‘You want me to go and fetch you a costrel of cider or ale?’ he asked innocently, continuing, ‘Because if you do, I’ll kick your other damned foot! I’m not a valet for you with nothing better to do than hunt down drinks for your comfort!’
‘What will you do?’
‘I’ll go and capture her. If she’s dangerous, I suppose I’ll have to restrain her somehow,’ he added, patting his flanks to indicate that all he had was a knife.
I could have offered him the gun, but just then, with my ankle preventing me from running away, and standing in a grim roadway as dark grew about me, I was unwilling to give up the best defensive weapon I had.
‘Be careful.’
‘Yes.’
I watched his back as he walked to the building, standing cautiously at the open doorway, then slipping inside quietly. I stood there, my ankle throbbing nastily, and I waited, and while I did, I checked the gun once more. I still had the spanner, and I set it to the square winding nut, turning it the three-quarter turn until the mechanism clicked. Then I lifted the pan and gazed into it. It looked empty, so I took some powder from the flask and shook it into the pan, closing the lid. There was no powder in the barrel after the ball had fallen out, so I tipped a load more in and placed a ball on top. I had seen some gunners during my time in the militia during the rebellion, and I knew that the ball had to be rammed in hard. There should be a ramrod of some sort. Soon I found that it was fitted neatly into a tube beneath the barrel, and I used it to batter the ball into place. But as soon as I tipped the gun, the ball rolled out again, and much of the powder with it.
I swore. Guns, I decided, are fiddly, foolish weapons, with more risk to the user than any enemy. At least with a decent polearm or sword, a man could be sure that the thing would work. Even a bow and quiver of arrows was better than this. A man could fire a great many arrows in the time it would take to reload a gun. And then the gun would lose its balls, and with them their powder. What good would that be for, say, a cavalryman, if he had to ride into battle holding his gun aloft, and could not trust it to hold its charge until the moment that he needed to fire it?
Perhaps the bullets were badly made, I thought, and idly picked up the one that had fallen from the barrel. It was almost perfectly round, with a thin line about it where the two halves of the mould had joined, and there was a single quarter-inch mark where the lead had been poured into the moulds, the little cylinder of lead being snipped off as close to the sphere as possible once the lead had cooled. It looked well enough made to my untutored eyes. I dropped the bullet into the barrel, and heard it rattle as it slid down, striking the sides of the tube. It was much too small. I tipped the barrel carefully, and the slug rolled out, leaving much of the powder behind.
Then I had a brilliant idea. If I had a little patch of leather or parchment and wrapped that about the bullet, it would sit more tightly. If I rammed it home, that might hold the ball in place. My shirt was made of linen, and I considered it, but it wouldn’t do to tear a hole in my second best shirt. I looked about me, and there was a little piece of a reddish material trodden into the dirt. I picked it up between finger and thumb, and pushed it into the barrel’s end, setting the ball on top and thrusting it home. This time the ball stayed in the barrel. For now.
Feeling quite smug, I settled myself to wait.
I didn’t have to wait for long. Willyam was soon back. ‘She’s not there.’
‘Where else could she have gone?’ I wondered.
‘In God’s name, I had thought we would have her there.’
He was obviously very angry. I said, ‘She will be back soon. This is her home. All her possessions are up there.’
‘It was tempting to set the place afire,’ he said. ‘That would make her regret her spying, eh?’
‘I dare say. I still find it hard to believe that she is a spy, though.’
‘Really?’
‘I just remember that first time I saw her, when she came into the Bear when we were drinking, and told me that there was a task for me. She seemed so innocent and sweet.’
‘It is how women ensnare a man,’ Willyam said. He looked down at my ankle again. ‘Look, you need to get back to your house. Now that the woman has been discovered, we need to get you home to rest that leg.’
