A Love Most Dangerous (37 page)

'What a way to go,' said Betty, fascinated by the
sight and unable to take her eyes from it.

'He deserved it,' I said. 'He well deserved it.'

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Salvation

I sank on to the ground. I was shaking uncontrollably
as if I had been walking for hours in the bitter cold. But at the same time my
body was streaming with sweat. My nose wrinkled at a terrible sour smell and I
realised that it was coming from me. It must be the stink of fear, I thought
vaguely.

'She's all done for,' I heard Betty say as if from a
great distance. 'Poor thing.'

I tried to smile at her in thanks but my teeth were
chattering too much.

'Do you think they'll be back?' Jenny asked anxiously.

'Soon enough,' said one of the butchers, stroking his
knife. 'And with more men, I warrant.'

Amy Pepper bent down towards me, a lantern in her
hand. Her eyes stared at my face with growing alarm.

'We've got to get her to safety,' she said. She
straightened up and cried out, 'Dad, come here.'

One of the men holding the lions passed a leash to
another and stepped towards us.

'She's in terrible trouble, Dad,' she said. 'She was
taken as a prostitute and those men will be back from the brothel to reclaim
her. Can you take her to the Tower?'

He shook his head. 'I daren't do that,' he answered.
'A whore in the King's palace. I'd lose house and job.'

'But the men will come back for her.'

He bit his lip and shook his head once again, crossing
his arms across his chest as if to signify that there was an end to the matter.
Then he looked at me and he gave a start. He bent closer and gestured for his
daughter to hold the light closer.

'I know you,' he said in wonder. 'You're the girl that
tried to save my Molly.'

I stared at him, blankly.

'At the Menagerie,' he said. 'You raced into the
lions' den to try to save my little girl.'

'Tom Pepper,' I croaked. I glanced at Amy. So that's
where I'd heard the name.

Pepper bent and lifted me from the ground. 'Bugger
home and job,' he said. 'I'm not letting this girl back in the hands of those
bastards.'

He whistled sharply and one of his men came towards
us. It was the young beast-keeper whose life I had pleaded for.

'Get the lads, Giles,' Pepper said. 'We're taking the
girl back to the Tower.'

Giles nodded and then peered closer to me. 'I thought
it was a man,' he said.

'Never mind what you thought,' Pepper said. 'Get a
move on, we haven't much time.'

Pepper hoisted me further in his arms and began to run
along the streets with half a dozen of the beast-keepers running alongside as
guard. I marvelled at his strength and stamina. It must have been more than
half a mile to the Tower and he ran it at full-pelt. Some of the younger men
were hard-pressed to keep up with him, burdened with me though he was.

We raced past the Tower towards the river and then
entered through a door which led up to the Menagerie. I glanced down at where
the beasts were sleeping, all apart from the lions which were, no doubt,
contentedly digesting that monster Thorne.

We reached a little cottage built against a wall and
Pepper carried me in.

'Edith,' he called, 'Edith come here and help.'

A woman of about his years hurried over towards us,
her face a picture of alarm.

'This is the girl Amy sent me to help,' Pepper said.
'She'd been kept as a prostitute and the brothel-keeper is desperate to get her
back.'

'Gawd help us,' the woman cried, her hand going to her
mouth. 'What if the King finds out you've brought a strumpet here? He'll have
your head, Tom Pepper.'

'I don't think so,' Pepper said. 'This girl used to be
his favourite and I don't think he'd take kindly to her being kept prisoner in a
brothel.'

Those were the last words I heard. I must have fallen
into a swoon for when I awoke it was broad daylight and I was tucked into a
little bed with clean, fresh sheets. I rubbed my fingers along the fabric,
feeling their solidity and comfort. The weight of the coverings made me feel
like a little girl once more; contained, secure and safe.

I looked round and saw Edith sitting in a chair beside
me busy with some sewing. She glanced up and smiled.

'How you feeling, dear? You've had a bad time of it.
I'm Mrs Edith Pepper and you're quite safe now.'

'I'm thirsty,' I said. 'I've got such a thirst.'

'It's the fear that's caused that, no doubt. A
terrible bad time, you've had.' Mrs Pepper stood up and looked closely at me, a
look of concern visible on her face. 'My Amy's here, I'll get her to bring
something for you.'

She went to the door and called out for her daughter
to bring some ale.

Amy arrived a few minutes later with a large mug and a
plate of bread thick smeared with butter. 'Once a barmaid, always a barmaid,'
she said, with a grin.

She sat on the side of the bed and peered at my face.

'How you feeling, Alice?'

I shook my head. 'I don't know. My head's in a swirl.'
I reached out for the mug and gulped down the ale.

Amy held out a slice of bread. 'You'd best eat this,'
she said. 'You look famished.'

'They've been starving me,' I said. 'At the brothel. I
only had one meal in half a week. The rest of the time it was a slice of old
bread and a sip of stale water.'

'You're safe now,' Edith said. 'Nowhere's safer than
the Tower of London.'

'But the brothel owner,' I said in alarm. 'He's bound
to search for me. Crane his name was. He beat me and made his men rape me. He's
worse than a devil.'

'Well he won't get past my dad,' said Amy. 'And I
don't think he'll try. Not after what happened to that man of his.'

I gasped, remembering my last sight of Thorne. 'He's
dead, I suppose, the pale man?' I looked at Amy anxiously, fearful of her
answer.

'I'd be very much surprised if he's still alive,' said
Amy. 'Not with half his head and his legs in the lions' bellies. Not sure which
lion got which bit but they're still sleeping it off.'

 I shuddered but not at Thorne's fate. I only wished
that the lions had chewed on him more slowly. I shuddered because of what he
had done to me.

