Hudson's Kill

by Paddy Hirsch

  “And what is your name?” he asked.

  “That’s none of your bloody business.” Tanny pushed past. The wide-eyed look was gone. Her face was pinched with suspicion, and she drew herself up as tall and straight as she could. “You may be sharp with your tongue, Mister, but you’ll have to put your hand in your pocket if you want anything from us.”

  Umar’s teeth flashed in his black beard. “You are Antoinette. I have heard about you.”

  Tanny scowled. “Who’s been spinning dits about me? I’ll strip the skin off ’em.”

  “I believe you would, Antoinette. Which is why I will not name names. Only to say that those of your sisters who spoke of you mentioned only your virtues.”

  Tanny snorted. “What sisters I have are dead, Mister. One of the pox, and the other of being born. I ain’t got no sisters no more.”

  Umar made a slight gesture towards a trio of women standing in the shadows of a stall at the back of the clearing, watching them. They were dressed in plain gray shifts and scarves covered their heads. “What of these? They are your sisters, are they not?”

  Tanny hesitated. She squinted at the women.

  “Who are they, Tanny?” Kerry asked.

  “I only ken two of ’em. Josie Box and Cass Wade. I know ’em from the theater. But I ain’t seen them in half a year. I thought they was either dead or gone up to Boston.”

  “They are with me now,” Umar said. “Doing God’s work.”

  “God likes it the French way, then, does he? Because that’s what Cass specializes in.”

  Umar burst out laughing. “A sharp tongue, but an even sharper mind. I see I was not lied to.”

  “Oh yes? And what else did they say?”

  “That you have a hard shell, but one that shields a kind heart.”

  “Someone kens how to patter and flatter, it seems.” The words were hard, but Tanny’s tone had softened.

  Umar turned to Kerry. “And you? What is your name?”

  “Rosa.” The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue. Kerry realized she should have spent as much time practicing her lines as she had rehearsing her walk.

  “You are from New York, Rosa?”

  “As much as anyone else, in this city.” Her stomach felt like a flock of birds taking off.

  He nodded. “And what brings you here today?”

  “I was told I might hear something of interest.”

  “You did not come for the food?”

  “I can feed myself well enough.”

  “I imagine so.” It was like being eyed by a snake. “And was it of interest? What you heard?”

  “I have never heard a churchman say that what we do might be smiled upon by God.”

  “And why not? Women are bought and sold all the time, and the transactions are blessed by God as marriages. Why should God not bless a transaction when a women sells herself on her own terms?”

  “It would be a better world if women did not have to sell themselves at all.”

  Umar inclined his head. “Perhaps. But that is not the world we live in.”

  Kerry felt her cheeks burn. “Aye. In this world, men make the blessings, and men make the deals. And they take a cut of the proceeds, whether it’s marriage or whoring.”

  The cold eyes flickered. “And where is your man this evening?”

  It was a moment before Kerry realized what Umar was talking about. She tried to think what Tanny might say about Lew. “Sat in his libben, sipping Bristol milk, I expect. Getting fat off the sweat off our backs.”

  “I didn’t take Mister Owens for a sherry man.”

  “I don’t know what the bastard drinks. Nor do I care to.” She was surprised by the force in her own voice.

  Umar’s teeth showed in the black of his beard. “I would like to continue our talk, Rosa.”

  “Oh, you would?”

  Umar’s grin widened. “No, I don’t mean that. I thought you might join us for dinner.”

  “Us?”

  “These ladies.” He gestured towards the group of women behind him. “And some others. Birds of a feather, if you will.”

  “What about Tanny? I’m not going without her.”

  Umar’s dark eyes flicked up and down, taking in Kerry’s blue dress, the brown shawl, and the red, red makeup. “In that case, she is welcome.”

  * * *

  Kerry had expected to be led through the lanes to the front of the compound, but Umar took them the opposite way, into the thick of Canvas Town. Tanny walked beside her, clutching her arm tight, whispering away. How handsome Umar was. How mysterious. And what was a rancid old doxy like Josie Box doing with him? She was thirty, if she was a day. Cass she could understand, she being so pretty and all. And why were they dressed like that? Almost like nuns. And Josie and Cass were no nuns, that was for sure.

