by Jon Evans
"Henry said he's quick and he's dangerous. I would prefer to keep him off guard and get the element of surprise which means ditching our best armour and heavier weapons, sticking to leather, clubs and knives. The problem with that is it's a garret flat he's in, and it's above a pub. I can remember the outside of the building but I don't drink there, and I doubt any of us do. I've no idea where the stairs are. If we try and get in quietly, there's a good chance he'll hear us. Even the best staircases have at least one step that creaks the moment you touch it," she opined.
She was thinking for a few minutes before she spoke again, "We have to approach from as many angles as we can, just like the bank. We surround the building, in groups of two or three, making sure any exits can be seen by at least one team. No-one splits up. That's important, better to lose him than let him find one of us on his own in an alley. If he's the killer, he clearly won't hesitate to murder a watchman, and we know he can fight, even if he isn't the right man. Once the entrances are covered, we take as many as we can spare inside to get hold of him. We'll try being quiet so we can get as close to his door as possible before he realises we're there. If he bolts, he's got to get past us or go out a window, if we're lucky," Gurnt said.
"If we're not lucky?" Loft said.
"If we're not, there's more than one proper entrance to his flat. It's a garret, right? That could easily mean there's a staircase at either end and we won't know that until we're inside the pub. We might not have enough men to block both, but even so, we don't split up, right?"
"The idea is if the people who go in don't get him, he runs and has to come out of an exit, yes? Then we have people who can spot him and give pursuit?" Loft said.
"Exactly, they are fresh, they haven't just climbed several flights of stairs, they sound the alarm, and we all give chase. The idea isn't to lay hands on him, in the first few seconds, it's to keep pace. Don't force him to bolt as fast as he possibly can, since he probably won't be wearing armour and we will be. We want to wear him down and surround him. To get away he has to take alleys and side streets, he has to turn and hide. Only we're already in the next street, and we can make noise, so we all know where our people are. The locals might even point him out. To them, it's a spot of entertainment when the Thieftakers are in pursuit. The locals know we aren't chasing cutpurses and pickpockets as well. They might not like us, but murderers and rapists are a lot less popular than we are," Gurnt said.
"Would it be better to wait until he's at the bank, do you think?" Loft asked.
"Maybe but that's got its own problems. Stenberg knows the building and the streets around it better than any Thieftaker does. His garret is on our home turf, so he knows that building, but he's got no advantage if there's a chase. The bank would also piss off The Palace, they don't like arrests being made in places like that, where the gentry spend their time. Plus if he's there, we either have to grab him as he goes in and we don't know what he looks like yet, or we have to try and surprise him inside. He might leave his gear there, or come to work already in uniform, festooned with weapons. Sounds to me like he has formal training, that's a whole lot different to some gang thug who's got a lot of practice in bar fights or back alley knifings. We also have to wait until night for him to turn up, easier for him to hide in a dark corner and surprise us or just wait for us to leave," she said.
"That decides it then. How soon can we be ready to go?" Loft asked as Old Gate came into view, down the street.
"Twenty minutes. We aren't in that big a hurry, and I want to make sure everyone has the right gear, gets something to drink and all that before we leave. I prefer to inspect the men before we go out, keeps them on their toes and that way I know they haven't forgotten their club or left a strap loose on their armour," Gurnt said.
"Let's aim for thirty, make sure everyone understands your plan and Sergeant, I want him alive if possible," Loft said as he veered off down a side street, "I'll meet you back at Old Gate shortly."
Chapter Twenty
Loft caught up with his Thieftakers at Old Gate about ten minutes later. They were in the midst of changing into uniforms, helping each other put on their armour, strapping on short swords and clubs and stringing crossbows.
He put the apple crate he was carrying on a table, "Breakfast, for anyone that missed it," Loft called out. They crowded around the box, grabbing apples, pears and pastries he'd got from the market.
"Thanks, Captain," Gurnt said before picking up an apple and taking a big bite. There was a grateful chorus of thanks, mostly mumbled through mouths full of food. Loft waited for everyone to choose something then picked up an apple and began cutting slices from it with his pocket knife.
"Crossbows, Sergeant?" he asked, quietly.
"The great leveller, we called them in the army. Not that they did us much good at the Folly, but they do their job for us. The lads may not be champion fencers or prizefighters, but I've made sure they all know how to put a bolt in someone's chest at fifteen paces," she said between mouthfuls.
"They're a bit heavy for chasing someone, aren't they?" Loft asked.
"Not these. These are just light pieces, not for marksmanship or range but fine for the length of an alley. Easy to draw too. Not many bastards think they're tough enough to charge a Watchman carrying a crossbow. Unless they're wearing armour, these bows will give you a nasty wound or kill you stone dead if they hit the right spot. In any case, it's one per team, not one each, so the crossbowman has time to loose a bolt and switch to a sword or club before joining in the melee if someone comes at them," she said.
