Til Death Do Us Part (20 page)

‘What false pretence?' the pedlar shouted indignantly. ‘I've sold her honest goods! That fur cap is genuine Otterhound!'

Hearing this admission, Tom experienced a moment of pure elation. Then he attended to the business of taking chains and manacles from his satchel and securing Weiss's hands behind his back.

‘Now, Master Weiss, if you behave yourself I will carry you pillion back to Redditch, and save you the labour of walking there. Master Bennett, will you please fetch my horse, while I obtain this good lady's particulars.'

He drew Maud Harman aside and they whispered together so that Weiss could not overhear what passed between them.

When Tom was mounted with Weiss riding pillion, and the laden donkey secured to his saddle by a long leading rein, he bade Maud Harman and Alfred Bennett goodbye and rode away towards Redditch Town.

Alfred Bennett led a second horse from the rear of the inn, Maud Harman climbed on pillion behind him, and they made their own leisurely way homewards.

T
om Potts unlocked the cell door and shone his bulls-eye lantern on the snoring, blanket-covered prisoner within.

‘Master Weiss,' Tom called loudly. ‘It's time to rouse yourself and eat your breakfast.'

The man didn't stir, so Tom went into the cell, put the chunk of bread and cheese and pitcher of ale on the floor beside the stone pallet, and shook the sleeper's shoulder until he was roused to wakefulness.

‘What did you have to wake me up for?' Weiss complained. ‘I've only just got to sleep.'

‘You are Jewish, are you not, Master Weiss? And Saturday is Shabbat, your Holy Day, is it not, Master Weiss? I thought that you might want to be at your prayers, so I've brought you an early breakfast. But I need to ask you about your customary diet. Do you eat only Kosher food, with all meats prepared by the melihah method, and no pork, hare, camel or hyrax meats whatsoever?'

Weiss pushed himself up to a sitting position and stared at Tom as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

Tom frowned impatiently. ‘Come now, Master Weiss, you know well that it's mart day here and I have much to do and little enough time to do it in. So kindly give me your answer.'

Weiss answered with a question. ‘Are you telling me that if I eat only Kosher food, you will have my meats prepared in the melihah way?'

‘Of course I will.' Tom nodded.

The pedlar shook his head. ‘I don't bother with the Kosher these days. I like a bit of bacon for my breakfast.'

‘Well tomorrow you shall have bacon for breakfast. And while you're here you'll be eating the same good food as myself and my wife,' Tom assured him, then added, ‘But I fear that when you're in Worcester Jail you'll be eating the same slops as the rest of the convicts. I have no influence there.'

Weiss gulped hard. ‘Worcester Jail? Do you think that I'll be sent to prison then?'

Tom sighed. ‘Regretfully, you undoubtedly will be imprisoned, Master Weiss. And I say regretfully because I don't believe that you're a wicked man. But our Parish Vicar, Reverend the Lord Aston, is the chief magistrate, and he's a very harsh judge. Personally I don't blame you for trying to avoid taxes. Everyone does their best to avoid them. Your misfortune was that you were informed upon.'

‘By who?'

Tom shook his head. ‘I can't tell you his name. It's more than my life's worth to divulge such secrets.'

Weiss broke into sobs. ‘Oh God, what about my poor wife and my innocent children? What will become of them when I'm in the jail! Oh God!'

‘I have to go now, Master Weiss. I'll come back later and talk with you.' Tom stepped back out of the cell and relocked the door, and the pedlar's sobs and wailing lamentations followed him as he went upstairs.

Amy was on her knees raking the overnight covering of ashes from the glowing embers of coal in the small living-room grate and adding woodchips and fresh coals, her rosy cheeks bulging as she blew hard upon the embers to rekindle the flames.

When Tom came into the room she sat back upon her heels and grumbled.

‘What have you done to that man to make him caterwaul so? It's an awful racket! And another thing, how long are these bundles going to be cluttering up the place and making it look like a rubbish tip?' She pointed to several packs of the pedlar's goods.

‘Not long,' Tom told her. ‘I just need to examine all of them very closely and compare them to the descriptions I wrote down about the colourings and patterns of Elias Bradshaw's Otterhounds, the Earl's Bernese mountain dogs and Will Tyrwhitt's Newfoundland bitch.'

