The Good Thief (25 page)

Tom pulled off his coat, threw it onto the ground, and stumbled into a chair. Ren had never seen him so far gone. He could barely walk, and it was hard to imagine how he had made it all the way to Saint Anthony’s, never mind what he had said to Father John to get the boys. Then Ren remembered what Brother Joseph had said about Brom and Ichy—that no one would ever adopt them—and he knew that Saint Anthony’s had handed over the twins as easily as they had given him to Benjamin.

Tom fished for a soggy bag of tobacco and threw it on the table. From his other pocket he took out a bottle. “They’re his fellows.” Tom pounded his fist on the table. “A boy needs his fellows.”

“We’re sending them back,” said Benjamin. “Tonight.”

“I’m their father,” Tom said.

“Don’t be a fool.”

“You’ve got Ren.”

Benjamin walked to where Brom and Ichy were huddled together. One by one he took hold of their chins and pulled the boys forward into the light. Benjamin shook his head in disbelief. He threw his arms up in the air. “Twins! Bad luck’s going to follow us now, I can feel it.”

Brom and Ichy had been crying. Their eyes were red, their faces bleary. Ren hooked his friends by the elbow and pulled them round the corner, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. The twins followed him blindly, too exhausted to ask questions. They seemed somehow younger than the boys he had left, more like children, even though they were nearly his age. Ren was grateful to see them, and as soon as they were alone, he threw his arms around them both.

“He told us he was bringing us to you,” said Brom. “But we couldn’t be sure of anything.” He looked thin and pale. “Ichy didn’t want to come.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t. He hid in the garden and he wouldn’t get his things. And then he cried all the way on the road. And Papa got furious, and said he’d strangle us both if Ichy didn’t stop.”

“He told us to call him Papa.”

“He said he’d strangle us if we didn’t do that, too.”

Ichy took hold of Ren’s jacket. “Do you think he’ll really strangle us?”

Ren knew that his friends had already been scared enough, so he decided to do what Mrs. Sands would have done, if she had been there. He found some water so the twins could wash their hands and faces. From the landlady’s room he took some nightgowns and some extra quilts. The boys got changed quickly, peeling off their muddy clothes and then crawling into bed together, pulling the blankets around them.

“He took our rocks.”

“He threw them away on the road.”

“He told us that Father John was a cheat.”

“And he said that God didn’t exist.”

The mattress beneath them began to tremble. The twins looked at each other, uncertain. Then the bed itself suddenly shifted, lifting from the ground for a moment, floating back and forth in the air, and then settling back on its legs. Ichy screamed and Brom gripped the bedpost.

“It’s only Dolly,” Ren said. “The bed moves when he rolls over.”

The twins peered over the edge. Dolly was underneath, still in his monk’s robe, his mouth open and his chest rising and falling against the mattress.

“Where did you get him?” Brom asked.

Ren hesitated. “We found him on the road.”

Ichy reached down and nudged Dolly with his finger. “Why does he sleep under there?”

“He just likes it, I guess.”

Tom’s voice came shouting up from below. There was the sound of a dish breaking and a chair being thrown over. The twins looked anxiously at Ren.

“This isn’t what we thought it would be like at all.”

“Do you think he’ll bring us back if we ask him to?”

“You could come with us.”

Ren thought of his life at Saint Anthony’s. Of Brother Joseph and Father John, and being scrubbed by the charitable grandmothers, and waking each morning in the small boys’ room. He remembered the letter he’d written, that first night alone in the basement. He’d never mailed it. But he saw now that it was just what the boys needed—good news.

Ren showed them his new clothes, the drowned boy’s jacket and trousers, how well they had been mended, the long underwear inside, the socks darned with care. He described Mrs. Sands’s breakfasts, full of muffins and fresh milk and eggs and bacon and sausages, with second helpings and thirds, too, if they wanted. He talked about going to bars and being given whiskey to drink, and staying up as late as he wanted. Then he remembered the toys that the dwarf had made. Ren sneaked out of the room and came back with an armful, dumping them like an avalanche of presents across the bed.

