The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,112

them until it becomes apparent to you that Jesuits in hiding know better than to create a din?”

“No, I intend to search the long gallery. You might care to join me.”

“Anything to hasten an end to all of this. If only Habingdon would return. Then we would make some progress.”

“And how is that, sir?”

“Why, we can rack him of course. I refuse to torture a woman but, when he gets back, I will know the location of each and every one of the hiding places soon enough.”

“Now that would be a shame,” said Noyce, jumping to his feet. “I have always taken pride in winning my prize without recourse to torture. It is such a noisy, messy business and it entirely takes the sport out of the chase. And, in any case, there is a flaw in your proposition.”

“And what is that sir?”

“I have not noticed you with a rack about your person. Nor have I observed your men setting one up in the gardens. I can only suppose they are too busily engaged in ripping up the roses and pissing on the lawn.”

Sir Henry was quick with his response. “I am sure a rope thrown over a rafter in the barn will provide more than one way of producing the requisite agonies.”

Noyce had never marked Sir Henry out as a man of initiative. “In the meantime, might I suggest we continue the search? Perhaps now I can prove to you the nature of my talent.”

Sir Henry was already pondering what sort of knot might best secure a man suspended by his hands, preferably while they were tied behind his back. But he saw no harm in going along with the priest hunter, at least for now. “The long gallery I believe you said?”

*

Owen had finished taking stock of his victuals and did not like the result of his accounting; the biscuits and quince jelly would last no more than another day, the beer perhaps another two. There was a fortune in the bag at his feet but a man could not live by silver coins alone. There were far better holes in the house, but, being only a lay brother, he had shown favour to the priests. The previous day, the sound of soldier’s boots stomping across the floor and the crash of furniture had died down, almost to the point that he thought they may have abandoned the search. But then, with his ears straining, he picked up quieter stirrings, the pad of stockinged feet and the gentle teasing of the woodwork. These were not sounds to sooth the soul. Oh Lord, he prayed, I would prefer a company of clumsy soldiers – who are no better than the blind leading the blind – over a single priest hunter.

Equipped with the tools for the job, he could work on improving his surroundings, for, even with the great risk of the searchers hearing the sound of his labours, doing something seemed a better option than doing nothing. But, in the absence of tools, he had no option but to wait – either to be discovered in hiding or for his enemies to give up their search. But, as time slipped slowly by, another option came to mind. And so it was that he determined to leave his hiding place, and then the house, if it were possible; if it were not, then he would make for one of the better appointed priest holes.

Once again, with his best ear to the wall he listened to the house and what she had to tell him about the hunter. At first, all was silent; but then he heard it, the sound of someone upstairs, walking down the long gallery from where the floorboards were creaking. The timbers there were badly seasoned and it had long been Mrs Habingdon’s desire to have them replaced; but, whenever he arrived at the house for a period of employment, he was tasked with creating a further hiding place. There were now so many, he was afraid that the house, thus honeycombed, would collapse on to its foundations. Until then, the number and precise location of all of the holes would be known only to him and the lady of house.

He always worked alone and at night, reciting prayers as he carved his way into the fabric of the house. Then, when the work was done he would unveil his latest creation to his mistress and teach her its secrets. There were regularly priests and lay brothers