IGMS Issue 16 Read online

  The men turned their glares on her and Jennet skipped backwards a step, ready to run. Then she recognized the older man - Master Rawlins, her favorite mark from the Temple Stairs. She didn't know his black-haired companion, but she could guess why they were so upset. They must have been coming away from yet another fruitless visit to the Cunning Men.

  "Good sir!" Jennet hurried to produce the shell Bess had found earlier. "Would you be interested in a wonder? Look at the mark of our Savior on this humble shell, meant to remind us of His suffering on the Cross and how He died to redeem us --"

  At first Master Rawlins just frowned down his nose at her, but then he blinked and must have finally recognized her because he interrupted, "How much?"

  "Sixpence!"

  The black-haired man scowled, then turned and stalked away. That was fine by Jennet - she didn't want anything to foul up her sale. And even though Master Rawlins was grumbling under his breath, he was also digging into his purse.

  Master Rawlins pulled out a sixpence and gave it to her without even attempting to bargain. She handed over the shell and quickly made the sixpence disappear into her clothing, but he was too busy studying the shell to pay any attention to her. His eyes were all but glued to it as he turned and began to walk toward Temple Stairs.

  Jennet grinned down at Bess, determined to properly appreciate their windfall. "Red meat for sure today, and not rat or horse."

  Bess didn't return the smile. "I don't like him."

  "He pays good money, doesn't he?"

  "But the way he looks at us --"

  Jennet snorted. "How do you expect someone to look at us? Come on - race you to the Cross. You beat me there, I'll buy you a ribbon from Widow Larkin's stall."

  Bess looked at her for a long moment more, then took off towards Cheapside.

  Jennet beat the younger girl, but only just barely, so she bought Bess a pretty green ribbon anyway. It broke up her shilling, leaving her with enough small coins that she could buy dinner and still give a ha'penny to every member of her crew that had a family. That would make them happy - she always divided up the profits from their finds once a week, but they rarely got more than a farthing to take home to their parents.

  The rest of her crew showed up even before the bells tolled one and teased Bess about her ribbon while Jennet handed out the ha'pennies. Then they ate a better meal than Jennet remembered having in a very long time. They were all full and cheerful as they made their way back down to the riverside. The Thames would still be too high for them to scavenge, but quite a few people were on the river and there was sometimes a farthing to be made from helping ladies in and out of the watermen's boats. Jennet set the older boys to work on the Temple Stairs, while everyone else wandered the bankside streets trying to entertain the passersby in hopes of earning a farthing of their own.

  Jennet was just about to go check on the river when she heard a shout and a splash. She rushed to the river wall and looked down to see what was happening. Reade was in the water - fool! Was he trying to get himself killed? - and up to his neck, struggling to pull something in to the bottom of the stairs. Master Averell was nearby, in his boat; he reached out with an oar and used it to help Reade, no doubt so he could lay claim to the find if it was something good.

  Only when Reade had scrambled up onto the stone steps with his burden did Jennet realize she was seeing a body. A very small body.

  She raced down the stairs, taking the steps at a breakneck speed that even Bess couldn't match. Reade was arguing with Master Averell over something, but Jennet ignored them both and threw herself down on her knees beside the body.

  Kensal was breathing. It was a labored gurgling in and out, like she had water in her lungs, but she was still alive. Jennet knew a moment of complete and utter relief. This was just like a miracle from the Gospels! The Lord watched over mudlarks, after all.

  Reade had turned Kensal onto her side, and Jennet was just about to pound her chest - to see if she could get the girl to cough out more of the water - when she realized some of the liquid soaking Kensal's clothing wasn't from the Thames. She stared at the red blood stain slowly spreading across Kensal's shoulder and for a moment she was so angry she couldn't even breathe. What sort of miracle was this - to return Kensal alive but dying?

  Then she remembered the sixpence Master Rawlins had given her earlier that day and leapt to her feet. "Bess!" Despite having short legs, the younger girl was the fastest member of the crew, save only Jennet herself. Bess was at her side in moments and Jennet pressed the coin into the Bess's hand. "Find a barber-surgeon. Or a bonesetter. Or anyone who will come. Run!"

