Heartstone

'The constable told me he had some trouble with the corner boys,' Barak said. 'Was it the ones outside?'

She shook her head. 'I didn't hear that. It can't have been them. Those boys have only been there these last few days.'

'One question more,' I said. It was something no one had mentioned so far. 'What did Michael Calfhill look like?'

She thought. 'He was small, thin, with a comely face and brown hair. It was starting to recede though I doubt he was thirty.'

'Thank you. Here, for your trouble in helping us—'

She hesitated, but took the coin. She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her. Barak had gone over to the window. 'Come and look at this,' he said.

I went over. Directly underneath was the sloping roof of an outhouse, covered with mossy tiles, above a small yard. 'Someone could have climbed up there easily,' Barak said. 'I could get up, even now with all my easy living.' He patted his stomach.

I looked out. From here I could see the river, busy as ever with barges carrying equipment down to the sea. 'There are no tiles off the roof,' I said. 'They look old, someone climbing up would surely have dislodged a few.' I turned back to the room, looked up at the beam. 'If someone climbed up into the room and grabbed him in bed, there would have been a struggle.'

'Not if they knocked him out as he slept, then strung him up.'

'That would have left a mark on his head. The jury would have seen it at the viewing of the body.'

'Not if it was above the hairline, and they didn't look hard.'

I considered carefully. 'Remember what this case is about. The management of some lands down in Hampshire, maybe a fee for marrying off Hugh Curteys. In three years the boy will reach his majority and the lands will be his. Would Nicholas Hobbey order Michael killed just to protect that? When he could hang for it? A man with status and a family?'

'Maybe Michael discovered something Hobbey would hang for anyway.'

'Like what?'

'What about the missing knife?'

'It could have been lost or stolen in that shambles Grice calls the coroner's office.' I smiled. 'Come, have we not become too ready to see murder everywhere after all we have seen these last few years? And remember, the suicide note was in Michael's hand.'

'I still think there's a smell of bad fish here.'

'There's certainly a smell of rats. Look at those droppings in the corner.'

'Why would Michael leave his mother's house and come to a dog hole like this?'

I considered this. 'I don't know. But I see nothing here pointing to murder, except the absence of the knife, and that could easily have been lost. What we must do now is concentrate on Monday's hearing.' I took a last look round the miserable room, and the thought crossed my mind that Michael might have been punishing himself in some way by leaving his mother. But for what? My eye went to the strip of cloth again, and I shuddered. 'Come,' I said to Barak, 'let's get out of here.'

'Do you mind if I talk to the constable again?' he asked as we descended the stairs. 'I know where he'll be, in the tavern I took him to before. It's a few streets away. Maybe he will remember about the knife.'

'Won't Tamasin be waiting for you?'

'I shan't be long.'

* * *

WE RETURNED the key to Sally and left the house. It was dusk now; looking down between the houses I saw the river shining red in the setting sun. The corner boys had gone.

'Can you prepare a draft deposition and take it to Broughton this evening?' I asked Barak. 'Then come to chambers tomorrow at nine. Mistress Calfhill is coming in.'

'All right.' He took a deep breath. 'Will you let me know when you get word from Carver?'

'At once.'

Barak went down towards the river, while I turned for home. As I walked along, I thought again about Michael's death. Barak had a nose for foul play.

I passed a dark alley, then jerked upright at a sudden rush of footsteps behind me. I turned quickly but got only a glimpse of young faces and blue robes, before a bag stinking of old vegetables was put over my head. Several pairs of hands seized me, hauling me into the alley. Robbers; like Michael I had carelessly advertised my wealth.

My back was slammed up against a stone wall. Then to my horror I felt hands around my neck, lifting me off the ground. My arms were held firm; my legs kicked helplessly against the stone. I was strangling, hanging. Then a hard youthful voice spoke into my ear.

'Listen to me carefully, master hunchback.'

I gasped, gagged. Little red flashes began to appear in the pitch darkness inside the bag.

'We could have you dead in a minute,' the voice continued. 'Remember that and listen hard. You drop this case, you forget about it. There's people who don't want this matter taken further. Now, tell me you understand.' The pressure at my neck eased, though other hands still gripped my arms hard.

I coughed, managed to gasp a yes.

The hands released me, and I dropped to the muddy ground in a heap, the bag still over my head. By the time I clawed it off they had gone. I lay in the dark alley, taking great sucking breaths to get some air back into my lungs. Then I leaned over and was violently sick.

Chapter Eight

I MADE MY WAY home painfully, pausing occasionally for I felt dizzy. By the time I stumbled through my front door my neck was so swollen it was painful to swallow. I went up to Guy's room. When he answered the door I could scarcely speak, my voice a croak. He made me lie down and applied a poultice, which brought some small relief. I told him I had been robbed, and he gave me a sharp look when he saw my purse was still at my belt; I felt guilty, but I had decided to keep what had happened to myself for now.

Guy told me to lie down and rest, but a short time later there was a knock at my door. Coldiron looked at me curiously as he told me I had a late visitor, Alderman Carver. I told him to show Carver into the parlour. Wearily, I went downstairs.

The set of Carver's plump face told me he had brought no good news. He, too, stared at my neck. 'Forgive my voice, sir,' I croaked. 'I was attacked earlier. Robbers.'

Carver shook his head. 'There are more and more robberies with so many constables away at the war. The times are mad. And I fear I have been unable to get a release for your man Barak.'

'But his wife—'

'I have spoken to Mayor Laxton and he has talked to Goodryke. But he is adamant he wants Barak. He has the bit truly between his teeth; Barak must have sorely annoyed him. Says the King has ordered sharp dealing with impertinence. Laxton said we could appeal to the Privy Council, but they are under orders from the King to veto any softness.'

'And I can't plead for the Queen to intervene with the King. My name has no favour with him.'

'His worship suggested one possible way forward.' Carver raised his eyebrows. 'Deal with the matter by stealth. Perhaps Barak could disappear somewhere for a while. He'll get orders very soon for swearing in.'

'He has already.'

'If he doesn't turn up, it's the council that would be asked to send constables to find him. Well—' he gave a politician's calculating smile—'they need not try too hard. And if he is gone, well . . .'

'But where? Neither Barak nor his wife have any relatives alive. I have some in the Midlands, but Tamasin is seven months gone with child, she could not travel. And what if they come after him later for desertion? It's a capital offence.'