The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) by John Pilkington (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📕

‘By the Christ, it’s you!’

Dan Tait, sweating, hatless and dishevelled, returned my gaze. ‘Are you come at me again? Why do you-’ He broke off, his eyes on a pistol being levelled at his head. As the constables closed in, his face fell.

‘Oh, Jesus… have mercy, masters,’ he moaned. Wincing suddenly, he looked down at his arm: his sleeve was torn, and blood ran freely. ‘Now what have I done…’

‘You’ve got yourself arrested, that’s what.’ Lisle was eying the man. ‘I call it resisting officers in their legal duty. Or perhaps, aiding a felon…’

‘I never!’ Tait cried. ‘I’m but a waterman – the Justice will tell you!’ In a forlorn appeal for aid, he indicated me.

‘Yet you built that foolish barricade, on the bridge,’ Lisle retorted. ‘Why?’

‘Because he told me to!’ Came the reply. ‘The way he was, how could I refuse? He drew a fucking sword on me – like you did!’ He glared at me, breathing hard, while blood continued to run down his arm and drip on to the path.

‘So - you serve Giles Cobbett still,’ I said. ‘I wonder what else he’s told you to do?’

He made no reply, but shook his head stubbornly.

‘He’s inside, then, your master?’ Lisle jerked his thumb towards the door. ‘Is he alone?’

For a moment the rogue looked as if he would refuse to answer again, but at last he shook his head. ‘She’s with him,’ he muttered in a sour tone. ‘Dowling… she always is.’ His brow creased as he clutched his blood-soaked sleeve. ‘See now, will you not fashion me a bandage? I could bleed to death!’

‘That’d be no great loss,’ one of the constables murmured, but received a disapproving look from the sergeant.

‘In good time,’ he said to Tait. ‘Just now, I want some answers. What were you doing in the chapel, for one?’

‘She begged me to go,’ Tait said, glaring at him. ‘She’s afeared he’ll do something rash, she said…’ On a sudden, he let out a bitter laugh. ‘I told her it was somewhat late to care about that, given all else he’s done…’

‘What do you mean?’ Lisle broke in. ‘That she fears Cobbett might take his own life?’

‘By the Christ, I wish he would!’ Tait threw back, his pain making him reckless. ‘I wish he’d done it long ago, and saved us all from looking over our shoulders…’ He turned a baleful eye on me. ‘Belstrang knows what I mean,’ he growled. ‘How Cobbett pays others to take the risks, dirtying their hands and their very souls, so he can keep himself free of blame!’

There was a short silence, with all eyes upon him: a sorry figure, when all was said and done. A boatman who could never make it pay, and had long ago turned his hand to other things, legal or otherwise. I thought of Berritt, who had wound up being dragged from the river by this man… and then, with a shock that chilled me from head to foot, I saw something else. I must have started, for every head was turned towards me.

‘Howell Rhys,’ I said, my hand going absently to my sword-hilt. ‘By heaven… it was you killed him.’

There was an intake of breath all round. Lisle frowned at me, while Elkins gasped.

But it was true.

I knew it, even as I saw Tait grow pale, shaking his head loosely… until with a sigh he dropped to one knee, nursing his wound.

‘She begged me to do that, too,’ he said at last, his resistance drained. ‘Dowling… she knew her master desired it. The boy could have accused him, so she badgered me, and-’

‘And paid you too,’ I finished. To which the ferryman looked down, and was silent.

I turned away from him. Now I could tell David ap Rhys who had murdered his son. But just then, it brought no relief.

TWENTY-THREE

It was all but over; the last throw of a misshapen dice in a desperate game. I sensed it then, as did the other men, as we prepared to force our way into the chapel.

Tait was gone, taken away with hands bound by one of the constables, to be conveyed to Worcester. There had been little need to question him further, for he had at last told the truth. He had been hired by Eliza Dowling, to remove an inconvenient witness for her master’s sake. She had even provided him with poison to force down Howell Rhys’s throat, after he had abducted the boy by night, beaten him and taken him to the Witching Pool.

With contempt, but with my anger dulled, I watched him disappear from sight, then joined the party at the chapel entrance. A crowbar had been found, and the stocky constable was forcing it between the doors. As the man put his weight to it, Lisle turned to me.

‘I’ll ask you to stay in the rear, Master Justice. I’ve no wish to see swords drawn.’

I gave a nod, my heart thudding a little; to be this close to seeing Cobbett brought to book for his crimes was exhilarating, and yet I was wary. I had no notion what to expect once we were inside… and soon, alarm rose anew. For as the lock began to break from the timbers, with much creaking and splintering, there came a sound from within: a woman’s scream, shrill and piercing.

‘It’s Dowling.’

I glanced at the sergeant, saw his mouth tighten. He urged the constable to push harder until, after some grunting and straining, the man succeeded. The door flew inwards on a sudden, sending him off balance. As he fell forward, the others pushed past him. I followed with my own servants… to stop in my tracks.

Only a few yards from us, Eliza Dowling lay sprawled on the tiled floor in the aisle of the chapel. Her face