Liars and Thieves (A Company of Liars short story) (6 page)

BOOK: Liars and Thieves (A Company of Liars short story)
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There was no way to remove Holy Jack’s corpse from the gullet, for the pit was so deep that in spite of the rain, the water level was still twice a man’s height below the edge. If Jack’s body had not been caught on one of the gas-bloated corpses, it would have sunk in the suppurating liquid and we would never have known he was dead. Not even Pecker could remember how many corpses lay rotting down there. Pecker and Dye were certain it was Jack’s own dagger protruding from his back. The question was – who had plunged it in there?

As soon as she saw the body floating in the pit, Dye flew at Pecker, pounding him with her fists and scratching at his face.

‘What did you have to kill him for? He’s been a good friend to us, the best!’

Pecker caught her wrists, shoving her away. ‘I never touched him. Been looking for him, haven’t I? Why would I do that if I’d known he was in there?’

Dye glared at him sullenly. It was plain she didn’t believe him, nor, judging by their baleful looks, did the rest of our little company. But I wondered. Pecker had seemed as genuinely shocked as the rest of us when he saw Holy Jack’s body in the water. He had killed a great many men, but perhaps this was one murder of which he was innocent.

But if Pecker hadn’t killed him in a fit of jealously, who had? No one else had a reason to, unless Jack had stolen the stone and now someone had stolen it from him. Weasel? He was still out there in the forest, as was Zophiel, and it was Zophiel who’d known about the power of the stone. But would he really kill for it?

What about the rest of us? Jofre believed his mother had died of the pestilence in Venice. Was the boy so terrified of the fever that he’d kill for the cure that might save him? I found my gaze straying to Osmond. He’d fight a dragon with his bare hands to defend his beloved Adela from harm. Would he commit murder for her?

The same thoughts had evidently been occupying Pecker as we trailed silently back to the camp. He crouched down over the fire pit, rubbing his hands over the blaze.

‘One of yous must have seen Jack take the stone and reckoned to have it for yourself. Only thing that makes sense. Unless his Highness took it. He’s not shown himself.’

‘You also have a man who is missing,’ Rodrigo growled. ‘His trade is robbery and murder. Why do you not go after him?’

‘Weasel could steal the grunt from a pig,’ Dye said, scowling. ‘But he don’t kill, never has. Can’t bring himself to do it. ’Sides, he wouldn’t have to. If he’d wanted to get the stone, he could have taken it without Jack even knowing he’d been touched.’

Pecker nodded towards Narigorm, who alone still seemed to have an appetite and was digging into the cooking pot, hunting for fragments of flesh.

‘She can tell us who stole it. She can read it in her runes. If it was one of you  . . .’ He left the threat hanging in the air, but I knew he was thinking that the gullet would soon be swallowing another victim.

Narigorm did not look up, but I caught the faint ghost of a smile on her face. I knew she must not be allowed to do this. She would make worse mischief, and she had already done enough harm last night.

‘But if the child said it was Weasel, you wouldn’t believe her,’ I said. ‘She’s one of us. How would you know she’s not lying?’

I could feel Narigorm’s fury burning into me like a wasp’s sting. I’d been right. She was planning something. I felt a tiny surge of triumph that I had thwarted her.

Dye nodded, scowling.

‘Can’t trust the brat. Look at that white hair of hers. It’s not natural. Looks like a ghost-child. I reckon she’s a changeling.’

Dye had evidently not forgotten, or forgiven, Narigorm’s performance the night before. ‘In the village where I was raised,’ she continued, ‘if something went missing, they put a black cockerel under a pail and every person who was suspected took turns to lay their hand on the pail. Cock crowed when the thief touched the pail.’

‘You got a black cock hidden somewhere, have you?’ Pecker said acidly, making a show of staring round the ruins. ’Cause last cock I seen ended up in that cooking pot and that were three moons since. But maybe if the thief puts his hand to that pot it’ll spring out alive and start crowing.’

Adela glanced at Osmond.

‘I heard  . . .’ she began, then trailed away, staring down at her hands.

‘What?’ Pecker demanded. ‘Cough it up.’

‘Someone  . . . told me that if you draw an eye on a wall and everyone turns their backs while a nail is driven into it, then the guilty one will feel a sharp pain in their eye and cry out  . . . Osmond could draw  . . . He’s a fine artist.’

‘What colour eye?’ Pecker asked suspiciously. ‘’Cause if it were blue and the thief’s eyes were brown, he’d not cry out.’

