The Constable let out a long, deep breath. ‘I was,’ he began. He was glad to be away from the house. ‘Then Gibton reminded me that all the magistrates are from his class. They’d never let him or his wife swing. They can read, so they’d be able to plead benefit of clergy, if nothing else; they wouldn’t even receive a real sentence.’
‘Aye, I suppose so,’ the deputy agreed reluctantly. ‘So what did you do?’
‘I’ve told them they have until Friday.’
‘To do what?’
‘To decide what they’re going to do to make amends.’ He looked at the deputy. ‘They’re going to punish themselves,’ he explained. ‘Christ, killing your own daughter to keep on receiving money for her. Who could do something like that?’
‘And if they haven’t done anything by Friday?’
‘Then I tell Godlove, and Annie’s parents.’
‘They’d kill them.’
‘I know,’ he answered flatly. ‘I’m not sure they believed me when I said I’d do it, though.’
‘They have a few days to stew on that. Which one do you think did it?’
‘Her,’ Nottingham replied without any hesitation. ‘He told me about her. She really does have bouts of madness. She was in the middle of a very bad spell when Sarah arrived. My guess is Sarah had only come to tell them she was leaving with Will. The mother saw everything collapsing and lashed out with a knife.’
‘Then why did they take her out to the abbey?’
‘I don’t know. They just didn’t want her anywhere near Roundhay. Maybe they weren’t thinking straight. Or they decided that if Sarah was found over there, it would look like she’d never been here. I can’t even pretend to grasp it, John. I’m not sure I want to. Who can understand how they think?’
‘There’s something wrong with folk like that.’
‘True,’ the Constable agreed with a sad shake of his head. ‘One thing about this job is that you find some people who aren’t normal. But I’m not sure I’ve ever come across a pair like these before.’
‘You should have just told Annie’s parents and left it at that.’
‘I thought about it,’ he admitted. ‘But then we’d have more mess to clean up. And those people wouldn’t have judges for friends.’
‘Aye, that makes sense, I suppose.’
They rode on quietly, passing through Harehills, a few cottages and a tavern huddled close round a crossroads.
‘I’ve been thinking. Can you wait until September for more money?’ Nottingham asked.
Sedgwick looked at him quizzically.
‘We’ll have a new mayor then. I’ve met him a few times. He started small, he was apprenticed to a draper. I think he’d give us more to spend.’
‘If he hasn’t gone all high and mighty.’
‘He doesn’t seem to have. Don’t worry, I’ll find you something.’
‘Thanks, boss.’
‘I have to look after you,’ he said with a grin. ‘After all, you’ll have my job one day.’
From what the Constable had said, Lister had expected a quiet day. He didn’t know enough about the job to do much, just to sit, look through papers, and have his thoughts return to the boss’s daughter. She was a pretty girl, with real warmth and joy in her eyes.
It was stupid, he knew that. He shouldn’t be thinking about her. He’d barely even caught a glimpse of her face. But that didn’t stop his mind drifting back to her every few minutes. It would pass, he told himself. He’d take a walk, see another lass with a pretty smile and then she’d be in his head instead.
An hour grated past and he wished he was with the Constable and Sedgwick. They’d said little about why they were going out to Roundhay, but there seemed to be a sense of finality about it, as if they were preparing to settle things.
He was casting about for something, anything to fill the time when the door flew open and the men walked in. There were three of them, all tall and bulky, all of them armed with swords. One turned the key, locking them in, another drew his weapon and gestured Lister to a chair. No one said a word. Rob sat down, watching the blade that was straight and unwavering, the point held close to his chest.
He gazed up at the man’s face for a moment. He was in his twenties, eyes showing nothing, his mouth just a straight line. His clothes were old, the nap of the jacket worn, seams fraying, collar worn smooth, the elbow of his sword arm threadbare.
Rob watched helplessly as the other two took the cell keys from the hook and disappeared down the corridor. He heard the rattle of iron while the third man kept the sword pointing at him. He waited, breathing slowly, trying to memorize everything he saw. If they’d wanted to kill him, he reasoned, they’d have done it immediately. As long as he stayed still and quiet he was probably safe. The man facing him appeared completely calm, his concentration easy and absolute. He was a professional, unafraid.
Had they come to kill Hughes or to free him, he wondered? That was the only question. There was no noise from the cell. He listened carefully for a voice, then caught the scrape of boots.
They came back, the two invaders and Hughes, grinning broadly. He paused, pushing the man’s sword arm away, then hawked and spat in Lister’s face before laughing.
As silently as they came, the men unlocked the door and left.
He sat for a full five minutes before moving. His heart was thumping and sweat trickled cold down his spine. He couldn’t have done anything, he told himself over and over, hoping against hope that the Constable would believe him when he returned.
He walked down the corridor, a prickle of fear on his neck. The keys were still in the lock, the door to the cell gaping open.
It seemed impossible that anyone would have dared do this, to walk into the jail and free one of the prisoners. He sat in the chair again, each moment sharp and fixed in his mind. Only now, as it all played through again in his head, did the terror really begin to rise.
The boss wouldn’t keep him on after this. He’d think that he’d helped them take Hughes, that he couldn’t be trusted. But if he’d tried to stop them, he’d have died; he knew that. They’d have killed him without a second thought. He looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking violently. The tremor began to move through his body, beyond his control, unstoppable.
It had only just passed by the time the Constable and Sedgwick came in. He’d drunk a mug of ale, spilling part of it on the desk, and was beginning to feel a little calmer.
‘By God, you look pale, lad,’ the deputy said jokingly. ‘That blow the other night must have been worse than I thought.’
‘Hughes,’ Lister began, then hung his head. He could feel shameful tears beginning to form in his eyes and he tried to blink them away.
‘Rob?’ Nottingham asked with concern. ‘What’s happened?’
Sedgwick dashed down the corridor, and he looked up to see him return, shaking his head.
Slowly he recounted it all, every detail, feeling ashamed, the image of the big, cold man with the sword growing larger in his mind and Hughes’s spittle still burning on his cheek so that he tried to paw it away.
‘I couldn’t stop them, boss,’ he explained desperately.
‘You did exactly the right thing,’ the Constable assured him. ‘There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity. John?’
‘Yes, boss?’
‘Go and get as many of the men as you can find and bring them back here. Make sure they’re armed.’
After the deputy had left, Nottingham put a hand on Lister’s shoulder.
‘I meant it, Rob. They were going to take him either way, and you’re a lot more use to me alive than dead. If you want some revenge, you’ll have it in a little while.’ He pulled a pistol from the drawer, checked, loaded and primed the piece before sliding it into his coat pocket. ‘Have you ever used a weapon?’
‘I had a fencing master for a few months when I was younger.’
The Constable raised his eyebrows.
‘I wasn’t very good,’ Rob admitted wryly. ‘My father decided it wasn’t worth the cost.’
Nottingham chuckled. ‘That’s a real Yorkshireman for you, always after value for money. Never mind, at least