I was nothing loath. There was a group of men approaching down the lane, singing and making merry, and with Willyam’s support I began to make my way back up the lane towards civilization. We were lucky enough to encounter a car coming from a narrow alley, and the driver agreed to allow me to lie on the back and have a lift. Willyam said he would wait for Agnis at the door to her home, in the hope of catching her when she returned, and on that happy note we parted.
Once back at my house, the car halted and I could dismount without too much hardship. At my door I bellowed for Raphe, and with relief soon heard him rattling the bolts and lock.
The door opened, and I grumbled and cursed him until the door opened.
And then I gave a sickly smile as I recognized the doorman. It wasn’t Raphe. It was Ramon.
‘But you’re dead!’ I protested.
Soon I was in my parlour, and rather than sitting where Luys had, with his twisted ankle up on a stool, I was forced to stand against the wall near the fire.
Ramon was looking very well for a dead man. I said so.
‘So are you,’ he said, which was not particularly comforting.
‘I don’t understand.’
He held up his jack. There was a black mark on it, and I suddenly realized that the ball must have fallen out of the barrel last night too. The loud noise was just powder in the empty barrel.
‘Do you usually attempt murders with an empty weapon?’ he said with a smirk.
I had no answer to that.
‘I have heard from others that you are supposed to be a competent murderer. I find this difficult to believe.’
I gave a self-deprecating shrug. He had two of his men with him, and I wondered where Raphe was. I didn’t like to think he was injured. Servants were expensive and difficult to find in London. Not that I would have to worry too much, I thought, if the look on Ramon’s face was anything to go by. My days of hiring servants could well be behind me.
‘Um,’ I said.
‘You are a thief as well, I consider,’ he continued. For now he had his sword sheathed, and he was pacing up and down like a hound seeking a scent. ‘You took my companion and his money. One or the other, I could possibly forgive, but not both.’
‘Who was he?’
He threw me a glare, but relented. ‘When your Queen became with child, everyone was happy. It sealed the wedding perfectly. However, King Philip was unsure whether she was truly pregnant or not. He wanted to ensure that the child was safely delivered, but he had some doubts. Others have mentioned these doubts, too. So he had a private physician sent from Spain, a man who helped the imperial family.’
‘Luys was that physician?’
‘His name is Diego. I paid him handsomely to come and look at the Queen. He arrived and demanded a night on the town, as you say. I refused. Then we met you, and, seemingly, he spoke to you and arranged to meet you and go whoring.’
‘I see.’ And I did. That explained much about his money, his manners and his youthful excitement at being taken to the Hat.
‘Now the Queen has not delivered a child, the pregnancy continues, but the physician has disappeared along with my money. Where is my money?’
That last was in a bellow that made me cringe. ‘I wish I knew.’
‘You have already confessed to much of what happened that evening, but I still do not know when you killed him. You see, I always believe in the why, the how and the when. I can guess the why. He had much money on him, and you desired it. The when is also easy. It was at some time that evening, after you had been drinking. But the how – this is still a mystery.’
‘I didn’t hurt him. I liked him.’
‘You were planning on taking his money from th
e moment you first saw him. Do not try to persuade me otherwise. I know men like you.’
‘That is unfair!’
‘Really? When I look at you, I feel I am looking at a younger version of myself. It is sad, for I have to kill you anyway, but I would have liked to have enjoyed your company. So, where did you leave him?’
‘I had to see a man at the wharf, and I left Luys at the entrance to the alley,’ I said. ‘When I came back, someone had killed him. I didn’t touch him.’
‘So you say!’
‘His body is in a tavern waiting for the Coroner!’
Ramon viewed me with disgust. ‘Another dead man, no doubt! I heard there was one taken from the river …’
His voice continued, while I found myself seeing again in my mind’s eye the sad face of Jeffry as he fell backwards into the water. All because the fool thought I was going to kill him when I was trying to save him. Admittedly, I had commissioned Humfrie to kill him, but he wasn’t to know that was me, and I was trying to stop the murder. ‘I’ve told you all I know.’