‘If he draws it in charcoal,’ I said, ‘it would work on anyone.’

A grin spread across Pecker’s face.

‘Best make sure it’s a right eye he draws then. You don’t have a left ’un, old man, and if you’re the thief I don’t want you cheating your way out ’cause you can’t feel the nail.’

I returned the grin, knowing there was neither mockery nor pity in his words, for I guessed we’d both suffered under the scourge of those twins.

I had no fear of this test. I was certain that even if one among us had taken the stone, not even guilt would cause them to cry out. But it would at least ensure Narigorm could do no more harm.

Osmond spent a long time selecting exactly the right piece of charred wood from the fire and even longer drawing an eye on the grey-white stones of the ruined wall, taking as much care as if he was drawing the eye of God on a church wall. His face took on a faraway look and I sensed it had been so many moons since he’d had the joy of drawing anything that he couldn’t bear to stop. Pecker hunted for an iron horseshoe nail among his stolen treasures and a rock with which to hammer it in.

When Osmond was finally satisfied his honour as an artist had been upheld, he turned back to us, holding his hand out for the nail, but Pecker grasped it tightly.

‘You’re as likely to be the thief as any here.’ He jerked the nail towards Adela. ‘You get back there with your wife and all of you turn about.’

Adela clutched Osmond’s hand. She looked terrified and the awful thought struck me that perhaps Osmond was guilty and she knew it. I was afraid Adela was so tense and scared she’d cry out herself. I glanced at the others. Rodrigo’s expression gave nothing away, but Jofre too looked anxious and his hand kept straying to his eyes, as if he was trying to defend himself from a blow. Silence descended on the group. We listened, hearing only the wind in the branches and the drip, drip of water falling from twigs into the puddles below.

The ring of iron hitting stone shattered the silence, but at the same instant there was a sharp cry. We all turned. Dye was bending over, her hand pressed to the right side of her face, covering her eye. The nail and rock fell from Pecker’s hand with a clatter onto the stones. In one bound he was behind her, twisting her arm up her back and grabbing her around the throat with the other hand.

‘The brat said
treachery
,’ he growled. ‘I thought she was telling me what you’d done, but she was warning me what you would do.’

Dye was choking, scarlet in the face as his fingers tightened about her slender neck. She was struggling to speak, but no one could make out her words. All of us were too stunned to move. Pecker began pushing her away from the camp. Our little band gaped at one another.

‘We have to go after them,’ I urged. ‘He’ll kill her!’

My words surprised even me. Why should I care what became of an outlaw? But I’d seen the pain in Dye’s eyes when she’d spoken of her lost child and knew she was only what others had made her, as were we all.

‘It’s between them,’ Osmond said. He had his arm around Adela, holding her close and trying to stop her shaking. ‘They’re thieves, leave them to it. If they’re busy killing each other, it gives us a chance to get away from them, find the wagon and the others.’

‘You go,’ Rodrigo said. ‘Get Adela to the wagon. I will go after Dye. Camelot is right. She is a woman. She cannot fight him.’

‘From what I’ve seen,’ a voice said coldly, ‘that woman can fight better than most men and kill too. If he murders her, it will be nothing less than she deserves.’

Zophiel emerged from behind the wall, dirty and dishevelled, but he had managed to free himself from his bonds.

‘Where have you been hiding?’ Osmond demanded.

‘Not
hiding
,’ Zophiel spat. ‘Merely keeping out of sight until the opportunity presented itself to rescue you. Though why I should bother, I don’t know, since you could all have easily slipped away last night.’

‘If Adela had fallen in the dark—’

‘Ah yes, once again we must all risk our lives for that woman and her unborn brat. If you ask me, it would be as well for the child if it
did
die in the womb. At least then it would be spared the tender mercies of its half-witted parents.’

‘No one is asking you,’ Osmond said, taking a step towards him, scarlet with rage, but Adela, hanging on his arm, held him back.

A shriek of fear rang out somewhere beyond the camp.

‘Dye! You must help her, Osmond. You must,’ Adela begged.

Rodrigo lumbered off in the direction of the sound, Jofre sprinting after him. Osmond, still scowling, followed. I was hurrying after them when a flash of white made me glance down. I had forgotten about our little mouse, or should I say cat? Narigorm was squatting on the ground, bouncing two small sharp pebbles in her hand.

