Come the Fear

by Chris Nickson

  Anxiously he heard the bell ring each quarter hour, and with each minute that passed he understood that the chances of finding the boy were growing bleaker. Twice he took up his hat to go and join the search, then put it down again. He needed to be here, where people could find him.

  The time passed slowly as he sat, measuring it in heartbeats. Outside he could hear the clamour of Kirkgate, people busily passing, the clop of hooves and the squeak of a carter’s wheel as it turned the corner on to Briggate.

  It was late afternoon when the deputy returned, his clothes dusty and his face drawn.

  ‘Well?’ Nottingham asked.

  Sedgwick shook his head. ‘Nothing. There’s about fifty of them out there now, and we’ve looked everywhere. We’ve already been through all the yards, out in the fields, down by the river . . .’ He sighed, poured himself some ale and drank it down quickly.

  ‘What about the other side of the Head Row?’ the Constable asked. ‘He could have wandered over there.’

  ‘We’ve searched there, boss,’ he answered with a tone of resignation. ‘We went out past the grammar school, walked the fields. Most of them are willing to keep looking, and there should be more to join them later.’ The deputy sat and stretched out his legs. ‘It’s as if he’s vanished.’

  ‘Or someone’s snatched him,’ Nottingham said darkly. He steepled his fingers under his chin.

  ‘No one would do that,’ Sedgwick said. ‘Not a little boy.’

  ‘Let’s hope not, John, for everyone’s sake. Unless you want to see real panic in Leeds.’ He sat forward. ‘I still want to take Walton tonight.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll go with everyone around?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nottingham admitted, ‘but we need to be ready. Be at Trill’s before sunset. Keep yourself out of sight in the other room. I’ll bring Holden with me and we’ll cut off the yard. Then we’ll have him.’

  ‘Who’s going to lead the search for the boy?’

  ‘It’ll have to be Rob. I’ll give him instructions. Once we’ve got the thief taker in a cell we can go out and help. You’d better send word to Lizzie that you might be late tonight.’

  Sedgwick gave a small, sad smile. ‘Already done it. I told her why.’

  ‘Good. Now go and get yourself something to eat and pray it doesn’t turn into a long night.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ the Constable said.

  At five he was in the mayor’s office with no good news to tell. Douglas looked a month past weary. His eyes were hard and he needed a shave, the dark bristles on his face shadowing his skin.

  ‘How many are out looking?’ he asked.

  ‘Scores,’ the Constable answered. ‘Everyone wants to find him.’

  The mayor nodded thoughtfully. ‘Tell me what you think, Richard,’ he said, and before Nottingham could reply, he held up his hand. ‘I don’t want it sweetened or hopeful. I want the truth.’

  ‘I believe someone’s taken him.’

  ‘Why? Morrison’s a chandler, for God’s sake,’ Douglas said angrily. ‘He’s not rich, he doesn’t have any power in the city.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nottingham told him with an exhausted sigh. ‘Probably because the boy was off by himself and he was easy prey.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  The Constable raised his eyes and stared at the mayor. ‘The only thing we can do is keep looking and hope we find him. I’ll have men out all night. We look and look and hope he’s alive.’

  ‘Do you think . . .?’ Douglas began, but couldn’t voice the thought.

  ‘It’s happened before. You know that.’

  The silence in the room was full of memories. Nottingham stood.

  ‘I need to get back,’ he explained. ‘We’re arresting the thief taker tonight.’

  The mayor raised his eyebrows. ‘With all this?’

  ‘With all this,’ Nottingham confirmed.

  ‘Do you want me to go and see the lad’s parents?’ Douglas asked.

  The Constable gave a brief smile. ‘That would be a kindness. I’m sure they’d appreciate it. Just tell them we’re doing everything we can.’

  By the time Lister arrived, news of the missing boy had spread throughout the city. Close to a hundred men were out looking as dusk fell. The Constable had sent most of the night men to join them, keeping only two back to help him.

  ‘Have you heard?’ Nottingham asked.

