The Silent Woman by Edward Marston Page A

completely abashed. Cheated by a young woman, he had also been led astray by another ruse, for Pocock’s role in the enterprise had been to detain him long enough in Judith Grace’s bedchamber for his confederates to gain entry to the actor’s own room. Firethornwas too busy nursing his bruised dignity to spy any poetic justice in it all, but Nicholas saw it at once. Having caused havoc in a bedchamber for Edmund Hoode, the culprit had now experienced shame and panic of the same order. It was not a thought over which the book holder lingered. In the vague hope that Pocock might not yet have left the premises, he ordered the others to search the establishment and went racing off downstairs to the taproom. He grabbed one of the lanterns and hastened out into the yard.
    The place was deserted. Apart from the whistle of a slight breeze and the occasional movement of horses in the stables, there was no noise. To make a swift departure, Samuel Grace and his daughter – and Nicholas doubted very much if that was their true relationship – must have had their mounts saddled and ready. Pocock would likewise have an animal in waiting that could be ridden instantly away. Nicholas therefore headed for the stables, using the lantern to throw its meagre light a few paces ahead of him. He reached the door of the first stable block, lifted the wooden bar that held it in place, drew it open and went in. Hooves shifted in straw and there was a stray whinny from the far end of the stables. All the horses were tethered to their mangers. Wooden pails of water stood beside them.
    Nicholas checked each beast but none was saddled. If Pocock had a horse in readiness, it must be on the other side of the yard. The book holder turned to walk back down the rows of horses when he had a mild shock. The door, which he had left open, had now been shut, and the faint square of light that he would have aimed for had disappeared. If the wind had been responsible, the door would have creaked on its hinges and banged. Some human agency was involved.The animals confirmed it because they became restive and inquisitive. One neigh set off a few more, a bucket was kicked over and the rustling of straw was constant. The lantern was an inadequate guide but it made Nicholas an obvious target, so he quickly doused the flame and put the object aside. He slipped a hand around to the back of his belt to remove his dagger from its scabbard.
    Danger was an old enemy and Nicholas was not afraid of it. Anyone who walked home through the fetid streets and lanes of Bankside every evening developed a sixth sense for an impending threat. Who was in the stable and why was his presence so menacing? It was surely not Pocock, whose sole interest must be in immediate flight. Slovenly and overweight, the man was ill-equipped to take on the powerful Nicholas in any kind of fight. And what motive could he possibly have? The book holder carried no money. He was up against a more practised adversary, one who could close a squeaking wooden door without making a murmur, one who could lie patiently in wait for his quarry to come within range. Was he armed with sword, dagger or club? Or could he rely on the strength of his muscles to subdue Nicholas?
    Amid the breathing of the animals and the motion of their feet, Nicholas strained his ears to listen for sounds of the man’s whereabouts. The clink of harness made him swing around but it had been made by the toss of a horse’s head against a dangling bridle. A startled neigh made him face in the opposite direction but he could make nothing out in the thick gloom. It was the rat that betrayed him. It came out of the straw with such rustling urgency that Nicholas found himself jabbing his dagger in that direction. Something hard and numbing crashed down on his hand to knock theweapon from his grasp then the man was upon him from behind, tightening a knotted cord around his neck and trying to put his knee into the small of Nicholas’s back to