BooksBarbecue
Back Lamentation Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Chapter One
  2. Chapter Two
  3. Chapter Three
  4. Chapter Four
  5. Chapter Five
  6. Chapter Six
  7. Chapter Seven
  8. Chapter Eight
  9. Chapter Nine
  10. Chapter Ten
  11. Chapter Eleven
  12. Chapter Twelve
  13. Chapter Thirteen
  14. Chapter Fourteen
  15. Chapter Fifteen
  16. Chapter Sixteen
  17. Chapter Seventeen
  18. Chapter Eighteen
  19. Chapter Nineteen
  20. Chapter Twenty
  21. Chapter Twenty-one
  22. Chapter Twenty-two
  23. Chapter Twenty-three
  24. Chapter Twenty-four
  25. Chapter Twenty-five
  26. Chapter Twenty-six
  27. Chapter Twenty-seven
  28. Chapter Twenty-eight
  29. Chapter Twenty-nine
  30. Chapter Thirty
  31. Chapter Thirty-one
  32. Chapter Thirty-two
  33. Chapter Thirty-three
  34. Chapter Thirty-four
  35. Chapter Thirty-five
  36. Chapter Thirty-six
  37. Chapter Thirty-seven
  38. Chapter Thirty-eight
  39. Chapter Thirty-nine
  40. Chapter Forty
  41. Chapter Forty-one
  42. Chapter Forty-two
  43. Chapter Forty-three
  44. Chapter Forty-four
  45. Chapter Forty-five
  46. Chapter Forty-six
  47. Chapter Forty-seven
  48. Chapter Forty-eight
  49. Chapter Forty-nine
  50. Chapter Fifty
  51. Chapter Fifty-one
  52. Chapter Fifty-two
  53. Chapter Fifty-three
  54. Epilogue
  55. A CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  56. H ISTORICAL N OTE

They took us out to the back, where there was a stable, three horses waiting. It was horrible to see Barak unconscious, being lifted up under the arms by Cardmaker and dumped over the back of one of the horses as though he were a sack of cabbages. From what I could see, the bleeding was much less, though a few drips still fell to the ground. But I knew enough to understand that even if Barak still lived, he did not have long, perhaps fifteen minutes, before he bled out.

Stice looked at me over his handkerchief, his eyes bright with savage pleasure. ‘It’ll be up to my master whether the two of you live. He’ll get a surprise; he was only expecting one frightened steward.’

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-one

WE RODE DOWN THE LANE behind the stables. Nicholas and I had been placed, hands bound, on one of the horses, Nicholas in front. It was a moonlit night, though the narrow track between the garden fences of the new houses was hard to see. Then we turned into a second lane, running down the back of another row of houses. Halfway down the lane there was a square plot where for some reason no building had been put up. As Cardmaker had said, it was a rubbish heap. I saw an old bed frame, broken stools, household refuse and a huge heap of grass clippings where servants had been scything the gardens. It had mulched down into a soft green compost. The rubbish heap stank.

We halted. Stice’s men dismounted and Barak was lifted from his horse and tipped, head first, into the compost. I seldom prayed nowadays – even if God existed, I was sure that he was deaf. Now, though, I prayed hopelessly that somehow my friend might live.

We rode back to the main road. It was hard merely to keep my balance. My face throbbed from where I had been elbowed. Stice’s confederates walked one on either side of us; Stice, leading the horse which had carried Barak, rode in front, still dabbing at his face with his handkerchief. We came out onto Smithfield and passed the front door of the hospital. I wondered if Guy was working within.

We were stopped at Newgate by a constable. Lifting his lamp and seeing our bound hands and Stice’s bloody face, he asked Stice sharply what was happening. But Stice took out a seal, thrusting it into the man’s face. ‘Official business,’ he snapped. ‘Two traitors to go to Whitehall for questioning. As you’ll see from my face, they made a fight of it.’

The London constables knew the different seals of all the great men, it was part of their training. The man not only withdrew, but bowed to Stice as he did so.