by Roger Hurn
‘Wotcher, Balthazar,’ said the eldest. He was a boy of about ten with hair the colour and shape of a chimney sweep’s brush. ‘You got anyfink for us?’
‘Wotcher yourself, Harry,’ replied Bloodwine. He fumbled in the pocket of his waistcoat and flipped a coin over to the lad who caught it and tumbled out of bed before his siblings could grab him and wrestle it out of his clutches. Immediately a chorus of complaints and wails started up.
‘For lord’s sake, Balthzar, look wot you gone and done and started.’ Becca gave him a look that would have scalded a lesser man.
He winked at her, but when he spoke his voice was edged with a pain and weariness he couldn’t disguise. ‘Come on, Becca, this isn’t a social visit. I’ve got a gentleman here who needs fixing up and so I’ve brought him to you. I’ve told him you’re better than any apothecary so don’t show me up as a liar.’
She snorted with derision and continued to glare at him for a few more seconds, but then she sighed and her shoulders sagged and he knew she wasn’t going to let him down. Relief flooded through his veins. He had more riding on this than he cared to admit even to himself
Becca turned to her still squabbling brood and held up her hand for silence. They ignored her. ‘All right, you lot,’ she bellowed. ‘Shut yer noise!’ They all jumped as if a grenade had exploded in the claustrophobic room. Their mother nodded. ‘That’s better. Now Harry, you take the little ’uns round to your Auntie May’s place and doss down there for the night – and if she gripes about it give her that thruppenny bit you’re hoarding.’
Harry started to protest, but Inglethorpe intervened.
‘No madam, I’ll not see the children turned out of their bed on my account.’
Becca shrugged. ‘If you want me to mend you and Balthazar I’m gonna need that bed … and don’t fret yerself ’bout the nippers ’cos the shiners you’re gonna pay me’ll mean they’ll eat proper grub for a while. So it ain’t up for argument, your worship.’ She glanced over at the children. ‘You still ’ere? Hop it I said. And Harry, mind you give the coin to your Auntie and not that drunken sot Arthur she’s shacked up with. You got that?
The boy sniffed and nodded. ‘Got it. C’mon you lot, let’s be ’aving yer.’ And like a sheepdog attempting to herd a clucking and complaining flock of chickens he rounded up his siblings and harried them out of the house.
Becca turned her world weary but still sharp eyes onto Bloodwine. ‘Right, Balthazar, get his lordship ’ere onto the bed and get his togs off so I can ’ave a look at the damage.’
Bloodwine did as she ordered, but it was no easy task as every movement caused Inglethorpe to cry out in distress.
‘Cock ’n pie, Balthazar, your gentleman’s swearing like a cutter. Anyone would fink you was trying to murder ’im not undress ’im. ’Ere, give over, I’ll do it, you bloody useless oaf.’
Inglethorpe smiled at her gratefully. ‘I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, madam. Mr Bloodwine here means well, but he lacks your woman’s touch. I’ll see you well rewarded for your kindness, never fear.’
‘That’s all right, sir. I’m doin’ it out of Christian charity and I’ll get my reward in ’eaven no doubt. But that don’t mean to say that any reward you feel like bestowin’ on me in the ’ere and now won’t be gratefully received … and my little ’uns will bless you for it.’ She sounded so sincere, even Bloodwine almost believed her.
When Inglethorpe was finally settled and calm, Becca examined his bruised ribs. ‘Blimey, sir, you been in the wars, ain’t yer?’
‘I have, madam, I have and if it wasn’t for the timely intervention of Mr Bloodwine here I fear it would have been the end of me.’ He smiled ruefully, but then his plump face resolved itself into a resolute expression. ‘Therefore, I must insist that you tend to his hurts before mine.’
Becca laughed and shook her head. ‘Don’t you go worryin’ yourself about Mr Bloodwine, sir, he’s had far worse knocks in ’is time than that bump on ’is ’ead.’ She reached out and, with a gentleness that was surprising in one so apparently fierce, touched the side of Bloodwine’s temple. He flinched and grimaced and shot her a hard look. She ignored it. ‘Tho’ I must say ’e’s got a lump the size of a duck’s egg on his noggin that don’t look too pretty.’ For a second there was a faint hint of tenderness in her voice; then it vanished to be replaced by her usual brisk tone. ‘Tho’ maybe it’ll ’elp knock some sense into ’im. Lord knows ’e could do with it. Now both of yer shut yer traps ’n let me do what I gotta do.’
