Lamentation

Stice wiped his face with a bloody sleeve, then looked at the bag which Cecil still held. ‘Maybe they’re lying! Maybe it’s in there!’ He grasped it from Cecil’s arms and upturned it on the ground, dragging the lantern across to examine the contents. I helped him go through them; nothing but spare clothing, a Dutch bible and a purse of coins. He threw the purse down and stood cursing.

‘Search those men!’ he shouted, pointing to McKendrick and the Dutchman. Two of Stice’s men grabbed them and searched them roughly, watched carefully by Cecil and me, then turned back to their master, holding out a couple of purses. ‘Nothing but these!’

‘Examine them!’

The two men opened the drawstrings and bent to look inside. Seizing his moment, the Scotchman suddenly jumped forward and grabbed his sword. Gower was next to him. Taking the big man by surprise, McKendrick lunged at him, thrusting his sword deep into his stomach. With a cry, Gower staggered back into the man next to him, unbalancing him, and the Scot, with an astounding turn of speed for such a big man, ran for the lane, jumping over Leeman’s prone body. Stice’s men ran after him, disappearing into the darkness.

‘By God’s body sacred!’ Cecil shouted out. It was the first outbreak of temper I had seen from him. ‘We’ve lost them all!’ He approached the Dutchman and, to my surprise, addressed him in Flemish. A brief exchange followed before Cecil turned away. ‘He knows nothing,’ he said fiercely. ‘They all belonged to some heretic congregation in Antwerp, came over knowing their friend Vandersteyn had an important book to bring back. This one says there are two more crewmen who will be back from the tavern soon. And we can’t have a diplomatic incident over this.’ He spoke desperately, looking at the four bodies and at Gower, who had fallen to his knees and was gasping as he clutched the wound in his stomach, blood trickling down between his fingers.

The two who had run after McKendrick returned empty-handed. ‘He got away from us, those lanes are pitch-black. The devil knows where he is now.’

‘No!’ We all turned to the Dutchman, who spoke in heavily accented English. ‘God knows where he is. He is God’s servant, unlike you shavelings of the Pope.’ Stice and his men looked at him threateningly; they would have given him a beating, but Cecil called them off sharply. ‘Let him go,’ he said. He looked at the sailor. ‘Run, you, while you can!’

The Dutchman disappeared into the lanes. ‘Search Leeman and Curdy’s bodies,’ Cecil said. ‘Quick, there’s little time.’

‘What for?’ Stice asked. He had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing at his face.

Cecil nodded at the direction in which the Dutchman had fled. ‘In case he’s lying and one of them has the book on his person.’

Barak and Nicholas went over and searched Leeman’s body, while one of Stice’s men searched Curdy’s, Cecil and I standing over him in case a manuscript should be found. But there was nothing on either man, save more purses full of coins for the men’s new life on the Continent. I sighed. Gower had collapsed to the ground now, coughing; Stice went over and knelt beside him. ‘We’ll get you seen to,’ he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

I turned to the body of Cecil’s man. ‘Had he family?’ I asked.

Cecil shook his head. ‘I don’t know. The poor fellow was in Lord Parr’s household.’ He turned to the other man who had come with him. ‘Did you know him?’

‘Only slightly, sir. But he had a wife.’

‘What do we do with the bodies?’ Nicholas asked quietly.

‘Put them in the river,’ Stice answered, standing up. ‘There’s nothing to identify them, and with luck they’ll be carried far downstream before they surface. When the crew return they’ll find the ship gone and they’ll learn about the fight from the one we let go, who’ll be running to them now. But they’ll say nothing, their business was illegal and there’s nothing to lead anyone to us. Get them in the water, now.’

‘Not my man,’ Cecil answered firmly. ‘You heard, he had a wife. My other man and I will have him taken back to Whitehall in a wherry. We owe him that. We can say he was robbed.’

Stice took a deep breath. ‘We’ve got to get Gower to a doctor. He’ll take some carrying to the cart.’

On the next ship the sailor was calling to us in Spanish again — asking questions, by the tone of his voice. Stice turned and shouted, ‘Fuck off!’

‘All right, Stice,’ Barak said briskly. ‘We’ll dispose of these other two; you’re right, if they’re left lying here there’ll be questions.’

Stice nodded agreement. He turned to me, braced his shoulders and said, ‘We have failed, Master Shardlake. Sir Richard Rich will want an accounting for this.’

‘He is not the only one,’ Cecil said.

Stice left his two remaining men carrying the wounded Gower between them. Barak shook his head. ‘Stomach wound like that, doubt he’ll make it.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Well done, Nicholas, for battling with Leeman. He was a powerful fighter.’

Barak smiled. ‘Not was. Is. Come and look. Bring the lamp.’