The Dead Don't Wai

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Hello, Jack. How are you this wonderful day?’ she said, when I sauntered up. She had an entrancing face, and it was easy to return her smile.

  ‘I am well, dearest lady,’ I said. ‘I hope you are as well as you look. I have never seen a maid looking so bonny.’

  ‘You still have the art of flattery, then,’ she said.

  Alice looked especially delicious that fine morning, and although she chuckled when I complimented her, she soon made it clear that there were no free rewards for my words. The merchant visibly sagged, wiping his brow as we left, and I expect he closed up shop soon afterwards, either to go and soak himself in a cold bath or to run to the nearest house of ill-repute. Alice was that sort of woman. I experimented and received a painful slap when my hand strayed, but she took my arm as we wandered along the road, and as we walked, I explained about Cat.

  ‘She came here when?’

  ‘Only a matter of days ago,’ I said. In truth, I was surprised to hear myself say it. So much had happened in the last days that it seemed almost as though I had known her for months.

  ‘And you first met her there,’ she said, considering. ‘It’s not a territory I know well, but I have some friends who work about the Cheese and other places around. Leave it with me, and I will see what I can learn for you.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ I said.

  ‘But that is all I can do for now,’ she added with a yawn. ‘Ugh! I was up all night with an alderman and his wife. He drank so much he soon fell asleep, but she was like a mad thing. Kept on all night. I need some sleep; I don’t think I’ll be working this evening.’

  ‘Can I tempt you with a pot of hob or spiced wine?’

  She gave me a cynical shake of her head. ‘Save it for your woman, Jack. You don’t want me draining you beforehand, do you? That wouldn’t show you to best advantage with her, would it?’

  We parted then, she to seek Cat, and I to find a jug of wine at my fire.

  I made my way homewards, and as I closed the door, I knew that Humfrie was there. It was a simple enough piece of reasoning: nothing to do with his cloak on a hook or his staff at the door – he didn’t wear a cloak and didn’t need a staff – no, it was the sudden appearance of Raphe, his look of alarm and the lack of sound. Only one man I knew could instil that sort of wary caution in Raphe: Humfrie. Perhaps Arch and Hamon as well, after their recent visit, but I couldn’t be certain of that. However, I was perfectly sensible to the extreme anxiety that the appearance of Humfrie inspired in young Raphe. There was something about the man, the way he moved so silently, his serious expression, his fingers’ grip. When he shook hands, it was like being clutched by an iron statue. And I think Raphe had guessed that this man was dangerous, even if he didn’t know about my subcontracting work to him.

  ‘Humfrie,’ I said as I entered.

  He was sitting on a stool, back straight as a poker, and he turned to face me, his eyebrow raised. ‘Master Jack. Your boy said you wanted to see me. Is it work?’

  ‘It could well be.’ I sat and bellowed at Raphe to bring more wine. Humfrie had already polished off one jugful, from the look of it. ‘I’ve been dropped in an unfortunate situation with two men.’

  ‘Ah. You want them removed?’

  ‘I may do. But for now, what I really need is someone to stay with me in case they try anything.’ The memory of a pair of bloody, rusted snippers came to mind, and I shivered involuntarily.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘A pair called Arch and Hamon.’

  He allowed his face to crack into a smile. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to be gulled by them,’ he said. ‘They’re known all about town.’

  ‘I know. What can we do to keep them away?’

  ‘What are they asking now?’

  ‘Six guineas.’

  He gave a low whistle. ‘Well, if you will go about town dressed in silks and finery, I suppose they think they can take you for a lot. What was the original? Three? Four? Less?’

  I admitted the depth of their rapacity, and he looked astonished. ‘That’s greedy of them. Naughty little bleeders! Anyway, all right. I could have someone see to them, if you want. It wouldn’t cost six.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Two of them, maybe two each to have them done properly. That’s about the going rate.’

  ‘Four guineas?’ I burst. ‘That’s too much!’

  ‘If you say so,’ Humfrie agreed accommodatingly. ‘You know your own mind best, of course.’ He sat back, and every so often his eye wandered to my cods. It was an unsettling glance.

