Gideon the Cutpurse (19 page)

* * *

At first Kate had thought that the footpad who had grabbed hold of her was the Tar Man. He was a thickset bristly man with a dirty, gray ponytail. As time went on and she listened to their ill-humored banter, Kate gradually began to work out who was who. In fact, this was Joe Carrick. The Carrick gang was composed of the three Carrick brothers: Joseph, Stammering John, and Will. Joe Carrick seemed to be the leader. He was the youngest, but it was he, above all, whom Kate feared. When Joe looked in her direction, the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. He was aggressive, foulmouthed, and unpredictable: calm and reasonable one moment and ranting and raving over nothing the next. He was the one to keep an eye on. There was also a silent, skulking boy whose name she had not yet managed to catch.
From what she could gather it was the Tar Man who had sent Ned Porter and the footpads to find Gideon Seymour and bring him back to London.
But why,
she asked herself,
hadn't the Tar Man come in person to get Gideon? What hold did he have over these vicious villains who willingly carried out his orders?
Ned Porter appeared none the worse for wear after his short spell in the magistrate's cellar and strutted about in a sky blue jacket with matching silk waistcoat, doubtless acquired from one of the good residents of Lichfield. Ned made it plain that he considered himself a cut above these loutish unshaved footpads. As for the footpads, they, in turn, let him know that they were only here under sufferance because you could not say no to the Tar Man. They made it equally clear that if they did not get their fair share of the pickings, it would be Ned Porter who would suffer the consequences.
"If it is Mr. Seymour that you seek," Parson Ledbury announced, "there is no point dallying here. I do not trust him and have told him so to his face. We have had a falling-out, and he and Master Schock have ridden on to London alone."
The parson is lying to protect Gideon!
thought Kate.
Does that mean he's changed his mind about him?
And then it occurred to her that it could be just to give Gideon and Peter the advantage of surprise when they came back.
When they heard that Gideon had left for London, the footpads were keen to take the loot and the prancers (as they called the horses) and head off back to London themselves. After all, Will commented, it had been over a month since they had seen the inside of the Rose Tavern in Drury Lane. Ned Porter, however, remained unconvinced by the parson's explanation for Gideon's absence.
"Even a man of the cloth is capable of a little deception when it suits him. So you will forgive me, Parson, if we tarry a while in case Mr. Seymour and young Master Schock have a change of heart. For I can scarce believe that they would leave their lovely companion behind--even in such distinguished company."
Here he made a show of bowing to Kate, sliding one leg forward and dropping his gaze to the ground while he fluttered a handkerchief in his right hand. Joe Carrick raised his eyes to heaven in disgust at such affectation.
So the disgruntled footpads threw themselves back on the ground and were obliged to wait while Ned engaged the parson in conversation prior to relieving him of his valuables. Kate wondered how long it would be before the Carrick gang's patience broke. Soon everyone's stomach started to rumble, and since the footpads had not eaten since the previous evening, Stammering John, who was their best shot, was sent off with his catapult to find something tasty for their supper. The boy, who looked older than Peter and Kate but was a good three inches shorter and was all skin and bone, went with him. He had large dark eyes in a mobile face whose expression was one of constant anxiety. His shoulders were hunched up toward his ears as though anticipating the next blow.
It was Stammering John's catapult that put the rooks to flight. Believing them to be birds of ill omen, he had taken a potshot at them as they roosted in the great oak tree. When he and the boy returned with four plump young rabbits, they found that Ned Porter was still lecturing Parson Ledbury. Kate remembered the parson's remark about Ned aping his betters at the magistrate's house in Lichfield, and it suddenly became clear to her how much the parson's insult had got under his skin. The parson refused to respond in any way, a tactic which was, to his great satisfaction, driving Ned wild.
"You are wrong, indeed, to dismiss me as if I were some common thief. If misfortune had not overtaken my family, I should have gone into the professions. I could have been a doctor, or a lawyer, or indeed a parson...."
Joe Carrick gave a loud burp. His two brothers roared with laughter.
"Pardon me, your lordship," he said. "I did not mean to offend your fine sensibilities."
"Give us a s-s-sermon, then, Ned," called out Stammering John.
