Doctor Who_ All-Consuming Fire - Andy Lane [29]
The crowd was large, almost exclusively male, and so threateningly brutal that Holmes realized why they didn't fear the police, now that they had settled. A team preparing the ground could be moved on, a convoy of vehicles bearing the stalls, the sideshows and the bareknuckle fighters could be stopped, but a few thousand drunken and belligerent louts were a law unto themselves. The
police, quite sensibly in Holmes's opinion, were keeping well out of it.
Holmes took a cup of warm gin for a ha'penny at a stall, contriving to slop most of it on the ground as he quaffed. The drink gave him an opportunity to look around. Every few hundred yards, groups of men were gathered around a fenced-off area of ground in which dogs or metal-spurred cocks were fighting in a flurry of action and noise. The men at the back were stretching and craning their necks: the men at the front were shouting and cheering. All over, money was changing hands.
Far in the distance, on a slight hillock, four poles had been stuck into the ground and linked by ropes. Already a crowd of several hundred had gathered around the ring, although it would be several hours yet before the fight started. The cock-fights, the dogfights and some bareknuckle bouts were intended to whet the appetite for the major attraction which, according to custom, was to occur about an hour before sundown. Two groups of caravans parked a few hundred yards away from the ring probably held the fighters.
Holmes moved nearer one of the fenced-off areas, elbowing and swearing his way through the crowd. If the gang leaders were anywhere, it would be where large crowds were passing large amounts of money, and this crowd looked larger than most.
'Ere luv, fancy some fun for a tanner?'
A haggard woman with a painted smile, a tattered dress and no teeth tugged at his arm. He shoved her away with a curse, and slipped through the crowd until his chest was pressed against a row of wooden staves which had been plunged into the ground to form a barrier with no gaps.
Brutal men with long poles, sharpened to killing points, were spaced around the perimeter of the arena.
Something more than an ordinary dogfight was planned for here, that much was obvious.
The ground was soaked with blood already, and scraps of flesh and fur littered the area. A number of bouts had obviously already been fought.
The crowd near Holmes suddenly parted and a man clambered into the arena holding a crate. Bewhiskered and better dressed than the rest of the crowd, although not by much, he climbed up on top of the crate and gazed around challengingly.
'All right, then,' he shouted, 'you all knows why you're 'ere. I got a little something for you which'll make everything else in this stinking field look like a flea circus! You've never seen anything like it, gents, I can promise you that. Straight from Sumatra, it is, and it killed two sailors on the way over an' all. A dark and fearsome beast the like of which has not been seen on these shores afore. We got the Natural 'Istory Museum offrin' us money for it, we got the Zoological Gardens offrin' us money for it, we got so many offers you wouldn't believe to take this evil creature off our hands, but we saved it for you this very afternoon, gentlemen. For the first time in this or any other country, see the foreign beast take on three British bulldogs!
Place your bets, gents, place your bets.'
'Come on, let the dog see the rabbit then,' a rough voice yelled out from the crowd.
'You want a look?' the master of ceremonies said. 'All right then.' He jumped off his crate and moved to one side of the arena, where the staves were interrupted by a solid gate. Throwing the crate back on the ground, he used it to clamber back over the staves, and pulled it up after him.
'Ready?' he yelled to the