"Is there much likelihood of that? Do people often attack when you try to arrest them?" Loft asked.
"A group? Only if they're insane, suicidal, paralytic or out of their minds on some exotic drug or other. The ones who fancy themselves hard men or professionals prefer to run and live to fight another day. Are you any good with a crossbow?" Gurnt asked.
"If the target isn't moving, is made of straw and reasonably close I can hit it most of the time. So, not really, no," Loft said.
"Me neither. I practice with the lads, but even with a better weapon I'll never be able to hit an apple at 100 paces," she said, "Don't need to though. If they're that far away, there's no point shooting them. Still, if we ever get a chance to recruit a real marksman, it would be nice to have one. Many's the time I've wished we could just shoot someone in the leg who fancied themselves an athlete," she grinned.
"I can imagine if I tried that we'd be explaining to HQ why the pickpocket ended up with a bolt in his throat so yes, if they offer us a marksman I'll take them up on it," Loft replied, "Have you briefed them?"
"No, I was waiting for you," Gurnt said as she finished munching through the core of her apple and wiped her hands clean on her trousers. She walked over to him and started inspecting the straps on his armour, tugging and tightening things.
As she worked, he asked, "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eat the core?"
"She did. That's why I do it," Gurnt replied darkly.
"I was told if I ate apple cores, trees would grow out of my stomach. Thoroughly ridiculous but it put me off as a child," Loft said.
"That happened to my grandad. He always used to eat the cores, and when he did, a bloody great apple tree grew right where they buried him. My mum and dad said it sprouted the day they put him in the ground because of all the apples he 'et." Constable Miller piped up. The other watchmen looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing in unison.
Loft coughed. "I think your parents might have been pulling your leg there, Constable. No need to eat the cores though," he said with a smile.
The others continued to laugh at the unfortunate Miller until he growled and punched Libult hard on the shoulder. Libult yelped in pain and held his hands up in front of him and said, "Alright, Miller, truce! We didn't mean nothing."
"Right, that's enough horsing about," Gurnt shouted, "Are you all ready? Got your kit, every strap tight, every sheath filled? Got your
bows, quivers and quarrels if you're carrying today? Good, because if I find any of you are missing anything when we get there, there'll be a month of latrine duty in the future."
Constable Perult put his hand up, "But, Sarge, we don't have latrines?"
Her grin was utterly predatory, "We bloody well will after you dig one in the yard, won't we?" she said, causing his shoulders to sag along with his face. The point was well made, and they all gave themselves and each other another check. A dagger was added here, an extra bolt or two there and then they were all ready.
"Sir, can I brief the men?" Gurnt asked.
He nodded, "Go ahead, Sergeant."
She turned to the assembled men and gave them their assignments, putting them in small teams to make sure no-one would be alone, everyone would be with a crossbowman. Corporal Skorta and Constable Swint were assigned the back door, Corporal Amuel and Knave, the front.
Loft and Gurnt would be going in the front with Libult, Pelunt and Miller. If there was a third door when they got there, Pelunt and Miller were to split off and watch that one.
She was quite clear, the goal was to grab him before he was able to get out of his room but if he looked like fighting back, they'd let him run. Then they'd all follow him until he was worn out and they all surrounded him.
Loft listened closely and carefully avoiding expressing surprise at any element of Gurnt's plan. It all made sense and no-one had any questions, this was exactly what they had expected.
Gurnt went into the two schools of thought on how to watch an entrance. You could stand right by an entrance and try and surprise a fleeing suspect as they left, or you could stand well back from it so you could see which way they were going and then give chase. Up close was good for a building you knew well, like a pub because, Gurnt said, you'd know where the exits were and how people could get out. If you weren't familiar with it though, she preferred to be stood back so you could see any windows or doors.
Though she did ask, none of the Thieftakers was familiar with the building, though they all knew the streets it was on. A pity, Loft thought, if any of the men knew it, their job would be much simpler.
She ordered the door teams to stay out of sight as long as possible, reminded them that he'd probably be wearing his bank uniform if he was already up. Gurnt read out his description, such as it was and spelt out what Henry had told them about his fighting skills.
That information raised some eyebrows, but there was a grumbling murmur when Gurnt told them he was just a suspect and he had to be taken alive, if possible.
Miller spoke up, "But if he's a murderer and he's facing off, can't we just shoot him?"
"Miller, we don't actually know he's a murderer. He could be completely innocent. We can't shoot him unless he's a real threat to us. Don't let him get close enough to stab you though, if he tries that, shoot him in the chest," Gurnt said.
Gurnt shouted down some more general grumbling at that, "Those are the orders. We want him alive, so don't put a crossbow bolt in him the first chance you get. Only if he's coming for you, are you to shoot, got it? Got it?" she got a chorus in the affirmative the second time.
"Questions?" she asked, and no-one raised a hand. She turned to Loft, and he nodded, they all trooped out of the watch house, splitting up as they came to various junctions. The plan was to converge on the address from the different sides of the building in case he was already up and about.
