response.
Peter stood up and approached the Constable. The planes of his face, hard and sharp, burned with anger.
‘I’ll make sure my father destroys you for this.’
‘I won’t let anyone get away with murder,’ Nottingham replied evenly. ‘I don’t care what his surname is.’
With slow, precise care, Henderson spat into the Constable’s face. ‘That’s my opinion of you and your law.’
Nottingham brought his knee up sharply, feeling it connect hard against the younger man’s balls. Almost as if time had slowed, Henderson’s eyes widened in shock then he collapsed with a groan, tossed down carelessly to the floor, hands cradling his crotch as he curled up. He was gasping for air, skin suddenly pale. Paul started to rise to help him but the Constable gestured him back.
‘That,’ he told Peter, ‘was very stupid.’
He locked the door behind them and sat at his desk, wiping the spittle from his face. He’d probably done the wrong thing, he knew that, but it had been a reaction. He’d taken a chance with the arrest. Now he needed evidence. If he couldn’t find it, then Henderson would be right; the alderman would destroy him.
But he was certain the evidence was there. The sound of money, the woman had said. That was this pair. They’d be too cocksure to get rid of whatever they’d found. Now he had to wait for Josh and Sedgwick to return, and pray they’d discovered what he needed.
It was the best part of half an hour before the deputy arrived. He was carrying a pack that the Constable recognized as Isaac’s, and two suits of bloody clothes that he laid out on the desk. He grinned and shook his head
‘Right on display by their beds,’ he said. ‘They couldn’t even be bothered to hide anything.’
Nottingham nodded his approval. Got you, he thought triumphantly. No lawyer will be able to talk them out of this.
‘Right, bring those along and let’s see what they have to say. Peter might be feeling a little fragile.’
‘Oh?’ The deputy raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘He had a little accident. Very unfortunate.’
‘Aye, it happens sometimes,’ Sedgwick agreed sympathetically.
‘It does.’
He knew he only had a few minutes before the alderman and his lawyer arrived, before there was another angry note from the Mayor. He needed to make the most of them.
The pair of them were sitting together. Paul had a protective arm round his brother’s shoulders. Peter had been sick on the floor, and the cell was filled with the harsh smell. Traces of vomit flecked the bright peacock colours of his waistcoat and jacket.
Light, dull as lead, came through the barred window.
‘So you didn’t murder Isaac the Jew,’ Nottingham said.
‘I told you that,’ Peter said. His voice was thick and he shifted his weight very carefully on the bed.
‘I thought you might want more time to remember and reconsider.’
Peter’s eyes hardened.‘We can’t remember what we didn’t do. Constable.’
Nottingham nodded sagely. ‘I just wondered, since you had his pack in your room and some clothes stained with blood.’
Sedgwick came forward, holding the pack, the clothes draped over his arm.
Peter started to rise, only his brother’s arms fast around him holding him back.
Nottingham leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘That’s ample evidence for me. It will be for the Assizes, too. You’re both for the noose.’ The satisfaction he felt as he said it almost worried him. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘They say the Jews always have money,’ Paul answered.
‘Be quiet,’ his brother ordered him loudly.
‘But he didn’t, did he?’ Nottingham said. ‘Not in his pack, not in his room.’ He was staring at Paul who shook his head slowly and sadly. ‘So you killed him for nothing.’
‘We didn’t kill anyone,’ Peter yelled.
‘That pack and your clothes say you did. Very loudly.’
‘We don’t know where they came from,’ he blustered.
Nottingham scratched his chin and shook his head. ‘You don’t think anyone’s going to believe that, do you?’
The silence filled the room for a long moment. The Constable walked out, Sedgwick right behind him, letting the lock click heavily.
Nottingham sighed deeply. ‘Now we just have to get them to the scaffold.’
‘The alderman’s going to fight you all the way.’
‘There’s too much here, even for him.’ He gestured at the evidence in the deputy’s arms. ‘He’ll fight until he realizes he can’t win.’
‘He’ll hate you.’
Nottingham smiled and shrugged. ‘He won’t be the first, will he?’
He felt drained, a body emptied of everything. The energy and the fury had vanished now that the chase was over. He sat down heavily, the seat hard against his back.
‘So what now, boss?’
‘We wait for the alderman and his lawyer. Keep those things out of the way. We’ll let them rant, then present them with the evidence.’
He didn’t have long. Within five minutes Henderson had arrived, the lawyer trailing behind him, the master and his dog.
People claimed that the merchant had been handsome when he was younger, but there were few signs of it now. His face had turned hard and coarse, with no warmth in the eyes or mouth. An expensive wig sat awkwardly on his broad skull. He wore good plain clothes, his coat and breeches as sober as a Quaker’s, but they couldn’t hide the way his large body had thickened, ripened with fortune.
The lawyer, lean and long, had the feral look of an ambitious man, his gaze darting around eagerly for opportunities. His waistcoat was fine silk in bright colours, his suit deep plum velvet, a testament to his fees. He had the air of a man who spent every day around corruption and had come to relish the scent.
‘Where are they?’ Henderson demanded. His hands were shaking with fury.
‘They’re in a cell. Where they belong, Alderman.’ Nottingham’s reply was equitable.
‘You don’t treat my lads like that.’
Nottingham stood. He was taller than the merchant and looked down at him.
‘I’ll treat them the way I treat everyone else when they’re guilty of murder.’
‘Murder?’ the lawyer asked. ‘That’s a very serious charge, Mr Nottingham.’
‘With very serious consequences,’ the Constable reminded him.
‘You have proof, I take it?’
Nottingham gazed slowly from one of them to the other before he answered.
‘I do,’ he announced.
‘Oh aye? Is that like that proof you’ve had before?’ Henderson gave a short, coarse laugh. ‘Evaporated like warm piss, that did.’
Money and threats will do that, Nottingham thought.
‘John.’ The deputy brought Isaac’s pack and the clothes from the corner.
‘That’s the pack of the man they murdered, and the clothes they wore when they killed him.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘It was Isaac the Jew they killed.’
‘And where did you find these things, Mr Nottingham?’ the lawyer wondered.
‘In the bedroom the brothers share,’ the Constable told him.
‘What?’ Henderson exploded, his face red, spittle flying from his lips. ‘You went through my house?’
‘I did.’
‘And who gave you the right to do that?’