And then I remembered how I had come to be in that
situation. I reached out for Amy's hand.

'They said that Art Scrump had sold me to Crane. That
can't be right, can it Amy? He wouldn't have done such a thing.'

Amy looked uncomfortable at my words and glanced at
her mother who sighed and shrugged.

'She'd find out soon enough, Mum,' Amy said.

She turned to me and took my hand. 'Art did sell you, Alice. He owed Crane a pile of money and it was the only way he could think to buy him off. It
didn't do him no good, though.'

I shook my head. 'What do you mean?'

Amy's eyes began to fill with tears and she shook her
head.

Edith patted her on the arm and gave me a solemn look.
'Art's body's been found in one of the waste barges on the Thames,' she said. 'Not his head though. That was found on a spike beside Cross Bones graveyard.'

I gasped in horror. 'They killed him? Even though
they'd got me as a whore?'

Amy nodded. 'Either you weren't enough to pay the debt
or more likely they didn't want any witnesses to your abduction.'

'And what about Art's parents? Walter and Margery?'

'They left town. The moment they heard about Art's
death they left town. No one knows where they went, not even their daughters.'

Tears filled my eyes. What a foolish, foolish man Art
Scrump had been. My loathing of him began to diminish even as I thought this.
He was foolish, not truly wicked. A man who thought more of himself than the
rest of the world did.

I lay in bed all morning, my knees tucked up under my
chin, sucking the tip of my thumb. I stared at the window above me and listened
to the roaring of the beasts in the Menagerie. This is what I'm content to do
for ever, I thought every so often. Just stare out of the window at the passing
clouds and not think of anything. But I got out of bed for the mid-day meal. I
was still shaking from the events of the previous week but I was absolutely
famished and the smell of good cooking banished my trepidation.

A gown had been placed on a chair beside the bed. I
guessed it was Amy's and slipped it on. It was a little loose around the bust
but it would do well enough for me.

I found my hosts in a spacious living room. The
Peppers were sitting at a little table in one corner with a fourth space
already set.

'We hoped Edith's cooking would tempt you down,' Tom
Pepper said.

'I'd have brought you up a plate,' Amy said, 'but Mum
thought it better if you ate with us.'

'She was right,' I said. I smiled my thanks at Mrs
Pepper.

I still felt numb and shaky and did not feel able to
string more than a few words together. Nor did I care to, if I was honest.

I cannot recall much of that first meal beyond two
things. The first was the taste of the food. It must have been some type of
stew for I remember chunks of meat and earthy tasting lentils in a thick sauce.
It was warm and filling and I believe that it tasted good. I was not certain of
this for I was famished from being starved and wolfed my plate down.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr and Mrs Pepper
exchange glances and then Mrs Pepper silently took my plate, disappeared for a
moment and came back with a second plate brimming with food.

'There's nothing like a good dinner,' Mr Pepper said.
'Nothing like and nothing better.'

The other thing I remember was the constant chatter
between the Pepper family. I cannot recall a word they said for I could barely
focus at the time. But I do remember that they talked non-stop, when they were
breaking up their bread to dip it in the juice, when they were spooning up
their stew, when they were chewing on the meat. Non-stop chatter. And laughter.
They laughed a lot, especially Tom Pepper. And as he laughed his food sprayed
everywhere, on the table, onto his wife and daughter, onto their food and onto
me. But nobody seemed to mind, he was in such high good humour.

I had never eaten with a family before. I did not
follow much of what went on but my spirits were greatly lifted by it.

Mrs Pepper insisted I return to my bed for the
afternoon and I acquiesced like a lamb. I crawled under the bed-cover, bent up
my knees and put my thumb in my mouth. I took it out almost immediately for I
felt stuffed to bursting with food and thought that my thumb might prove the
last straw. So I stared out of the window at the passing clouds, drifted in and
out of sleep, watched the clouds and drifted back once more into sleep. The
roaring of the savage beasts seemed like a lullaby.

The next few days went by in similar manner. I spent
the greater part of the time in bed, only rising for meals. I felt like a thick
skin had been grafted onto mine, as tough and unyielding as the shell of a
cockroach. If anyone were to touch me I felt it would rattle and clack and they
would be sure to draw back from me in horror. But this shell had its uses. As I
lay in bed I began to think about what had happened to me since I had arrived
in London. I thought about it quite dispassionately at first, protected by the
shell, as though I were listening to some gossipy piece of tittle-tattle from
Susan or Mary.

And then I began to feel it, feel it deep in my heart,
and it hurt.

I wondered why these terrible things had happened to
me, I wondered what I had done to deserve them. Why people could be so cruel
and vicious. Why Timothy Crane could run a brothel, why the pale man Thorne
could do his bidding including kidnapping and raping innocent women, why the
old woman who seemed so homely could act as the brothel house-keeper and not
worry two figs. Why men like Sir Edmund Tint could violate and flog poor women
to satisfy his cravings. Most of all I wondered how Art Scrump, the handsome,
devil-may-care man who said he loved me more than all the world, could
knowingly sell me to such a fate.

And then one night I woke in the darkness and began to
wail. The noise came unbidden from me and I could not stop it. It was a cry of
utter desolation, a venting of despair, a rant against my sense of betrayal. I
howled like a wolf and in reply the beasts of the Menagerie awoke and cried in
chorus with me. I could hear their bellowing beyond my wails. Their noise did
not seem to be fearsome or savage any more. It was as if they understood my
plight and my despair all too well. As if they cried out in sympathy for
someone who had suffered what they suffered daily. In sympathy and in
fellowship.

The next day I awoke feeling drained and exhausted.
But I managed a smile and got up and went down to breakfast.