*Nothing yet?' Lister asked.
*No,' he answered without turning his head. *Better hope there isn't, either.' They stood in silence until the first man emerged. Rob felt his body tense until the man shook his head, then realized he'd been holding his breath.
The other pit was empty, too. Sedgwick worked his jaw slowly and started to walk away.
*What are you thinking?' Lister asked as he caught up to him.
*Nothing. Everything,' he replied in frustration. *I was scared we'd find more of them.' He turned and Rob could see the fear in his eyes. *All I could think was it could have been James down there.' His face hardened. *I'm going to make that bastard scream when we find him.'
*He'll have a trial.'
Sedgwick spat. *Why waste the money?'
*But-'
*But what?' he said angrily. *You really believe we're going to be the only ones out there looking? People hate child killers. Even if they don't care about the children themselves. And if they find him . . .' He let the thought twist in the air. Rob understood; he knew how dangerous a mob could be.
*What were the workmen doing at the pits, anyway?'
*They're filling them in. It's going to be a big bloody job and all. But that new mayor thinks the city should look better, especially around the Cloth Hall. We're so important that we have to impress visitors these days,' he said in disgust. *Those pits have been open since Adam was a lad. You know people still go down there looking for coal in the winter? When it's bitter out there'll be folk scavenging in the pits.' He paused, but before he could say more, the sharp clatter of a drum made him turn his head.
*What's that?' Rob asked.
*I don't know.' They began to walk briskly along the Calls in the direction of the sound. A small, curious crowd had gathered close to the bridge, drawn in by the crisp, urgent beats, eager for any brief excitement in their day.
*Gather round, lads,' boomed a deep voice. *Aye, and you lasses, too, we like a pretty face.'
Sedgwick relaxed and started to laugh. *You know who that is?'
*No.'
*It's the recruiting sergeant.' He winked and nudged Lister in the ribs. *If you've an urge to escape that Emily, now's your chance, lad. Plenty of adventure. You can come back with a fortune, if you believe what they say.'
Rob snorted. *I think I'll stay here. More chance of staying alive.'
*There'll be some who'll fall for it,' the deputy told him. *He'll march off in a day or two with a few in tow, you can wager on that. There's no shortage of fools in the world. I was halfway tempted myself once till I came to my senses.'
The audience had quickly thinned. He looked at the soldier with his worn, smiling face, scarlet coat neatly sponged clean and bright, breeches mostly white, boots worn and travel dusty. Next to him the drummer boy, a lad maybe ten years old, had put up his sticks and was glancing idly around. *Come on,' the deputy continued, *we're right by the Old King's Head. I don't know about you, but I need to drink the taste of this morning away.'
The Constable watched Tom and his apprentice wrap the bodies in their winding sheets. They'd carry them away once the streets were quiet and few would see, and take them to the pauper's grave out beyond Sheepscar Beck. The children would lie as forgotten in death as they'd been in life.
The murderer had taken his time with them. He'd relished every pain he'd inflicted, drawn it out to make them hurt even more. And they'd be no match for a grown man.
All over Leeds, people would know that three children had been killed. Now he just had to hope no details came out about the way the bodies had been broken, battered and used. If that happened there'd be fury all over the city. That had been the mayor's fear, Leeds out of control. Not that he'd needed to say anything. The Constable had already seen the resolve and the hatred on Sedgwick's face, the hurt in Rob's eyes, and he knew what was in his own heart. They all wanted this man.
He'd hoped for time to ease back into the job, not working so hard or so long at first, but it wasn't going to be that way.
FOUR.
Rob leaned against the wall vainly trying to rub the weariness from his eyes. Evening was drawing in, the weather turning colder. He pulled up his collar, wishing he'd worn his greatcoat. The bell rang exactly on the half hour and the girls trooped meekly out of the dame school, each in her blue dress, carrying a bag. Mrs Rains stood in the doorway, making sure they behaved as they walked down the street.
Five more minutes passed before Emily emerged, the old cloak fastened at the neck, her cap slightly askew, letting a few strands of hair fall to her cheek. He smiled and moved forward as he saw her, reaching out to take the basket she was holding.
*How were they?' he asked.