  A sharp right turn, and they were all suddenly crowded together in a large, low-roofed room. Kerry turned around to see one of Umar’s bodyguards pulling a wide door closed behind them. His cheeks and forehead were adorned with the symmetrical welts that African tribes used as tattoos. He had a broad, sword-like blade shoved into his belt.

  The room had packed earth for a floor, but the unmistakable dung-and-straw smell of a stable still hung in the air. Light came from a lantern on a large, low table, and several others set in sconces along the wooden walls of the room. Heaps of cushions formed impromptu chairs.

  There were three other women already there, sitting on the cushions. They were all white and dressed in the gaudy mismatch of clothes that suggested they were in the same profession as Tanny, although they gave no sign of recognizing her. They were all very young. Umar settled himself cross-legged beside them.

  “Rosa, Antoinette, allow me to introduce Abby, Gladys, and Prim,” he said, and the women nodded cautiously at each other.

  Umar clapped his hands, and a door at the other side of the low room swung open. The trio of women in gray shifts entered, and placed jugs and cups and plates loaded with food on the low table. There was a whole leg of lamb, sliced thinly and dressed with a thyme and mint sauce. A jointed chicken, stewed with dates and apricots. A dish of spiced carrots, another of herbed potatoes and a pile of flatbreads. Kerry found her mouth falling open slightly.

  Umar spread his arms. “Please, help yourselves.”

  The women fell on the food, loading the flatbreads with meat, and stuffing their mouths. Tanny plucked a leg of chicken from the bowl, and tore off a piece with her teeth. She squinted at Umar. “Any ale?”

  “No ale, Antoinette. My religion forbids it. I hope good water will suffice.”

  Tanny shrugged. She took a cup from the table and swigged. “Nice and fresh, at least.”

  After a few moments, Umar nodded to the women in gray. They stood up as one, took their plates from the table, and left the room without a word.

  Umar looked at Kerry’s empty plate. “You are not hungry, Rosa?”

  “Not really.” It was a lie. Her stomach was beseeching her to tuck in to the food, but a small voice at the back of her head told her that the display of generosity was dressed-up trickery, and she would do well to be on her guard.

  “You think I might be trying to poison you?” He laughed, and took a slice of lamb, rolled it up in a flatbread, and took a large bite. He chewed, watching her. “How long have you been with Lew Owens?”

  Kerry swallowed down the tight feeling in her chest. “Since I arrived in the city. A few months ago now.”

  “And where did you come from?”

  “My past is my business.”

  Umar’s teeth flashed. “Of course. Forgive me.”

  One of the women was staring at Kerry. She wore an off-white sleeved gown that was yellowed around the neckline and under the arms. Her blonde hair was teased into an unruly heap on top of her head, and lipstick was smeared slightly at the corner of her mouth. She looked grotesque, a child in her early teens, dressed like a parody of a lady.

  “What house you in?” She had the hard voice o
f a woman twice her age.

  “The Hayloft,” Kerry said.

  Owens owned six bawdy houses in and around Canvas Town, but there were at least a dozen brothel owners who kicked up a monthly tax to him. Tanny had advised her to tell people she worked directly for Lew, in his oldest house, the Hayloft. It was located in the Holy Ground, outside Canvas Town, and therefore likely to be the least well known.

  The blonde woman picked up a chicken wing and twisted the bones out of it, then popped the meat into her mouth. She sucked each of her fingers, one by one, her eyes still locked on Kerry. “I heard the Angel keeps the Loft tied down tight. Likes to use a cat on runaways, they say. Whips ’em herself, and takes pleasure in it, the dirty cow.”

  Kerry felt Tanny stiffen beside her. She smiled. “I heard the same. But the Angel doesn’t run the Hayloft. Slack Annie’s our abbess, as I’m sure you know.”

  The blonde woman grunted and looked away. Umar seemed amused. “You are all with Lew Owens, are you not?”

