Rebellion's Message. Michael Jecks

the throng.

      There were so many there, it was a cutpurse’s delight. Men and women were jostling and shoving. A matron gave a squawk and glared at the men near her, but that was not a theft, except of her pride. She had no husband with her, only a manservant who held a club but had no space in which to wield it. I was tempted. While she was glaring at the nearer men, one of whom had no doubt pinched her backside or mauled her bubbies, I could easily sidle past her and filch her purse, I thought, but then I saw her servant watching me closely, and I moved on. There was so much potential here in the crowd that only a fool would concentrate on one who was already prepared to defend herself to the exclusion of all other opportunities. I turned and glanced back a little later, and I was disconcerted to see the man still staring after me. I jerked my shoulders to resettle my jack more warmly about my shoulders and continued on my way, resisting the temptation to look back once more.

      I moved along the street and stood at the corner. My costrel had a little ale left in it, and I pulled the plug and sipped. The pitch had flavoured the ale as usual, and it tasted sharper, but that was all to the good. I felt the cool liquid drop down my gullet, and as I pushed the bung back in and tapped it lightly with the heel of my hand, I saw her again: Ann Derby.

      She was a glorious woman. Tall, but not slim or boyish in outline. No, Ann was utterly feminine, with curves like a ship of the line, with bosoms between which a man could suffocate, and hips that were built for grappling. Ah, but she was a lovely wench!

      Sadly, her demeanour showed that she had considerably less regard for me than I for her. Earlier, when she caught sight of me, the twinkle had died. Now, as she noticed me again, her eyes narrowed. She turned abruptly and moved along the street like a galleon under full sail. I tried to catch up with her, but she turned into an alley, and when I darted into it after her, she grabbed my jack and yanked me in, almost pulling me from my feet.

      I squeaked. ‘Hold! Wait, what are you doing?’

      ‘I ought to gut you here, you miserable prick!’ she hissed.

      SIX

      Her face was only inches from mine, and I could smell her breath. She had been chewing cinnamon or cloves and her breath was the sweeter for it. I couldn’t help but think how plump and soft her lips looked.

      Her next words dispelled any further amorous reflections.

      ‘Why did you kill him?’

      ‘What?’ If I squeaked before, this time I squealed like a stuck pig. ‘Me?’

      ‘Don’t deny it! You think I’m a fool? Everyone saw you go out, and moments later he was dead. The gull had realized his purse was gone, and went out after you to raise the hue and cry. You slew him as soon as he accused you, didn’t you?’

      ‘You’d blame me for robbing him?’ I said, and I meant it to sting.

      She had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘Yes, well, you know how these things are.’

      ‘I saw your confederate take the purse, and he was foolish enough to pass it to me.’

      ‘And you gave me a bag with bone counters.’

      ‘I didn’t think your man would know there was anything missing.’

      ‘At least he didn’t kill anyone for it.’

      I glared at her. ‘What happened to the counters?’

      She glared back at me. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care!’

      I tried to be conciliatory. ‘Look, your man robbed the gull. You can’t get angry with me when he made the mistake of passing the stolen purse to me, can you!’

      ‘Can’t I? I was to have a share of the money.’

      ‘That’s hardly my fault!’ Something struck me. ‘Was that it? You were going to share the money?’

      ‘Yes. We were to share it: one third to me, two to him.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘I held it for a moment and gave it back to him when I could. I should have guessed. It wasn’t heavy enough. I had seen how heavy it was when it dangled from the gull’s belt, but when you passed it to me, it was much lighter. And we saw it was different when we looked at it outside. And when he opened it.’

      ‘After I’d left the room?’

      ‘Of course! You think we’d open it while you and the gull were there? After you walked out, we left the gull sitting on the bench and went to the street. We’d begun to stroll towards the cathedral when I gave him the purse, and – and he went mad! I never saw a man become so full of choler so swiftly! I thought he might die of rage – and then he ran back inside to chase after you. I didn’t know what had got into him. Not at the time.’

      ‘You hadn’t seen I had taken the purse from your man, then?’ I said, feeling smug that the switch had been so successful.

      ‘He told me later, after he found you with blood on your hands, standing over the poor fellow.’

      ‘I wasn’t standing!’ I protested, but she just tipped her head as though I was plainly lying. It was hurtful. ‘Your man called the constable, did he?’

      ‘It’s usual when a man’s found in the act of murder.’

      ‘He waited there? I hope you ran off before the law arrived.’

      ‘No, I stayed. I didn’t think anyone would accuse me of anything. I was in the tavern all the while when you killed the poor fool. He seemed to know the constables when they arrived. Anyway, so what? What do his actions have to do with you?’

      I didn’t like the sound of that. I know some constables myself, but they were the sort of men who had limited senses of humour, and I wouldn’t wait for them to appear at a crime. It was odd that a proficient purse-snatcher should be on terms with them. What sort of man knew the officers but could prise a purse? Someone with more money than me to spend on bribes. I reasoned, ‘I think he must have killed the gull and knocked me down. He came in from the gate to the alley behind the tavern, broke my head and then killed the gull. Who was he? Where does he live?’

      ‘Do I look the sort of woman who would wait on a man like him?’

      ‘That depends on how much he was paying you,’ I said.

      She looked at me with withering contempt. ‘More than you could afford,’ she said pointedly.

      I ignored that.

      ‘In any case,’ she said, ‘when the shouting and bellowing all started and the hue and cry was raised, I made myself scarce. I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to. You were lucky to escape. You should have seen all the men there haring off to catch you. I wandered away before anyone could accost me.’

      ‘Yes, well, the door to the alley was open, so I took it.’

      ‘And you ran. Why you took so long, I don’t understand. You had the body there. You were found red-handed, weren’t you? Why didn’t you flee as soon as you had killed him?’

      ‘I didn’t kill him! Why should I?’

      ‘Then who did!’ she snapped.

      That was the nub of my problem, I realized. If no one had seen anyone, other than me, leaving the room, it would make establishing my innocence a great deal more difficult.

      ‘I told you. Your companion came at me through the alley and …’

      ‘He didn’t. I saw him. He went back inside the tavern. It must have been you.’

      A thought struck me. ‘The man with the wide-brimmed hat! It must have been him! He did it!’

      ‘What man with—’

      ‘Someone was there,’ I said. I recalled the door in the wall, trying the latch,