  ‘The boy?’ Lister answered. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I need you to lead the search for him. Mr Sedgwick and I are going to arrest the thief taker.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Keep them going as long as they’ll stay out or until the lad’s found. Have people walk both banks of the river and look south of the Aire. Keep combing the places where we’ve already been.’ He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the fringe off his forehead. ‘Find some lanterns somewhere, that’ll help.’

  ‘My father thinks someone’s taken him.’

  Nottingham stopped. ‘What makes him think that?’

  ‘He says we’d have found him otherwise.’

  ‘Has he said that to anyone else?’

  ‘Only to me. He’s at home.’

  ‘And has he been out searching?’

  Lister shook his head.

  ‘Then go and tell him he’d be a lot more bloody use outside than airing his opinions in the parlour,’ the Constable said sharply, then paused. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.’

  ‘He’s right, though, isn’t he?’

  Nottingham sat on the corner of the desk, his mouth tight, hands pressing on his thighs.

  ‘He might be, but I don’t want you breathing a word of it. Once people start to believe that they’ll be looking for a culprit, and that’s when innocent men can die. Get out there, Rob, keep them going. And see if you can get your father off his arse to do something useful.’

  Lister grinned. ‘Yes, boss.’

  Nottingham took the sword from the cupboard, tested its edge against his thumb and buckled the weapon around his waist. Evening was closing around the city. The deputy would be in place, watchful and quiet. Walton would probably make his move once darkness fell; with so many folk around he’d probably imagine no one would notice him.

  Tom Holden, the Constable’s man watching the thief taker, had found a small space that offered a view of Walton’s window and the yard at the Talbot.

  ‘Anything yet?’ Nottingham asked.

  ‘Just pacing a few times. He’ll not be out while it’s full black.’ He paused. ‘Have they found that lad yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  The man clicked his tongue softly. ‘I know them, the Morrisons. Used to drink wi’ him sometimes. She’s a good woman, always looked after that boy well. Poor lad.’

  ‘Plenty of people are looking for him.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll be on it myself later.’

  They waited, letting the night slowly slip around them. In the distance the sounds of the search retreated, moving out from the heart of the city. Finally the man stirred, his voice a husky whisper.

  ‘He’s coming out of his window now.’

  They stayed deep in the shadows as Walton emerged from the yard. The man began to follow, but the Constable held him back.

  ‘Wait. I don’t want him hearing us.’ A few heartbeats later he released his grip. ‘Quietly now.’

  The thief taker walked without any fear, striding out, never glancing back. He vanished into the court off Currie Entry.

  ‘We’ll go in there,’ Nottingham ordered. ‘Stay off to the side, over where he can’t see you. We’ll take him as soon as he comes out.’

  It wouldn’t take long, he knew that. His palm was damp where he held the hilt of the sword and he flexed the hand slowly, eyes firm on the door.

  Finally it opened with a sharp creak and a thin sliver of light and the thief taker stepped out, a sack in one hand. He was part way across the court when the Constable said,


  ‘Stand there, Mr Walton. Drop what you’re holding.’

  The man turned as if to start back to the house, but Sedgwick stood behind him, his weapon drawn.

  ‘Mr Nottingham said drop it.’

  The thief taker let go of the sack. It fell in a brief clatter of metal.

  ‘Stolen goods, Mr Walton, some of the things Mr Collins reported missing. Items that can make a man dance from the noose.’ He advanced, taking out his weapon. ‘Search him, John, make sure he’s not armed. Look in his boot for a dagger.’

  Walton stayed silent, his body tense, his breathing low. He stared at the Constable, fury black in his eyes.

  ‘Two knives, boss.’

  ‘Nothing to say?’ Nottingham asked. ‘No clever London words for the provinces?’ He knew he was waiting for an answer that would never come. ‘You shouldn’t have thought we were fools,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Walton spat and the Constable moved slightly aside, letting the spittle land on the ground.