  The three women nodded in unison. The youngest had thin ginger hair and a spray of freckles. She looked about fourteen. “Lew looks after us. He’s nice.” She had a thin, high voice.

  “Is he? He takes half of everything you make, does he not? And then you have to pay for lodging, in a house that he owns, guarded by his men, who will not let you go about of your own accord. How did you slip away tonight?”

  She snickered. “Tam Corley was on the door. He fancies one of the girls. We paid her to take care of him for a bit. He won’t dare blab to Lew.”

  “Very swift of you, Abby.” Umar’s eyes twinkled.

  Kerry had a sour taste in her mouth. But the girl was charmed, simpering under Umar’s gaze.

  “I meant what I said earlier, about God not judging women in your profession, Abby,” he went on. “I think it reprehensible that Mister Owens takes advantage of you so.” He showed his teeth. “I would like to offer you an alternative arrangement.”

  The girl gasped, recoiling as though she had been slapped. “Don’t talk so! He’d kill us!”

  Sharp lass, Kerry thought. Abby and her friends were risking a severe beating just for sneaking out of their house. If her cousin Lew found out they were discussing leaving him for another pimp, he would disfigure them. Or worse.

  Umar patted the girl’s hand. “Don’t worry, Abby. No one will hear anything of this conversation, I promise you.”

  Abby tittered, tossing her ginger curls, and putting her hand over her mouth. She glanced across the table and Kerry froze. The girl’s eyes were like marbles, hard and cynical in the child’s face, and Kerry saw she was playing a part. These women weren’t here by accident, she realized. They must have known that Umar was recruiting from her cousin’s brothels. No doubt one of the “sisters” had gotten word to them that Umar could make them a better offer. This was all part of the negotiation.

  Umar looked around the room. “Here is what I propose. If you leave Owens and come with me, I will allow you to keep three-quarters of what you earn. You will have fewer assignations, but they will be more lucrative…”

  “What’s that mean?” the blonde woman broke in. Even in the poor light, Kerry could see there was something moving in the heap of hair piled on her head.

  “Fewer men to service, but more money each time, Gladys,” Umar explained.

  “All the gelt in the welt won’t do us no good if we’re dead.” Gladys scratched at her scalp. “Which we’d be as good as, if we skipped. If we did this, and I’m not saying we would, how would you keep that black bastard clear of us?”

  “You would live under my protection. Behind my walls.”

  “In Jericho?” Kerry asked.

  Umar slid his gaze over to her. “In Jericho. Yes.”

  “Would we have to dress like them sisters of yours?” the third woman asked. She was the oldest of the three. She looked feverish, sweating through her threadbare red dress, her forehead marred by spots that she had tried to cover with a gloss of pork fat and a dusting of powder.

  “Not if you don’t wish to, Prim,” Umar said. “The sisters wear what they wish. Life is simple behind my walls, so they dress simply.”

  “Like sacks of potatoes,” the woman named Prim muttered. She crammed a slice of lamb into her mouth, wiping the juice off her chin.

  For a moment, the only sound was a loud chewing noise.

  “What if we didn’t like it?” Kerry asked. “What if we wanted to leave?”

  “You would not be the first. Several have done so. They took the money they made and left with my blessing.”

  “I’ve never heard of any such,” Tanny said.

  “Of course not. They did not stay in the city. Not with the likes of Owens seeking them.”

  “What if we say no tonight?” Gladys asked.

  Umar shrugged. “Then you say no. Smuggle yourselves back into Owens’ house. Think on my proposal. No one will know you were here. No one will know what we spoke of.”

  “These judys know.” She tilted her chin.

  Umar’s eyes flicked to Tanny. “No one would dare tell Mister Owens of this meeting. Would they, Antoinette?”

  Tanny scowled. “Not if they wanted to keep their face arranged just so.”

  “You see, Gladys? Anyone who tells Owens anything will have to admit they were here too. And by their own volition. Owens won’t let that stand.” He paused to look at each of them in turn, hard eyes in a blank face. “And neither will I.”

  It was so quiet, Kerry could hear the two guards breathing behind her.