  ‘You think they really would try to hurt me?’

  ‘I’ve no doubt of it.’

  ‘Then, instead of killing them, why don’t you stay with me for a while? Become my bodyguard.’

  ‘Me? For you?’ He considered. ‘A guinea a week, then.’

  ‘How much?’

  He smiled happily. ‘Just think: two weeks and it’s one guinea each, isn’t it?’

  ‘You said it would be two guineas each.’

  ‘I meant one per ballock of yours, if I save them,’ he said imperturbably.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ I snapped. I wasn’t of a mind to hear humorous comments about parts of my anatomy that could soon be removed.

  ‘After that we’ll have to think about whether you’ll want to carry on paying me, or whether it’ll be better to have Hamon and Arch removed more permanently,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t want to pay too much, after all. Not even for them,’ he added, grimly chuckling as he gazed at my codpiece.

  When Raphe had replenished our jugs, I moved to the second piece of business. ‘I have another slight problem,’ I said. ‘A strongbox that needs opening.’

  ‘You lost your key?’ he asked, his eyes going to the ceiling. How he did that, I don’t know, but he could always sniff out the room where money was being stored.

  ‘No, not mine,’ I said with some asperity. ‘It’s another one. I’ve heard that it’s full of treasure.’

  ‘Oh? Whose treasure?’

  ‘If you can get us inside that box, yours, mine and one other man’s.’

  ‘I see. Well, I have little else on just now. I’ve opened a number of locks in my time. I doubt this will provide me with a great difficulty. Where is it?’

  I explained all about the chest and the priest, and Humfrie’s face blackened. ‘I don’t know as I approve of stealing from the Church. That’s not right.’

  ‘It’s not stealing from the Church. It was given to this priest by the abbot far away,’ I said. ‘And his abbey has gone, I understand. So whose is it now? The abbot and his monks have all been sent into retirement. I expect they are all dead by now, and meanwhile this treasure is sitting in a chest in the church of St Botolph. What good can it do there?’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Well, at least come and look inside it, and then decide,’ I said, and thus the pact was made.

  ‘I’ll do that and return to your house tomorrow.’

  ‘There is one last thing,’ I muttered as I sipped wine. ‘There is another man. He’s apparently killed his own daughter.’

  ‘He’s what?’

  Humfrie’s daughter was a chip off the old block. She was young, enormously attractive, vicious when an enemy, as I had learned to my cost, and the absolute apple of Humfrie’s eye. He doted on her as a father should. I might have used a little dramatic excess while speaking of the miller, but it was in a good cause.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. This fellow, he was a miller in the village by the church, lost his wife some years ago and never sought another legitimate wife. His daughter was there, so … It is not a rare event, I’m sure, but the poor child was obviously distressed by his rapes. She looked to the priest for support and help, and when he appeared, the miller took umbrage. He murdered them both and then bolted for London. He’s here somewhere, but I have no idea where.’

  ‘I’ll be able to find him,’ Humfrie growled. ‘And when I do, I’ll feed him to the
fishes.’

  ‘It might be better to allow the law to take its course,’ I said hastily. ‘After all, this man has committed multiple offences against God and his daughter. His crimes need to be brought into the light, don’t they?’

  ‘I don’t like it. I’ll find him, but you’d best keep him from me,’ Humfrie said. ‘If I get too close, I might not be able to stop myself from doing something he’d regret briefly for the rest of his life.’

  Humfrie knew the power of words. He didn’t mean that the miller would only regret something momentarily before enjoying old age; he meant the man would have little time for regret since his life was about to end.

  He stood to go, and I reminded him he was now my official bodyguard.

  ‘Just lock your door. You’ll be safe enough in here,’ he said. ‘Don’t open the door to anyone. Besides, you said they were at St Botolph’s earlier. They probably got stuck into the inn’s ale and won’t be here till morning.’

  However, I was not to stay in the house. Later, I received a message from Alice, inviting me to meet her at the sign of the Blue Bear.