The boys were too old for playthings, but all the fear and exhaustion left the twins’ faces as they looked over the intricately carved wooden pieces. They lifted toy after toy and passed them back and forth, petting the little pigs, opening and closing the mouths of the fish, dancing the marionette across the headboard. Ichy tried on the mask of the moon and stood by the window, saying, “I’m the full moon!” Then, turning to his side: “Now I’m the half-moon!”

Ren watched his friends play but felt no inclination to join them. He remembered the broken soldier they’d shared, still resting somewhere at the bottom of the well, underneath all that water. No one even knew he was there, except for the three boys in this room.

Ichy was standing on his toes, trying to get a look at himself in the mirror. The moon mask was too large for his face. His eye was peering out where the nose should be. On the other side of the room Brom bit his lip in concentration and rode the Viking ships across the blankets, arranging the quilts into the ripples of the ocean. There was a storm ahead, a tidal wave coming. He lifted the end of the sheet and sent all the ships rolling.

T
he frogs were out. Earlier it had rained, and now as the wagon passed the marshes in the dark, there was a chorus of syncopated croaking. Benjamin sat in the driver’s seat, a lantern balanced on the floor. Tom was beside him and Dolly and the boys were in the back, clinging to the sides as they bounced over holes in the rocky path. The horse strained through the night against the weight of them all. Every half-mile she stopped, as if she had given up completely. Benjamin flicked the whip, and the mare trudged on.

“Where are we going?” Ichy whispered.

Ren glanced at Benjamin and Tom, their shoulders hunched together in the darkness. “Fishing,” he said.

The wagon crossed a covered bridge that groaned and creaked and seemed to take forever to end. When they emerged on the other side they turned south. The country here was full of swamps and wetland. Ren kept an eye on Brom and Ichy, their faces half-scared and half-exhilarated, and thought of how far they’d come from Saint Anthony’s. He slipped his fingers into his pocket and felt the edge of his collar. He carried it with him everywhere now, as if the three blue letters of his name could protect him from the rest of the world.

The trees by the river gave way to open, rolling fields. Split fences marked the boundaries between farms. Occasionally a light shone from a house nearby. Brom and Ichy whispered to each other and peered at Dolly, propped up beside them and sleeping. Tom was leaning near the edge of the driver’s seat, his face pale and hungover. The wagon went over a bump and he moaned.

“It’s your own fault,” said Benjamin.

“Don’t talk to me,” said Tom.

“You’re going to slow us down.”

“I’ll be fine. Just stop talking.”

It had taken most of the day and night for Tom to sober up. When he did, he stumbled out into Mrs. Sands’s garden and spent several hours curled beside a giant rosemary bush. The twins watched him from the window, biting their lips with worry. Ren looked at their worn-out shoes, their ill-fitting coats tied together with string. They did not know where they were headed, and Ren was not going to warn them.

When they reached the churchyard, there was no watchtower, no iron gate, no lock to pick. The graves were in an open field, unprotected, surrounded only by a low stone wall and a simple wooden stile to keep out wandering cows.

Benjamin pulled the wagon to a stop.

The wind picked up, the leaves rustling overhead. Tom slipped off the side of the cart with a pained expression. He took the lantern and one of the shovels and stepped over the wall, cutting his way through the damp grass. The twins scrambled out of the back, then stood by the side of the road. They looked from Ren to the graveyard and back again.

Benjamin tied the reins of the horse to a tree and began to unload the burlap bags from the wagon. He nodded at Dolly. “Wake him.”

Ren pinched Dolly’s hand. The man opened his eyes and climbed unsteadily out of the cart. Benjamin handed him a shovel.

“Time to pay us back.”

The spade looked like a toy in Dolly’s hands. He wrinkled his brow.

“Please,” said Ren. “We need your help.”