  Abby spoke first. “I’ll do it.”

  “Abby!” Gladys snapped.

  “More chink for less prink, Glad.”

  “And Owens after you for the rest of your days.”

  “Cass Wade don’t seem that bothered. Besides, I don’t aim to stay in this city for much longer. I want to save some plate and get out. I can’t see that happening with Lew Owens running me.”

  Prim sneered. “Gunna move to Ohio, are you, Abby? Raise goats and chickens?”

  “And why not?” Abby sounded defensive.

  “Get raped by a horde of bloody savages, more like. Giving it away for free when you could be making good money back here? You’re baked.”

  “Fuck off, Primrose, you shabby madge.” But there was no heat in Abby’s words, and Kerry had the sense that these three women squabbled like this all the time.

  “What about you, Gladys?” Umar asked.

  The blonde woman scratched at her scalp again. “More gelt sounds good, I won’t deny. But I’m afeared of Lew. And that big bastard, the new one, whatshisname.”

  “Jonty,” Prim said, picking her teeth with a wishbone.

  Gladys shuddered. “Brute.”

  “You would go back to that?” Umar’s voice was smooth. “To being manhandled and misused by Owens’ trusties? I promise you there will be none of that with me.”

  Gladys glanced at Prim. “Cass said as much.”

  “She’s a lying slag,” Prim said. “You can’t trust her. She’s probably taking a cut of whatever we make.”

  Umar raised his hands. “I won’t deny it. She will receive a bonus for every one of you that joins me. As you will, if you persuade any of your sisters likewise.”

  “How much?” Prim’s voice was like a trap, snapping shut.

  “Ten dollars.”

  The three women exchanged looks. Kerry could see them calculating how many others they could convince to join them.

  “I don’t know,” Prim said, finally.

  Gladys reached for her hand. “You can’t go back on your tod, Prim. He knows we’re thick. He’ll squeeze you.”

  Prim’s face was pinched. There was fear in her eyes. “Right, then.”

  “Good.” Umar’s head swiveled. His eyes glittered, like quartz in a chunk of stone.

  Kerry looked at Tanny, the question in her eyes. Tanny gave a single nod.

  “Aye,” Kerry said. “Count us in.”

  NINETEEN
>
  Tuesday

  It was hard for her to open her eyes. The lids felt as though they had been weighted down. The insides of her mouth tasted like raw cotton soaked in musk. She was lying on her back, on a low bed with a thick mattress. It was warm in the room, and dim. There was a candle in a sconce on the wall. The light around it was soft and hazy, as though she was looking at it through a sheet of gauze. Below it was a bucket with a lid, shoved into the corner of the room. The door opposite her bed was only a few feet away. There was a small stool in the corner on the other side of the door.

  A cube. A box. A cell.

  Kerry tried to sit up. Her limbs felt both loose and heavy, like links on an iron chain.

  The door opened, and the gauzy veil wafted. Umar stood in the doorway. His white robe looked urine-yellow through the veil of smoke. He was carrying something that looked like a large pair of coal tongs. He placed the instrument beside the bed and leered at her.

  “Welcome to Jericho, Kerry O’Toole.”

  * * *

  After they had finished eating the sumptuous meal, Umar had led them back through the winding, undulating lanes. Or perhaps it was a different direction altogether. Kerry couldn’t tell. She didn’t know the quarter, and with no points of reference, she had no idea which way they were going. She didn’t even know where the river was, she realized. The other women were quiet, their heads down as they walked. Even Tanny was silent.

  Kerry hadn’t eaten. Her senses were sharp, her body vibrating with tension as she watched over the heads of the other women as Umar led them down the dark, muddy alleys. She was acutely aware of the man following her, the tattoos on his face, the blade in his belt. She had the feeling that if any of them decided to change their mind and break away, this man would cut them to pieces. So there was no way back. The only way out was ahead.

  They came to a wall covered in a sheet of rough cloth. Umar pulled it aside, and led them through a tunnel into an open space. The ground underfoot was smooth, level, and dry. There was a faint smell of herbs. Kerry saw the stars, and felt her spirits lift.