An hour later, a heavily bandaged Inglethorpe was lying insensible under the blanket on the mattress. He’d drunk copious quantities of bootlegged gin to dull his pain and was now snoring like a rusty saw on timber. Bloodwine sat in the armchair and Becca sat on his lap. It wasn’t in any way an intimate situation; it was either that or the floor. And Becca, with her bony backside, didn’t fancy the floor.
She gulped down her gin then gazed at Bloodwine suspiciously. ‘So, was it pure chance that led you to our fine gentleman or ’ave you got some hooky scheme on the go?’
The thief-taker looked her straight in the eye and said: ‘Pure chance. I mean, do you think I’d be party to a scheme where I nearly get my skull stove in?’ He shook his head. ‘No, Becca, I’m not that foolish.’
Becca thrust out her bottom lip as she considered this. ‘But you struck lucky then ’cos ’e seems like a proper gent and ’e’s generous to a fault.’ Her thin face lit up with a smile of quiet satisfaction. ‘’Cos wiv what ’e just gimme I won’t ’ave to go thievin’ to earn a crust for a month of Sundays at least.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘An’ that, Balthazar Bloodwine, ain’t no bad fing.’
Bloodwine grunted and shifted in his chair to try and relieve the pressure from her blade-sharp buttocks. ‘Well, don’t go spending it all on gin, Becca.’
‘’Ere, I ain’t no Judith bloody Dufour,’ said Becca in mock indignation. ‘I won’t be doin’ wot she done ’n I’m surprised at you, Balthazar, for finkin’ that I would.’ She pouted coquettishly. The guinea that Inglethorpe had insisted she have in return for her services as a healer was combining with the effects of the gin she’d consumed to make her playful. ‘As if I’d strangle my Harry, dump ’is body in a ditch and sell ’is clothes for a bob or two to buy muvver’s ruin.’ She pinched Bloodwine’s cheek and giggled. ‘Wot kind of a girl do you fink I am, Balthy?’
The thief-taker shook his head. ‘Your Harry’s togs aren’t worth sixpence, let alone two bob,’ he replied sternly. ‘So I reckon young Flash Harry is safe enough.’ Then he grinned at her. ‘Oh and next time I come knocking on your door in the dead of night try and remember to be pleased to see me.’
‘I’m always pleased to see you, Balthazar, you know that.’
‘Well, ain’t that good to know, Becca Harrison,’ said a voice dripping with acid. ‘Do you really fink my Balthy is interested in an old draggle-tail like you?’
A young woman of about twenty stood in the doorway. Her hands were knotted into fists and from the furious expression on her face it was clear to see that she was far from best pleased.
Chapter Seven
Becca scrambled off Bloodwine’s lap, nearly rupturing him in the process. She advanced towards the girl in the doorway, bristling like a big cat facing down a rival who’s invaded its territory.
‘I ain’t no draggle-tail an’ you knows it, Abigail Fordham. ‘An’ I knew Balthazar long before you came along, missie, so don’ you forget it!’
The girl sneered at her. ‘Course you knew Balthy first ’cos you’re as old as God ’isself. But ’e ain’t interested in a dried up ol’ fustilugs like you, are you Balthy?’
Bloodwine’s brow knotted and he had the saturnine expression of a man who would rather be facing the hangman than these two women. He held up his hands and, though he spoke quietly, his voice was edged with ice.
‘Ladies, I’ll ask you to both be calm and lower your yap for we’ve a man here who’s been rib-roasted
almost to the death.’ He nodded at Inglethorpe who lay on his back, jaws agape and snoring like a pig. ‘And, as you two surly boots can see, he’s in the arms of Morpheus so I don’t need him rudely awakened by your caterwauling. Got me?’ He stared hard at them both as if defying them to contradict him.
‘It ain’t me who’s startin’ trouble, Balthazar, it’s her.’ Becca sounded surly and petulant. ‘You brung the gentleman to me to mend and I fixed ’im up like you asked. So tell ’er!’
Abigail opened her mouth to answer, but Bloodwine cut in. ‘That’s right, Abi. Becca was doing my bidding so there’s no call for you to be shouting at each other like fishwives. So cease your quarrel the pair of you.’
Becca nodded submissively, but Abi wasn’t yet done.
‘Well, it looked like she was fixing you up, Balthazar, sitting on yer lap an’ all.’
Bloodwine narrowed his eyes and said: ‘Appearances can be deceiving, Abi, so either you drop it or you go.’
