The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,122

rebellion, to pay for the taking of lives. Could it not be put to a better use and pay for their lives?”

In what appeared to be an almost involuntary action Quick pressed down on the bellows and momentarily excited the coals in the forge. “Silver might help a man remain at liberty,” he said, watching the flames die away before pressing down again. “It will fix safe passage at sea or secure victuals enough for the voyage, but it will not buy back liberty once lost, at least not when the shackles have been fastened around the limbs of a failed assassin of the king.” He pressed the bellows once more before stepping towards the anvil. “But I am afraid there is another reason why your friend’s captors will not be receiving their thirty pieces of silver.” With that he removed the bag from Owen’s caress. “The coins are coming with me.”

Owen took a step back as though offended. “But my instructions were to ensure that the money be put to the service of our cause.”

“That cause is lost.”

Owen looked confused. “We do not know that. Others may have made good their escape. We should decide together to what use the money could be put.”

“Believe me, Mr Owen, the cause is lost. I saw some killed and others taken at Holbeach House, and today the same is going to happen here. As you said, this money was to finance a rebellion. With the survival of the king there will be no rebellion, and so the money will go along with me.”

“Without authority such an act would be thievery. Is that what you are, Mr Quick, a common thief? You arrived in our company late and seemed to be a stranger to all. Did you join us merely so that you might profit from the failure of the exercise? There is money enough there to make you a very rich man, Mr Quick.”

“If I was a thief, I would have killed you before now.”

“I do not believe you would have, sir, not while you needed me to get you out of the house.”

Quick recalled the lengths to which he had gone to keep the searchers away from Owen. “Let us not debate who got who out of the house. I have been tasked with the recovery of those coins. They are to be returned to the donor unspent, that is all.”

“So you are an agent of the Spanish?”

“Yes, but not those of whom you are thinking.”

“I do not understand. The Spanish provided the funds for the rising. Those are silver reales in that bag. How can you talk of—”

There was a noise from the yard. Quick guessed it to be the scrape of a spur against a cobblestone. He put his forefinger to his lips and gestured for Owen to conceal himself beside the brick chimney. Dashing to the window he looked out to see two soldiers, muskets canted over their shoulders, wandering in a casual fashion across the yard. They were checking the buildings for fugitives; one would wait by the door while the other entered briefly, before returning with a shake of the head. A glance at Quick’s face as he moved away from the window was all Owen needed to know that their prospects had taken a down-turn. Any uncertainty about how bad things were was immediately dispelled when he was ordered to reopen the trapdoor.

“We are to return to the house?”

“We can hide in the tunnel while they search this place.”

“But we won’t be able to properly conceal the lid from below,” said Owen, as ever the perfectionist.

“It is a risk we must take, now get the cursed thing open.”

With his feet on the ladder Owen began his short descent, but his head had barely disappeared from view when, like a Jack-in-a-box, it popped back up into the room. “There are men in the tunnel!” he gasped, as he cleared the hole.

“Noyce,” spat Quick. “He has found the entrance. The man lives up to his reputation, damn him.”

There could be no doubting it. Quick, who was now lying on the floor and peering into the tunnel, could see a lantern moving towards them, perhaps half way along the tunnel. His head was barely clear of the void when a shot rang out. With the trapdoor slammed shut he dashed to the anvil. Owen saw his intent and, without bidding, joined him to lift the heavy lump of iron. With the anvil lowered on to the closed trap