The Gallows Curse (71 page)

    The air
was heavy with the sweet smoke of the peat fires. Dozens of supper pots bubbled
away in the houses, filling the night with the fragrance of beans, boiled
mutton, salt pork, burnt goatweed, bitter sorrel and sour ale. The savoury
smoke mingled with the piss and dung of human, dog, goose and swine, mixed up
with rotting vegetables and the flyblown offal floating in the gutters.

    Elena
had grown so accustomed to the odours of the brothel, the sweat, the musky oils
and suppurations of sex, that the city stench was as alien to her as a forest
to a lapdog.

    Talbot
said he had found her outside on the street the night of Hugh's murder, but she
didn't remember any of this.

    They
hurried through the alleys of the leather workers, and for a while the smell of
new leather, hemp and beeswax feebly nudged their way through the other
stenches. Unused to walking in the city streets, Elena continually slipped on
the rotting rushes thrown out of the houses and felt the crunch of oyster
shells beneath her feet.

    Eventually
the pair emerged into a broad, straight road, wide enough for carts and wagons
to pass along it.

    'We're
in Mancroft,' Talbot announced, drawing her into the shadow behind some steps.
'Open your cloak, lass, so as they can see the silver hand. But keep your hood
pulled well over your head and if you pass anyone, keep your face down. See,
that way only the silver will catch the light of any lantern and that's what
they'll remember.

    'Now,
you carry on down this street, then the first street you come to on the right,
you go up there. The inn's towards the far end, but you'll not miss it. Look
for the carved mermaid with a dried bush tied to its tail, that's it. Go into
the courtyard round the back, and you'll see wooden steps. Chamber's at the
top.'

    'Aren't
you coming with me?' Elena asked in alarm.

    Talbot
rubbed the bristles on his chin; Elena could hear them rasping against his
rough hand. 'You're supposed to pass as one of the Hebrews. Their women don't
walk with Christian men and no one's ever likely to mistake me for a Jew. For
one thing, their men don't cut their beards. Go on now, and you do it soon as
you get in there, very first chance you get, afore you lose your nerve.'

    The
brief moment of resolve Elena had felt in Ma's chamber had long since
evaporated.

    'I
can't, Talbot. I'll fail, I know I will. I'm not strong enough. You could do
it, please . . . please,' she begged. You've killed men before.'

    'Aye,
and so have you.' Talbot put a hand on her shoulder.

    'It's
got to be you that does it. That cunning woman said it was for the mandrake. If
I do it, it'll not lift the curse.'

    He
bent his head close to hers. His hot breath smelled of raw onions. He pinched
her cheek and there was almost a note of sympathy in his voice.

    'You
seen the other girls, the way they sidle up to a man and run their hand over
his shoulder. Then they open their lips just a little and make to kiss him.
Girl does that to a man and all his defences leave him. That's what you got to
do to Osborn. Then, just as he bends forward to kiss you, you stick the dagger
in and run straight for the door.

    'Now,
go on. Sooner you do it, sooner it'll be over and the safer we'll all be.
Remember, lass, if he finds out you killed his brother, he'll not show you any
mercy. He'll do things to you you can't even imagine, terrible cruel things. If
you want to live, he has to die now, tonight, afore he's the one that's coming
for you.'

    He
pushed her out into the street. Turning, she could just make out his dark
outline standing in the shadows watching her, but only because she knew he was
there. She shivered and walked slowly up the street.

    The
leet of Mancroft appeared to be no different from the rest of the town. The
shutters on the shops were fastened for the night and the market squares were
empty save for dogs and cats scavenging among the bones and rubbish that
clogged the open ditches. A few men passed her, and she remembered to lower her
face, pulling her hood down. Most of the men were clean-shaven, but she could
not help glancing curiously at those with long beards, though unlike the
Christian men, the Jews averted their eyes from her.

    She
turned right as Talbot instructed. The street was much narrower here. The doors
and shutters of the houses were tightly fastened and only the faintest chink of
candlelight glowed through knot-holes here or there. The street seemed even
darker than the thin ribbon of blue-black sky above. She felt trapped, caged
like a beast driven into a tunnel. A black shadow was rolling up the street
behind her like a huge wave, obliterating every spark of light. She began to
run, not knowing what she was running from except that she knew she had to
reach the end of the street before it touched her.

    She
had burst out from between the houses and had run into the wide open market
square before she could force herself to stop. She doubled forward, panting,
grasping her side as a sharp cramp seized her. An old man hurried up to her,
his wispy grey beard rising and falling in the wind as if it breathed on its
own. He glanced at her neck, and she realized he was looking at the silver
amulet.

    'Has
someone hurt you, my daughter?' His eyes showed concern, but there was
weariness in his voice as if it was a question he had been forced to ask many
times.

    She
shook her head.

    He
frowned. 'Let me take you to your home. A young woman should not be walking
alone at night. We are not safe in the streets of our own town any more.'

    He
peered at her more closely. 'Perhaps I know your family? Your father's name,
what is it?'

    She
turned and hurried back the way she had come.

    Your
amulet, daughter,' she heard the old man call behind her, 'you should cover it
on the streets. The goyim, they will see it.'

