D. Wilson - The Traitor’s Mark

I had no chance to reply.

Several things happened at once. Bart cried out, ‘Annie!’ and rushed forward. Black Harry drew his gun and cocked it. Walt struck at him with his staff. The weapon fell to the ground and discharged with an alarming bang. My men spilled out of the wagon and ran to surround the other vehicle. Before they could reach it, its rear curtain was pulled aside and five of Black Harry’s men tumbled out. With shouts and screams, the two forces fell upon each other. They filled the roadway. Other travellers ran panicking in all directions. In the midst of the mayhem I rushed to the gang’s wagon. Ned was there before me, peering inside. He turned and shook his head. ‘They’re not here,’ he called.

I ran back across the road. The horse was skittering around as Black Harry tried to hold it steady, while drawing his sword, hampered by his burden.

‘Where are the woman and the boys?’ I shouted.

‘You think to make a fool of me! I will send you the boys – in pieces! The woman? Well, my friends and I can find a use for her.’ He threw Annie down roughly, called out an order to his men and spurred away down Long Southwark. His followers scrambled back into their wagon and set off in the same direction at a swaying trot.

Bart grabbed up his screaming daughter and hugged her to him. Calm spread back across the street. The whole incident had lasted no more than a few seconds. What had it achieved? For the life of me I knew not.

‘How is she? I asked, as Lizzie descended the stair.

‘Asleep at last. She was clinging desperately but I think I’ve managed to calm her. I just hope she’ll be able to forget.’

‘I’m told children are amazingly resilient,’ Ned suggested, ‘but I can’t back that with personal experience.’

Lizzie, Bart and I were supping at Ned’s house that evening. I had sent the others back to Goldsmith’s Row and despatched a message to Bart’s wife, who had hurried to join us.

We sat around the table in a state of anti-climax.

‘At least she’s safe,’ I said.

‘Do I sense a “but” coming?’ Ned asked.

‘I’m just angry with myself for bungling everything. Of course it was all worth it to get Annie back but, apart from that, we’re no further forward. Bart’s still wanted for murder. The only witness who can give evidence against Black Harry has disappeared without trace. Worse than that, we’ve probably forced the gang to butcher their captives.’

‘Do you really believe all that talk of sending the children back in pieces?’Bart asked.

Ned stared down at his trencher. ‘I fear Black Harry is not the sort of man to make idle threats.’

‘The boys are such lively mites.’ Lizzie sighed. ‘I keep thinking that our Jack will be like them in a few years. And Adie is so nice. To imagine what those brutes …’

We ate in silence for a long time.

It was Lizzie who broke it – in her usual emphatic manner. She threw down her spoon and declared, ‘We must do something.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘You’re supposed to be the one with brains. Come up with a plan. You won’t be able to marry Adie if you don’t rescue her.’

‘A plague on your confounded matchmaking, Lizzie. This is nothing to do with marriage. I’ve extended my protection to Adie and her charges. I didn’t want to and sometimes I wish I’d never …’

‘Oh well, in that case, you’d better leave her to her fate.’ Lizzie pouted – an expression I always found annoying.

‘I didn’t say I don’t care what happens to Adie and the boys. I just don’t see what else we can do for them.’

‘Perhaps we could start,’ Ned said, ‘by thinking about what we know of Black Harry’s movements. Where will he be headed for right now?’

‘He has powerful supporters in Kent,’ I said.

‘And a base in Essex,’ Bart added.

‘That would enable him to travel to and fro across the estuary quite easily. You don’t know whereabouts in Essex his place is, I suppose?’

Bart frowned in concentration. ‘Well, the information came from a pedlar who travels all over the eastern parts. He said he knew things about Black Harry as could get him killed if ever he told them. So I bought him some more ale, and then some more again, and eventually he blurted out about a gang that has a big house on the Essex marshes. He said it was near somewhere called …’ He closed his eyes and hammered his fist against his brow. ‘No, it’s no use; I can’t remember. It was some place I’d never heard of, so I didn’t take a deal of notice.’

‘Pity. The marshes cover a wide area – though I would guess the gang’s boss can’t be all that far from the crossing at Tilbury.’

‘Are you thinking we should go there and look for him?’ Ned asked. ‘We could ask in the ale houses. Someone must know something.’

I thought hard. ‘No, it would be too big an area for us to search and he’d know we were there before ever we found him. I suppose it might be worth … We’ve probably got enough … Oh, I don’t know! I must think.’

What I was struggling to decide was whether to alert Archbishop Cranmer. I had promised to send him any information that might help him against his enemies and there was no doubt that he would relish the opportunity to interrogate Black Harry and his associates. Well, now I could give him some indication of where to find the gang’s hideout. But would it really be of any use? Suppose Bart’s drunken pedlar was simply hawking tall stories for free ale. Or what if Black Harry was not to be found in his lair? If Cranmer’s men went tramping around the Essex marshes that would send the hell brood deeper into hiding.

‘If there’s the slightest chance of saving Adie and the boys you know you must take it.’ Lizzie’s words broke through my doubts.

‘Any search that stood a chance of success would demand many more men than we have at our disposal. Unless we can narrow down …’

‘Flitching! No, that’s not it!’ Bart had been pacing to and fro but now suddenly stopped. ‘Flitcham? No.’

‘Don’t cudgel your brains, Bart,’ Ned said. ‘I find sleep to be the best thing for a cloudy memory. You’ll probably find in the morning …’

‘Fletcham!’ Bart shouted. ‘Yes, Fletcham, Fletcham. I’m sure that’s it!’

Lizzie went over and threw her arms round him. ‘There’s a clever boy.’ She turned to me. ‘Well, then?’

I sighed. ‘Yes, if Bart’s right I could take a few men and spy out the land. If the girl and her charges are there we’ll find them.’

Ned said, ‘Then God speed. I pray you’ll not be too late.’

The sun’s rays had just touched the top of Paul’s spire when I rode briskly through the cathedral yard and turned into West Cheap. I jumped from the saddle in my own stable yard and called loudly for Walt. He emerged from the outbuildings, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

‘I want everyone horsed and ready to leave in ten minutes,’ I ordered.

When we were assembled I led the way through the waking City down to the waterfront below the bridge. At Custom House Wharf half a dozen coastal vessels were unloading or taking on cargo. After a few enquiries I found one captain who was ready to consider a charter. There then followed the necessary haggling before he allowed us to go aboard with the horses. By the time sails were hoisted and we were moving slowly past the Tower the river ahead of us was a broad pathway of shimmering gold.

With nothing to do but wait upon the favours of wind and tide I had plenty of time to explain my plan to the others. ‘Dick, we’re going to drop you off at Gravesend. You’re to ride as hard as you can to the archbishop’s house at Ford. Give him this letter. If you have any difficulty gaining access to his grace, show this ring.’ I handed him Cranmer’s jewel. ‘As soon as you’ve done that you are to ride on and deliver this other letter to Sir Thomas Moyle. His grace or his secretary will give you directions. The letters are appeals for mounted men to be sent to assist us. The rest of us will be taken across the river to Tilbury. From there we’ll try to locate Black Harry’s lair.’