  Bess ran.

  Jennet turned back to Reade and Master Averell - she'd need help to get Kensal up the steps. It took her a moment to understand what she was hearing, but finally she realized that Master Averell wanted Kensal's clothes. Only he kept calling them "the body's rags."

  "She's not dead, yet!" Jennet said, and both stopped to stare at her. To Master Averell she added, "I'll repay you for your aid, my word on it." She grabbed Reade's arm and pulled him back towards Kensal. "Now help me get her off the stairs and out of the way of Master Averell's customers."

  They moved her carefully, trying not to jar her as they went up the steps. A few people noticed when they reached the top and laid her out on the cobblestones, but they only glanced at Kensal, wrinkled their noses in distaste, and moved on. Nobody stopped, not even the Cunning Men, who were all required to learn at least a little bit about wounds. Of course they didn't offer to help. Who cared about a mudlark? Jennet just prayed that sixpence was enough to pay a barber-surgeon; she'd never tried to hire one before.

  The rest of her crew crowded around her, anxious and upset, and Jennet finally had to send them away to start scavenging. Reade pulled back Kensal's shirt to reveal bruises and a nasty knife wound. Jennet swallowed hard - someone had done that on purpose and then dumped her into the Thames to die. Why would anyone do that? If Kensal had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, why hadn't they just killed her then? Why take her and wait almost a day before stabbing her? Jennet's mind started running through all kinds of horrible scenarios, but a quick search of Kensal's body found no other wounds.

  "Move aside, move aside!" Someone roughly pushed Jennet out of the way and she scrambled to her feet, fists clenched to defend herself. Then she recognized Bess and realized the stranger now kneeling beside Kensal must be a barber-surgeon. Or, given his youth, maybe a barber-surgeon's journeyman. Good enough. More than good enough.

  Bess took hold of Jennet's arm, pulling her back away from the stranger. "He wants a sixpence more, but he says we can pay in a sennight." Only seven days. Jennet winced and Bess looked anxious, "We can do that, can't we?"

  If he saved Kensal, then going hungry would be worth it. But Jennet wasn't sure how she'd explain to the crew that they were working to pay off a debt if the barber-surgeon hadn't done any good. She'd find a way. Somehow. "We'll do it."

  When Jennet returned to stand beside Reade, the barber-surgeon was stitching up Kensal's skin. The sight of that needle, going in and out of flesh, made her feel a little sick to her stomach. "Well?"

  The man shrugged and kept stitching. "The wound was full of river water. I cleaned it out with wine and herbs, but that's not always enough."

  Jennet had seen wounds go bad before; that was what had killed her father, when she was little. She swallowed hard. "But there's a chance --"

  "She was healthy enough to start with." The man tied off the last of his stitches and finally looked up at her. There was no pity in his gaze, which Jennet took to be a good sign. Either that or he just didn't care whether Kensal survived or not, so long as he was paid. "There's a chance."

  A chance was all Jennet could ask for at this point. She moved on to worrying over payment, so she wouldn't have to worry over Kensal. "Another sixpence? Within a sennight? Where will I find you?"

  "At the sign of the bleeding arm on Fleet Street. But wait." He pulled so
mething out of his bag - some sort of grayish plant - and showed it to her. "This is called Old Man's Beard. An apothecary should be able to give you more. She can eat it, or put it directly on the wound; either way, it will help if she takes a fever."

  As if they could afford an apothecary's fees. But Jennet thanked him anyway. Now that she was looking for it, she could see that he'd used some of the plant on Kensal's wound before sewing it back up. Maybe it would make a difference. Maybe not. She supposed it couldn't hurt.

  Kensal still hadn't woken up, so Jennet went to the river wall and shouted for the twins. They'd be able to sling Kensal between themselves and keep their steps together so that they didn't knock her around too much.

  She waited until the twins were well out of earshot, then turned to Reade. "Go back to the cobs. See if you can barter a pitcher of water out of them. In case she does take a fever."

  Reade was no fool. "And if I happen to find anything out . . ."