It wasn't far away, and Loft's group walked at a sedate pace, to give the door teams a little more time. They trotted off down side streets as they got closer so they could approach from the north and west, while Gurnt and Loft were coming from the south.
Loft could feel the tension in the men mounting as they drew closer to the inn. His heart was beating just a little faster. Their chatter quieted down, eyes flickering over every person they passed, quickly assessing them. He flexed his fingers, loosening them up as if he were a seasoned fighter who knew what he was doing.
He tried to remember his lessons at the Academy, fencing and wrestling. Mostly it was too formal to be much use here. Loft imagined putting one hand on his left hip and holding his sword high as he faced this criminal, whose resulting laughter was so intense he dropped dead of it.
Why did the Academy teach fencing as a sport? It was useless to him in a fight or when he was arresting a criminal. The watch didn't even issue rapiers to their officers. Simple short swords were what the quartermasters provided, more suited for hacking and the occasional stab than elegant swordplay.
The team on the front entrance had found a discrete spot in an alleyway a little way west of the building, allowing them to see the entrance on the south facing side and the alley on the west side of the inn.
Loft's team continued up the main thoroughfare. The building they came to was on the corner formed by the main road and the street running to the west.
When they reached the opposite corner he saw the main entrance; the ground floor was a public house which looked a little run down. It was old, constructed of large timber beams, blackened with tar, with walls that had been bright white in better days.
There were windows every so often on each floor, and he counted carefully, ground floor, two upper floors and then the garret would be in the attic. There were a couple of dormer windows up there, obviously later additions because they used single panes of glass, rather than small leaded panes, and the tiles were different to the rest of the roof. Three flights of stairs to reach that flat then.
"The pub's too quiet to stop him hearing us," Gurnt said, sounding irritated as if it should be heaving with rowdy customers in the middle of the day.
Constable Swint stepped around the far corner of the building and held up her hand in the shape of an 'O'.
"What does that mean?" Loft asked.
"She's confirming there's no door in the alley on the north side," Gurnt said. Sure enough, there was another hand signal from the west team. "Yeah, no door on the western side either," she clarified, "That's lucky, it's a pain in the arse when there are lots of exits."
"Ready, Sir? Lads?" she asked, they all nodded, and she led them forward, casually walking up the street as if they were patrolling. A few people glanced at them, but it was a fairly quiet time, so they didn't get much attention, thankfully.
They stepped through the double doors into the pub, it may have been a little run down, but it was surprisingly clean and tidy for the area. A comfortable place that had seen better days and wealthier clientele. Gurnt went straight up to the bar, and the proprietor stepped over, "Can I help you, Sergeant? It's a warm day out, want a small beer for the lads?" he offered hopefully.
"Not today I'm afraid. We need to speak to your tenant a Mr Stenberg, we gather he lives in your garret?" she asked.
"Yes, for several years, ever since we extended into the old attic. Quiet chap. Keeps himself to himself and never gives me any grief. Works at one of the banks as a guard," he replied.
"Is he in?" Gurnt asked.
"As far as I know. I haven't seen him come down the stairs," the barman said gesturing over her left shoulder to a doorway in the north west corner of the room, the other side of the bar.
"Got a key?" said Gurnt.
He glanced around at them all, their armour and weapons, and asked, "What's he done? I don't know anything about him doing any bad stuff, Sergeant, I swear. Always thought he was harmless."
"Maybe nothing, but we like to be careful. Key?" she pressed.
"Ummm. Yeah. Sure, hang on," he fumbled around the shelves over the bar for a moment, moved some glasses out of the way and pulled down a small box. He opened it up and produced a plain, iron key, passing it to the Sergeant.
"Thank you kindly," she said.
Gurnt led the way upstairs, with Loft following close behind, Libult, Pelunt and Miller followed. The stairs turned out to be in much better condition than he'd expect and far less creaky. Maybe they'd be able to be quiet after all, he thought.
The first floor was
a mixture of private rooms marked with little brass plaques which confirmed they were to be hired out for events, and a handful of small bedrooms. The second floor was entirely bedrooms, though it didn't look like this inn had that many customers these days.
The third staircase proved to be much more plainly constructed than the others and much more recent, they'd probably had to add or replace it when they put the garret flat in, he thought.
The staircase ran up the west wall of the building, at the top of this last floor was a landing that ran the length of the stairwell. The slope of the roof could be seen along the west, and south walls and a small, south facing window above the staircase provided a decent amount of light at this time of the day. There was one door, almost all the way back along the hallway at the north end of the stairwell and it opened inward.
Gurnt went first. She crept slowly up the last flight of steps, making almost no noise as she did so. The treads were still new enough and solid enough to be quiet, it seemed. Loft followed, and the rest of the team brought up the rear, staying on the staircase while Gurnt moved to the northern side of the door.