*The same as ever.' She laughed. *Lovely. Tiring. Frustrating.' Her hand lingered on his, her eyes merry until she noticed his expression. *What's wrong?' she asked quickly, panic flashing across her face. *Has something happened to Papa?'
*No, it's nothing like that,' he assured her swiftly. *It's what we found this morning.'
*What? What was it?'
He explained as they walked, seeing the horror grow on her face. She clutched at his arm, glancing up at him when he went silent, lost in the dark country of his thoughts. *They were so helpless,' he said finally, seeing them once again in his mind. *So small.'
*You'll find whoever did it,' Emily averred. *I know you will. You and Papa and Mr Sedgwick.'
But what if we don't? he wondered. He'd spent the last three hours talking to everyone he could think of, anyone who might be able to help. From Mark the cobbler to the whores on Briggate, no one had known anything useful. He sighed.
They crossed Timble Bridge, strolling up Marsh Lane and into the house.
*Mama?' Emily called, hanging her cloak on a peg by the door then pulling off the cap and shaking her hair free. When there was no reply she went and looked through to the kitchen. *That's strange. She's not here.' Her expression brightened and she opened her arms. *But it means we have the house to ourselves for a while.'
Nottingham didn't even know how long he'd been sitting there thinking, the ghosts of the dead lingering in the cells as darkness started to fall. He could feel them there, pushing against him for attention, tugging at the memories he'd kept locked away in the corners of his mind. The faces he'd known back when he slept in the woods outside the city, wrapping himself in a stolen blanket for any kind of warmth, the hunger in his belly always there, as natural as breathing. Alice, her blue eyes so big and sad she could charm a coin from the women without saying a word. Peter and Martin, a pair of brothers a year or so older than him, who left one night and were never seen again. Or sickly little Thomas, coughing himself to sleep every night, growing thinner and thinner until he seemed fade into death before their eyes. They all came back to visit him, and he heard their voices as if they'd just spoken soft, broken words in his ear.
The door to the jail opened and roused him. Mary was there, gently smiling. The sight took him aback and he wondered if he was dreaming it. She never visited him at the jail.
*I had to come and buy some things,' she explained, lifting the basket on her arm. *I was worried about you.'
He stood slowly, his face softening as he put his arms around her. The feel of her, solid under his hands, her hair tickling his neck, banished the phantoms from his head.
*You heard?'
He felt the nod of her head against his chest.
*Three of them,' he told her.
Mary pulled back and studied his face. She didn't need to say anything; he knew the question in her eyes.
*I'm weary and heartsick,' he said eventually and gave a small smile. *Come on, let's go home.'
*Emily and Rob will be in the house by themselves if he met her after school,' she warned.
*He will have done.' The lad met her every afternoon when she'd finished teaching. *We'd better make sure we're noisy and slow as we go in.' He winked at her, picked up the stick and they left together, arm in arm.
*How have you managed today?' she asked as they walked down Kirkgate.
*I've been careful,' he promised her. *The most I've done is walk to the Moot Hall and back.'
*Was the mayor glad to see you?'
*Not as you'd notice,' he replied quietly. *When I took the daily report I had to give it to the new clerk he has. And when I told him about the children his only concern was how it might affect the city.' He paused. *Do you mind if we stop by the churchyard?'
He could have found his way to the grave with his eyes closed. As soon as he'd been able to walk far enough it had been the first place he'd visited. Rose, their older daughter. Soon it would be two years since she'd died, taken in that awful, killing winter. He stood, threading his fingers through Mary's. The grass had grown tall, the inscription on the headstone still clear but starting to wear, the edges of the letters no longer so sharp as lichen grew around the words.
They didn't need words to remember the girl who'd been so loving and eager to please, barely married and with child herself when death came.
Finally he stirred, startled to see that full evening had come while his mind wandered.
*I'm sorry,' he said.
*It doesn't matter,' she told him tenderly. *I feel peaceful here.'
At the house he was careful to rattle the latch noisily before they entered. It would give Emily and Rob time to make themselves respectable. He'd be disappointed if they hadn't taken advantage of the time alone.
The girl had built a fire and the pair of them sat close to it, careful not to look at each other. The Constable smiled inside. Emily might not want to marry but that didn't mean she wasn't interested in other things with her young man.
*Did you find anything?' he asked Lister.
