London - Edward Rutherfurd [267]
“Why Ducket,” the grocer said, relieved now that he realized who it was, “didn’t I say that one day you should see wonders?” His face took on a look of angelic happiness. “Oh Ducket, come and see. We have just made gold.”
Then Ducket, who had heard of alchemy, turned upon Silversleeves. “You devil,” he shouted. And the lawyer cowered.
Ducket was quite surprised, afterwards, at how easily he had taken charge. At first, it had been difficult to make the grocer realize he had been duped.
“Don’t you know,” Ducket cried, “that all these fellows are frauds. They can’t make gold. They just make you think they can so that you pay them. The whole thing’s a trick.” He strode over to the crucible. “Where’s this gold?” he demanded. “There’s none here.” Even so, it was only after Ducket, with the threat of a bloody nose, had forced Silversleeves to tell his victim the truth, that the poor fellow began to comprehend. “He has stolen all my money then,” he murmured.
“And he must give it back,” Ducket said stoutly. But by now the lawyer was beginning to recover his composure. “All gone.” He smiled sweetly.
Yet if Ducket might have expected Fleming to be angry, or threaten Silversleeves with exposure, he had overlooked one thing: the victim was guilty too. Now, with tears in his eyes, Fleming appealed to him.
“I’ve always been good to you, Ducket,” he begged. “So promise me, you’ll never tell a soul what I have done.” He hung his head. “If my wife and Amy ever knew . . . I couldn’t bear that, Ducket. Will you promise me?”
Ducket hesitated. He saw Silversleeves smirk. Of course, the cunning lawyer thought he’d got away with it. He turned on him.
“I’ll tell all London,” he said evenly, “unless this devil makes me a promise first. You give up Tiffany,” he told Silversleeves. “Give her up or I’ll expose you for exactly what you are.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Silversleeves had gone pale.
“I do. So choose,” Ducket replied, and watched the struggle taking place in him.
“All right,” the lawyer said at last.
The next morning, while all London was discussing the earth tremor and assessing the damage, Ben Carpenter enjoyed an astonishing stroke of good fortune. A man he had been discreetly meeting near St Paul’s, instead of the Book of Exodus which he had been hoping for, produced nothing less than an entire bible, all translated. Not only that, the man quoted Ben a price which, though high, was within his means.
He had a bible. He could hardly believe it. True, it had consumed a part of his savings; but it was the only book he would ever need to purchase in his life. He wrapped it in a cloth, put it in a bag, and carried it home.
Some discretion on his part was necessary. With the suspicion of Lollards still as high as ever, a Church synod meeting at Blackfriars only days ago had again vigorously condemned all Wyclif’s beliefs as heresy: even the possession of a Lollard bible was deemed suspicious. He put it away carefully, therefore, in a cupboard.
And just as he did so, a thought occurred to him. Ever since the previous summer, it had been on his conscience that he had never properly expressed his gratitude to Ducket for saving his life at the Savoy. He had wanted to make him a present of money: but Ducket refused it. Often the craftsman had wondered what favour he could do for his friend. Now, lying in the cupboard in front of him, was the answer. Reverently, but with a happy smile, he took out the Book of Genesis.
Silversleeves went out to kill Ducket late that afternoon.
It was a calculated risk. Though he did not think Fleming would talk, he had no doubt that, as soon as Ducket discovered he still intended to marry Tiffany, he would.