The Devil in the Marshalsea by Antonia Hodgson

Author:Antonia Hodgson [Hodgson, Antonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780544176676
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2014-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

Captain Ralph Anderson was prowling the ward like a wild animal. Even Jakes looked wary of him. A wide, badly healed scar cut down his left cheek into his lip – an old wound won in a battle or a brawl (either way I wasn’t about to ask). It would have disfigured a better-looking man but it suited Anderson’s wild, craggy face. There was a look in his eye I’d seen in old fighting bears as they were led out into the ring. Oh, this again. Very well.

Anderson was constable of his ward – the leader of a group of thirty men who shared a room not much bigger than Belle Isle. As we entered the cell two men staggered past with a large, sloshing barrel reeking of piss.

‘Once you’ve tipped that out tell Harry Mitchell I want him,’ Anderson bellowed after them.

This was the best ward on the Common Side, with six beds and a few hammocks slung from the wall. The room was empty now, and the scent of a thin beef stew bubbling in the hearth covered the worst of the Common Side stench. It was clean too – Anderson again, I thought, running the place like a barracks. He still wore his old blue coat from his days in the army, 3rd Dragoons, Jakes said. He’d fought at Ramillies twenty years back. The coat would have paid for a few decent meals but he’d kept it all this time.

He gestured for us to sit with him by the fire. Jakes chose to stand by the window instead – mainly, I think, because the chair he’d been offered was so ancient and worm-eaten it would have collapsed beneath him.

‘So you’re looking for Roberts’ killer,’ Anderson said, frowning at me as I perched cautiously on my own creaking chair. ‘What’s in it for my ward?’

A trade for information? Fair enough. ‘I’m a friend of Charles Buckley, Sir Philip’s chaplain. I’ll make sure Sir Philip hears of any . . . complaints,’ I ended, feebly.

Anderson shot me a withering look.

‘You said you knew something?’ Jakes called impatiently from the window.

Anderson leaned back in his chair. ‘Nothing’s free in this world, Jakes. You know that. Try again, Mr Hawkins.’

‘I can put your case to Mr Gilbourne,’ I said, thinking quickly. ‘He’s a decent man, he’ll want to help. And he already knows of my investigation.’ I stopped. Anderson was staring at me, open-mouthed with horror.

‘Gilbourne knows?’ He smacked his hand to his forehead. ‘Perfect.’

I frowned, puzzled. ‘Is he not to be trusted? He seems an honourable gentleman.’

‘Oh, aye, I’m sure that’s how he seems . . .’ Jakes snorted. ‘Gilbourne can seem whatever he likes, cunning bastard. The man’s a snake.’

‘It’s worse than that,’ Anderson groaned. ‘It was Gilbourne killed Roberts.’

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