Execution by S. J. Parris

Author:S. J. Parris [Parris, S. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2020-02-19T17:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Joe led me back through a maze of streets towards the river. Along the way I attempted to ask him further questions about finding Clara, but he had clammed up, evidently more afraid of his mother than of me, for which I couldn’t blame him.

‘It must have been a terrible thing to witness,’ I said, as we neared the inn. He darted a wary glance sidelong at me.

‘I’m not afraid of the dead,’ he said, in a voice that was small but firm. ‘Grandfather says they can’t touch us. It’s the living you got to look out for. Especially men.’

‘He sounds like a wise fellow.’

‘Will he go straight to Hell?’

‘Your grandfather?’

‘No.’ He clicked his tongue in a way that reminded me of his mother. ‘The man who killed that girl.’

‘Well …’ I was not sure how to answer this; too much had happened on too little sleep for me to debate judgement and salvation with a child. ‘I’m sure you know your commandments, Joe.’

He nodded, uncertain.

‘Then you know what God says about killing. I don’t think anyone who does that to a woman should go unpunished, do you? By God or the law. So if you know who he is …’

I left the question hanging. He appeared to consider it for a few paces. ‘Would someone go to Hell if they did something that they didn’t think was bad, but a person got hurt because of it?’

I slowed my pace and kept my eyes fixed ahead, aware that a misstep now could frighten him into silence.

‘No. I think God sees our intentions. If this person never meant anyone to be harmed by what he did, I don’t believe God would make him suffer. But I don’t see why you think I am an expert.’

‘Mama said you are probably a priest.’

I laughed. ‘Your mama has plenty of imagination. Don’t repeat that to anyone, will you?’

He shot me a look of pure scorn that was so exactly like Leila that I laughed. ‘We know how to keep secrets in our family.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ We turned a corner and the river appeared ahead, at the end of the street. To our right was the wide double gate leading to the Unicorn’s yard. ‘But listen – if you ever want to talk about any of your secrets, or this friend of yours who did something he’s worried about – I’m good at listening. I can keep secrets too.’

A small, nervous smile creased his face. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, in a fair mimic of my accent.

We passed under the arch to find the yard even busier than we had left it. I slipped Joe a couple of coins. ‘Will you fetch my horse? The piebald mare.’

But as we rounded the corner to the stables, I froze. A few paces away, chatting easily with one of the ostlers, stood John Ballard, decked out in full Captain Fortescue fashion, all gold-trimmed satin and starched lace, an ostrich feather bobbing in his hat, jaunty despite the damp.

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