Susanna Gregory - The Butcher Of Smithfield

‘And you pretend to be his reluctant spy,’ said Chaloner, disgusted. ‘You let him think he has a hold over you with that pamphlet you wrote, but the reality is that the information you send him is carefully designed to benefit your own cause.’

Smugly, Brome inclined his head.

‘Enough talking,’ snapped Ireton, lunging again. ‘The Butcher will be here soon.’

His comment startled Chaloner anew. ‘What do you mean? Brome is the Butcher.’

Ireton laughed as the spy’s lapse in concentration allowed him to perform a fancy manoeuvre that saw the sword wrenched from his hand. ‘Do not be ridiculous!’

The door opened. ‘Joanna!’ exclaimed Brome. ‘You should not be here.’

‘I heard there was trouble,’ said Joanna. She looked furious. ‘And since I cannot trust you to do anything properly, I am here to sort out the mess. I cannot take Crisp’s mantle as long as there is a mob outside, baying for blood.’

Chaloner gaped at Joanna, scarcely believing his ears, and was sufficiently astounded that Ireton came close to running him through. It was only an instinctive twist that saved him. As he turned, he saw Kirby had crawled to a cupboard and had pulled out a gun. He was priming it, and Chaloner knew he would be shot as soon as it was ready. He was running out of time, and facing insurmountable odds.

Joanna smiled prettily at Chaloner, but he did not think he had ever seen eyes so cold. There was no trace of the rabbit now — the prey had turned predator. ‘I understand I owe you my thanks,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You relieved me of a certain problem.’

‘Crisp?’

‘Hodgkinson — Henry tells me you unmasked him as a traitor to the newsbooks. Mary must take the credit for Crisp, although I was furious when I learned she had involved poor William in our plan to be rid of the fellow. I was angry when she set her sights on him at all — he is popular, and their relationship attracted the wrong kind of attention.’

‘You were keen to separate them.’ Chaloner performed an agile leap across a table to avoid Ireton, and managed to retrieve his sword at the same time. He found himself facing two more Hectors. They did not possess his skill with a blade, but beating them off took too much of his failing strength.

‘I did want to separate them,’ she agreed, with the same icy smile. ‘I ordered her to leave him alone, but she could not resist stupid men. Still, she is gone now, which is just as well. The gunpowder was a foolish idea, and the whole affair was hopelessly bungled.’

Chaloner’s muscles burned with fatigue when Ireton resumed his attack, and he was not sure how much longer he could fight. Then Joanna gestured for her henchman to hold off. Chaloner was amusing her, and she did not want him killed just yet. Meanwhile, Kirby sat on the floor, feverishly loading his gun.

‘You have been pretending to be Crisp for some time now,’ said Chaloner, wondering why he had not associated the Butcher’s slender grace with Joanna before. ‘The real one has been in the country with his books and experiments, seen only by his father. When you are out, you are surrounded by Hectors — not to protect Crisp as I assumed, but to keep anyone from coming close and seeing you. And you decline invitations-’

‘Like the Butchers’ Company dinner,’ said Ireton. Chaloner remembered Maylord’s neighbour mentioning Crisp’s abrupt cancellation. ‘I told you to let me go. I could have carried it off.’

‘I am sure you could,’ said Joanna coolly, and Chaloner saw Ireton was too ambitious for his own safety. He would not last long under the new regime. She turned to Chaloner, laughing at him. He wondered how he ever could have thought of her as sweet and meek. ‘How can I be the Butcher? You saw him the morning you went to Haye’s Coffee House with Henry, but I was with Mrs Chiffinch, consoling her over her husband’s infidelity.’

‘I doubt your company could have compared to that of L’Estrange,’ countered Chaloner. ‘He would have occupied Mrs Chiffinch, giving you ample time to don a disguise and make an appearance. Besides, how do you know I saw the Butcher that day? It was an insignificant event, and not the sort of thing most husbands would have mentioned to their wives. But of course it was significant, wasn’t it? Brone deliberately dallied as he gave alms to that beggar, which gave you time to change and leave the house. You wanted me to see “Crisp” at a point when I would think he could not be either of you.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Brome, rather boastfully. ‘It was a precaution, lest you later-’

‘We are wasting time, and this is no longer fun,’ snapped Joanna, turning to anger fast enough to be disturbing. ‘I should have killed you yesterday, but I thought you might be a useful source of information. You have now outlived that usefulness.’

‘I will shoot him.’ Kirby had finally finished preparing the gun, and he stood with triumph in his face. ‘I have been wanting to do this ever since he attacked me outside the Bear.’

‘You have not loaded it properly,’ said Ireton, rolling his eyes when Kirby squeezed the trigger and nothing happened. ‘And a sword is better for this kind of work anyway.’

‘News!’ came a yell from outside. ‘We want news.’

Joanna grimaced. ‘Make a speech, Henry. Tell them the government has no intention of raising another tax. Diffuse the situation. It will please Williamson, and make him more willing to look the other way while we grow rich.’

Ireton came after Chaloner with a series of concerted sweeps. Two more Hectors weaved behind the spy, and he stumbled when one stabbed his leg. His boot saved him from injury, but he felt himself losing ground.

There was a roar of massed voices, and a heavy missile crashed through a window, sending glass spraying across the room. The mob cheered, and through the broken pane, Chaloner could see Leybourn, urging them on. The surveyor prised a rock from the sodden ground, but it was the windows of the house next door that paid the price. The crowd laughed, and suddenly more stones were being hurled. The room was awash with them, and one struck Chaloner’s shoulder. Then Kirby took aim again.

The gun’s blast was deafening in the confined space, and Chaloner saw the felon drop to the floor with blood on his hand. In his haste, he had used too much powder. More stones pelted the windows, and Chaloner noticed Brome and Joanna had gone. His momentary lack of concentration saw Ireton on him, and he was hard-pressed to defend himself. Someone hit him from behind, and he fell heavily. Ireton’s sword plunged downwards, and he only just managed to twist away. Then the room was full of shouting. The crowd had stormed inside. Leybourn was at the front, blade in his hand.

‘Hectors!’ he yelled furiously. ‘Run them through! Proud Londoners are not afraid of Hectors!’

Not everyone rallied to his battle cry, but enough did. The Hectors turned and ran. It was the worst thing they could have done, because the mob became braver once it smelled a rout. Chaloner saw several criminals disappear under a flailing mêlée of fists and knives.

‘Bastard!’ yelled Ireton at Leybourn, seeing the surveyor as the cause of the disaster. He gripped his weapon and prepared to make an end of him. Leybourn was whirling his blade around his head like a madman, but he neglected to maintain a proper grip. It flew from his fingers, and its hilt caught Ireton in the centre of the forehead. He went down as if poleaxed.

‘I did not mean to-’ began Leybourn, startled.

Chaloner staggered to his feet as two burly apprentices advanced on the senseless Ireton. He put out a hand to stop them, but they knocked him away.

‘Joanna and Brome have escaped,’ he said to Leybourn, looking away from the carnage.