Rebellion's Message. Michael Jecks

that is that.

      As I said, I came to and saw the body. When I was knocked out, I had fallen forward from my concealment, and the man’s body lay near me, dead. I heard the door opening and shutting, the loud footsteps, but I had paid them little heed because I was suddenly recalling everything. I had been struck down, and I had a quick panic that I could have been robbed! Patting my shirt, I soon reassured myself that the purse was still there, and I was congratulating myself when I heard the door, the steps and now a gasp.

      Perhaps you will have already spotted my mistake. I had paid no heed to the man who had left the tavern, but now I was suddenly wide awake, so it seemed, although with a thundering head. I reviewed the scene that must have met the man’s eyes: a fellow dead on the ground; second fellow beside him, gripping a bloody dagger. No, this wouldn’t look good.

      When I glanced up, wincing, I saw that Ann Derby’s friend was standing in the doorway. He was looking at me with a cold face, as though I was a murderer or something. Well, perhaps he wasn’t to be blamed for that, but there was no need, in my opinion, for his sudden pulling of the door wide and his bellow inside calling for the constable. And then I saw him draw a short riding sword.

      You will have seen fights; so have I. I’ve seen men fight with sticks, with daggers, with swords, and, if I am honest, I am more than capable of defending myself. I am young, and those who have tried to injure me have tended to be older, slower and, more to the point, generally unaware that I was going to attack them. Invariably, I’ve noticed, folks can get hurt when their opponent is prepared. I try to avoid giving away any important clues that could allow my enemy to ready himself. More, I have also noticed that when a man with a short knife is attacked by a man with a sword – any sword – the result for the fellow with the knife can be unpleasant.

      I didn’t intend to find out how unpleasant, which is why I took to my heels. The door that had been behind me was ajar. At the other side, there was an alley full of noisome fumes that proved men didn’t always bother to seek a privy, and I was along it faster than a flea finding a new host.

      I made it back to our room, a clear half mile away.

      I have run from many things in my life. As a boy I learned quickly that it’s better to get away than to hang around and receive punishment. I am experienced, but that mad pelting along alleys and up small streets was terrifying. All the way, I fancied I could hear boots in close pursuit, but when I run, I run to win: never look back – that just slows you. One thing you learn early on in a career as a thief is to focus on where you’re going. Whence you came matters very little, and those following can take care of themselves.

      I ran along to St Paul’s, out towards Ludgate, then up an alley beside St Martin’s until I was close to Newgate, where I turned right. I had hoped to find – and was glad to see – that the Shambles was packed with people stocking up on meats. Carcasses and barrows of joints were being carried here and there, because the rumours of Wyatt’s rebel army approaching London meant many families were keen to feed well in case there would be a siege. I darted in among the people, ran into the yard of St Martin’s Le Grand, then took a left and bolted down a lane to St Nicholas’s, before nipping down to Paternoster Street. From there it was easy enough to take a circuitous route homewards to the great river.

      There are many hovels in the city. For me, the best place always was down near the river. There you get the fresh smells of the water, rather than the foul reek of sewage in the roads. Our place was along Trig Lane, an ancient building that had been used for constructing boats, allegedly, but more recently, from the smell, had been used to fill barrels full of herrings. I shared the large room in the roof with my friends. It was where our company’s leader, Bill, conducted his business, and where we all slept.

      ‘What’s the matter with you? You look like you’re in a dead sweat,’ Moll called from her bed. She was lying in a deliciously amorous pose with Bill, as usual.

      In the circumstances, I thought hers an unfortunate phrase.

      ‘Nothing,’ I said.

      ‘That’s the first “Nothing” I’ve seen that’s made you so pale and anxious,’ Bill commented. He peered at me as he rose from the bed. ‘What’s happened?’ he said, almost aggressively, as though suspecting that I had led the tipstaff to our home. Apart from being jealous of his bedding Moll, I also disliked his suspicion whenever I came back from an escapade.

      ‘Aye, well,’ I said grumpily.

      Moll rose languidly, and I stared at her like a lecher twice my age. She came towards me and I could smell the after-effects of lovemaking. She bent past me to reach for a jug and drank from it. ‘There’s nothing like sex after a good morning, is there?’ she said.

      ‘You’ve had a good one?’ I asked.

      ‘Moll’s only just back. She took a good purse,’ Bill called. He climbed from his bed and pulled a shirt over his head. ‘She always brings in more than the rest of you put together.’

      ‘Where was that, Moll?’

      ‘In the cathedral. He kept staring at me,’ she said, putting a hand under each breast and raising them with a saucy grin. She could have tempted the Angel Gabriel, that woman.

      ‘What about you, Bill?’ I said. ‘I saw you up at—’

      He cut me off sharply. ‘What have you brought?’

      I set my jaw. He could be like that sometimes. I tried to be friendly, but all too often he would treat me like a wayward younger brother, one who had little brain. Well, I was not so dim.

      ‘He’s not well,’ Ham said. ‘Look at him.’

      ‘He looks pale,’ Moll said. She reached up and wiped the hair from my brow, peering with concern. ‘You have mud on your face, Jack. Has someone been flinging shit at you?’

      ‘I fell,’ I said.

      Bill gave a dry laugh. ‘So you came back with nothing? What, you tripped on a loose cobble, did you? We need money to eat, Jack. You can’t live here at our expense all the time. I don’t want others to run risks just because you’re not capable.’

      ‘I can do my job,’ I said grumpily.

      ‘Where did you fall, then?’ Bill asked.

      Moll shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, as long as Jack’s all right.’

      ‘Ach, he’s not used to such news,’ Wat said. ‘That’s why he’s pale. What of it, eh? None of us are.’

      ‘What news?’ I demanded.

      FOUR

      You see, I was so confused and worried after waking next to that body that the main news of the day had passed me by. Apparently, the rebels in Kent were making great advances. They were marching on Maidstone, or from Maidstone, or something, and the city itself was fascinated by the predicament. Queen Mary was only recently on the throne, and she had no intention of giving it up, from all I had heard. Yes, this was important news. I was young enough never to have seen a civil conflict, and the idea of an army marching on London would usually have had me shivering in terror.

      But today? No! Today I was more concerned by the fact that a man had raised the hue and cry after me because he discovered me beside a dead man, my knife in my hand.

      And who was it, I wondered, who had knocked me down? Whoever did that, surely, was the murderer.

      I felt sick, and it wasn’t only the knock on the head that caused it. I was more alarmed by the idea that someone had tried to kill me, too, and then killed my gull. Mind you, it had also occurred to me that whoever had done that had presumably been the man who drew my knife and put it into my hand.

      He had deliberately tried to set me up!

      None of the others noticed my concern just now, though. It was probably a good thing.

      Ham shook his head grimly. ‘Folk