Holding Judith tightly in front of her, Magote pressed back against the wall. ‘Now, my pretty lad, you walk past me nice and slow and climb up the bank. When I have the stone safe I’ll let her come to you. But you try and make a grab for her and this dagger will be in her body up to the hilt afore you can bless yourself.’
Benedict edged past Judith, his face a mask of fear. Judith heard him trying to scramble up the wet grass, slipping and sliding in a frantic attempt to carry out the woman’s instructions to the letter.
‘You’re coming with me, my sweeting,’ Magote hissed in Judith’s ear, ‘just in case your lover there changes his mind and tries something.’
She slid the dagger around to Judith’s back and, using it as a goad, forced Judith to walk forward on to the slippery boards of the jetty. Without warning, Magote grabbed Judith’s shoulder and pulled her violently sideways. Judith’s feet slid from under her and she crashed into the river. She didn’t have time to take a breath before the icy water closed over her head, as her heavy skirts pulled her down and down into the blackness.
Free of Judith, Magote reached out for the stone, but she moved too quickly and slipped on the slimy boards. The edge of her gown caught the lantern and sent it crashing over. The candle rolled out on to a thin line of black powder, which instantly flared up like a rearing snake. Magote stared at it. She’d never seen the like of it before. The flame raced along the trail of powder and seemed to leap into the hole in the barrel. For a moment nothing happened, then there was a bang. Magote, screaming in agony, tottered backwards clutching at her face. Her gown, soaked in grease from the fat of the many meals she had cooked at the inn, blazed up like a tallow candle. For a few moments she teetered blindly on the edge of the jetty, flames leaping up around her head, before she toppled over into the river with a great splash and hiss.
It was the woman’s screams more than the dull bang that woke the guards, for the black powder was too damp and loosely packed to create a loud explosion and the bridge didn’t even tremble. By the time the guards got to their feet there was nothing to be heard but the sound of rushing water. They searched the length of the bridge but, finding nothing amiss, concluded that their duty was done and, yawning, returned to their posts and their dreams.
Benedict had slid back down the bank as soon as he heard the bang and the cries. But both women had vanished. Only a small blaze on the wooden jetty under the bridge marked what had happened. He knelt by the water’s edge, frantically calling Judith’s name, but there was no sound save for the gurgling of the oily black water.
With tears blinding his eyes, he desperately ranged up and down the bank, trying to peer through the mist for any sign of life. Then he heard something. At first he thought the sound was merely an echo of his own sobs, but as he held his breath he heard his own name. The sound seemed to be coming from under the arch in the middle of the river. But there was no means of getting to the place by land.
‘Judith! Judith, wait, I’m coming.’
Benedict stripped off his cloak and climbed down off the jetty, shuddering as the icy water crept up his body, and struck out to where he thought he had heard her calling. The noise of his own splashing and the water crashing against the stones drowned out any cries. The mist swirled above the water. He twisted and turned this way and that, trying to find her. Then he spotted something pale against the dark water. An arm, a single arm stretched out above the river, clinging to an iron mooring ring embedded in the stones of the bridge. Even as he struggled against the current to reach her, he could see her fingers slipping from the ring.
‘Please hold her up,’ he prayed desperately.
He must have said the words aloud, for Judith stirred at the sound, reaching out to him with her other hand. He swam towards her, but, as he had almost reached her, Judith’s fingers slid from the iron ring and she sank without a struggle beneath the rushing black water.
Desperately, Benedict pushed himself downwards, groping around until his fingers closed on some cloth. With a great heave he lifted Judith to the surface. He had enough strength only to reach out again for the iron ring and, with one arm locked tightly through it, he pulled her head on to his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her skin was frog-cold.
Benedict pressed his face against hers, holding her tightly against his body, his eyes stinging with water and tears. He cursed himself and prayed in equal measure, begging, almost screaming for a miracle. Then he heard a cough and a gasp, her head moved slightly beneath his chin and, looking down, he saw her eyelids fluttering. Judith, his beloved Judith, was alive.
Wednesday 29 May, the eleventh day of Sivan
Just after dawn, fishermen pulled Benedict and Judith from the water. The men assumed that the couple had stumbled into the river in the fog, and Benedict did not disabuse them. The fire on the jetty had long since burned itself out, and those who noticed the scorch marks assumed that boys had wantonly lit the fire from mischief or to cook a supper of fish. They grumbled that young lads these days were out of control; they had no respect for property or their elders. And with Magote dead, there was no one to contradict them.
As Benedict helped Judith up the street to her home, Isaac came running out of the house towards them. He swept his sister up in his arms and carried her inside, almost sobbing with relief that she was unharmed. He seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
Isaac told them that the previous evening he had gone to the inn owned by Eleanor’s father. It had occurred to him that if he could discover that Eleanor was also missing, it would confirm his suspicions that Nathan had indeed run off with her and then he would be able to put Judith’s fears to rest.
Isaac had hung around the inn until late that night trying to pick up any gossip about the girl, for if Eleanor had vanished it would be dangerous for him to be heard asking questions about her. But he’d discovered nothing. Then, just as the inn was closing, Isaac glimpsed Eleanor in the yard throwing out the slops and he knew that wherever Nathan was, he was not with her.
With a heavy heart, Isaac had returned home, only to find his own house empty and no sign of Judith. Fearing that she, too, had been attacked like Jacob and was lying hurt somewhere or worse, he had spent the rest of the night frantically searching the streets for her, though it had never occurred to him to look under a bridge.
Judith and Benedict could delay the tragic news no longer. When they finally told him that Nathan’s body had been found, Isaac tore his shirt and cried like a little child in his sister’s arms.
That same afternoon Benedict returned to the bridge, as soon as he had assured himself that Judith was resting safely, being cosseted by her brother and an endless stream of neighbours bringing nourishing possets and potages to her bedside.
Just before he left her, Judith seized his hand and whispered, ‘Remember the vow you made in the water last night. You must keep it now, you know.’
‘I thought you couldn’t hear me,’ Benedict said in astonishment, blushing furiously as he recalled just what he had been murmuring through that long hour until dawn.
‘A woman can always hear what she wants to.’ Judith managed a tired little smile. ‘I love you, Benedict. Though goodness knows why, for you are the most irritating, stubborn, obstinate, foolhardy muttonhead I’ve ever known, save for my own brother. And no other woman would put up with you, so I suppose I must, for you need someone to keep you from your own folly.’
Benedict humbly acknowledged the truth of that with a wry smile and quickly slipped away before she could think any more of his faults to add to her list.