Ned flew around with such ferocity that even Joe Carrick was taken aback. He grabbed hold of John by the neck and cocked his pistol. The other brothers immediately stood up, but Ned was in no mood to back down. Beefy Will Carrick, who was lame in one leg, stopped skinning the rabbits next to the fire and limped over, holding his bloodstained knife at the ready.
"Those that pitch themselves against Ned Porter only discover their mistake when it's too late." Ned's blazing eyes bore into Stammering John until John dropped his stare. Only then did Ned let go of his collar. Joe motioned the others to sit down.
"Where's this diamond necklace, then, Ned?" asked Will, breaking a long silence and trying to change the subject. "Let's fork him. Look in his jacket."
"Look under his wig, more like," said John, Ned's sidekick, known to the rest as Stinking John to avoid confusion. "That's where he hid it the last time."
With that, Stinking John whisked off the parson's wig, revealing his bristly white scalp. There was no necklace.
"You are an educated man," said Ned to the parson, "and will have as little taste as I for the company I am currently obliged to keep. However, let me offer you some advice in your dealings with these fellows. It will avoid much unpleasantness if you tell us without more ado where you are concealing the necklace and your money. The Carrick gang are not known for their mild manners."
Kate looked at Joe Carrick, who was tapping his foot impatiently.
Oh, tell him! For goodness' sake tell him! They'll find it soon enough anyway!
The parson did not speak and for a moment the only sound was Will Carrick's knife as he skinned and jointed the rabbits. There
is a man,
thought Kate,
who knows how to use a knife.
The parson's internal struggle was evident. It went against everything he held dear to give in to these villains, but it was plainly useless to resist. He glanced over toward Sidney as if by way of apology and then gave a heavy sigh.
"My gold is in a wooden casket with the brandy. Mrs. Byng's necklace you will find in my jacket."
Joe and Will untied the parson so they could get at his jacket. Joe pulled off the parson's jacket and Will pulled down his trousers for good measure. Hannah looked away out of respect, although not before noting with satisfaction that the washerwoman at Baslow Hall had done a fine job with the parson's undergarments. The footpads soon found the necklace, and their mood improved instantly. Joe and Stammering John searched through the chests and cases that were littered around the broken carriage and split open the crate of brandy. Joe took out the bag of gold coins and weighed it in his hand.
"A tidy sum," he said. "I reckon near on fifty guineas, give or take."
"Fifty-seven guineas," admitted the parson through gritted teeth.
"Look how she sparkles," said Will appreciatively, as he examined Mrs. Byng's diamond necklace. "Even after the fence has taken his share, we'll get a king's ransom for this one."
"It's not going to the fence," said Ned. "We've had our orders. The rhino we can share out between us. The necklace is going to the Thief-taker."
Will opened his mouth and shut it again as though he realized that there was no point arguing with Ned.
"The Thief-taker will make it worth our while," said the highwayman, reaching out his hand for the necklace.
Will reluctantly dropped it into Ned's hand, then limped over to Joe and said in a whisper everyone could hear, "We don't have to hand it over. You can tell him we never found it."
"Ay, that was n-n-never part of the b-bargain," said Stammering John.
"Use your head, lads," said Joe, staring at Ned. "Remember Four String. The Thief-taker gets to know everything in the end. One way or another."
Will grunted.
"And remember when Laurence Rose was tried at the Old Bailey," continued Joe, "it was the Thief-taker what paid the straw men to swear he was somewhere else at the time. And they don't come cheap. We might need him one day. That's what he would have us believe, eh, Ned?"
Ned did not reply. Kate looked over at him. He stood on the opposite side of the fire from the footpads, whistling softly as he nudged a large log farther into the flames with the toe of his boot. He seemed as relaxed as if he were on a picnic, but Kate noticed how his hand hovered over his pistol.
"Oi, lads, who wants some of the parson's bingo!" called out Stinking John as he walked over toward the fire carrying three bottles of brandy in each hand, dangling the stems between his fingers. He gave Ned a meaningful wink.
"Bring your cups, boys, this'll keep out the cold. Tom, you keep a lookout. Up the tree with you."
So he's called Tom,
thought Kate. The boy scrabbled up the tree, getting his footing by using the rope that once more bound the parson. Tom wedged himself between the trunk and a low branch and stared out over the fields. Below him Ned, Stinking John, and the footpads sat around the fire and drank, mostly in silence, wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands and spitting into the fire. It was nearly nightfall, and the flames cast a yellowish glow on the villains' faces. Behind them their long shadows stretched into empty darkness.

