Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

Walton was sitting in his cell, eyes closed as if he was asleep. The deputy turned the key in the lock and said,

‘On your feet. Hands out in front.’

The thief taker obeyed without a word and Sedgwick snapped the shackles on his wrists, the iron weight pulling his arms down.

‘Sit down. Legs out.’ He moved deftly, locking the ankle rings and chain in place. They’d make walking difficult, but the distance was short and he’d learned long ago to take no chances. A desperate man could run fast and he had no taste for the chase right now, not with his own hearth calling him. Before they left he armed himself with a sword and pistol, loading and priming it as Walton watched. ‘Try to escape and I’ll put the load in your brain.’

Briggate was quiet, only a few people out, courting couples and girls parading arm in arm, eyes darting around for any eligible young men. The deputy walked slightly behind the thief taker, one hand lightly gripping the hilt of his weapon, the handle of the gun in easy reach. What could he say to James that would make the boy listen, he wondered? How could he bring back the happy child who’d been there before Isabell was born?

As they approached two serving lasses who giggled at being so close to danger, the thief taker slid quickly to the side and turned. In one swift movement he lifted his arms, looped the chain around the neck of one of the girls and pulled it taut.

He smiled, showing his black teeth, his eyes dark and empty, edging backwards, keeping the girl as a shield in front of him. Her face pleaded with the deputy, her small fingers scrabbling helplessly at the metal.

‘Stay back,’ Walton said, taking a step back and pulling the girl along with him.

‘Let her go,’ Sedgwick ordered. He had the sword in his right hand, the pistol extended in his left. The other servant was backed against the wall, screaming, but he hardly heard her. ‘Let her go now.’

Walton took another pace backward, the girl’s heels dragging. One shoe came off, standing alone and empty on the flagstone.

Breathing deeply, the deputy raised the pistol, aiming at the thief taker’s head. Slowly, keeping his arm straight, he squeezed down on the trigger. The noise filled his brain as he fired.

‘I’m sorry, boss.’

The deputy was sitting with his head in his hands, an empty mug of ale in front of him. Nottingham was in his chair, hands together under his chin. He’d been asleep at home, stretched out in his chair in just shirt and breeches, when one of the men had pounded on the door.

He’d dressed hastily and walked to the jail. Walton’s body lay in the cold cell they used as a morgue, part of his skull gone, the ball buried behind empty eyes. The apothecary said the girl would live; the bullet had only grazed her head. He’d bound the wound and given her something to make her sleep before letting her go home with her friend. She’d been trembling, too fearful to speak, bursting into tears every time she tried to open her mouth.

‘Just be glad she wasn’t really hurt,’ the Constable said. ‘For the love of Christ, what were you doing, John?’

Sedgwick raised his eyes and shook his head.

‘You weren’t paying attention. You let him get away from you and a girl was almost killed.’ He sighed and pushed the fringe off his forehead then poured himself some more ale. ‘You know better than that.’

‘I was thinking about this child snatcher and James.’

‘I don’t care that Walton’s dead,’ Nottingham continued, slamming his palm down on the desk in anger. ‘I don’t give a fuck about him, it’s just sooner rather than later. But you took a risk with someone’s life.’

‘What else could I do, boss?’ Sedgwick asked. He stood up and began to pace around the room. His long legs seemed constrained by the small space. He looked hard at the Constable. ‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place and you know it,’ Nottingham answered coldly. Before the deputy could reply he held up his hand. ‘I know. It did happen. But you should at least have waited until you could get a clearer shot at him or used your sword.’

‘I was trying to fucking save her!’ Sedgwick shouted. ‘She was terrified. What should I have done?’ He stormed out, letting the door slam behind him. The Constable started to rise from his chair and follow then sat back. Sedgwick needed some time. He knew full well what he should have done, that he should have been alert and watching the prisoner every second. It was one of the first things he taught all the men. He understood what the man was thinking, that he was blaming himself and his own stupidity, and feeling relief at not killing or badly injuring the girl. He knew the deputy had had no choice once Walton had taken the servant. Finally he stood and sighed loudly. It was time to go home. There was nothing more he could do here.

Sedgwick needed to be alone, to walk and calm himself before going back to the house on Lands Lane. James would be asleep, Isabell too, or fretting at her mother’s breast. He knew Lizzie would still be awake, starting at every noise, waiting, worrying about him.

He strode up Briggate, past the patch of blood smeared over the flagstones where the thief taker had died, up to the Head Row, then out past Burley Bar and down the hill away from the city. There was a nip to the night air and he breathed deeply, taking in the scent of grass and animals.

But there was no silence out here, no peace in nature. Owls hooted and creatures scurried, branches creaked and leaves rustled. In the distance he could hear the bleat of sheep and the soft lowing of cattle from a barn up the hill.

He waited as the anger stopped throbbing in his head, standing still in the darkness, fists clenched and pushed deep in his coat pockets. He’d been wrong and he knew it; that was why it galled so deeply. He’d made the simplest of mistakes and then he’d panicked.

He wouldn’t have blamed the boss if he’d let him go on the spot. He should never have done what he did, not with the girl in the way. But he’d been so scared that Walton might escape that he’d just pulled the trigger at the first opportunity.

He could feel himself beginning to shiver from what had happened. He’d killed men before, when there’d been no other choice, and with Walton all he’d done was save the city the cost of a trial. Those other times, though, it had been him or them, with no one else in the way. He could have found another way with the thief taker if he’d only thought calmly. He pulled the coat more tightly around himself and saw the eyes of the serving girl pleading and praying as he aimed the pistol. He’d never forget that look, the terror as she stared helplessly at him.

He was no believer but he silently thanked God for saving her. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this work, he thought, not if he acted like that. Even Rob knew better. He could find something else to bring in a wage and support his family.

But even as everything cascaded through his mind, he knew it was just guilt and fury with himself. He loved being the deputy constable and hoped that some day he could replace the boss. Not if he was that stupid, though. He stood still until the shaking passed.

As soon as Walton fell he’d been on him, freeing the girl, pulling her away, watching in horror as the blood flowed from her scalp. Her friend was still screaming, the sound seeming to come from miles away. He’d pulled out his kerchief and dabbed at the wound, praying it was nothing. But the blood wouldn’t stop.

He looked around, noticing the people stopped and staring, keeping their distance from death and danger.

‘You,’ he said, picking a man’s face from the crowd. ‘Go and fetch the apothecary.’ When the man didn’t move, he yelled, ‘Now!’