*Nothing, boss. No one knows anything. But there's a recruiting sergeant in town.'
Nottingham rolled his eyes. *Find out where he's staying. I'll wager there'll be trouble there tonight; there always is when they're here. Prepare the men for it.'
*Yes, boss.'
*Go and talk to the people down at the camp, too. Someone down there might have known the children. Even names for them would be something.'
*Mr Sedgwick suggested that.'
*Good.' The Constable brightened. *And I suppose we should feed you before you start work.'
Rob grinned. *Yes, boss.'
As dusk became night Sedgwick completed his last round and returned to the jail. The undertaker had taken the children, and he imagined them laid gently into the ground in the darkness before the gravediggers sprinkled a thick layer of quicklime on them.
The boss might have come back, but the work day had been as long as before, stretching from before dawn to well into the evening. It felt odd to have someone else making the decisions again and telling him what to do. He'd grown used to being in charge. Maybe he would be again; he could see the Constable wasn't the man he'd once been. The smile was there and his mind seemed sharp enough, but he moved slowly and cautiously, like someone much older than his years.
The deputy locked the jail door, tested it briefly, then made his way home up Briggate and along Lands Lane. Inside the house a fire burned bright and warm in the hearth; Isabell was awake and smiling in the crib he'd made from old scraps of wood.
Sedgwick picked her up and held her at arm's length before bringing her close, burying her face against her and smelling the freshness and the milk on her skin.
*James is upstairs,' Lizzie said. *He's finishing the work he has to do for school.' She was sitting close to the blaze, using its light to finish mending a shirt. He bent to kiss her and stroke her hair lightly, then tickled the baby until she began to gurgle happily. This was what he lived for, the thing that drove him through every day, knowing he'd come back to his family when it was all over.
He laid the girl back in her bed and climbed to the cramped upper storey of the house. The room was filled with a bed and a paillasse where the boy sat thoughtfully, staring at the slate in front of him, a stub of chalk clutched tight between his small fingers.
*What do you have to do?'
*Sums,' James replied glumly, looking up. *It's hard.'
The deputy chuckled and ruffled the lad's hair. *It's worth knowing,' he said. *Remember, if you know how to count properly no bugger can cheat you.' He'd talked to his son's teacher at the charity school and knew he was learning quickly, already able to read and write spidery letters.
The boy's blue coat hung neatly from a peg. Each afternoon, when James came home, Lizzie sponged it carefully. It was
too large but that was good; it would need to last a few years before they'd be able to afford a new one. The first morning he'd walked the boy to school and seen him vanish into the place he'd thought his heart would burst from pride.
*Sleep as soon as you've finished.' He tried to kiss the lad but James wriggled away, never taking his eyes from the numbers in front of him, then scribbling an answer. *You hear me?'
*Yes, Da.'
He settled by the fire, letting the warmth surround him. Isabell had fallen asleep and he pulled the blanket up around her chin. Lizzie had cut bread and cheese and poured a mug of ale. He drank slowly, gazing into the flames.
*Bad?' she asked. He nodded in reply. He'd knew she'd have heard; the word would have flown around Leeds.
*Very,' he said with a weary sigh. *It made me think about our two.'
Lizzie reached out and took his hand. *You can't look after all of them, you know.'
*We don't even know their names,' he told her bleakly. *Let alone who did it.'
She squeezed his fingers gently. *You'll find him, John Sedgwick.'
He hoped that was true.
Rob made the rounds with two of the men then headed out along the Aire to the camp. He'd gone to his lodgings for the greatcoat and was glad of it now; with night the sky had cleared, stars shining and the air stinging against his face.
The clock on the Parish Church had struck nine by the time Rob walked along the riverbank. Small fires burned in the darkness, figures in silhouette gathered around them.
There'd be a thick frost tonight, he thought; already the grass crunched beneath his boots and the earth felt hard and rutted. He looked up to see a woman standing in front of him, her arms folded.
*Evening, Mr Lister,' she said, her voice wary. *What brings you this way? We've not seen you for a while.' Her face broke into a small grin. *I was starting to think maybe you didn't love us any more.'
He chuckled. *Hello, Bessie. It's good to see you, too.'
*Must be summat important to bring you down this way.'