Edward Marston - The Silent Woman

He took direction from the sailor then went below to find the cabin. When he let himself in, he found it small but well appointed. It had a low berth against the wall, a table and chair secured to the floor and some cupboards for storage. A lantern swung gently overhead. Nicholas felt another surge of envy. Like the merchant, he, too, would have kept a private cabin aboard and sailed in the Mary whenever he could. A love of the sea infused them both.

A porthole looked out on the river and showed him the looming shadow of the Long Bridge. The plash of oars made him look in the other direction and he saw exactly what he had hoped. Gideon Livermore was being rowed out towards the ship by a brawny figure. He had stayed overnight in the town and been roused early by the servant whom he paid to keep an eye on activities in the Whetcombe household. Nicholas had told Mary to let it be known that they had found out that the document they sought was on board the Mary . The news spread quickly through the house and reached its intended destination. Livermore was closing in for the kill.

Nicholas used one of the keys he had brought to unlock a cupboard and take out a sheaf of papers. He waited until he heard the two men come aboard then he pretended to study the papers with great interest. It was not long before the door was flung open. Gideon Livermore regarded him with open hostility. His companion was a thickset man with a broken nose. Nicholas suspected that the latter might well have fired the crossbow bolt at him.

‘Where is it?’ demanded Livermore.

‘What?’

‘The will.’

‘You have it, sir. It is lodged with the lawyer.’

‘I speak of the first will. There in your hand.’

‘This is no longer valid.’

‘I wish to see it.’

‘No,’ said Nicholas, thrusting the papers inside his jerkin. ‘You merely wish to destroy it.’

Gideon Livermore wasted no more time. He stood aside and his companion came charging in with a raised club in his hand. His brute strength was no match for the other’s agility. As the man rushed at him, Nicholas dodged the blow, caught the thick wrist and swung the man against the oak bulwark with a terrifying thud. He collapsed in a heap on the floor and would take no further part in the proceedings.

Nicholas pulled Livermore into the cabin.

‘I have the message you sent to Adam Lamparde,’ he said. ‘Murder a girl, you told him. He obeyed. Now he lies dead himself. Your letter will send you to the gallows.’

Gideon Livermore went puce with fury. He would not let this intruder ruin all his well-laid plans. A knife came out from his belt and he jabbed it at Nicholas. The book holder moved swiftly but the blade sliced open his hand and blood spurted. He closed with Livermore and they grappled in the confined space, banging against the walls and tripping over the inert body on the floor.

Hearing the commotion, the watch on deck came running down to the cabin, but Nicholas ordered him to stand clear. The sailor would be a valuable witness to a fight between a crazed merchant and an unarmed man. Livermore was powerful and the thought of what he stood to lose gave him even greater energy. Nicholas was finding him hard to master. He needed more room to manoeuvre. Twisting Livermore off balance, he released his hold and pushed. The merchant stumbled back and gave Nicholas a precious moment to rush back up on deck.

Gideon Livermore came panting after him. They were in view of the quay now and there were other witnesses on the bridge, but that did not stop the merchant. All his plans could founder on this one man. As long as Nicholas Bracewell was alive, Livermore would never inherit the estate and seize Mary Whetcombe as an agreeable part of the booty. Most of all, he would never take over the Mary herself. That was his dream. Gideon Livermore was a pirate trying to lay hold of a pirate ship. It was a fitting place in which to decide his fate.

Open space gave Nicholas more options and his own dagger was now out. The two men circled each other warily. Nicholas was bleeding profusely but he did not dare to look down at the flesh wound on his hand. Livermore could not be underestimated. Though he paid others to kill for him, he was more than capable of doing his own work. The merchant feinted then lunged but Nicholas evaded him. A second attack forced the book holder back and he fell over some coiled rope that lay on the deck. Livermore pounced and his weight took the breath out of his adversary. Nicholas had a grip on the man’s wrist but his own weapon had been knocked away.

They grappled, they rolled, they punched and gouged. Livermore even tried to bite him. With sudden power, Nicholas threw him off and got to his feet, but Livermore was after him at once. The advantage had swung back to the merchant now and he was taunting his prey, forcing him back towards the gunwale. Nicholas ran out of space. He was cornered.

‘Give me the will,’ demanded Livermore.

‘The Mary will never be yours.’

‘Give me the will!’

Nicholas patted his jerkin. ‘Come and take it.’

The merchant needed no more invitation. Aiming the point of his blade at Nicholas’s face, he charged forward. The book holder was too fast for him. He ducked, grabbed then heaved upwards with all his might, and the body of Gideon Livermore went over the side and into the river. The people on the bridge were so impressed that they gave a cheer. Other boats were now being rowed out from the quay.

Nicholas leant over the side of the gunwale as the merchant surfaced. The man coughed and spluttered. Though he had learnt to swim in the river, he had never done so in heavy clothing when he was exhausted from a fight. Livermore began to flail wildly and call out for help. He was drowning. Nicholas peeled off his jerkin and kicked off his shoes before diving over the side of the ship. He hit the water cleanly and explored its murky depths for a few seconds before coming up again. He was just in time to see Livermore starting to sink. Grabbing the man from behind, he lay on his back and swam towards the ship with Livermore’s head supported above the water.

The sailor on watch was waiting to help them aboard, and the other rowing boats were closing in. Spectators on the bridge and quay were applauding Nicholas’s heroism in saving the drowning man. But Gideon Livermore himself had second thoughts. He would never inherit the estate and marry the woman he coveted. He would never own the Mary . All that awaited him was a humiliating trial and a long rope. He would never submit to that.

When Nicholas finally pulled him to the side of the ship, Livermore waited for his moment and then broke clear to plunge headfirst again into the dark water. Nicholas went after him and a few other men from the boats jumped in to assist, but they could not find the merchant anywhere. It was several minutes before the River Taw yielded up its sacrificial victim. When Gideon Livermore bobbed to the surface with his face still submerged, he was way beyond any processes of law.

In one transaction, many debts had been paid off.

It was a windy afternoon, but that did not deter him. He took a long, meandering, valedictory walk through the town to reacquaint himself with a youth that now seemed a century away. He went down streets where he had once played and across a field where he and his brother had first learnt to ride a horse. He left flowers on his mother’s grave at the nearby churchyard then walked slowly back towards his old family house in Boutport Street. It looked much as it had done when his parents raised their children in the dwelling. Compared to the cottage where his father now lived, it was a small mansion. A deep sorrow made him turn away.

Nicholas Bracewell went through the gate and left the town, feeling an immediate sense of release. Barnstaple had once been his entire world but it now had the whiff of a prison about it. The pleasure of seeing familiar places was offset by the pain of old memories. He walked briskly on in the stiff breeze until he came to a walled garden. Nicholas halted in alarm. His feet had taken him insensibly to the one house in the area which he had vowed he would never visit again. When he tried to turn back, his legs betrayed him again and impelled him forward to the gate. One look up at the half-timbered dwelling brought it all back.