London - Edward Rutherfurd [268]
He felt a little nervous, nonetheless, as he took a spare dagger and concealed it under his tunic.
To make sure that nothing was suspected, he next went to the house on London Bridge, where he received a friendly welcome. Nothing in Tiffany’s eyes suggested that she had heard anything about him. On his way out, he met Bull, who was as affable as usual. “I wonder, sir, if we might fix a day for the wedding,” he ventured. “Certainly, before June is out,” the merchant agreed.
When Silversleeves reached the Cheap, Ducket and the grocer were just taking down the stall. He hovered at a distance, considering his next move.
How did one kill a man? He had never done such a thing before. Clearly he must not be seen: he would need a private place, perhaps after dusk. It would probably be best to come at him from behind. But then, what to do with the body? Leave it? Hide it? Drop it in the river? Without a body, no one would even be sure there had been a crime. It would all depend on what chances he could get, he supposed; with some apprehension he began to follow him.
The two men started off as usual, pulling the handcart along the Cheap. They passed along the Poultry and headed across to Lombard Street, which would take them towards the bridge. But just as they reached Lombard Street, a squat figure, obviously a craftsman, hailed them and came over to speak to Ducket. After a few moments, the man and Ducket started to walk back towards the Cheap, while Fleming continued home with the handcart. Following carefully once again, Silversleeves found himself retracing his steps until the couple dived down the lane behind St Mary-le-Bow and went into the tavern there.
Luckily the place was crowded. Though he saw them at once, sitting together at a table, they did not notice him. He bought a jug of wine and watched them thoughtfully. The craftsman seemed unusually happy, even excited; he was calling for more ale. Just after it arrived, glancing around him with a trace of furtiveness, he handed a package to Ducket. A present of some kind, judging by the expectant look on his face. Ducket began to open it.
Very carefully Silversleeves edged closer.
It was a book. He could not quite read it from where he stood. Ducket had turned the first few pages. Both men’s heads were bowed over it now. For a moment, Ducket tilted the book. And, though he was nearly ten feet away, Silversleeves could see the single, large word that ran across the top of the page: GENESIS. It must be a Lollard bible.
He drew back quickly. A Lollard tract. What use could that information be to him? His clever brain considered it rapidly, from every angle. Then he smiled: a delicious smile. It might not be necessary to kill Ducket after all.
The evening was well advanced when Ducket strolled down towards the bridge. The Book of Genesis, safely in a bag, bumped on his shoulder. He did not want it, really, but had not had the heart to tell Carpenter. The solemn fellow had given it to him with such pride.
When he saw the two men advancing towards him, he took no particular notice. The first he recognized as one of the city sergeants who maintained law and order; the other was Silversleeves, whom he decided to ignore. Only as they drew close did he realize that they meant to speak to him.
“I’ll see what’s in the bag, please,” the sergeant said. Ducket hesitated, then shrugged. Apprentices did not disobey a city sergeant. Reluctantly he handed over the bag and the sergeant pulled out the book, handing it on to the lawyer. “What does it say?” he enquired.
It only took Silversleeves a moment to examine it.
“This is the Book of Genesis,” he declared. “And it is accompanied by a Lollard tract. It is all heresy,” he added gravely. “I think you ought to hold on to it.”
“You can’t do that,” Ducket burst out. “I’ve broken no law.” He saw the sergeant look at Silversleeves.
In fact none of them knew whether