‘The law of England,’ Nottingham replied. ‘Ask your man.’
Henderson turned furiously on the lawyer, who gave a short, embarrassed nod.
‘Get them out here,’ the merchant demanded angrily. ‘I want to see them.’
Nottingham gestured to the deputy, never taking his eyes off Henderson. The lock clicked and in a few seconds the brothers appeared, their hopes raised by the arrival of their father.
‘Did you do it?’ Henderson asked bluntly.
‘Of course not.’ Peter held his head up defiantly.
‘See there, Constable?’ the merchant demanded. ‘He says they’re innocent.’
Nottingham had to stop himself laughing. ‘The evidence says otherwise. And if you don’t know the penalty for murder, Mr Henderson, I’m sure your lawyer will tell you.’
The merchant glared at his sons and gestured at the clothes and pack. ‘He says these were in your room.’
‘He must have put them there,’ Peter said.
Henderson rounded on the Constable.
‘He’s accusing you.’
Nottingham shrugged.
‘Ask your servants. We didn’t bring anything with us. What do you think we did, bring it in by magic?’ He looked at the lawyer. ‘They’ll go to the Assizes.’
‘It won’t stand,’ the merchant threatened.
‘He’s wanted us for a long time,’ Peter complained. ‘He’d do anything to get us.’ He sounded desperate, trapped.
The door opened. Josh walked in slowly, leading the old woman who lived in the room beneath Isaac’s. A heavy coat seemed to weigh her down, her skin almost translucent. She looked around with her sightless eyes, taking in the warmth, the feel of people close by.
‘Sorry, boss,’ Josh apologized. ‘It took us a little while to get here.’
‘That voice,’ the woman said.
‘Which one?’ Nottingham asked.
‘The young one.’ She spoke clearly, sounding more like a girl than a woman who’d experienced so many years of the world’s cruelty. ‘The one who said you’d wanted them for a long time. That’s the man I heard in Isaac’s room.’
It was perfect, Nottingham thought. He couldn’t have asked for more. The timing, the clear honesty of her words.
‘Thank you,’ he told her.
‘Are you going to believe that blind bitch?’ Peter shouted.
Nottingham rounded on him.
‘I’m going to believe the truth. And the truth is that you and your brother murdered Isaac the Jew, broke into his room, and robbed him.’ He looked at the merchant, daring him to speak.
Henderson gazed at his sons.
‘You stupid bastards,’ he said dismissively, turning to leave, the lawyer fast behind him.
‘Put them back in the cell,’ Nottingham ordered. ‘Thank you for that,’ he said to the woman. ‘Josh will see you home. You’ll have to testify in court.’
She nodded, and reached out, her fingertips lightly tracing his face, feeling the cheeks, the jaw, tenderly across the mouth.
‘You’re a good man,’ she pronounced softly, then Josh guided her away.
He slumped in the chair and pushed the fringe off his face.
‘So that’s that,’ Sedgwick said. ‘We’ve got them, finally. Nice and quick, too.’
Nottingham shook his head. ‘You know Henderson won’t let his boys walk to the gallows that easily. He’s disgusted now, but he’ll fight for them in court. Better lock that evidence up somewhere safe or it’ll vanish before the trial. I’ll go and inform the Mayor.’
‘I’ll walk up with you.’
For a moment the offer astonished him, then he remembered. Wyatt. The man had been out of his mind for hours. He smiled and shook his head.
‘If it makes you feel better.’
Seventeen
For once, Nottingham didn’t have to wait to see the Mayor. The clerk, a harried, anguished man, ushered him through as soon as he arrived. This, the Constable thought bleakly, is where the fight for the Henderson brothers begins.
Edward Kenion put down his quill, scattered a little fine sand over his words to dry the ink, and sat back in his chair. His stock was glistening white and perfectly tied, the periwig neatly powdered and fresh. But his eyes were tired, the flesh of his cheeks mottled.
‘I’ve heard from Alderman Henderson.’
‘I’d be surprised if you hadn’t. I’m sending his sons to the Assizes.’
Kenion sighed. ‘What charges?’
‘The murder of Isaac the Jew.’
The Mayor was silent for a few moments, running his tongue across his lips.
‘That’s very serious.’
‘I know,’ Nottingham agreed. ‘I have the evidence.’
Kenion nodded. ‘How solid is it?’
‘We found Isaac’s pack and two suits of bloody clothes at Henderson’s, in the brothers’ rooms. And a woman who recognized Peter’s voice as they ransacked Isaac’s room. The jury will convict.’
‘They’ll hang.’
‘They should. That’s the law.’
Kenion looked awkward, a man caught between duty and class. ‘The alderman will do everything he can to get them off. They’re his sons.’
Nottingham chose his words carefully. ‘As long as he stays within the law, that’s his right.’
‘And he’ll do all he can to discredit you.’
It was a warning, but one the Constable didn’t need.
‘He’ll have plenty of ammunition if he discovers what Wyatt’s done without being caught,’ Kenion told him.
‘We found Wyatt’s second victim this morning, too.’
The Mayor sat up sharply. ‘His back?’
‘The same.’
Kenion stood and started to pace, his footfalls silent on the thick carpet. He gazed down at icy Briggate from the window. What did he see there, Nottingham wondered. Did he look at the people, did he think of the way they lived?
‘I’m not keeping this quiet to protect you,’ he told Nottingham. ‘It’s for the city. We can’t have a panic here. Just make sure no one else knows about this.’
The Constable nodded. Henderson wouldn’t be the only one wanting someone new in the job if they discovered the truth.
‘How close are you to finding this man?’ He paused to look full at Nottingham. ‘And an honest answer this time.’
Did Kenion really want the truth, or did he want hope? Or something in between?
‘I think we’ll have him soon.’
The Mayor’s hand slapped his desk, the sound sharp and angry.
‘For Christ’s sake, I said be honest, Nottingham. I’m not a bloody fool.’
