wouldn’t have me back now, and I don’t know anyone else.’

Bill nodded and shrugged. ‘Well, you are going to be hunted now, and since you’re responsible for stealing a rich purse, they’ll look all the harder. You’d best stay here, hidden.’

‘I didn’t even steal it from him. I took it from Ann and her friend.’

‘I don’t think that will help save you from the rope.’