Chris Nickson - At the Dying of the Year

‘To learn something.’

Caleb cocked his head, taken by surprise. ‘What? There’s nowt back here.’

‘There’s you. And your friends. I see you’re keeping some of the food for them.’

‘We share.’

The Constable smiled gently. ‘We used to do that, too.’

‘Oh aye?’ He looked doubtful. ‘When was that, then?’

‘Back when I lived like you.’ He said the words evenly, as if they meant nothing, watching the boy’s eyes widen in disbelief.

‘You? You never did.’

‘It was a long time ago.’

‘What do you do now?’ Caleb took another bite of the pie before carefully stuffing the rest in his pocket.

‘I’m the Constable of Leeds.’

‘No you’re not,’ the boy said confidently. ‘I’ve seen him. He’s younger than you and taller.’

Nottingham laughed loud. ‘That’s Mr Sedgwick. He’s my deputy. I’ve been ill for a long time.’

‘Oh aye? What was wrong with you?’ Caleb asked warily.

‘Someone tried to kill me.’

‘Really?’

He knew he had the lad’s attention now. All he had to do was keep it, and make him believe. ‘Someone knifed me. It took a long time to heal. Look.’ He pulled up his shirt to display the wound. Much of the redness had vanished, but the scar still stood livid against his flesh.

Caleb stared, staying quiet for a long time.

‘Did you really live out here, then? You’re not just saying?’

The Constable answered slowly. ‘I did. I know what it’s like. More years than anyone needs.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We found three bodies yesterday.’

‘Aye, we know,’ the boy told him, his voice as weary and aching as an old man’s.

‘I want whoever killed them,’ Nottingham said. ‘I’m hoping you and the others out here can help me.’

Caleb stared coldly at him. ‘Why should we?’

‘Because I saw what someone did to those three and I want to make sure he can’t do it to anyone else.’ He looked at the boy. ‘Is that enough for you?’

Caleb lowered his head.

‘Do the others look up to you?’ the Constable asked. ‘The lads and lasses?’

‘Some,’ the boy acknowledged.

‘You look after them?’

‘If I can.’ He shrugged and shook his head. ‘I can’t always.’

Nottingham understood. There was only so much one person could do. ‘How long have you been out here?’

Caleb squatted on his heels. The fear had left his face, bringing an innocence that made him seem younger. ‘Five year, near as owt.’

‘The ones who died, were they with you?’

The boy closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Until they went.’

‘What were their names?’

‘The lass was called Alison, and the lads were Mark and Luke.’ He picked at a large scab on the back of his hand. ‘Luke was the little one.’

‘When did they go?’

‘More than a week.’ The boy shrugged. ‘They didn’t come back one night.’

‘Did you look for them?’

Caleb raised empty eyes. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I knew what had happened.’

‘What was that?’

‘They’d gone with him.’

Nottingham glanced up sharply. ‘Him?’ He could feel his heart thumping hard. He breathed slowly.

‘He comes round offering money and food.’ The boy turned his head and spat. ‘Even somewhere to live sometimes.’

He knew. There had been men like that when he was young. He’d seen the desperate go with them and come back silent, the tears dried on their faces.

‘Tell me about him.’

‘He started coming back in summer,’ Caleb remembered bleakly. ‘I warned them all. No one gives owt for nowt. Not to us.’

‘Do you know his name?’

‘Allus called himself Gabriel.’

The Constable had never heard the name in Leeds before. ‘What did he look like?’ He tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.

‘Like he had money, the way they always do,’ the boy said angrily.

‘That doesn’t help me find him,’ he prodded gently.

‘You come looking now,’ Caleb spat. ‘You didn’t do owt when Jane went with him and never came back. Or David.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Nottingham told him humbly.

‘Aye, and would you have cared?’ The boy stood and paced to the other side of the yard.

‘I’d have cared,’ the Constable answered quietly. ‘I’d have done exactly what I’m doing now.’

Caleb turned and sneered. ‘Aye, right.’

‘Mark, Alison and Luke?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want to find the man who did all that to them and to Jane and David and I want to see him hang. I’m sorry about the others, but when I don’t know something’s happened, I can’t do anything about it.’ He paused. ‘Now, are you going to help me?’

‘The lad says this Gabriel is big. Taller than me and broader.’ He looked at the deputy.

‘It’s not much help, is it, boss?’ Sedgwick asked. ‘What sort of age?’

‘Old is as close as he could come,’ Nottingham replied. The word could mean anything. ‘Always wears a good wig, dresses in a clean grey coat and breeches every time. Offers money or food. Even a place to stay, as if he was taking them in. Does that mean anything to you?’

The deputy shook his head. The Constable shifted awkwardly on the chair. His bones were still chilled from sitting so long on the cold stone and he tried to find a comfortable position.

‘Gabriel’s been around since the summer. These aren’t the first he’s taken, either. There are two others that Caleb mentioned.’

‘Fuck!’ Sedgwick slammed his fist down on the desk in frustration. ‘I’m sorry, boss. I never heard anything.’

‘I know,’ Nottingham said sympathetically. ‘No one’s blaming you. This bastard’s sly, John. And he’s deadly.’

‘Sounds like he has money.’

The Constable nodded. ‘I thought that, too.’

‘It’s not much to go on, though, is it?’

‘It’s more than we had before,’ Nottingham pointed out. ‘I’m just glad the lad said as much as he did. Caleb doesn’t trust us, John. He knows more, I’m sure of that. He’s just keeping it close.’

‘Why?’ Sedgwick frowned. ‘Doesn’t he want this Gabriel found?’

‘He wants that, right enough,’ the Constable added without hesitation. ‘He’s just waiting to see if we’ll do something or we’re all talk.’ He leaned back and sighed. ‘So now we’d better find Gabriel.’

‘How?’

‘The boy’s given us a place to start. We work from there. We know Gabriel’s not poor; that cuts out a lot of folk.’

‘Aye,’ the deputy agreed hesitantly. ‘But then we’re looking at the rich. You know what that means. They look after their own.’

‘They won’t this time,’ Nottingham answered with certainty. ‘Put the word out. See if the name Gabriel means anything, or anyone’s noticed a man in a good grey suit and full bottom wig. Tell them why, too.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘We’re going to make sure he has nowhere to hide.’ He looked up as the deputy stood. ‘I want everyone in Leeds to know by tomorrow. Let’s make the bastard sweat.’

Sedgwick grinned, jammed the old tricorn hat on his head and left. Alone, the Constable pushed himself out of the chair, feeling the pain across his belly and the dull ache in his hips. They’d pass soon enough, and in the meantime there was work to be done.

He started at the Rose and Crown, wandering past the inn and through to the yard and stables. Hercules was there, grooming one of the horses and softly whispering to the animal. It was what he did during the day, his real joy, and in the evenings he’d collect the mugs and clean up around the drinkers. In return he had a bed in one of the stalls and his food, all the scraps the others left. As long as Nottingham could recall Hercules had been around, a small, slight man, his head growing balder each year. Few paid him attention, but his ears were sharp and his eyes still saw things most folk missed.