Free The Relic Murders by Paul Doherty

and put it above a carp pond?'
    I smiled back. 'All the fish rise to the top.'
    'Precisely,' Berkeley declared. 'It's not the fish which frighten me, Roger. It's the pike and the other dark things that live in the muck and slime at the bottom.' He locked the strong-room door and grinned at me. 'And, before you say it, Roger, you can recognise pikes!'
    'You fear for your life?' I asked.
    'The love of wealth is the root of all evil, Roger.'
    He led me up out of the cellar. He sighed and rubbed his stomach.
    'The Orb is a precious relic as well as an object of rare beauty. There are men who would give their right hand just to see what you have seen.' He blew out the lantern and put it back on its hook near the cellar door. 'Remember what I've told you.'
    I did and was to thank God that he had warned me. Two nights later I was carousing in a tavern at the top of Goldsmith Row, the Silver Lion, a spacious place where I could sit in the shadows and enjoy my ale. On that particular evening, feeling good and wondering when Benjamin would return, I was about to leave. Indeed, I was just through the door leading into the lane, when two cowled, hooded figures stepped out of the darkness. My hand immediately went to my dagger.
    'Don't draw!'
    I recognised the voice, soft as the hissing of a snake. Charon, Lord of the London underworld, pulled back his cowl. In the light from the tavern window his face looked more liverish and ghastly than ever.
    'Well, well, Roger.' He looked me up and down from head to toe. 'Like a cat, aren't you? Landed on your feet!'
    'I have employment,' I replied.
    'Yes, yes, so you have, with Sir Hubert Berkeley the royal goldsmith.'
    I felt behind me for the latch to the door.
    'Don't go yet.' Charon stepped closer, his breath stank of fish.
    'Have you noticed anything, Roger?' 'Yes, you smell.'
    'Now, come, come!' Charon declared. 'You don't want to visit my halls again, do you, Shallot? I asked you a question, have you noticed anything untoward in Master Goldsmith's house?'
    'There's a comely wench.' I replied. 'She has breasts like plums
    My words were cut off as Charon drew his knife, and the tip caught me under the chin. 'Ever the wit, eh, Shallot? But listen,' he continued. 'If you notice anything out of the ordinary arriving you'll come and tell us, won't you? Where it is and how to get it.' He nodded to his masked companion. 'Cerberus, my good dog and your friend, will be drinking here every night after Vespers. He'll also be waiting, Roger, for any little tidbit you can offer.'
    They disappeared as quietly as they came. I went back into the tavern and stood by the beer barrels drinking a large goblet of wine to stop my stomach pitching and my legs trembling like twigs in the breeze. Yet the horrors of the night were not yet over. I was about to have the goblet refilled when a voice behind me shouted, 'There he is! There's my poor mother's assassin!'
    I turned. In the doorway, with members of the Watch thronging about them, stood the Poppletons.
    Chapter 4
    Oh, what a fall! Like Lucifer! Like lightning from heaven! It only shows how fickle Fortune is - just when you think things are all right, some bastard comes along and pricks your good fortune like a child does a bladder. I didn't even have time to finish my wine, before the Poppletons and the Watch were upon me. I was buffeted and shoved, both Edmund and Robert managed to get in blows to my cheeks whilst the rest of the rogues helped themselves to whatever valuables I had: my coins, my cloak, my hat all disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. I didn't even have time to seek help from Sir Hubert before I was hauled off to the horrors of Newgate prison.
    Oh, Lord save us, don't ever go there! The gloomy, cavernous gatehouse; the stench of human misery; the middens piled high in the cobbled yard. A Stygian darkness lit by flickering cresset torches. Burly, evil-faced men stripped me of all my clothes. All I received in return was a piece of rough sacking.