  "Then you bring it back to me," she said. Kensal was part of her crew. If she ever found out who had hurt the girl, she would make them pay. Her. Not Reade, not the priests - assuming they'd care about anything more than fleecing the man out of his money for pardoning his sins. And she certainly wasn't going to wait for the Lord God to get around to righting any wrongs this side of the grave.

  Reade nodded his agreement and took off. Jennet watched him go, then made her way back down the stairs to check on the rest of her crew. They were busy scavenging, and Jennet hoped they'd find something to take care of their debt to Master Averell. She wasn't sure if they really owed him anything, but no mudlark wanted to risk making enemies of the watermen. And he had helped Reade pull Kensal out of the Thames; without him, the current might have swept both of them past the stairs and into the center of the river. A swift, sure death.

  Instead of watching her crew from the stairs, Jennet stepped into the shallows. The river swirled around her ankles, and she silently thanked the Thames - or God, or maybe both - for not swallowing Kensal whole. The river could just as easily have sent Kensal out to sea as let her fetch up against one of the watermen's stairs. Much less the Temple Stairs.

  From her post, Jennet watched her crew with extra care, calling Bess back a few times when the girl ventured too far into the water. She watched the watermen and their customers almost as carefully; any one of them could be the person who'd stabbed Kensal. Or it could be no one she'd ever seen before or would see again - some sturdy beggar passing through, always wary of being caught and sent to a workhouse. If only Bess could find things on land as well as in the water. But no, her talent was as tied to the river as Jennet's.

  As soon as the riverbed began to vanish under the waters, Jennet called her crew out of the Thames and sent them on their way with stern warnings to be extra wary of strangers and friends alike. Then she and Bess headed straight home, arriving just after the bells tolled seven of the clock. The twins had bundled Kensal up to keep her from becoming chilled, but when Jennet touched her hand to the girl's forehead she felt what she feared was the beginning of an unnatural warmth.

  "Bess," Jennet said, "did you find anything good this evening?" She didn't know how much more Old Man's Beard would cost, coming from an apothecary, but she had an hour before curfew to find out.

  "A bunch of rags, a few pieces of wood, and some rotten meat on a bit of bone. The best was a length of rope, but I gave that to Master Averell," Bess said. She hesitated, then touched the green ribbon woven into her hair. "Would this help?"

  It was worth a farthing in coin, maybe a ha'penny in barter, and they all knew it. Jennet glanced over at the twins, whose faces were a study in misery, then took Bess's hand. "Let's find out."

  The first apothecary they found claimed to be out of Old Man's Beard and for all Jennet knew he really was. The second man shut the door in their faces without even asking what they wanted. Church bells were ringing half past seven when they found a third apothecary, who had Old Man's Beard but laughed at their offer to barter and threw them out when Jennet asked for credit. Jennet was nearly in tears - of rage or helplessness, she wasn't sure which - by the time they found the fourth apothecary's shop.

  A string of little bells hanging from the door announced their entrance and a man called, crankily, "Coming, coming!" His voice grew louder, "What in God's name do you need, so close to curfew?" Then a dark-haired man in black robes came through a door and into the shop. He stopped to stare at them, and Jennet realized he was the man that Master Rawlins had been arguing with outside the Middle Temple. She had the strangest feeling that he'd recognized them, too. It made her stomach flutter a little; no one paid that much attention to mudlarks.

  Bess inched in a little closer to Jennet's side, clinging to her arm, and that reminded Jennet that curfew was fast approaching. She drew in a deep breath and tried to blurt out her entire request before he stopped her. "Please, sir, we're looking for Old Man's Beard, we need some for our friend, and I know we don't have any coin, but we'd give you this ribbon if it's worth enough, or if you'd be willing to let us have credit we'll pay you back right away, within a fortnight for sure!"

  He looked at them for a moment longer, then smiled. "But of course we can come to some sort of an arrangement. I have plenty of Old Man's Beard." He vanished into the other room again then returned with a handful of grayish strands - Jennet hoped it was the right plant, but couldn't tell for sure - and a knife. "I assume you want it cut up, for a poultice?"