  ‘Holden,’ he said, ‘take him to the jail. Watch him carefully. If he tries to escape, you know what to do.’

  He moved between the groups of searchers, asking what they’d found and encouraging them. It was hard going in the night; the men were growing disheartened and tired, ready for their beds.

  The Constable rubbed at his eyes, feeling them gritty with exhaustion. He should have felt satisfaction in taking Walton, but instead it seemed like a small thing, insignificant when held against a missing boy and a dead girl.

  Lanterns were burning all over and men moved through the night, sticks pushing through the undergrowth, the cry of voices in the distance. It was close to midnight and they’d still found no trace of the lad. If there was nothing by dawn they’d have to admit he’d been snatched. Then everything would change.

  The only way he knew the time was from the church bell. At two o’clock plenty were still out, going over everywhere again. Lights burned in some of the houses, and wives came out with ale and bread for the searchers, aware that it could easily be their child that was missing.

  By three, deep in the heart of the dark, there were fewer of them. He understood. They’d searched hard, they were tired, they’d need a few hours’ sleep before working. He ached with tiredness, but he knew he’d have no real rest until the boy had been found. Lucy was dead; pray God the lad was still alive.

  He’d just turned on to Boar Lane when he heard the noise. There were shouts of joy and laughter. He turned and without thinking began to run. It was coming from the bridge. When he arrived, a group of men was standing by the parapet, others coming quickly. He pushed through, his heart beating fast. A man was holding the lad. It was definitely him, with fair hair and blue coat and breeches that looked almost black in the torchlight. The boy looked dazed, as if he’d just woken. Nottingham let out a long, silent breath of relief.

  ‘Who found him?’

  ‘We did,’ a man said proudly. ‘Me and Ezra were coming back over the bridge and he were just standing there at the other side.’

  ‘Was anyone with him?’

  ‘No, it was just him.’

  They couldn’t have missed him all this time, Nottingham thought. Too many feet had tramped across the Leeds Bridge in the last few hours. The boy seemed too unsteady to have walked. Someone had put him close by, wanted him to be found.

  ‘Has anyone gone for his parents?’ he asked

  ‘Aye, his father’s on his way,’ a voice told him.

  ‘Bring that light closer,’ the Constable said. Very carefully he checked Mark for injuries, feeling along the bones, examining the flesh for cuts and finding nothing. He brought his face close to the boy’s mouth, and caught the scent of wine on his breath mixed with something he couldn’t identify.

  Drugged, he thought. That would be it.

  ‘How do you feel, Mark?’ Nottingham asked gently. He knew he only had a short time before the boy’s father arrived. The lad didn’t answer, looking around fearfully, scared by the press of faces that surrounded him. ‘You’re fine now,’ the Constable assured him. ‘You’re safe. Do you remember how you got here?’

  Mark shook his head.

  ‘That doesn’t matter. You’re here now, that’s all that counts.’ He picked the boy up, holding him for the searchers to see and they started to cheer. As he let Mark slide down his body he felt something in the pocket of the blue coat. While the others talked he slipped his hand in and took out a piece of paper, sliding it into his waistcoat before anyone could notice.

  ‘Where is he?’ a desperate voice cried, and Morrison forced his way through the crowd and dropping to his knees.

  ‘He’s fine,’ the Constable told him. ‘Don’t worry. Take him home and let him rest. I’ll come by tomorrow.’

  Morrison’s hands were shaking as he slid them under his son and lifted. In the light Nottingham could see tears of relief coursing down his cheeks as he pulled the child close to his chest.

  ‘The city thanks all of you,’ Nottingham said, raising his voice. ‘You’ve given your time and we’ve found Mark. We’re grateful, and I’m sure his family is, too. Now let’s go home and sleep. You’ve all earned it.’

  He waited until they began to disperse and made his way back to the jail. As he turned on to Kirkgate the clock struck four, the first line of dawn on the horizon. He checked to be certain Walton was locked in a cell then lit a candle and settled into his chair, stifling a wide yawn.