* * *

"Did you ever see an uglier bunch of men in your whole life," whispered Hannah to Kate. "They're enough to turn milk sour. Though I don't include Ned in that."
"What's a thief-taker?" asked Kate.
"Don't you know that, Mistress Kate? Why, it is someone who recovers property that has been stolen, though mostly for the reward, and sometimes, if it is worth his while, he will hand over the villain too. Though 'tis said that more often than not the thief-takers are worse than the rogues they live off. The magistrates need them and the villains fear them, and the thief-taker plays one off against the other. The one they speak of must be mighty powerful to hold footpads like these in his thrall."

* * *

Will had constructed a make-do spit out of branches, and the smell of roasting rabbit was making the footpads dribble. Now that their attention had shifted for a while from their captives, Kate felt a little easier. The boy, Tom, however, seemed to have his eye on her. Every time she looked up, his gaze met hers before he looked away. Suddenly Kate had an idea. She edged backward deeper into the shadows and half-closed her eyes. She was going to try to blur. What else could she do? Whether she could relax enough in this predicament was a different matter....

* * *

After a while Stinking John nudged Ned and pointed to Will.
"What ails thee?" Ned asked Will.
Will Carrick was weeping into his brandy. "It's on account of Four String George."
"What kind of name is that?" asked Ned. "Who is he?"
"Was," replied Will tearfully. "He was scragged at Tyburn, this April last. We called 'im Four String on account of the colored ribbons he wore at the bottom of his breeches. He was a bingo-boy all right. When he was lappy after a few glasses, he was the merriest man in England. Lord, I do miss him."
The footpad sniffed noisily, and streaks of clean skin appeared where he wiped away the tears. "Give us a wipe, Joe."
His brother threw him a handkerchief that might have been white once.
"The dead are dead, Will," said Joe. "It's the living you've got to worry about."
"He m-m-made a g-g-good show at Tyburn, though, did F-F-Four String," said Stammering John. "He n-n-never showed no fear. The crowd loved 'im. Once J-J-J-Jack Ketch had the noose round his n-n-neck, they pulled on him to g-g-give him an easy end. They honor their own, the Tyburn crowd."
Will cried all the more at the memory of it and soon he and Stammering John were sobbing on each other's shoulders.
"And now he'll be burning in hell and the rest of us will soon be joining him!" said Will between sobs.
"And we'll n-never see our m-m-mother again, who is in heaven, and she'll be waiting all eternity for her d-dear boys to join her," howled Stammering John.
Despite her fear Kate laughed silently in the dark and then forced herself once more to picture the kitchen at her farm in Derbyshire.
"I d-d-dreamed last night that we was d-done for and that all the folk we had ever hurt were c-c-crowding round and a-pushing against us, crushing the v-very breath out of us. P-P-Parson Ledbury, sir, would the Lord forgive men as w-w-wicked as us? Is there any hope for us?"
The parson looked down at them and paused a while before replying. He took a deep breath and, tied up though he was, endeavoured to stand taller.
"It is time," he boomed, resplendent in his underwear and bald head, "that you wretches make your peace with God before it is too late. Our Lord is all-forgiving but for him to forgive, you must repent! Come to me and repent your sins as little children!"
Joe Carrick stood up unsteadily.
"Hold your tongue, Parson. This is no time for Sunday sermons."
The parson's brandy, however, seemed to have released Joe's brothers' appetite for spiritual matters, and they insisted on untying Parson Ledbury so that he might speak to them at his ease.
"Have it your own way," snapped Joe, and he collapsed heavily back down to the ground.
The footpads did indeed sit at the parson's feet like attentive children (except for taking the occasional slug of brandy), and even Tom crept down from the tree to listen. It seemed that the more the parson called them the wickedest wretches in the whole of Christendom, the more they cried but the more they liked it--and no one noticed Kate's form blending into the shadows and finally disappearing into the night altogether.

* * *

As they edged closer to the giant oak tree, keeping the carriage between them and the footpads as much as possible, Peter had the sudden impression that they had come across some sort of traveling circus. He caught glimpses of a circle of upturned faces, illuminated by the fire and transfixed by the comic figure of the parson, wigless and half-dressed, who was making sweeping gestures toward heaven with his powerful arms. And then, on the other side of this little scene, he saw a whole troop of horses, tethered peaceably together for all the world as if awaiting their turn to trot around the ring. All the same, Peter was sure that if any member of this particular audience spotted them, they would be done for.
It was Gideon who first noticed Kate, and he slapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself crying out in fright. He watched as her form slowly settled, and he finally regained enough composure to clap his hand on top of Peter's head and twist it around until the boy's eyes fell on his friend.
"Kate!" shrieked Peter, nearly jumping out of his skin.
"Sshh!" hissed Gideon. "Be quiet, I pray you, we are within earshot."
Kate shook her head violently as though coming out of a dream.
"How did you get here?" said Peter in a loud whisper.
"I blurred, of course," Kate replied.
"That was well done indeed, Mistress Kate," Gideon said softly. "You could not have bettered your timing--although I cannot deny that the sight of you in that terrible state turns my insides to water."
All of a sudden Kate started to thump Peter, banging her fists on his chest. Peter pushed back, bewildered, until Kate's arms dropped to her sides. Tears ran silently down her face.
"What have
I
done to you?" whispered Peter angrily. "Whatever's up, why are you taking it out on me?"
"She cannot help herself, Master Peter. Can you not see how she trembles?"
"Where were you?" Kate asked Peter. "I thought we were all going to die! I thought you'd gone. I thought you'd blurred back to the twenty-first century. Why did you have to go off with Gideon again? You didn't give me a second thought."
"How can you say that? That is so unfair," said Peter.
"Is it? Don't you know what it feels like to be left behind? Isn't that what you say your dad does to you? That's the trouble with being an only child, you don't think about anyone else's feelings."
"It's impossible to ignore your feelings, the amount you cry!"
"In my family letting your feelings out doesn't mean that you can't be brave or strong. I suppose you think that keeping them all bottled up and getting screwed up on the inside is better?"
Outraged, Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Gideon put his hand on Peter's shoulder and said sharply, "This is not the time for arguments. Our companions have need of us."
Some people might actually be pleased that someone is trying to rescue them,
Peter thought furiously.
But not Kate!
"Mistress Kate," Gideon continued. "Is anyone hurt? Do they have the necklace? Tell me everything that has happened."