‘Give up your weapon,’ said Nicholas, as the other man circled him slowly. ‘You heard what Owen told me. There’s a warrant for your arrest.’
‘I’ll not be taken,’ snapped Olgrave.
‘There’s no way out for you.’
‘Or for you, sir.’ He slashed with the dagger but Nicholas eluded the blade. ‘You should have kept your nose out of our affairs, my friend. It will cost you your life.’
‘I think not,’ said Nicholas, dodging another thrust. ‘I’m not like Hywel Rees, You and your partner cannot bludgeon me from behind and throw me in the Thames.’
Olgrave smirked. ‘No, but I can stab you through the heart and watch you die at my feet,’ he said. ‘It’s no more than your meddling deserves.’
Nicholas danced out of the way as the dagger was aimed at his heart. He still had Beechcroft’s weapon tucked in his belt, but he did not even think of drawing it. He wanted to take Olgrave alive so that the man could be convicted of his crimes. To dispatch him now in the darkness would be to let him escape the full rigor of justice, and that had to be avoided. Nicholas reminded himself that here was a man who had raped an innocent girl without mercy and helped to murder her friend.
Jabbing with the dagger, Olgrave tried to move him backward towards the river so that the available space was cut down. He was only a tailor by trade but he still felt able to dispose of a man who appeared to be unarmed. He did not realise that Nicholas was a veteran of countless brawls with sailors. That experience had sharpened his instincts. Every time that Olgrave thrust his dagger, Nicholas seemed to know exactly where it would go and evaded its point. However, he was being manoeuvred slowly backward.
Olgrave ran out of patience. Unable even to wound his man, he suddenly dived forward to grab him by the shoulder, intending to ram the dagger into his body with the other hand. Instead, Nicholas caught him by the wrist and tried to twist the weapon from his grasp. Olgrave reacted swiftly, tripping Nicholas up so that fell down and pulled his attacker on top of him. They grappled furiously. Olgrave’s wrist was still held in an iron grip but the point of the dagger was only inches away from Nicholas’s face.
‘I’ll blind you first and kill you afterwards,’ boasted Olgrave.
‘Your luck has finally run out, I think.’
‘You are the one in need of luck, my friend.’
‘I doubt that, Master Olgrave.’
‘Die, you rogue!’
With a surge of strength, he pressed down hard but Nicholas was too quick for him again. He flicked his head aside so that the dagger embedded itself harmlessly in the timber, then he rolled Olgrave over and sat astride him to deliver a relay of punches. Getting to his feet, Nicholas dragged his adversary up after him. Olgrave was not finished yet. He flailed away with both arms until Nicholas hit him with a fearsome uppercut that sent him reeling backward. The next moment, Olgrave had fallen off the edge of the landing stage into the water. As soon as he surfaced, he began to thresh about wildly.
‘Help me!’ he begged. ‘I cannot swim!’
‘What help did you give to Dorothea Tate?’
‘For the love of God, get me out of here!’
‘Confess your crimes first,’ said Nicholas. ‘Did you violate the girl?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘And did you murder Hywel Rees?’
‘No, I swear it!’
‘Then stay in the river and drown.’
‘Spare me. I’ll tell all.’
‘Then say how he was battered to death.’
‘Three of us did it,’ admitted the other, expelling a mouthful of water. ‘My partner and I were helped by a man named Gregory Sumner.’
Nicholas was satisfied. ‘Then come out and join them in court,’ he said.
He retrieved one of the oars from his boat and offered the blade to Olgrave, who clung on tightly as he was pulled out of the Thames. Sodden and spluttering, the man was soon twitching on the landing stage like a giant fish.
‘Let’s get you back to Bridewell,’ said Nicholas.
Anne Hendrik was so thrilled to see Dorothea again that she kissed her on both cheeks. The girl burst into tears and gabbled her apologies. It was late when Nicholas arrived back in Bankside with her, but Anne did not mind being roused from her bed to welcome them. To have them both safely returned was more than she had dared to hope. Dorothea began to tell her story until exhaustion made her eyelids droop. Anne put her to bed then came back into the parlour, where Nicholas was still sitting.
‘I never thought that we’d see her again,’ she said.
‘I am sorry to bring a problem back to your door, Anne.’
‘It relieves my mind to know that she is alive and well. And Dorothea may not be a problem for long. I’ve a neighbour who is looking for a servant girl. If we can teach her what to do,’ suggested Anne, ‘we may find a new home for her. And she will not lack for a young friend. Jan Muller, my apprentice, is quite smitten with the girl.’ She sat beside Nicholas. ‘Now, then,’ she said. ‘Tell me what really happened.’
‘Owen is the hero, Anne. He rescued both Dorothea and me.’
‘What was she doing outside Bridewell?’
‘Remembering what happened inside the place.’
Calmly and with typical modesty, Nicholas told her about his own adventures in the workhouse, and the subsequent arrest of Beechcroft and Olgrave. He recalled the fight on the landing stage.
‘Is it not strange?’ he said. ‘Ralph Olgrave was so afraid of drowning that he would rather be hauled out of the water to face certain death on the gallows.’
‘You mentioned something about ledgers.’
‘They were account books for Bridewell. One was accurate, and the other a tissue of lies concocted to fool any inspectors. When I got back there, I collected them from the roof where I’d left them. Yes,’ he added with a laugh, ‘and I helped down the poor keeper who was stranded up there. He managed to get up on the roof with a musket to shoot me, then lacked the courage to climb down again.’
‘You should have left him there, Nick.’
‘I saw one man fall to his death. That was enough.’
‘All is now settled, then.’
‘Not quite, Anne.’
‘What more remains?’
‘Some unfinished business at the Queen’s Head,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to borrow your horse again for I have to be at the inn soon after dawn. Otherwise, I may miss him.’
‘Who?’
‘A man who was hoping to sneak away tomorrow with a large amount of money in his purse that he obtained by trickery.’
‘Trickery?’
‘Cards and dice, Anne.’
‘What’s the fellow’s name?’
‘Philomen Lavery.’
Philomen Lavery was up early to eat a frugal breakfast before packing his bags. There was a tap on the door of his room and the landlord let himself in. He pumped Lavery’s hand appreciatively.
‘I am sorry to see you leave,’ he said.
‘It would be foolish to stay any longer, Adam.’
‘Where will you go next?’
‘Back to St Albans, I think. Then on to Bedford.’
‘Do not forget us in Rochester,’ said Crowmere. ‘It’s two years since we last saw you at The Red Lion. I expect you back again one day.’
‘I’ll be there,’ promised Lavery. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Nothing, my friend. All debts are settled.’
‘Then I’ll bid you farewell and steal away.’
‘Let me help you,’ volunteered the landlord, picking up one of the bags.
‘Thank you, Adam.’
Lavery reached for the other bag and the large satchel beside it. When the two men turned towards the open door, however, they found their way blocked by Nicholas Bracewell. Quite unperturbed, Lavery produced one of his innocuous smiles.
‘If you wish to play cards,’ he said, softly, ‘you come too late. I must away.’
‘We need to have words, Master Lavery,’ said Nicholas.
‘About what?’
‘A pupil of yours, now working in Bridewell.’
‘A pupil? I’m a merchant, sir, and not a schoolmaster.’
‘Yet you taught this particular lad well,’ said Nicholas. ‘His name is Ben Hemp and you instructed him in the art of making false dice.’