  He remembered how, just a few years before, he’d often go two days and a night without sleep. It hadn’t worried him then; a few hours’ of rest and he’d be ready to work more. Now he knew he’d doze off during the sermon in church. The place would be full of people giving thanks for the safe return of Mark Morrison, the way it always was after events like this, reminders of the rare goodness God could give.

  He reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out the paper he’d found in Mark’s pocket. He smoothed it out on the desk and brought the flame closer and read the words.

  ‘This is what we can do. Next time no mercy.’

  Fourteen

  Sedgwick and Rob arrived together, laughing and loud, their voices echoing up and down the street like a dawn chorus.

  ‘Good news for once,’ the deputy said, pouring ale and easing himself into a chair.

  ‘I’m glad my father was wrong,’ Lister said.

  ‘He wasn’t.’ The Constable pushed the note across to them. ‘Someone had dosed the lad with something. He could hardly stand when they found him. That was in his pocket.’

  ‘Next time?’ Sedgwick asked after he’d read the words.

  ‘Next time,’ Nottingham echoed darkly. ‘We’ve been warned.’ He looked at the others. ‘The first thing is, not a word of this outside here. Understand?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘It’s just luck that I was there and took this. You can imagine what would happen if people heard about it.’

  ‘So what can we do?’ Rob said.

  ‘We’ve got to find whoever’s behind this before they can do it again.’

  ‘How?’ the deputy wondered.

  ‘I don’t know, John.’ The Constable shook his head in frustration. ‘I really don’t know. I’ll go over to Morrison’s today and talk to the lad, but I doubt he’ll remember anything.’

  ‘Where do we even start?’ asked Lister. ‘If we begin asking if anyone saw this boy with someone, people will become suspicious.’

  Nottingham ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘True,’ he acknowledged wearily. ‘I’ll talk to the mayor after church. Just keep your eyes and your ears open for anything. Anything at all. You know how many children there are around.’

  Silence filled the room.

  ‘John, see that the thief taker goes over to the prison at the Moot Hall today. And check that Joshua Davidson and his girls have gone. The house is by Shaw Pool. I gave them their marching orders. If they’re still there, arrest them.’

  ‘Yes,
boss.’

  ‘Both of you think what we can do about Lucy Wendell, too. I’m not going to let her killer escape. Anyone who can do that is an affront to God.’

  He stood, feeling his back ache and his knees protest at the weight as he rose.

  ‘And remember, not a word to anyone.’

  ‘Did you find him?’ Mary asked anxiously as he walked into the kitchen.

  ‘We did,’ he said with a weary smile. ‘Alive and fine.’ He brought her close, happy to feel the warmth against him. ‘I think half the city must have been out looking.’

  ‘Are you going to church this morning?’

  ‘I’d better. I need to see the mayor after.’ He cut some cheese and tore off a hunk of yesterday’s loaf. ‘I feel like I could sleep for a year.’

  She kissed him.

  ‘At least there was a happy ending,’ she said. ‘That’s reason enough to give thanks.’

  ‘This time,’ he told her, and she glanced at him curiously. ‘I’ll wash and put on my Sunday suit.’

  At the top of the stairs he could hear Emily moving in her room. For a moment he considered telling her about the child snatcher so she could try to protect the girls she taught. But if one person was told, the word would spread on the wind. Within an hour all Leeds would know.

  He stripped and splashed cold water from the ewer over his body. The lye soap made a harsh lather on his skin, but after a few minutes he felt cleaner, more awake and ready to face the day.

  Mary had sponged his good suit and laid it out on the bed. It was excellent material, a gift from a merchant a full ten years ago. Now the cut was long out of date and the breeches were uncomfortably tight at the waist and in the thighs. But for a few hours each week it was fine. He didn’t have the money to waste on a new one. This one would last for as long as he needed it.

  As he locked the front door the bells at St Peter’s began to peal for the early service. With Mary on one arm and Emily on the other he walked proudly down Marsh Lane and over Timble Bridge.