Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

‘How is the throat, Josiah?’

‘I’ll live, sir. Never was much good at talking.’

There was no knowing whether the pail would be refilled, so as the day went on they drank sparingly. The cell gradually warmed up and Thomas found himself sleeping in snatches. While he was awake he thought about what had brought him to such a place. Ciphers and spies and murderers. Traitors and plots and greed. At least Aurum was dead and Argentum in the Tower. And if Joseph could find the Alchemist…

He thought about Charles and Mary and Joseph, and he thought about Madeleine. What could she have thought when she awoke to find Thomas had sneaked off with Josiah? And what would she be thinking now that they had not returned? That Thomas Hill was an irresponsible old fool with whom she would have nothing further to do? That he deserved whatever he got? That he was dead and good riddance? The chances were that he would never know. And he thought about Lucy. Master Phillips was a frequenter of brothels and admirer of young girls. If she found out, she would be devastated, and that would be his fault. He should have dealt with the matter sooner and better.

The first rats appeared that evening. As it grew darker they came sniffing out of their holes and made for the blood and gore on the blankets and the walls. Josiah broke the legs off the table and chair and threw them at the creatures. The one he hit was immediately set upon and devoured by the others. By the time it was too dark to see, the body was covered in rats. They armed themselves with a chair leg each and hoped the creatures would be satisfied with Squire.

It was pitch dark when they heard voices raised and the clatter of metal on stone. The sounds echoed through the alleys and reached them through the hole in the wall leading to the inn. Thomas could not tell from which direction they were coming. Wide awake at once, they concentrated on listening. They heard oaths and curses and a woman shrieking. ‘Intruders,’ growled Josiah, struggling to his feet. ‘If it’s the trained men, we’re done for. Finn will ’ide us where we can’t be found.’

Thomas also stood up and strained to make out the voices. He heard a man shout, ‘Get out,’ and a cry of pain. Was it his imagination or were they getting closer? They heard the door being unlocked. It was thrown open and two of Finn’s men entered the room. They both held knives. ‘Move,’ ordered one, ‘and be quick. Follow me and don’t try nothing.’

The other man got behind them and prodded them out of the room and through the hole in the wall. They turned left, away from the voices and towards the steps. Josiah was right. Unwelcome visitors were in the alleys and the prisoners were being moved to a safer place.

With one guard in front and the other behind, they were led down the alley to the top of the steps. There the first guard stopped and turned to face them. Keeping his knife pointed at them, he took a key from his pocket and opened a narrow door in the wall.

The two tall men in long black cloaks who came out of the shadows and up the steps were so fast and so silent that neither guard saw or heard them until it was too late. Their windpipes severed by wickedly curved daggers, both guards subsided soundlessly to the ground. Thomas caught a glimpse of yellow satin under a cloak.

‘Mr Mottershead and Mr Hill,’ said Oliver in his educated voice, ‘Miss Henrietta awaits you.’

They could hear men approaching. ‘And we must make haste,’ added Rupert.

They ran down the steps and reached the low door, which was open. Thomas was pushed through, followed by Josiah. Their rescuers wriggled through the door on their stomachs after them. ‘Up you go, gentlemen. We shall follow,’ said Oliver.

Thomas needed no urging. He shot up the ladder like a squirrel up a tree and pushed open the trapdoor he found at the top. A bright half-moon lit the night. He clambered out to find himself between a pile of cabbages and a heap of manure. Josiah soon emerged, then Rupert.

‘Covent Garden,’ said Josiah, looking around.

There was a howl of pain and Oliver, a huge grin on his face, popped his head through the opening. ‘He was a foolish fellow to hold on to my leg,’ he laughed, jumping out. He closed the trapdoor with a bang and stood on it.

There was a screech from behind Thomas, loud enough to make him jump. ‘I might ’ave guessed you’d be down some stinking drain, Mottershead.’

‘’Allo, Molly. Missed me, ’ave you?’ Josiah’s voice was not much more than a croak.

‘No I ’aven’t. Just came to see if you found the big arse.’

‘We found it and now it’s dead.’

‘And what ’ave you done with your boots, you little bugger?’

‘Stolen, same as my stick. You’ll ’ave to buy me a new one.’

‘Fuck off. I’ve ’ad an ’ard night and now I’m off to my bed.’

By this time a small crowd had emerged from the corners of the market and gathered around them. ‘Let us be away, gentlemen,’ said Oliver. ‘We do not want to attract any more attention.’

They walked quickly to Wild Street and let themselves into Henrietta’s house. ‘Miss Henrietta asked to see you both immediately. I will escort you.’ Rupert had already removed his cloak and was brushing down his yellow satin with the back of his hand. Oliver was doing the same.

Despite the hour, Henrietta was in her chair with a glass at her side and her pipe in her mouth. Candles lit the room and the little courtyard outside. She motioned for them to sit and took her time inspecting them. At last she took the pipe from her mouth. ‘Caused me a lot of trouble, you two gentlemen have. I had to find twenty brave enough to go into those alleys to divert attention, and send my boys in the back way to find you. They could have been hurt, or worse.’

‘Thank you, ’Enrietta,’ croaked Josiah, ‘I knew you’d ’elp out.’

‘Did you now, Josiah Mottershead? And what gave you that idea?’

‘Your kind ’eart and the thought of a few sovereigns.’

Henrietta’s laugh gurgled up from her enormous belly, erupted through her orange lips and ended in a hacking cough into the bowl at her feet. ‘You know me too well, Josiah. Too generous for my own good. And it looks like I shall have to buy you a new pair of boots. Now you just sit there and when Thomas has gone home we’ll discuss my reward.’ The colour drained from Josiah’s face. The thought of rewarding Henrietta clearly terrified him.

‘I too thank you, madam,’ said Thomas, getting to his feet. ‘You have done us a great service. Josiah has been injured in the throat. I daresay a glass of brandy would help.’

Henrietta leered at Josiah. ‘It’s not his voice I want.’

‘Indeed, madam. Now, with your permission I shall return to Fleet Street where a certain lady is doubtless waiting for me.’

‘She’s a lucky lady,’ said Henrietta, licking her lips. ‘Be sure to tell her so from me. And take a pair of boots from the rack on your way out. We always have spare pairs left by gentlemen in a hurry.’

‘I certainly shall,’ replied Thomas, with a bow. He departed with a grin at Josiah, leaving the poor man to his fate.

By the time Thomas knocked on Madeleine’s door, dawn had broken. He was let in by Agnes and found Madeleine in her sitting room. ‘Good morning, my dear,’ he greeted her, trying to plant a kiss on her cheek. ‘Here I am and quite unharmed.’

Madeleine pushed him away. ‘I have no wish to speak to you, Thomas. Kindly leave this house at once.’

‘Madeleine, do you not want to know what happened?’

‘Go, Thomas. Now. You are not welcome here.’ Her voice was icy. There was nothing to be done. Thomas turned and left.

Agnes was standing by the front door. ‘Thank you for your help, Agnes. Josiah is perfectly well. I expect he’ll be back soon.’ His voice was shaky.