good; now it was a blocked-up jakes of a place again. They had to get out of here and quick.
Parsimony’s fist came smashing down in the center of her face. Starling just managed to turn her head sideways before the blow struck or her nose would have been broken for certain. But it hurt. It really hurt. Parsimony hit like a man.
“All right!” she screamed.
“All right what?”
“All right, I’ll show you where the fucking gold is.”
“Yeah? And what fucking gold would that be?”
“You know what gold. Cogg’s gold. We’ll split it three ways. You, me, and Alice.”
Parsimony sat back at the end of the hard bed. “Let me think now. Is that a good deal for me? By my reckoning you’ll be lucky if I don’t turn you in. Because if I did, your chicken neck would be in the halter at Tyburn scaffold before morning and I’d be there cheering the hangman on. The way I see it, you owe me, Starling Day. You owe me your very life. So it’s three-quarters for me. You and Alice can share the rest any way you like.”
“But I never killed Cogg!”
“No? Looks like it to me and I reckon the Justice might agree. Dead body found in barrel; deceased’s worldly wealth found in possession of Starling Day. How’s that going to sound to a jury?”
“All right, all right. Half to you. But you won’t get nothing if you turn me in or if you do for me. Now just untie me. Please, Parsimony. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Cogg. But I saw who done it.”
“I’ll think about that, Starling Day. I will. I’ll give that a lot of thought. But first I’m going to get meself some nice breakfast. How does that sound to you?” Parsimony stood and turned toward the door.
Starling panicked. The thought of being left here like this was too awful. “No-wait. Why don’t we just go and collect the treasure now, eh? There’s loads of it, Parsey, plenty for all of us. It’s like he plundered a Spanish galleon or something.”
“Yeah? Let me think about it.”
Starling wanted to be sick again. She writhed on the bed.
“I know,” said Parsimony. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you tell me where the gold is and I’ll go and get it? Then when I’ve got it, I can untie you. Does that sound fair?”
“Parsimony, I’m begging you! I can’t stand this a moment longer. I’ll be fit for Bedlam if you leave me like this.”
“Simple then, isn’t it, dove? The sooner you tell me where to look, the sooner you’ll be a free woman.”
Starling Day may have been at the end of her tether but she knew that if she told Parsimony how to get Cogg’s jewels, she’d never let her go. She’d either kill her herself or lay information with the constable to set her on to the road to the gallows.
“You got to set me free first, Parsey. I can’t tell you nothing tied up like this. And where’s my cousin?”
“Oh, don’t worry about her, my dove. She’s having a lovely sleep upstairs.”
The words chilled Starling. “You haven’t done nothing to her, have you, Parsey?”
Parsimony’s mouth was set hard. “What if I had? It’d mean more for you and me, wouldn’t it?”
“Do you know what, Bully…”
“Mr. Bull, please, Denis.”
“Do you know what, Mr. Bull? Last summer I worked killing dogs when the weather got hot.”
“I didn’t know that, Denis.”
“I hated that line of work, Mr. Bull. We rounded ’em up every day by order of the City corporation and then did away with them any way we could: drowning, strangling, cutting their throats, smacking their heads between stones. I understand it’s necessary because they carries the plague, but I didn’t like killing dogs.”
“A job’s a job, Denis.”
“You’re right, of course, but I was brought up with dogs. Good creatures. I always trained ’em good, too, to get rabbits and hares for the pot.”
Simon Bull looked at the boy and shook his head. They were dressed the part now, standing all in black with butcher’s aprons and masks, strong like proper headsmen, their muscles rippling. Bull’s enormous hands rested gently on the haft of the long-handled axe. He knew he was a terrifying sight; he had stood long hours in front of the looking glass perfecting the pose. Best that way; if the intended wasn’t intimidated, all sorts of trouble could ensue. Once he’d had to chase a young noble all round the scaffold, trying to catch him, like a farmwife after a fowl. A nasty business, that; bits of body all over the place, blood everywhere. Today would be easier.
They were at the side of the black velvet-draped platform. It had been hastily erected, the hammering reverberating around the hall these past two days in preparation for this blood-drenched little ritual.
“We’ve been here more than three hours now, Mr. Bull. I’d have had more breakfast if I’d known I’d still be here at ten o’clock.”
“We’ll sup again soon enough, Denis.”
There was a murmur and they turned. Mary, the Scots devil herself, came in, dressed in black velvet, her head held high. Behind her, weeping, walked six chosen attendants in pairs, three men and three women.
“One of the dogs, a mastiff it was, looked at me with these sad eyes, Mr. Bull-”
“Shh, Denis, not now,” Bull said in a low voice as the murmur of the two hundred people in the hall subsided. They were a strange, solemn bunch, some shuffling awkwardly, others standing stock-still. Steam rose from their rain-drenched riding clothes as the fire in the hearth roared out its scorching heat. Their eyes were all fixed to the front, straining to make out the features of the black-clad woman against the black backdrop of the stage as she climbed the steps. Armor-clad halberdiers guarded her and supported her at each elbow. She took her place in the black-draped chair that had been placed there just for her. Bull’s eyes followed her. He didn’t look at her face but rather her apparel and the things she carried. There would be good money there. She held an ivory cross and at her throat was a chain of beads attached to a cross of gold. At her waist, she wore a rosary. Her clothes were dark and somber, but they had quality and would fetch him a good price. The black velvet gown could be cut into small fragments, squares of an inch or two, to be sold as relics. On her head she wore a cap of white cambric, trailing a white linen veil. Such things would sell very well. Even her kerchief, a burnished yellow that seemed to glint in the firelight, would fetch a pound or two. His man in Cheapside would pay him a pretty penny; the Papists would give well over the true value to get their hands on such items.
Mr. Beale, the Clerk to the Council, who had traveled up here to Northamptonshire with Bull, Picket, and Walsingham’s servant George Digby, read out the warrant citing the condemned’s conviction for high treason and conspiracy against the person of Her Majesty. Then Shrewsbury took over the proceedings. “Madam, you hear what we are commanded to do?”
“Do your duty,” Mary replied in a quiet voice that quavered only slightly. “I die for my religion.”
Denis had an itch on his nose and scratched it. His back ached from all this standing around and his stomach was a hollow pit that needed filling. He just wished they would cease all the chatter and get on with it, but then some vicar or bishop got up and started speaking, while the condemned droned on in Latin.
At last Mary slipped from her chair onto her knees, and her rising voice cut the Dean of Peterborough short. “I shall die as I have lived, in the true and Holy Catholic faith. All your prayers can avail me but little.” She held her ivory cross above her head and called on God to convert England to the true faith and for Catholics to stand firm.
She seemed disinclined to cease her ramblings, praying for En gland, for Elizabeth, for the Church of Rome. Bull nudged Picket and spoke quietly in his ear. “This is it, lad. Let’s speed things up a bit.”
Together they stepped forward and knelt down in front of Mary in the time-honored tradition and asked for forgiveness for what they were about to do. She readily gave them absolution. “I forgive you with all my heart,” she said firmly. “For I hope this death shall give me an end to all my troubles.”
Bull rose from his knees and started to remove her gown. She shied away from him, then seemed to laugh, maiden-like, saying, “Let me do this. I understand this business better than you. I never had such a groom in my chamber.”
Bull backed away. No matter. If the lady wanted to be coy with him, that was her choice. The clothes would all come to him anyway. Two of her three ladies took over now, fluttering and weeping as their dainty hands undid her stays and removed her black gown to reveal her satin underbodice and kirtle, all crimson like a wound. There seemed to be a gasp from the witnesses of the hall, but perhaps it was the soughing of the wind in the chimney.
