Michael Jecks - King's Gold

The two ringleaders were hurling missiles at the windows of a large house, and when Alured could see it clearly through the smoke of a bonfire that raged somewhere nearby, he recognised it as the Bardis’ place.

He himself didn’t care for bankers. To his mind, they were a shameful bunch, lining their pockets at the expense of decent men who laboured long hours, afraid to get their own hands dirty. Still, they were not lawbreakers, so far as he knew, and he was an officer of the law.

When the two had flung their stones, and had set to prising cobbles from the road as missiles, Alured stepped out from the doorway. Wearing an amiable smile, he nodded at the youths about him until he reached the two ringleaders. Once a little behind and between them both, he moved his staff in his hands, holding it half-staff, and struck both men smartly on the back of the head: one-two, right first, then left. The two collapsed like pole-axed cattle.

‘You’ve had your fun, boys. Now bugger off,’ he said, facing the others.

There was one on the left who scowled belligerently and took a half-pace forward. ‘What’d you wanna do that for? They’re only lads. You shouldn’t have hit them!’

From the others there came some expressions of agreement, but as yet no one else moved forward. Alured was tempted to take up a defensive stance, but instead he set his staff on the ground and leaned on it. ‘They may only be boys, but if you don’t clear off, and take this heap of garbage with you, I’ll break your pate too. Understand me?’

‘Your mother was a whore, and your father-’

The fellow choked off as the staff’s tip struck his Adam’s apple. It was not a hard blow, not enough to break his neck, but it was firm enough to make him fall back, clutching at his throat, and now Alured held the staff like a lance, quarter-staff, the tip waving gently from side to side.

‘Lads, I’ve been to war. I’ve killed. You don’t scare me, because I’ve got a staff, and you can’t reach me without I hurt you. Now pick up these three dog turds and go home. If anyone else tries something stupid, I’ll stick this pole right up your arse!’

As he had thought, the three on the ground were the leaders; the nine remaining were the sheep who followed. There were some muttered oaths, and more comments on his parentage, but he stood by with his affable smile fixed to his face and waited. Soon they had gone. Alured watched them leave with satisfaction. He felt he’d handled them well.

There was another shout from up at Cornhulle, and then screams and cries for help. Gripping his horn in one hand, his staff in the other, Alured pelted up the road towards the noise.

This was no gang of drunken youths. As he reached Cornhulle, Alured saw a large group over near a big fire outside St Mary Woolchurch, and in the opposite direction there were a few men gathered together too. He recognised two of the men in that smaller band. They weren’t rioters and felons, he knew, and he bent his steps to join them.

‘Hello, Bill,’ he said to a short man with a thick, grizzled beard and bright brown eyes. ‘What’s all this?’

‘Those arses,’ Bill responded, pointing with his chin at the group near the fire.

Alured nodded, but his attention was already on the body lying on the ground behind Bill and the others. ‘Who was he?’

‘Don’t know. The poor follow was already dead when we got here.’

‘You saw him die?’

‘No. I was watching that lot and tripped over his body. See them?’ Bill was a sturdy fellow, Alured knew, but even he was visibly shocked by the violence he had witnessed. ‘I saw them kill three men a while ago — one man on a good horse with a couple of guards riding at his side. No reason: all three dragged from their horses and then beaten on the ground. Kicking and battering at them. . I saw that and ran back up here, before they had a chance to start on me. I’d guess this poor soul was felled here just before that. They killed him, then went back to their bonfire and attacked the other three.’ He lifted a shaking hand to his eyes.

‘Calm yourself!’ Alured said sharply. ‘Keep your wits about you, Bill.’

He looked back towards the main group of rioters — but it was a mob of drunken men, women and even children — who already had their eye on him, Bill and the others.

Before they came running up the road, Alured went to the body and rolled it over. The clothing was expensive, he saw from the fine wool tunic and linen chemise under the warm, felted cloak. Pulling the hood to one side, he saw a young, somewhat pale-faced man. His eyes were closed, and when Alured prised one open, he saw that they were green. There was blood on his chin and about his mouth, and some trickled from a deep gouge over his right ear. Alured studied the body for other wounds.

‘Stabbed in the back,’ he stated.

‘Yes — and clubbed about the head. Poor devil wouldn’t have stood a chance.’ There was a short cry, and Bill narrowed his eyes. ‘Look!’

Alured went to his side and stared. He could make out a fellow being taunted by the rest of the crowd. Luckily, this fresh target appeared to have distracted them from attacking Alured and Bill.

Hitching up his belt, Alured grunted, ‘Let’s hope there’s someone in among them who’s got a swyving brain,’ and drawing a deep breath, he began to stride towards the mob — but even as he set off, it was too late. The crush of people had begun to cheer as they poured up the road, and then into the back of the Bardi house.

There was no point trying to prevent the mob’s entry. There were too many.

‘Come on, Bill,’ Alured sighed. ‘Let’s get the coroner.’

Just then, there was a noise from up an alleyway — footsteps running — and Alured glanced along it. The alley led to St Benet Fink, he knew, and he threw a quick look over his shoulder at the fire again, before telling Bill, ‘Wait here a moment.’

He darted up the alleyway, his staff in his fist, ready to slam the iron tip into the head of any man who dared obstruct or challenge him, but he reached the first dogleg corner without trouble. And then he saw the two bodies.

The head of the girl was on the ground a matter of feet away, but the lad was still alive, just. Alured touched him, and rolled him over, and the lad’s mouth moved, but he could not speak. Only blood came from his mouth, making his face a ghastly mask.

‘Hold on, boy,’ Alured murmured, but even as he spoke, the dying lad gave a sigh and was still. There came a rattle farther up the alley.

He took his staff and slipped quietly along, his back close to the wall, staff outstretched.

‘You won’t kill me, will you?’

The cackling voice made him jump, and he almost brained the fool. ‘What are you doing there?’

‘Sitting!’

It was a little, wizened old fellow who had the better part of a gallon of ale in him, from the way he belched and grinned, sprawled on the ground at the foot of the wall.

‘How long have you been here?’

Bleary eyes peered up at him. ‘Me? Since I left the Boar’s Head.’

‘Did you see a man come this way a little while ago?’

‘Someone. Yes. A knight, I think. I din’t interrupt him. He was in a hurry.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Oh, tall. Big.’ His companion smiled. ‘And he had a long tunic. I remember that.’

‘What colour?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Come with me.’ Alured grabbed the old man’s arm and pulled him up. He hauled the fellow along until they came to the two youngsters’ bodies.

‘Oh, God’s cods!’ the man bleated.

‘That’s why you’d best come with me,’ Alured said. He pulled him along the alley until they were back with Bill again.