Abigail folded her arms across her chest and pouted sulkily. ‘I know you’re Flash Harry’s father, Balthazar, but that don’t give ’er any claim on you now.’
A crimson flame of fury burned across Becca’s haggard face. ‘That ain’t true, an’ you know it, you game pullet,’ she screeched.
‘Well, that’s wot I ’eard, an’ I don’t ’ear Balthazar denying it neither,’ Abi spat back at her. ‘Explains why ’e’s sweet on yer an’ keeps comin’ round ’ere when everybody knows you’re a shab rag whose best days are long gone – ’specially since ’e’s got my puffy cake for the askin’ now.’
Bloodwine ground his teeth. He looked as if he could cheerfully murder them both. Inglethorpe had stopped snoring and was struggling back to wakefulness. It was the last thing Bloodwine needed, but both women were beyond caring about that.
‘Shut yer trap, yer doxie.’ Becca sprang at Abigail and grabbed her hair and pulled it viciously. Abigail reacted by punching Becca in the throat. She was too close to the older woman for the blow to have much effect, but it served to further enrage her enemy. She let go of Abi’s hair and slapped her hard across her cheek. ‘You bitch!’ she screamed. ‘I’ll swing for you.’
Abi shook her head. ‘Ain’t gonna happen ’cos I’ll be the one dangling in the sheriff’s picture frame fer puttin’ you in the ground.’
Becca nodded. ‘You fink so, do yer? Well, c’mon and try it.’
The two women leapt forward, spitting curses. They collided with a sickening clash of heads and fell half stunned to the floor. Bloodwine hoped that was the end of it, but seconds later they’d recovered enough to continue clawing and tearing at each other.
‘Zounds, Bloodwine, it seems you have a way with the ladies.’ The thief-taker glanced over his shoulder and saw Inglethorpe propped up on his elbows the better to watch the cat-fight. There was nothing else for it. He picked up the large pitcher of water that Becca had used when ministering to her patients and tipped it over the two women’s heads. They spluttered and squealed, but it had the desired effect because they stopped fighting and glared at him with furious eyes, their mutual enmity momentarily forgotten. Bloodwine took full advantage of the lull in hostilities. He grabbed Becca’s arm and hauled her back up onto her feet. Then he held out his hand to Abigail who slapped it away as she pushed herself back up.
‘You come ’n see me when you’re done ’ere, Balthazar, ’cos we need to ’ave words if you still want me as yer sweetheart.’ She raised her eyebrows, made a moue with her full lips and then turned on her heel and flounced out not bothering to close the door behind her.
‘God love you, Bloodwine, she’s a fiery little filly and no mistake.’ Inglethorpe winked at the thief-taker. ‘’Tis pity she’s gone off in high dudgeon for I’d happily have given her a shilling to take my mind off my hurts.’ He grinned at Bloodwine. ‘That’s if you’d no objections, sir.’
Bloodwine shrugged. ‘It’s a moot point now, your honour. And I’m sorry you’ve been disturbed by those who should know better.’ He glared at Becca.
‘Tain’t my fault if your whore comes bargin’ in when I’m taking my ease after a hard night’s work is it?’ she said.
‘Abi’s not my whore as you so delicately put it,’ he retorted. ‘And I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head in front of Mr Inglethorpe here.’
Inglethorpe laughed. ‘Oh don’t chide the poor woman, sir. She’s done me a kindness this night and I am forever in her debt.’ Then he bit his lip and gasped as a spasm of pain gripped his chest. ‘But I would beg you to see that there are no more intrusions into what remains of the night. I need to sleep.’ He gingerly lowered himself back down onto the mattress and within seconds was snoring again.
Becca harrumphed and settled herself down in the armchair. ‘Best go to yer doxie, Balthazar. You ’eard wot she said. An’ anyway, like the quality there, I’m in need of some sleep meself.’ She shut her eyes and Bloodwine knew she was dismissing him. He would have had it out with her, but he couldn’t afford to upset Inglethorpe so he held his tongue and left. Anyway, he had unfinished business to attend to.
Chapter Eight
Bloodwine strode through the dank and dismal streets. He ignored the blandishments, cajolery and wheedling pleas of the pimps, drunks and slatterns who haunted the dark alleyways like lost souls who knew they’d never find redemption and no longer cared. He was tired to the marrow of his bones, but there was an anger burning like a cold fire in his guts and it drove him on. A memory from years ago came unbidden into his mind. Once, when he was a child, his father had taken him and his two younger brothers to Southwark to see a man make a large and powerful bear dance for the entertainment of a crowd. It had amused him then, but now he had a sudden revelation of how that dancing bear must have felt about its master. All his life he had been his own man, but now he danced to another man’s tune and he hated it. ‘Balthazar, my son,’ he muttered. ‘You’re as helpless and humiliated as that wretched beast and there’s nothing you can do about it but caper.’