  This was a better-quality tavern outside the city, not far from the Cheese, and Alice met me at the entrance.

  ‘I’ve heard she’ll be here soon,’ she said. She covered her mouth as she yawned again. ‘Should be any time soon.’

  ‘How did you hear that?’

  ‘She’s new to the city and the life, but it’s a place she comes to regularly. She has her routine already.’

  That was a shame. I was sad to hear that little Cat was already so involved in the game. Women like her had their haunts, as I knew, but I had hoped it would take her a while longer to become so deeply inured to this way of life. Although it did, of course, mean that I would be able to see her whenever I wanted, since sleeping with her would become a simple financial transaction. So maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

  It was a pint and a half of ale later that Cat appeared in the doorway. Again, I was struck by her apparent trepidation. This time she didn’t hurry to the opposite side of the place, as she had when I saw her at the Cheese, but she did peruse the room carefully before entering. Satisfied that the place was safe, she came in and walked to a table. It was at the far side of the room, and had two advantages that I could see: it was close to a door to further chambers in case she wished to make a quick exit, and it gave her a good view of the rest of the room and the front door.

  My own seat was at a small table beyond a pillar, so although I was hardly concealed, I was obscured from her view. She took a jug of spiced wine and sat demurely enough, while men entered, glanced at her, fetched drinks, stared at her, and obviously thought of the coins in their purses, and how much it would cost to whisk her away to a chamber where they would be charged by the hour.

  When she was distracted by a scruffy serving boy, I rose and walked to her. ‘Hello, Cat.’

  She had been watching a new man enter and gave a little jump of surprise when I startled her. ‘Peter!’

  ‘I was sorry to miss you when you left. But more sorry to leave you alone in my bed that night,’ I added with a grin of pure lechery.

  ‘It was not very romantic with your friend there.’

  ‘A man who could get between you and me is no friend of mine,’ I said with perfect conviction.

  Her eyes smiled at that, but then went to the door again.

  ‘Cat, why don’t you come back with me now? We can enjoy a lazy evening at my house.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  ‘I know. It’s Henry, isn’t it? You’re scared of him. Well, you don’t need to be. I could introduce you to people. There’s a woman here, Alice, who has many friends. Some of them would be happy to help you and remove Henry, or just persuade him to leave you.’

  ‘You think so?’

  She didn’t seem terribly enthralled by the idea, to my surprise.

  ‘Yes. Come with me, and we can talk it through over a bumper of wine.’

  She looked at me very direct then. ‘Can you pay me?’

  I was a little taken aback. Obviously, being in the profession she had adopted, money was a serious matter. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have money in my strongbox at home.’

  She would be worth it.

  It took a little while to get her back to my house. At first, she was reluctant and slow to walk, but as we went along the roads, and saw the people in the way singing, dancing, some behaving with lewd carelessness, not worrying about those watching, her attitude began to change. She glanced at me more often, her face losing the nervousness and anxiety, and beginning to calm. We crossed the road to avoid a group of drunken apprentices – a fellow soon learns to avoid them – and she clung to my arm as we stepped around a puddle, and as she did, I heard her chuckle. A short way after that, there was a small tavern, and I persuaded her to enter with me. We drank a pint each of strong red wine, and afterwards, when we walked, her arm was more closely attached to mine than before, and I could feel her warm bosom against my upper arm, and my heart felt full to bursting. I bent and kissed her. She was so sweet, so lovely and fine, I felt, for just a few moments, that I would like to marry her. Then I wondered how much she would charge for that.

  As soon as we reached my house, I opened the door to her, and she was quick to step inside. I followed after. I ignored Raphe, kicking the mutt from my path and hurrying to the buttery to fetch wine and two pots, and with them we repaired to my parlour, where we sat on the rugs before the fire and drank, and gradually I persuaded her to lie down, and we kissed and cuddled and … well, whatever happened then is none of your business.

