Quality of Mercy by Faye Kellerman

Author:Faye Kellerman [Kellerman, Faye]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.

Chapter 33

The night was moonless and cold. Rebecca shivered underneath her frieze cloak and wished she had dressed her head in a thicker hat. But at least her legs were warm, housed in double-knitted woolen hose. She flexed her gloved fingers, which had stiffened in the chill, covered her mouth and blew warm air onto her hands and nose. Shakespeare lit a small candle, the flame highlighting his profile in orange. Wisps of hot breath curled about his nose and mouth.

“Do you know the way back to your horse?” he whispered.

“Aye.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“How did you avoid the watchmen and the rogues?”

“Good hap.”

He took her hand and said, “Lead me.”

“I came by way of the Cheape,” she said. “The gap in the wall lies between Newgate and Ludgate. I suggest we bypass Paul’s. Too many vagabonds lie in wait.”

Their bootsteps were silent as they tiptoed past darkened buildings that occasionally winked the flicker of a rush candle, past boarded-up booths and shops and dusky taverns whose dim light escaped through red lattice sashes. Their eyes were of little use, their ears their best defense, listening for sounds that could mean attack or arrest.

“Where did you learn to muffle your steps with rags?” Rebecca asked.

“I was a clever boy.”

“A thief?”

“No,” he whispered. “Just a child who couldn’t sleep at night… I hear something.”

Rebecca listened.

“An owl,” they said in unison, looking upward.

It rested on the peak of a thatched roof, as still as the eaves upon which it sat. Its hood was marbled with brown and white, its eyes carved from onyx. Shakespeare and Rebecca exchanged glances. Owls were evil omens. The bird hooted again, blinked, then spread its massive wings and flew away, hopefully taking its bad luck with it.

“This way,” Rebecca said.

They walked a few more minutes in silence. Shakespeare stopped suddenly.

“I hear something,” he said.

“What?” Rebecca asked. “I hear nothing.”

“Muffled steps — like our own.”

“Where?”

“Quick, over here,” Shakespeare said, jerking her behind the thick trunk of an oak. He blew out the candle and they held their breath.

There were three of them afoot — robbers dressed in coal black. Shakespeare’s eye caught the glint of a foot-long dagger one of them gripped in his hand. The trio passed the tree without a second glance.

Rebecca let out a gush of air.

“My God, that was close,” she said.

“It was.” Shakespeare relit his candle. “Which way now, m’lady?”

Rebecca whispered, “I can’t walk, I’m shaking too hard. I’m so scared.”

“You’re dressed as a man, think like one as well. Though the dark frightens the piss from your body, admit it not.”

Rebecca smiled. She inhaled deeply and said, “This way.”

They walked another half mile. Rebecca felt her body being drawn to his. She inched closer until she was under the protective tent of his arm.

“I’m sorry I bid you adieu so abruptly,” she whispered. “Without explanation. Twas a cruel thing to do. But I did it for family loyalty.”

“It was best,” Shakespeare said. “For my family loyalty as well.”

“Did you summer with your wife and children?”

Shakespeare suddenly found himself swallowing back tears.

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