Читать книгу Rebellion's Message - Michael Jecks - Страница 15

Bill’s view was straightforward enough. Unhelpful to me, but straightforward. He thought that I would be in great danger if I left Trig Lane, and that if I were to be caught, I’d be killed.

‘It’s either run far away, back home to Whitstable, or at least stay here and keep your head down,’ he said. ‘Do you still have that purse?’

‘No. Gil took it.’

‘The shit. Typical of him,’ Bill said. He eyed me a while in silence, before nodding to himself. ‘Right. First thing is, we ought to find out what’s being said on the street. You wait here. Understand me? You hang about here. I’ll go and see what I can learn.’

I nodded, feeling only relief to think that he was on my side, glad to know that he would look after me. It was only after he’d gone that I realized I hadn’t told him about the strange code in the bottom of the purse. He knew about the money well enough, but the message was hidden. I pulled it out again and stared at it. Someone must be able to understand it, I thought. But I had no idea who. There were magicians and others who had skills in the strange art of deciphering such messages, but they were not the sort of fellows who would frequent the haunts where I was known.

Alone, I was bad company for myself. It was impossible to settle. I meandered about the room, but no matter what I did or how I tried to drive it away, I couldn’t get rid of the memory of that man’s face, drained of blood, eyes wide, and the sight of all that blood everywhere. Whoever had tried to set me up as the murderer of the fellow had done an excellent job – that much was clear. I sank into a gloomy reflection, convinced that I was doomed now. I would be caught and hanged for a murder that was nothing to do with me.

I was startled when the door opened and Bill came in again.

‘Well, we know a little more now,’ he said.

‘Are they still hunting me?’

‘In the city, yes. But no one seems to have known who you were, so you’re safe enough for now, I think.’ He eyed me bleakly. ‘But it is not good news for you. The fellow who died was called David of Exeter, apparently. He was servant to some family from the West Country: the Carews or somesuch.’

‘I’ve never heard of them.’

He shrugged. ‘A thief will not often know the name of his victim, will he? But the rebellion in Kent – that is not the only one, is it? There’re many others elsewhere, if the stories are true.’

‘But the Kentish rebellion is the only one remaining. The others have all been crushed, haven’t they?’

They had. The fighting in the rest of the country was snuffed out before it could take hold. Spies had discovered the conspiracy, it was said. The government was so efficient that the rebels had been defeated almost before they could gather, to the benefit of all. A country ignited by the flames of rebellion was not a safe country for anyone.

He looked at me. ‘Yes. But the man who started the rebellion in Devon was a man called Carew.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really, and if that is so, what was his servant doing here, do you think?’

‘Perhaps he was coming to … I don’t know!’

‘It’s likely he was bringing a message to someone, isn’t it? Perhaps he had a message – something to tell his co-conspirators, something to do with the rebellion?’

The import of his words struck me. That strange piece of parchment must contain a coded message. I had no idea to whom it was addressed, of course, but if there was a rebellion, and men thought I had hurt one of their messengers, the rebels would want revenge. Not that it was likely. ‘There’s only one rebellion continuing, isn’t there? That’ll soon be crushed. We saw the army march.’

‘Yes. You are probably enormously lucky,’ Bill said.

Yes, I thought. The army would crush the rebellion, and soon the whole matter would be forgotten. There was nothing for me to worry about.

It was already growing dark when the others began to return. Gil was drunk, as usual, and demanded beer as soon as he arrived. He grabbed my costrel and shook it, throwing it at my head when he realized it was empty. I had to catch it quickly before it could hit the floor. So often the leather on a cheap costrel has been cooked too long and will shatter if dropped. Moll and Wat turned up a little after him, and Gil tried to make Wat give him some drink, but Moll got in his way and he backed down with bad grace, shoving me from his path as he went to lie down. He wouldn’t want to stir Moll. If she were to go and complain to Bill, he would suffer, and he knew that.

Bill was there as the first men of the watch made themselves heard.

It was strange that throughout the day the only noise in the area was the shouting of men, the rumble of barrels, the steady wash of the waves on the wharves, the snuffling of a few pigs, the squawking of chickens and the constant creaking of timbers and hempen cordage as ships and barges passed by. At night, all those sounds gradually dissipated and were replaced by occasional barking dogs, men singing, shouts and, every now and then, a baby bawling its head off from the place over the lane where a maidservant had been comforting her master too well and too vigorously.