  FIVE

  Early the next morning I woke to the sound of pigeons and sparrows making merry, and glanced down at Cat’s firm, pale body beside me. I can say, I think without exaggeration, that I had satisfied her in the hours of darkness. She had no reason to complain of my stamina. I rose, pulled on my hose and a shirt, and made my way down the stairs, calling to Raphe for some attention. When I reached my parlour, there was a knock at the door. The dog was curled into a small ball beside the fire at the foot of the ladder that led to Raphe’s small chamber behind the chimney. The brute opened one eye, clearly decided I could do my own guarding and closed it again.

  Thinking that Sir Richard had returned, wishing for a discussion about the miller and where he could have hidden, I went to the door and opened it.

  A fist struck my belly, and the sudden pain made me curl into a ball. A hand grabbed my shirt, and I heard threads snap as I was hauled from the house bodily, whirled around in the air and slammed against the outer wall.

  All the air was driven from my lungs. The brick and wood of the wall was painful enough, but the violence of the attack had knocked my skull against a prominent stone, and I was stunned. Stars flew about me, and I had to blink to try to clear my vision. All I knew was that I was pinned as effectively as a man with an arrow through his chest. Desperately trying to get a breath, I wheezed and coughed, and at last, when my eyes could focus once more, I goggled. It was Cat’s man Henry.

  But this was not the Henry I was used to. This was a fierce young man with molten iron in his veins. He was, in short, terrifying. I could quite understand how Cat would be afraid of him.

  ‘Where is she?’ he roared.

  ‘In my house,’ I said. ‘Upstairs, I—’

  ‘You have been ravishing her, haven’t you? You put your foul hands on her pure skin! You’ve been swiving her in your bed, haven’t you? I could gut you now for that!’

  ‘I … What do you want of me?’ I said, trying to keep my voice low. One does not want the neighbours to enjoy such discussions so early.

  ‘She is mine, you understand me? Mine! And I won’t have her trifled with by a half-arsed merchant, or whatever you are!’

  I did consider mentioning that I was an assassin, but felt the time was not perfect.

  ‘What did you do to her?’

  ‘Me? I – um—’

  ‘Never
again, you understand? You will never do this with her again. Is that clear?’

  ‘I – well, I suppose—’

  ‘You’re pathetic!’ he said, which I thought was a bit rich from a man who had stood outside my door all night because he wanted to see what had happened to his associate.

  ‘Well, look,’ I said, and then I whimpered. There are times when lengthy debates are to be welcomed, and there are times when a man must recognize that his words could be, at best, superfluous. This was one of those times, because I became aware that, while his left hand was holding me by the shirt against the wall, he had a second hand. While I was discussing matters with him, he had drawn a knife, and now the chilly steel was resting just under my cods.

  There is something about the criminal classes that associates a man’s prickle and cods with revenge, clearly. First Hamon and Arch, and now this lobcock. I just wished the fools could find someone else’s tackle to threaten.

  Now, you may not have experienced something like this. All I can say to you is that when you first get the sensation that a razor-edged knife is resting against that most vulnerable of appendages, it drives all other thoughts from the mind. I was no longer aware of Cat or even Henry, truth be told. All I knew was the feeling of exceedingly sharp steel at the back of both ballocks, and the urgent need to get away from it. I was already on tiptoes, and now I tried stretching my head upwards, as though it could take my nether regions away from that horrible knife. It didn’t.

  ‘You won’t touch her again, will you?’ he snarled.

  At this stage, my eyebrows were trying to climb to the top of my skull, in the faint hope that they could pull my body up with them. So far they didn’t seem to be succeeding. I whimpered again, and then the knife was taken away. I dared not look down. It didn’t feel like anything had been cut off, but when you are cut with a razor, there is no sensation at first. All I knew was that I didn’t yet feel that hideous tingling that said an extraordinarily sharp blade had castrated me, and there was no sensation of running water to say that I was bleeding everywhere. As Henry rammed his knife into the sheath at his hip, I cast a glance down, past the fist gripping my shirt, to the ground at my feet. Yes. All seemed well. Just a codpiece that was askew, with a pair of laces sheered through.