It was in the bleak and chill hour before the dawn that he came to a Soho brothel that was a cut above those found in the rookeries. He went inside and the mistress of the house, a woman who could have passed for a dowager duchess, escorted him to a back room where Samuel and Jim were lounging. A young prostitute perched on Jim’s lap while he idly fondled her exposed breasts. She smiled at Bloodwine. ‘’Ello, my pretty. You must be the leary cove these two knights of the blade ’ave been waiting for.’ She slipped off Jim’s lap and brushed Bloodwine’s check lightly with her fingertips. Despite his soul-deep weariness he felt his pulse quicken. She grinned at him and licked her top lip provocatively with the tip of her tongue. ‘Don’ you worry ’bout bein’ so late ’cos I kept ’em entertained. So I fink you owe me a couple of bob for me trouble. They ain’t the most gentle of lovers.’
‘Get out, you saucy baggage. We’ve business to take care of and it don’t include you.’ Samuel stood up and made as if to strike the girl. She didn’t flinch, but instead stuck her tongue out at him with a calculated insolence that Bloodwine couldn’t help but admire. But the girl wasn’t finished. She turned her back on Samuel, thrust out her buttocks and farted loudly. Only then did she make her exit.
‘Bloody baggage!’ he shouted after her. ‘Your arse is as slack as your hole!’ He slammed the door and turned to face Bloodwine. ‘Welcome to the School of Venus, thief-taker. Only Jim and I was hoping you’d have arrived a bit sooner ’cos we finished our lessons an hour or so back and the Drury Lane vestals in this establishment make for good rides but poor conversation.’
Bloodwine looked at him evenly. ‘I apologise and sympathise,’ he said. ‘For I’m sure your master keeps you both in his employ for your cultured discourse and not for your abilities as hackums.’
Samuel’s eyes glittered like a snake’s in the soft light. ‘Mark my words, cock robin, one day that mouth of yours is going to be the death of you.’
‘Possibly,’ replied B
loodwine. ‘But I’m more concerned about those two bouncers who tried to put me in my grave tonight. Who in God’s name were they?’
Samuel raised his shoulders slightly and pulled a face. ‘Just a couple of wild rogues who happened upon our gentleman and thought him easy pickings. They was wrong.’
‘Weren’t they just,’ said Jim. ‘And the one you plugged was double unlucky.’
Bloodwine frowned. ‘How so?’ he asked.
‘’Cos your ball didn’t finish him,’ said Samuel. ‘We dragged ’im into the alley thinking he was dead as dust but then ’e jumps up like Lazarus and tries to leg it so Jim here had to bring him down and wring his neck like a chicken.’
Jim nodded. ‘’E died hard that ’un.’
Bloodwine didn’t doubt it, but neither did he dwell on it. He wanted to be gone from the whorehouse and these two men as soon as he could. Fortunately for him, Samuel seemed to be of the same mind.
‘Right, time to spill it,’ he snapped. ‘Are you in thick with Inglethorpe like what you said?’
‘Yes. I’ve taken him to the home of a woman I know. She’s patched him up and he’s sleeping there. His wounds are painful, but he’ll recover and, as we planned, he sees me as his saviour.’ He smiled cynically. ‘You know, it cost them their lives, but those wild rogues did our work better than we could ever have done. They pulled no punches so there was no mummery for Inglethorpe to see through. My hurts are as real as his.’
‘That’s good,’ said Samuel somewhat ambiguously. ‘Lady Luck’s smiling on us and his Lordship will be pleased to hear it. But here’s the rub. He’s giving a speech in the House in two weeks’ time and he wants to use the occasion to expose Inglethorpe for the conniving fraud that he is.’
Bloodwine’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Two weeks? No, I—’
The bruiser held up his hand and leered at him. ‘Not much time is it, thief-taker? But you see, Inglethorpe’s got another shipload of convicts he’s transporting to the colonies in the next day or so and Sir William wants you to find out what knavery he’s up to ’cos too many of them whoresons never arrive at their destination and they can’t all have died at sea. So where are they and what’s he done with ’em?’
