Page 226 of The Armor of Light

She gave him the shilling. ‘You can buy me a tankard out of that,’ she said. ‘I’ve earned it.’

They settled down for an hour of relaxation before going home to bed. People who had to be at work at five in the morning did not stay up late.

However, the relaxation did not last an hour. After only a few minutes Sheriff Doye came in, wearing his cheap wig and carrying his heavy cane, looking both aggressive and frightened. He was accompanied by two constables, Reg Davidson and Ben Crocket. Sal stared at them, wondering what had got them agitated. She caught a worried glance from Spade that suggested he could guess what was on the sheriff’s mind. Sal could not.

The drinkers in the tavern soon picked up the change in atmosphere. The room gradually went quiet and everyone looked at Doye. No one liked him.

‘There has been a fire at Mose Crocket’s mill,’ Doye announced.

There was a buzz of surprise around the room.

‘It’s clear from the debris that many of the machines had been smashed before the fire started.’

There was a shocked reaction from the crowd.

‘Also, the lock on the door had been broken.’

Sal heard Spade say: ‘Oh, hell.’

‘On the wall outside, someone has written NED LUDD in red paint.’

That settled it, Sal thought; the mill had been attacked by Luddites.

‘The men who did this will hang for it, you may be sure of that,’ Doye went on. Then he pointed directly at Jarge. ‘Box, you’re the worst troublemaker in town. What have you got to say?’

Jarge smiled, and Sal wondered how he could look so confident when he was being threatened by the death penalty. He said: ‘Are you deaf, Sheriff?’

Doye looked angry. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jarge seemed to be enjoying himself. ‘We’ll have to start calling you Deffo Doye.’

‘I’m not deaf, you oaf.’

‘Well, if you’re not deaf, you must have heard what everyone elsein Kingsbridge has been hearing this evening – me ringing the No. 7 cathedral bell for the last hour.’

The crowd in the tavern laughed, pleased to see the unpopular Doye made a fool of. But Sal was not smiling. She understood what Jarge had done and she was angry. He had embroiled her in a plot – without telling her. She had no doubt that he had been one of the men who had broken into Crocket’s Mill. But he had an alibi: he had been at ringing practice. Only Sal and the other ringers knew that he had slipped away – and he was relying on them to keep his secret. Either I lie about it, Sal thought, or I betray my husband and see him hanged. This was completely unfair.

For the second time that evening she met Spade’s intelligent gaze. He had surely followed the same reasoning process and come up with the same conclusion: Jarge had compromised them all.

For the moment, however, Doye was flummoxed. He was not a quick thinker. His prime suspect had an alibi, and he did not know what to do next. After a long pause he said emphatically: ‘We shall see about that!’ It was so weak that the crowd laughed again.

Doye made a hasty exit.

Conversation resumed, and the noise filled the room. Spade leaned forward and spoke to Jarge in a low, clear voice that could be heard by the other ringers. ‘You shouldn’t have done this, Jarge,’ he said. ‘You’ve put us all in a position where we have to lie for you. Well, all right, I’ll do it. But perjury is a serious crime, and I’m not willing to commit a crime for you.’

The others nodded agreement.

Jarge pretended to be scornful. ‘It’ll never get to court.’

‘I hope not,’ said Spade. ‘But if it does, and I can’t avoid giving evidence, I’m telling you now, I shall speak the truth. And if you hang, it will be your own damn fault.’

*

Early in February, when Elsie was living with her mother and Spade, she received a letter from Spain, addressed in Kenelm’s familiar neat handwriting. She took it to the drawing room and opened it eagerly.

Ciudad Rodrigo, Spain

Christmas Day, 1812