After some food, I sat on the floor and covered my face, wondering what would become of me. Moll saw my despondence and tried to get me to talk.

‘You’ll be all right,’ she said. She walked over and sat beside me. ‘The watch will look around for a while, but they’ll soon lose interest. How many bodies are found every week, and the murderer never found?’

I knew she was right. ‘But I want to find the man who did that. He tried to see me killed.’

‘I doubt that. You were knocked down, but he didn’t kill you, this murderer,’ she said earnestly.

‘Stabbing the man with my dagger and putting it into my hand – that wasn’t supposed to see me hanged in his place?’

‘Perhaps it was just a panicked act? He probably didn’t think anyone would consider you a likely murderer.’

I was irritated by that. It sounded as though she thought I was so feeble-looking that no one would think me capable. Then she smiled sympathetically and glanced across at Bill. I thought then she was trying to lift my mood and was worried that he could read too much into our quiet chat. No matter! I was in no mood to listen. She was a woman and couldn’t understand this sort of violence. She had no idea how it felt to have been placed in such a position, and in a while she grew exasperated with my grumpiness and rejoined the others about our little fire.

‘The Duke of Norfolk was leading the Whitecoats,’ Wat said.

Bill snorted. ‘Him? He must be eighty if he’s a day.’

‘He’s the queen’s most trusted commander,’ Wat said.

Gil chuckled roughly. ‘Most trusted? The only one she’d trust, more like.’

‘If she thinks he will be vigorous enough to stop a man like Wyatt at the head of five thousand men,’ Bill said, ‘she’s going to get a nasty surprise, I reckon.’

‘The rebels will fail against real soldiers,’ Wat said confidently.

‘You think so? Everywhere they go, they win more friends and allies,’ Gil said with a sneer in his voice. ‘The Whitecoats are marching on Rochester, but when they get there, they’ll be cold, tired and inclined not to fight the people, you can be sure of it.’

‘You seem to know a lot about these people,’ Bill said.

‘I had a talk with three men in a tavern, and they knew a lot about it.’

‘Who?’ Bill said.

‘I don’t know. They were just men in a tavern. You know how it is.’

‘Yes. I do. To go and drink in a tavern, you need money. But I haven’t given you any,’ Bill said.

‘I have money of my own sometimes,’ Gil said. There was an edge to his voice that I heard clearly as a threat. I looked up to watch.

‘We all share and share alike,’ Bill said, which wasn’t strictly true. We shared, and he took the lion’s portion. But he was our banker, and we all knew it was to our benefit.

‘Yes, and I keep some by,’ Gil said.

It was so fast that I almost leaped from my skin and rapped my skull on the ceiling. Bill sprang up, leaped over the fire and caught Gill a blow across the face that sent him sprawling. In his half-drunk state, he could not defend himself as Bill kicked him four times swiftly in the belly, before lifting him and holding a fist to his face. ‘You want some more? If you want to stay here with us, you’ll have to learn a little more respect!’

‘All right,’ Gil said, his eyes averted.

‘Where’s the rest of it?’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Give me your purse.’

Gil reluctantly removed it from his belt and Bill took it, weighing it in his hand. Then he looked down. ‘This isn’t yours,’ he said. ‘It’s the one Jack stole.’

‘I liked it,’ Gil said.

‘Make sure you aren’t seen with it. You spent all your money?’

‘I hardly had to. The men all bought me wine. They had been gambling in the cockpits – cleaned out the house, they said. They were all three buying drinks for me and others. I stayed with them while they were throwing their coins around. Who wouldn’t?’

‘Three of them?’ I asked.

‘What of it?’ Gil snapped.

‘Did one of them wear a wide-brimmed hat that concealed his face?’ I asked, struck by a horrible suspicion. You don’t survive as a felon for long without learning to doubt the nature of coincidence. Those who lose the critical facility to wonder about men who suddenly appear and buy drinks for strangers often find that their life can become foreshortened.

‘What of it?’

I sat up and stared at Bill. ‘It’s the man from the tavern.’

‘Did you tell them where we live?’ Bill demanded.

Gil shook his head. ‘You think I’m soft in the head like Jack? I wouldn’t tell anyone where we live.’

But later, when I glanced at him, I saw his eyes slide away from me. There was something in them. Naked greed, I thought. If someone were to offer him money to hear of my whereabouts, I didn’t doubt that for a single silver penny he’d sell me and his own mother as a job lot.