As soon as the boy spoke, Dolly’s indecision cleared. He gripped the shovel as if he would break it. “Just show me where.”

The men went over the stile, Benjamin leading the way. As soon as they were gone, Ren crouched by the wagon, pretending to fix something so he would not have to face his friends, but the twins were behind him in an instant.

“What are we doing here?”

“You lied to us.”

Brom grabbed Ren as if he could force the answers from him, but Ren pushed him off.

“Now you know,” he said.

There was a shout from the graveyard. Benjamin was calling Ren’s name. The boys were startled out of their argument and hurried over the stile. They found the shovels on the ground and Dolly holding Benjamin up against a tree.

“For Christ’s sake.” Benjamin was dangling from the front of his new blue coat. He swung his legs, he slapped at the air, but Dolly would not let go.

“Put him down!” Ren cried.

“I’m not digging up the dead,” said Dolly. “Not for you. Not for anybody.”

The jacket slipped and Dolly pressed harder into the tree, his hands moving to Benjamin’s throat. Ren threw himself onto Dolly’s arm. He swung his weight down, but the arm held steady, as if it were the branch of a tree.

“Listen.” Benjamin’s voice was a whisper. “Listen.”

Out of the mist Tom appeared, the heavy iron spade over his shoulder. He came up silently behind Dolly, swung wide, and hit him in the head with the shovel. Dolly stood there for a moment, twitching, and then he crumpled, taking Benjamin with him, his body hitting the earth like a clap of thunder.

“Get him off,” Benjamin cursed. Tom and the boys rushed over. They rolled Dolly clear of Benjamin’s legs.

Ren pinched Dolly’s hand again. He called his name. When Dolly didn’t respond, Ren brought his ear to his mouth and listened. After a few moments he heard a bit of air, a low sound, like the wind coming off the water.

Tom leaned in. “His headache’s going to be worse than mine.”

“You didn’t have to hit him,” Ren said.

“Really,” said Tom. “And can you think of a better way to stop him from strangling people?”

The group stood around Dolly in the darkness, listening to his labored breathing. Ren and the twins struggled to lean him up against the tree. Dolly was still unconscious, his head against the bark, his knees peeking out from beneath his robe.

“We’ll never finish without him.” Benjamin crouched down in the grass. He tugged at his hair. Then he looked at the boys, and every part of his face seemed to sharpen. He took Dolly’s shovel and put it in Ren’s hand. The wooden handle was rough from being left in the weather.

Benjamin corralled the twins and pushed them toward the graves. “Look for the markers,” he said. “We need to be gone before the sun comes up.”

The headstones in the center of the yard were made of slate, long black shards jutting from the ground. To the side there were some made of marble, with urns and angels looking down in grief at the names and weeping. Benjamin pointed to the farthest corner. “I put white stones at the base of each one,” he said. “You should be able to see them in the dark.”

Tom set to work digging along the row. For that’s what it was, Ren could see now—a row of freshly turned graves. There were four plots. Two medium-sized crosses, and two smaller ones. The bartender and his family.

“Get the old man first.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” Tom was already ankle deep. He was breathing heavily, his face slowly gaining color as he worked.

Benjamin led the boys toward a cross farther down the row. “Don’t clear the whole grave. We only need to reach the head of the box.”

Ren walked over in a daze, the spade dragging behind him. At the bottom of the cross was a piece of clear quartz. He picked it up and ran his thumb across the surface. The corners were soft, with tiny iridescent flecks that sparkled in his hand. He closed his fingers around it. He turned to the twins. “We’ve got to dig.”

Brom shook his head.

“I don’t want to do this,” Ichy whispered.

Ren pushed the shovel into the ground, lifted a small patch of dirt, and steadied the handle with his stump. The earth was heavy from the rain, the top crust hardened and dry. He tried not to look at the marker, or the name— Sarah, wife of Samuel—that was carved into the wood before them. He thought of what Dolly had said: that he’d heard them digging for him. That he’d heard them coming through the earth.