‘Well, I have been hunting for my money and cannot find it here in your house, so I suppose now I shall have to kill you,’ he said, and drew his rapier slowly. ‘Of course, if you tell me where my money is, I may consider permitting you to live a little longer, but if not,’ he shrugged, ‘then all is settled.’
Now, you may be thinking: What was Jack doing, leaving his pistol in his breast? The simple answer is that I was waiting and hoping something could happen. After all, a single bullet is of little help when there are three armed men facing you. All I had was a threat. So now I drew the gun, setting the dog in place and putting my finger on the trigger. ‘Don’t come closer!’
Ramon put on an expression of condescension and smiled sadly. ‘Tell me, do you know now that powder and balls fall out unless you wrap the bullet in a patch of cloth to hold it in place?’
‘Yes!’ I said, but he appeared not to believe me. His sword rose.
What could I do? I could kill him, of course, but then his companions would be sure to dice me like meat for a pie. I had one bullet, not three, and there was nothing else left for me.
That was when I had my idea. I thumbed open the powder flask, pulled its strap over my head, smiled enigmatically, as I thought, and threw it on the fire.
If you have never played with the black powder that people use to propel bullets and balls from guns, then perhaps you have not experienced what happened next.
When you see a gun go off, it is obvious that the powder explodes with great violence. I hurled that leather flask straight into the hottest part of the fire, certain that it would mean a fearful detonation that would so petrify Ramon and his men that I could extricate myself. As to where I would go, I had no idea. All I wanted was to escape, as you can imagine. At least this time I wouldn’t be chased by a maddened Mal.
So, when I threw the flask into the fire, I expected a lot of excitement. Instead, there was a little quiet hissing and fizzing. Some of the powder had fallen from the mouth of the flask, and that was all it did: it hissed and fizzed.
Ramon laughed aloud and gabbled something in his incomprehensible language, and one of his men leaned down to the fire and took hold of pincers to remove the flask. He was laughing, too, as was the last of the three. As for my brilliant diversion? It was just one more disappointing event in a sadly disappointing life. I looked over mournfully at the man with my flask. He had it in his hand now, and he grinned as he shook it.
There is a useful principle in life which I learned that day, and that is, to treat black powder with respect.
The man shaking the flask obviously thought that this was enormous fun, right up until the moment that something made him pause. Perhaps he felt a slight tremor affect his hand, or heard something. Whatever it was, he glanced at the flask with an expression suddenly devoid of humour, and then several things happened all at once.
First, Ramon stopped smiling and snapped an order. Second, the man turned to face Ramon with an expression of shock on his face. Then the third man screamed something (I think, because my memory of the precise sequence of events grows a little hazy here) and there was an almighty bang.
I know this happened because I heard it. I didn’t see much, because I had no desire to see a man detonate, and, besides, I was in the process of jumping to the floor at that moment, but piecing together the fragments of my memory and the sight of the after-effects, I think that what happened next was that the flask exploded. The man holding it suddenly found his hand had disappeared, and bits of him were flying about the room. One piece struck his friend in the cheek, which made him scream so loudly that he almost drowned out my own cries, and at the same time Ramon flinched, unsurprisingly, and gave a squeal like a pig being stuck. He was thrown to the floor, as a filthy blue-black smoke filled the room with the reek of very rotten eggs.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on the floor facing a white-faced Ramon. He was confused, from the look of him. Perhaps seeing me holding the gun and pointing it at his head from a distance of about a foot was enough to give him pause for thought. He looked quickly this way and that, and I could see why: he wanted his sword. Oddly enough, I was considerably closer to him than his rapier, which he had let fall from his hand as he lifted both arms to protect his face.
Then he regained his composure. ‘Kill him!’ he snarled. At least, I assume that’s what he said; it was in Spanish.