    As
soon as she re-entered the street, she heard the music. It must have been
playing when she ran past, but only now was she conscious of it spilling out
into the street with a babble of laughter and noise. She glanced up. A carved
wooden figure swayed above her in the wind. A lantern had been hung so as to
illuminate the mermaid, but the shadows it cast only served to make the
creature more fearsome. Her tail and body were covered all over in green
scales, even her menacing, pendulous breasts. Each of the wild tangled locks of
her hair ended in the head of a writhing sea serpent. But it was her face that
was most hideous with its black, hollowed- out eyes like a corpse's left for
the crows to pick at, and lips drawn back in a terrible smile to reveal rows of
needle-sharp teeth.

    Elena
could hardly tear her gaze away, but finally she edged away from the mermaid
and into a courtyard behind the inn. A narrow flight of wooden steps rose from
among a clutter of small shacks and lean-tos. Elena glanced upwards to the
narrow walkway above. A thin arrow of candlelight shafted through the shutter
of the single chamber beyond. He was already there, waiting for her.

    Elena
drew back as a girl emerged from behind the inn. She crossed the courtyard, two
empty flagons trailing in her hands, and disappeared inside one of the wooden
huts. She emerged a few moments later, balancing the brimming flagons on her
hips, in the way a woman might carry young children, as she crossed back to the
inn. As soon as she disappeared through the door, Elena ran for the stairs,
knowing that once she had served her customers the girl might well return to
fetch more ale.

    Elena
made her way Softly up the steep wooden steps, trying not to let them creak.
Her heart was drumming in her temples and her legs were trembling so much she
had to cling to the rail to hold herself upright. She should have used the
mandrake. If she had seen herself do it, then she would know that she could,
but she'd been too afraid to use it. With Raoul and Hugh, she hadn't known that
she would see herself killing them, but she couldn't bring herself to use the
mandrake, knowing what she would see and then have to live through it all
again. Besides, she'd tried to convince herself that this moment would never
actually come. She was sure she would wake and once again find that this was
only a dream.

    Outside
the low door of the chamber she paused, listening. Below and far away music and
raucous laughter trickled out from the inn, but from behind this door was only
a chilling silence. She felt for the dagger, grasping the hilt firmly.
You've
killed two men. You've killed Osborn's brother and that was easy. You can do
this. You're already a murderer, so what does one more death matter? Think of
your son. Think of Athan dangling from a rope. Think of what Osborn will do to
you. She raised her left hand and knocked.

    Raffe
picked his way across the rickety wooden bridge, pausing for a moment to stare
down at the dark water racing under the supports. Beyond the river was a little
cluster of houses, and scattered between them the ruby glow of a dozen cooking
fires. The tanners' homes and workshops were built well away from the castle so
that the wealthier inhabitants of Norwich didn't have to endure the gut-heaving
stench. Even a blind and deaf man would have no trouble at all finding the
tanners' cottages; all he had to do was follow the stink of fermenting dog dung
and rancid fat.

    And
it was for this very reason that Raffe had found lodgings in this quarter for
Martin, or whatever his real name was, for few people, save the tanners
themselves, ventured here unless they had pressing business. Any of John's men
on the lookout for French spies would hang around the inns in the centre of the
city, watching for those who were asking too many questions or seemed not to
know the streets, but who would think of looking among the hovels of the
tanners?

    Around
each of the tiny one-roomed cottages lay large open courtyards. The flames of
the cooking fires in the pits guttered in the darkness. Women waved the
stinging smoke from their eyes as they bent to stir their supper pots, while
their half-naked children played perilous games of hide-and- seek between the
great vats of lime and soaking hides.

    Raffe
counted the courtyards as he walked,
one, two, three, then turn left, two
more then. . .
. He stopped so abruptly he almost lurched backwards into
the wooden hut behind him. For a moment, he thought he must have taken a wrong
turn, but then he recognized the solitary apple tree in the yard. A length of
rope still girdled the trunk where the owner's great lolloping hound had been
tethered.

    But
there was no fire glowing in this yard. No tallow rushes burning in the cottage
window. The door swung open, leaning drunkenly sideways, one of the leather
hinges torn away. The vats were overturned, their deadly soup of fat and lime
leaving a huge glowing white stain on the mud of the yard. Skins had been
chopped from their frames and trampled into the mud, and the stretching frames
themselves had been hacked to kindling. Not a single pot or stick of furniture
that was able to be smashed or broken had been left upright or intact.

    Seeing
the light of a fire in the nearby yard, Raffe hurried across. A woman was
ladling a watery pottage into a wooden bowl. She caught sight of Raffe and,
dropping the ladle, hurried inside yelling. At once two burly youths emerged,
jamming themselves in the narrow doorway as they both struggled to get through
it at the same time.

    They
advanced on Raffe, one holding a long iron rod, the other a hefty wooden
paddle. Raffe raised his hands to show he was not reaching for any weapon, but
he stood his ground.

    'What
d'you want?' growled the youth holding the iron bar.

    Raffe,
still keeping his hands where they could see them, nodded to the wrecked
courtyard. 'I came looking for a friend, but the cottage is empty.'

    'Friend,
is it? Which friend?'

    Raffe
took a gamble. 'The tanner's wife. She is kin to my. .

    He
fumbled in his mind for a non-blood relation, but the young man didn't wait for
him to finish.

    'She's
got a lot of kin all of a sudden.'

    'What
happened here?' Raffe asked. 'Was there an accident?'

    The
youth took another menacing step towards him. 'Weren't no accident. Soldiers
from the castle came just afore dawn. First we knew of it was the hound barking
and the sounds of them smashing their way through the door. Giles was roaring
and Margery screaming fit to cut through stone.'

    Raffe's
heart was hammering in his chest so loudly he thought the two men must surely
hear it. 'Did they arrest them?'