Like his companions, he wasn’t given the chance.
Jack was giving orders. The thieves, it appeared, were to be bound securely and taken to the room in the tavern. Six of Walter’s men stepped forward holding lengths of leather, and very quickly the captives’ hands were fastened behind their backs and they were led away.
I wondered if they would ever experience freedom again. Whether they would live, even; theft was a capital offence and they had been caught in the very act. I had watched as Jack silently held out his hand for the purse of emeralds, and now he stood holding it, his expression unreadable.
The press of people around the end of the passage had cleared now, and only Jack and Walter remained, standing close together. I sensed that this business wasn’t over, and, stepping down carefully and noiselessly from my barrel, crouched behind it to listen to their plans for what would happen next.
‘We have the work force,’ Jack said softly to Walter, ‘and now we need the master.’
‘Do you think he will come here?’ Walter sounded doubtful.
‘Yes,’ Jack said with conviction. ‘I am sure of it. He is hungry for what he thinks his thieves will find here, and when they fail to report back to him he’ll be driven by his impatience and his greed to come and see what’s holding them up.’
Walter said softly, ‘I hope you’re not thinking of taking him on alone.’ Jack didn’t reply. ‘Jack, he’s dangerous!’ Now there was a worried note in Walter’s voice. ‘He’ll know you’ve found out what he’s been doing, and given the mood in the town, he’ll know he can expect no mercy. He’ll have nothing to lose, and he’ll probably-’
Probably kill you. Was that what Walter had been about to say?
Jack didn’t let him. ‘He’s too clever to come anywhere near this place if he sees you and your men lurking, even if they do try to disguise themselves as innocent bystanders going about their daily business,’ he said lightly. ‘He has to feel that it’s safe for him to come right into the room, and, with any luck, pick these up.’ He held up the purse of emeralds. Walter must have looked doubtful, for Jack said with sudden roughness, ‘Dear God, Walter, we have to make an end of this! Let him walk into the trap, where he’ll find not only the prize but also me. You and the others can advance once I’ve challenged him, and bear witness to his crime.’
‘But if we-’
‘If he sees you and the others before he’s picked up the emeralds, which he will if you’re anywhere around, because he’s perpetually suspicious, very observant and far from stupid, he’ll instantly go on the offensive, demand to know what you’re all doing there and say he’s had word that the room at the end of the passage has been broken into and has come to investigate.’
‘But you-’
‘Enough,’ Jack said in a sudden flash of anger. ‘You have your orders, Walter. Obey them.’
I pushed myself further back behind the barrel. I peered out as Walter strode past. He looked furious.
I was very afraid. I knew I shouldn’t be there. If I were to be spotted by the man Jack was waiting for, the whole exercise would be in ruins. I didn’t dare think what Jack would say to me if everything came to grief because I’d just had to watch.
Walter and his men had all melted away. I knew they must be quite close but even so, I couldn’t spot them. They were good, I had to admit. Could I, too, creep away? I might be able to avoid being seen by anyone if I kept right up against the front wall of the warehouse, still in shadow. I was just making up my mind to risk it when I heard someone coming along the quay.
With all that had happened since the racket of Jack’s geese had wakened me, I’d vaguely thought that the morning must now be quite advanced. But when I looked out from behind the barrel, I saw that the light remained pale and thin, the sun was only just appearing above the horizon in the eastern sky, and the quay was still deserted.
A man was coming along towards Robert Powl’s warehouse. He was ill at ease, frequently turning to look behind him. He walked on his toes, clearly not wanting to be heard.
He was tall, with a hard-lined face, dark, close-set eyes under heavy brows and a shaven head. He was dressed in dark garments, the swing of his heavy cloak denoting fine cloth and an excellent cut. He had a hand on his sword hilt, and that hand bore a ring on the forefinger: a large stone set in thick gold. The low sun glinted on the bright green gem.
I knew who he was and I trembled with dread.
This man was Gaspard Picot, and he was the sheriff’s nephew, the man who had been put in charge of hunting down the Night Wanderer when Jack had been thrown out. Not only had he failed to catch the murderer, he had also taken ruthless advantage of his unique position for his own ends. He might have had the four thieves do the dirty work for him, but his was the intelligence behind the thefts.
The blame lay squarely on his shoulders.
I wondered what his uncle the sheriff would do when he was told.
I watched, hardly breathing, as Gaspard Picot came to the mouth of the tunnel-like passage. He peered down it to the door at the end. Then he looked over both shoulders and up and down the quay several times. I crouched still as stone.
He made up his mind suddenly and strode up the passage. He pushed at the door and it opened. He paused, perhaps disconcerted to find it unlocked. Then he went inside.
I couldn’t stop myself: I crawled out from the shelter of the barrel and went on until I could see inside the place that had been Osmund’s workroom.
Gaspard Picot picked up the small leather purse. Opened it. Tipped the emeralds into his hand, then put them back, drew up the drawstrings again and put the purse inside his tunic.
He had turned to come out again when I heard Jack’s voice. ‘Put them back,’ he said calmly. ‘They do not belong to you.’
I don’t know where he had concealed himself but it was clear that Gaspard Picot hadn’t seen him, for, hearing those words, his face went pale.
Very slowly, he turned towards Jack, standing just behind him.
I wasn’t fooled by Jack’s quiet tone. I knew what was going to happen. There was poisonous venom between these two men: much more at stake than this matter of the theft of the emeralds. It was, I realized, to do with betrayal of trust. Gaspard Picot had been put in a position of authority in the town, but, far from honouring that position and carrying out the duty placed on him to protect the townspeople, keep the peace and uphold the law, he was using it to make himself rich. His corruption went deep. I could sense it in him, as if it were a pool of something foul secreted beneath the costly garments and the gorgeous jewels.
Jack – good, honest Jack; out of memory I heard Gurdyman saying, Jack Chevestrier is a better man by far than his master the sheriff, and is decent, honest and capable – was his polar opposite.
And now Jack stood alone, facing a ruthless enemy poised like a snake about to strike.
I wanted to warn him but I seemed to have frozen.
But Jack was ready for him.
I had seen Jack’s icy fury before. I’d watched him, out in the wilds of the fenland, and seen what he’d done to the hired murderer who Gaspard Picot had sent to kill him. I’d seen him wrench Picot’s arm up behind his back, so violently that it was a miracle he hadn’t dislocated the shoulder. I had believed he was going to kill both of them, for he had overcome them and had them at his mercy. But he didn’t; he had left them, bound and helpless. He must have been confident they would either manage to free themselves or be rescued.
But this time I knew it was different. This was the second and final conflict between them, for this time the fight would be to the death.