‘Well get them shifted out of my way because I need to tidy up,' she ordered.

Tom did as he was told.

W
hen Tom Potts returned to the lock-up from his patrolling of the market, Amy was singing to herself in the alcove kitchen, but there was no sound coming from the pedlar's cell.

Tom opened the door's drop-flap and peered inside. Weiss was lying on the stone pallet, blankets pulled over his head. Tom closed the flap and went to join Amy, who proffered a platter of hot mutton stew.

‘This is for the bloke in the cell, and there's fresh bread in the cupboard.'

Tom took the food to the cell and as he unlocked the door called, ‘Wake up, Master Weiss, I've got your dinner here.'

The blankets moved and the pedlar's swarthy face appeared over their edges.

Tom held the platter towards him. ‘You'd best eat this before it gets cold, Master Weiss.'

Weiss cast the blankets completely off and stood up to declare brokenly, ‘As God is my judge, Constable Potts, I'm too sick in my heart to be able to eat anything. I can only think of one thing, and that is what is going to happen to my helpless wife and children when I am sent to the jail. It will be the death of them, Constable Potts!'

‘I'm truly sorry to hear that, Master Weiss,' Tom replied gravely. ‘But the Law is the Law, and you have broken it. So it must take its course, and you must go to jail.'

‘But please, I beg you, Constable Potts, please to hear what I tell you. I am just like you are. I am an honest man, who keeps his word. A man of kind heart and charity. A dutiful and loving husband and father . . .' Tears brimmed and fell from Weiss's eyes and sobs tore from his throat as he went on, and on, and on expounding his multitudinous virtues.

At length, Tom lifted his hand and ordered grimly, ‘Be silent, Master Weiss, and listen very carefully to what I say, because it may well be that I can help you to stay out of jail.'

The pedlar's eyes instantly narrowed, his sobbing voice hushed, his hands rubbed frantically together.

Tom lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Now, Master Weiss, what I'm going to say will be strictly private between you and myself. And you will make reply only when I give you my permission.'

Weiss hissed sibilantly, nodding agreement and cocking his head to place his hairy ear in closer proximity to Tom's mouth.

‘Otterhounds, Master Weiss? Bernese mountain? Newfoundland dogs? In your packages you have fur caps made from the pelts of all these breeds. Who sold these pelts to you? Tell me this, and I shall do my utmost to ensure that you will not go to jail.'

Tom allowed time for the other man to consider what he had heard, then told him, ‘You may now speak, Master Weiss.'

Weiss's tongue snaked out to lick his lips, his entwined black-nailed fingers rubbed and kneaded furiously. He cleared his throat and whispered hoarsely, ‘And the fine, Constable Potts? What about the fine? I am a very poor man, and a heavy fine would drive me and my sorrowful, innocent wife and children into the Poorhouse.'

Tom frowned and hardened his tone. ‘If you go to jail, your wife and children will certainly be forced into the Poorhouse, will they not? And you may never come out of jail alive, Master Weiss. Very many prisoners die of the Gaol Fever.'

He let the implied threat sink fully home, then added in a softer tone. ‘However, if you were to turn King's evidence, I'm sure that the magistrates would be prepared to take my word that you deserve another chance to buy a Hawker's License and trade legally in the future. You may answer now.'

Weiss groaned despairingly. ‘These men will cut my throat if I give such evidence against them.'

‘These men you refer to will not be able to cut your throat, because they will be in jail. And these same men could be the ones who informed on you. So, do you say yes or no to my offer? You may answer.'

Once again Weiss emitted a long, drawn-out groan of despair, but then nodded and whispered, ‘I'll do it, Constable Potts. I'll turn King's evidence.'

‘A wise decision, Master Weiss,' Tom congratulated. ‘Now give me their names.'

‘You won't break your word to me, will you, Constable?' Weiss begged tremulously. ‘You'll not let them send me to jail?'

‘No, I won't, Master Weiss. I swear that I shall keep my word to you,' Tom assured him.