I followed the sounds of the running feet ahead. When I emerged through the trees, I found myself staring at the backs of Rodrigo, Jofre and Osmond. They had stopped a few yards away from Pecker, and I could see why. Pecker still had Dye in his grip, but they were standing on the very edge of the gullet. He was facing her, gripping her by the upper arms and bending her backwards over the stinking water where Holy Jack’s body still floated.

‘Tell me! Tell me!’ he yelled. ‘Where’s that fecking stone? If you don’t give it to me, I swear you’ll be joining your lover down there.’

Dye was wide-eyed with fear, but plainly afraid to struggle in case she slipped from his fingers and fell. ‘I didn’t take it! I told you, something flew at me, hit me in the face. That’s what made me cry out. I can still feel the mark. See!’

‘Yes, the mark of the nail!’ Pecker spat. ‘But I’m a fair man, not like those justices who marked me. I’m going to give you another chance to prove your innocence. I’m going to swim you. If you sink, I’ll believe you’re as innocent as the dew from the moon. Can’t be fairer than that, can I? Go on, jump in with your dead lover. Prove to me how innocent you really are.’

Suddenly, I understood what Narigorm had done.

‘Let her go, Pecker,’ I shouted. ‘She’s speaking the truth. Narigorm threw a stone at her as you drove the nail in, that’s why she cried out.’

Pecker briefly turned his head. ‘And why should the brat do that, old man? She told the truth about Dye last night, right enough. The woman’s a whore and a murderer. She stabbed her own husband while he slept, did you know that?’

He had relaxed his grip slightly on Dye, who managed to pull herself upright, though he was still holding her right on the edge of the pit.

‘I told you about that myself, you bastard. Told you he beat me, till I couldn’t take no more. I stabbed him when he’d fallen into a drunken stupor ’cause I knew he’d never let me go. He’d have killed me if I hadn’t.’

‘So you say,’ Pecker growled. ‘For all I know, he was some meek little worm that was stupid enough to trust you, same as I did, and poor old Jack there. I should have beaten you myself. Maybe then you’d have learned—’

He broke off, staring at something among the trees on the other side of the gullet, his eyes widening in fear. A man was walking towards us, out of the grey mist of rain, and that man was unmistakably Holy Jack.

Pecker stared at him and then down into the gullet. He lifted his hands as if he was warding off an avenging ghost. As he let go of Dye, she teetered backwards on the very edge of the pit. We stared at her, certain she was going to fall, but in one desperate effort she flung herself forward, knocking against Pecker as she sprawled face down on the grass. Pecker tried in vain to right himself, but his foot slipped over the edge of the gullet. The ground was too muddy for him to get a purchase and with a howl he plunged down into the pit. We heard the great splash. All three of us rushed forward, as Dye crawled on her hands and knees away from the edge and collapsed into the mud.

Pecker was shrieking for help and flailing wildly in the water. It was evident he couldn’t swim and even if he could have struck out for the side, nothing save a lizard could have crawled up those sheer rocks. Someone pushed me aside. It was Dye. She had snatched up a fallen branch. She flopped down on her belly and, lying flat on the ground, she thrust the branch down towards Pecker as far as she could reach.

‘Grab it, Pecker!’ she urged. ‘Reach for it! I’ll get you out. I won’t let you drown, I won’t!’

She was stretching as far down as she could, holding the unwieldy branch out with every grain of strength she had, but it was futile. Even if the branch had been twice as long, she could not have reached him, for he was so far below her.

Pecker splashed frantically, trying to bob upwards and grasp the branch, but each effort only sent him down under the filthy water. He’d rise again, choking, only to sink once more.

‘Hold on, Pecker,’ Dye begged. ‘Here, wait, I’ll take off my hose  . . . tie them to the branch.’

She pulled the branch back and made to wrench off her boots, but I grabbed her.

‘It’s no use, Dye. You’ll never reach him that way, not without a long rope and—’

‘I’ll get one. I’ll be back, Pecker. Hold on. Hold on!’

She tore herself from my grip and raced off in the direction of the camp. I heard her crashing through the bushes.

Pecker’s strength was failing fast. He made a wild grab for the only solid thing he could feel, the corpse of what we’d thought was Holy Jack. As Pecker seized a handful of his rags, the body slowly rolled over in the water, and we saw the sightless eyes of Weasel staring up at us.

BOOK: Liars and Thieves (A Company of Liars short story)
4.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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