  "I - yes, please," Jennet said, a little dazed now. It couldn't be that easy, could it? And he hadn't said what the price was. But at this point, she'd probably do just about anything so did it really matter? Besides, if he thought they wouldn't be able to pay, he wouldn't be offering it to them.

  He cut up the Old Man's Beard, twisted it into a bit of paper, then held it out towards her. Jennet shook Bess off her arm so she could step forward. The apothecary pressed the twist of paper into her hand, but seized her wrist when she started to step back. Jennet swallowed hard and eyed the knife he had left on the table at his right hand. "How much do we owe you, sir?"

  "Just the girl," the apothecary said, and Jennet instinctively tried to jerk her hand free. He was much stronger than her; she barely made his own arm move. "Come now, she's not your sister - any man can see that. I'll treat her well enough, and in return you can have all the medicines you could ever want or need."

  "Bess isn't for sale, sir," Jennet said, dropping the paper back to the table. "I'm sorry if we wasted your time."

  He ignored the paper and Jennet glanced at the knife again, wondering if she could beat him to it. He followed her gaze and picked the knife up in his free hand. His voice remained perfectly pleasant and even, but she couldn't help but notice the way he held the knife, ready to strike. "I don't think you understand me. I have need of Bess's special talent."

  "Bess doesn't have any special talent," Jennet said, hoping her voice didn't betray her. How had he found out? At least he didn't sound like he was going to denounce Bess as a witch, not yet anyway. "Except maybe getting into mischief."

  "And finding things," he said.

  Jennet's heart leapt up into her throat and she tried once again to pull free. "Youmistake her, sir --"

  "Don't try to play me for a fool," he said, his voice hardening and his grip on her wrist tightening painfully. "Bess, she's the one who finds all those curiosities you sell to that old blockhead Rawlins. I'd thought it was the other one - they look so much alike - but she was useless."

  "You." Jennet stared at him for a moment, frozen. He was the one who had taken Kensal. The one who had stabbed her. The one who had thrown her into the Thames to die after Jennet sold Master Rawlins the shell and proved that he hadn't taken the right mudlark . . .

  Jennet flung herself at him, clawing at his face with her free hand. Bess screamed and he swore as Jennet knocked him to the floor. They grappled with one another, Jennet trying to gouge out his eyes or smash in his nose, him trying to push her away.
Then suddenly he rolled and she found herself under him, his knife at her throat. She still wanted to kill him, but she could hardly avenge Kensal with a slit throat so she went limp.

  "That," he panted, "was foolish." Then he glanced sideways and his voice hardened. "Drop it or I'll slit her throat."

  Bess. Jennet heard a thunk of something hitting the floor, and winced. Please, Bess, just run! But of course the younger girl would never leave her.

  Jennet drew in a deep breath, feeling the edge of the knife press deeper into her skin, and tried to figure out a way to get Bess to safety. "It only works in the river. I don't know what you want to find, but --"

  "What I want is in the Thames," he said, triumph flashing across his face. He thought he'd won. But Jennet knew better - the river was the only place where she had any hope of gaining the advantage. "Alkahest. You sold Rawlins some six months ago. There must be more."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," Jennet said, with complete honesty. She couldn't remember half the things she'd convinced Master Rawlins to buy.

  He frowned at her. "It purifies base metals. It . . . never mind. You don't need to know."

  "But I do." Jennet met his eyes; that always convinced her marks that she was telling them the truth. "I'm the one who finds the things we sell to Master Rawlins."

  "I've watched her do it." The apothecary pressed the knife deeper into her throat and Jennet could feel blood begin to drip down the side of her neck. Bess began weeping and Jennet knew she had to talk fast, before he worked himself up to killing her and just taking Bess.

  "In the shallows, yes, but that's not where the good stuff is!" Jennet lied. "And how could a little girl swim the Thames without getting caught in the current and drowning? I'm the one who does that, not Bess." He let up the pressure on her neck, just a bit, and she breathed a little more easily. "Please, sir." The flattering title of respect tried to stick in her throat but she forced it out anyway. "Let Bess take the medicine back to Kensal and I'll do anything. I'll stay, I'll help you find your . . . um . . ."