I wasn’t going to take the risk that Ramon had told his fellow to fetch a cup of wine and a bread roll. The remaining henchman, who was still whole, was about to reach for me when I set my jaw. ‘How keen are you to die? I learned how to load and fire this today, and while I missed yesterday, I won’t now. I am practised. Tell your man to stand back or I’ll make a hole in your head that will permanently stop any headaches!’
He stared at me, then at the gun, and finally looked up at his man and shook his head.
The explosion had shaken all of us, obviously. I was quivering like a man with the ague, and Ramon was little better. Oh, the man who had picked up the flask was whimpering, too, but after the roar of the powder, none of us could hear that well.
I held my gun at Ramon. ‘There are cloths which your fellow can fetch for him to bind his hand. Raphe can show him where.’
Ramon looked up and rattled off something. The man left the chamber and its reek of rotten eggs without regret. ‘What now?’
‘Get up, but don’t go near your sword. I will kill you if I have to.’
He nodded, apparently believing me now. Any impression of my utter incompetence with powder and gun had left him. Perhaps he was just still deafened and bewildered by the event, but he willingly clambered to his feet and walked to my chair. I cleared my throat meaningfully, and he changed direction, taking his ease on my stool instead. His servant was white-faced and had thrust his ruined hand under his left armpit. Now he sat with wide eyes like a child. I felt quite sorry for him for a moment, until I recalled his insulting manner as he picked up the flask.
I described this event later to John Blount, and he said that probably some particles of powder had been caught in the mouth of the flask. When I threw it into the fire, some was thrown from the flask’s neck, and began to fizz and hiss, and some in the throat of the flask caught light, and were still glowing when the fool shook it. It would take one glowing cinder to set off the entire flask in such an effective manner. For the moment, I was less concerned with the how and the why of the black powder’s explosion, and was more interested in how I should escape my predicament.
Ramon’s man returned with a pale-faced Raphe.
I said, ‘Raphe, go to Master Blount and tell him what has happened here. We need an apothecary or a barber surgeon.’
‘My man will wait until we return to the household. He will have a Spanish surgeon, not an English butcher,’ Ramon said.
‘If you want. You’ll be carrying him, though, because he’s bleeding all over my floor,’ I said w
ith feeling.
I wasn’t joking. The man was growing more and more pale by the minute. I sent Raphe on his way, and remained staring over the barrel of the gun at Ramon. ‘I don’t know what happened to your man. I do know that he was killed and robbed, and later I was robbed, too. I had nothing to do with his death or robbery, though. I don’t even know what was in his purse.’
‘He had a fortune in gold. I did warn him against going out with it about his person,’ Ramon said. ‘But he never trusted the servants in our house. He insisted on carrying it with him at all times.’
‘I think I may know who took it,’ I thought. Agnis had been there, after all. It was close to the bowling alley where she went that night. It was clear to me that she would have had time. She would have seen the man slumbering. It would have taken but a moment to stab him, cut his purse free, and be away, back in her chamber. Perhaps she knew I was there, too, and knocked me down. Although if she had taken the money up to her chamber, it was singularly well hidden. I hadn’t found it, and I am usually good at guessing where someone might have hidden their valuables.
‘Who?’
‘I will find the money. You will leave. The money isn’t yours, after all. And I do not want to see you again.’
He sneered a bit at that, but then his companion gave a loud shriek, and the sound seemed to go through his soul. ‘Very well. Curse this country! Curse you!’
Raphe turned up a little later, with a fretful-looking young physician in tow. While I stood and hopped to the chair, he had the handless man sit on the stool. With much tutting and hissing, the doctor stared at the man’s hand. For a moment I thought the doctor would keel over, because he went as white as a newly limewashed wall and swayed at the sight, before sending Raphe hunting for a bowl of warm water and cloths.
I had no desire to stay while the man’s injuries were investigated and patched. He had the look of a fellow who knew that his life had just undergone a rapid and irreparable change. I was content to know that he would not be likely to threaten a man like me again in the near future. His life as a henchman was over.
A Missed Murder Page 21