‘Then I believe you, Constable Potts. And the men you wants are Ezekiel Rimmer, Porky Hicks, and the one called Dummy.'

Half an hour later Tom was in Joseph Blackwell's study, relating what had happened between himself and Yakob Weiss.

As was customary Blackwell sat impassively in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, and listened without comment until Tom had finished, but then snapped curtly.

‘You have once again exceeded the bounds of your authority, Constable Potts, by promising this pedlar exoneration from the serious crime of defrauding the Treasury in return for his evidence against Rimmer. The Lord Aston will be greatly angered and I fear you will have good cause to regret your misconduct.'

Tom gasped in shocked disbelief at what he was hearing, and protested, ‘But I told you that I was going to do that, and you had Lord Aston sign the arrest warrant for Weiss that very same day.'

Blackwell frowned and retorted, ‘That same warrant was for defrauding the Treasury, and Weiss's guilt is beyond doubt. He must also answer to charges of receiving stolen property, and again for that offence his guilt is beyond doubt. He is an incorrigible villain, and deserves to be punished with the utmost severity that the Law provides for. Which I am confident will be demonstrated in the sentence my Lord Aston will pass upon him.'

Tom stood silent, as in his mental vision there rose the features of his own father. The man he had respected, loved and honoured above all others. ‘I'll not dishonour your name, Father,' he vowed silently. ‘Please God, Amy will understand, and forgive me for doing this.'

He fought to master his fear at what was to come, then swallowed hard, shook his head, and declared firmly, ‘No, Master Blackwell! I'll not be a party to this! I gave Yakob Weiss my word that he would be shown the utmost leniency if he agreed to turn King's evidence against Rimmer and his confederates; and I told you what my intentions were, and you accepted everything I said without demur.

‘Now you accuse me of misconduct, and threaten me with the consequences of Lord Aston's anger! Well, I'm prepared to tell Weiss what betrayal is in store for him, and for myself to suffer the consequences of Lord Aston‘s anger for doing so!'

Tom fixed his stare upon the wall behind Blackwell's head, and waited for the figurative fall of the axe.

‘Do not be a fool and bring ruin down upon your own head, Master Potts, for the sake of keeping your word to scum like Yakob Weiss. Were your positions reversed he would not hesitate to tell any lie that would secure his profit and would happily bring you to the gallows by doing so. You know that to be a simple fact.' Blackwell gritted out his words.

Tom met the other man's challenging stare, and chose his own words carefully. ‘I don't do this for Yakob Weiss, Sir. I do this for the son I hope to have one day. I want my son to have just cause to respect, love and honour me, as I respect, love and honour the memory of my own father.'

Blackwell's eyes gleamed, and he clapped his hands.

‘Bravo, Thomas Potts! You have once again justified my faith in your honourable character. But, as I said previously, you have once again exceeded the bounds of your authority in the matter of Yakob Weiss. However, your transgression shall be overlooked on this occasion. The Earl will undoubtedly be most gratified to learn that the rogues who stole his precious dogs have been finally laid by the heels; and I am relieved that you will at last be free to concentrate on solving other more serious crimes as and when they occur.

‘Lord Aston will be on the bench next Tuesday to hear the case against Rimmer and his confederates, and I am confident he will be happy to accept Weiss as King's evidence and remand Rimmer's gang to the Assizes.

‘As for myself, I have the utmost confidence that you will ensure Yakob Weiss purchases a Hawker's License and no longer defies the Law by defrauding the Lords Commissioners of His Majesty's Treasury. I bid you a good day, Constable Potts.'

Tom mentally sagged with relief, and assured his employer, ‘I'll make certain that Weiss buys a Hawker's License. I bid you good day, Sir.'

As Tom left the house the bell of St Stephen's Chapel began to toll. Because of the day and hour Tom knew that the tolling bell signified a death.

The bell fell silent for a brief interlude then tolled three separate strokes, and Tom grimaced in recognition that these chimes signified it was a child who had died. If the bell had tolled the nine strokes known as the ‘Nine Tailors', it would have signified an adult man. For a woman it would have tolled six strokes. Now, after another pause the bell tolled four more strokes, to signify the dead child's age.