Free Fire by C.C. Humphreys

her father called as she wrapped a shawl around herself and crossed to the door. ‘No footling.’
    She smiled. ‘I am not sure, Father, I know what that is. So how shall I avoid it?’
    With that, she was gone, and Isaac, who’d raised himself upon an elbow, sank back. For a moment both men listened to her footfalls on the stairs and, beyond them, the flute’s rising notes.
    ‘Your daughter is most lovely,’ Coke murmured, drawing up a small stool and sitting.
    ‘She is. She is!’ Isaac sighed. ‘The very picture of Leah, her mother. Indeed, since my wife’s death, I think my daughter is becoming more like her every day. In looks at least.’ He coughed again but waved Coke down when he rose to fetch the mug. ‘I fear her character is not as calm as her mother’s, though. She is…wilful. Too tempted by what is out there. I do not like to let her go onto the streets alone. But with my sister in York, and me here –’
    ‘And why are you here, my friend? You were not sick when we spoke last week.’
    ‘I was, though I was at pains to disguise it.’ A slight smile appeared. ‘We were doing business after all, and no man wants to seem weak when conducting that.’
    ‘Did you think I would exploit you?’
    ‘Nay, Captain. You are one of the very few Gentiles I know would not. Habits of a lifetime, eh?’ He shrugged, winced. ‘But this sickness can no longer be concealed. Especially since I may die of it. Or of its cure anyway.’
    ‘Do not say so.’ Coke reached to take the man’s hand again. He did not have many beyond acquaintances in London and though he did not know the Jew well, they had always been plain in their dealings and their mutual regard. He liked the man. ‘And tell me how I may help?’
    Isaac glanced to the sword at Coke’s side. ‘How delicate are you with your blade, Captain? Could you cut me open and extract the root of my malady?’
    Coke whitened. ‘If I could, you would not want me to. For a man who was so often at war, I have a devilishly weak stomach for some of its consequences.’ He nodded downwards. ‘So it is the stone?’
    ‘Aye. My old problem.’ Isaac winced again, as a spasm shook him. ‘Each time before, I have, with some difficulty, managed to piss it out. Not this one. My physician tells me he must cut to cure.’
    Coke took a deep breath. ‘Many undergo that operation and live. Is your surgeon good?’
    ‘He is, and of my tribe. But as you know, howsoever good, many, indeed perhaps most, patients do not survive this.’ Isaac shrugged. ‘As ever, I am in God’s hands. So, Captain, shall weleave me there and turn to you?’ He nodded to the table in the corner. ‘I was not so ill that I could not deal with your affairs.’
    Coke rose, went to the table. A purse was there, the contents of which he knew he need not count. He tucked it into his cloak. Their contract also lay there. Second in a day, he thought, though now he picked up the pen with no hesitation.
    ‘You should read it again, sir,’ Ben Judah called. ‘I have had to alter it slightly due to my illness. I have specified to whom your debt must be paid, should I, ah, be unable to collect.’
    Coke looked at the second page, where a name had been written in. Rebekah bat Judah. The correction was initialled and he added his ‘WC’. Did the same on the second copy, then signed both. ‘There, sir,’ he said, putting up the pen. ‘I am in your debt.’
    ‘You are. Do you know when you will be requiring the last payment?’
    ‘The builder said on completion. He seems to have many labourers so it may be within the fortnight. Of course, I may have earned the money ere then but if not –’
    ‘If not, you will find the sum here. Though it may coincide with my operation. I will leave word if…well, if.’
    Coke looked across. The man did look ill. ‘I meant what I said before…Isaac.’ He used the man’s given name deliberately for the first time. ‘How may I be of help?’
    ‘If the need