Shadow of the Dolocher Read online

  "What time is it?" James asked.

  "Late, we'll stay here tonight and go first thing. Your horse is in the stable here."

  "There was one more thing about the letter."

  "Yes?"

  "There was a sketch of that amulet on the inside of the envelope." Edwards held the amulet up and looked at it once more.

  "What is this little Devil up to, eh?" he said admiringly.

  James was feeling very tired now and wanted a bed for the night.

  “By the way, the people of the Liberties already know all about this, Alderman, and the panic has begun,” Edward’s said, one side of his face gleaming in firelight. “That’s one less thing to worry about,” he grinned.

  Chapter 13

  Mullins was in the whiskey cabin on Cook Street, leaning against the bar with a small jug and wondering if he was going to get another, and if so should he take a seat at one of the tables. It had been a long hard day in the shop; unexpected jobs coming in and really putting him under pressure, but he knew the money coming in would make it all worth it. He was very tired but wired too from work, and he wasn’t ready to go home and sit still just yet.

  As much as the thought of being with Kate was appealing, his body wasn't ready for bed or the armchair by the fire. He ordered another jug and looked again at the seats seeing a table free up in the corner at the back. He called the barman to tell him that he was going to sit down and the barman nodded saying he would drop the jug over in a minute or two.

  Mullins sat with his back to the wall, facing the door off to his left a little. He knew the faces of all the people here and he had said his hello's on the way in and made small talk with a few but had managed to disengage himself and be alone after that. This was what he had wanted.

  He recalled how all the people here, and many more besides, had bought him so many drinks for a while after he captured the Dolocher. Even the barman had been generous, often telling the tale of the night Mullins left this very place in a woman's cloak that led to his being mistaken for a woman and attacked that night. This was before the suspicions set in, and the mistrust in people came back to the fore.

  This was the place he used to most often meet Cleaves; a good friend of his for many years before being uncovered as a murderer. Some people couldn't believe that Mullins had never gotten so much a hint that his friend might have been so twisted, and some even went so far as to suggest that Mullins might have known all along. No one had ever said this to him directly, but he knew it from overheard snippets. The drinks began to dry up then very fast, and this was when the drop off in business came too.

  Just at the jug was placed in front of him, Mullins saw past the barman that Lord Muc coming in. They made eye contact, and Muc nodded and went to the bar. Mullins didn't look at him, didn't want to encourage him to come over, but just as he feared the man was in front of him with a large jug a few moments later. He pulled out the chair opposite Mullins and sat down without asking or being invited. Mullins looked at him but said nothing. Muc took a swig straight from the jug and planted it on the table roughly. He seemed to be already on the way to drunk, had probably been somewhere else before this cabin.

  "We'll be in trouble again soon,” Muc said without preamble.

  "How do you mean?"

  "Haven't you heard?"

  "Heard what?"

  "The Dolocher is back!" Muc said loudly; everyone in the place looked at them for a moment and then went back about their business. Muc smiled mischievously.

  "That's not possible," Mullins said. He had heard about the killings, and he knew that they resembled the Dolocher murders, but he also knew that Cleaves was dead. He was as sure of this as anything else; he had been there at both his hanging and his burial; had seen the whole thing. He had to see it with his own eyes to the believe it, to be sure that Cleaves was guilty and that he was really being punished for it. To actually believe that it had all happened, and that it was all finally over.

  "Possible or not it's happened," Muc sneered.

  "And how does that affect us?" Mullins hated saying anything collective about the two of them.

  "We will be looked at again. Fingers will be pointed at us once more."

  "Why would they?"

  "Because of who we are."

  "And who are we?"

  "Men of violence," Muc said, self-satisfied. Mullins didn't say anything; he knew well how Muc thought they were alike; that they were men who needed violence in life and how potent and powerful a force it could be. Muc was smiling at him waiting for him to say something.

  "Neither of us is too involved in anything violent these days," Mullins said taking another sip of his whiskey.

  "Not by choice," Muc sighed looking like a bored child.

  "It is for me."

  "No, you have a woman now, and you think you shouldn't do the things you once did, but I know that every time you are in a place like this you have it in your heart that you hope someone will insult you and give you cause to unleash what is inside you."

  "That is plainly not true."

  "Look at us blacksmith, there are very few men in this city who would want to tangle with us. No one here, in this place or even the whole of the Liberties because they know what we can do."

  "Most people don't want to fight in the first place, against anyone."

  "I've seen you fight blacksmith both one to one and when you fought for my gang that one time. You've seen me fight. I don't know how many times you've seen me, but I know you have." Muc paused, and Mullins was not sure where he was going with this. "We could stand up now and fight all twenty men here and come out of it with barley a scratch,” Muc went on. Mullins looked involuntarily about the crowd in the cabin, and he had to admit that Muc was probably right.

  "So?"

  "That's not what would be interesting though would it?"

  "And what would?" Mullins knew now what he was getting at.

  "You are the one person in the whole of Dublin who I think could give me a good fight," Muc eyed him up with a grin.

  "It's not going to happen, Muc."

  "I know it would be hard; you are very stubborn, and even if I were to hit you right now, I don't know if you would fight or not."

  "I wouldn't."

  "I would lean that way myself," Muc agreed and drank from the jug again. "We should work together," he then said unexpectedly.

  "Work on what?"

  "You know we will be questioned soon and why not be on the same side if we really are? I didn't kill those people, and I know for certain that you didn't. You don't have that inside you."

  "If I get questioned, I will tell the truth, and that will be the end of it."

  "Like the night you told the truth, and they shoved you in the tower of 'The Black Dog?'"

  "That was remedied only a few hours later."

  "Still, if it happened again, there is no guarantee that the outcome would be the same for you."

  "If we are both innocent, we don't have anything to worry about." Muc nodded as though in agreement with this logic.

  "This city is changing blacksmith," Muc said wistfully. "There's not much room for people like us left."

  "I fit in perfectly well here," Mullins said. Muc didn't answer, he lifted his jug and drank some more.

  "Do you fancy going for a stroll?" he asked after a while. Mullins was drinking form his own glass as Muc spoke.

  "I'm not going to fight you tonight, Muc." He was sure that this was what he was getting at.

  "Not even if I tell you that I was a customer of your wife on many occasions?"

  Mullins stopped dead, and he stared at Muc with ferocious intensity. He had always feared someone might say something like this, or insinuate as much to him, but thus far it had been avoided. Was Muc telling the truth? It didn't matter if he was or not.

  Mullins stood and pushed forward with all his strength. The table pushed against Muc's midriff as he had tried to stand at the same time. He stumbled back, and his jug fell
to the floor and shattered. Mullins own jug and glass shifted on the table but somehow stayed upright. His fist fell square and hard on the end of Muc's nose, and Muc fell back further into a pile of men.

  There was uproar in the cabin, and the barman shouted at Mullins to take it outside. The men pushed Muc back up off them and into a standing position, and it was now that Mullins saw how drunk he was. The punch had stunned him, but it was mostly drink that had him swaying like a tree in a stiff breeze. He went forward and grabbed Muc by the clothes at his chest and pulled him out into the street. Muc couldn't see as a result of the whack on his nose, but he flailed a few times and landed a crack on Mullins's temple; it glanced off but hurt a little. Mullins let go of him, and Muc stumbled back a little raising his hands in defence. He was getting his sight back.

  There were shouts all around, and Mullins knew that the cabin had emptied and that everyone was watching what was going on. They had waited a long time to see this spectacle. Mullins looked around and then dropped his aggressive stance and looked at Muc.

  "It's not over just like that!" Muc shouted, furious.

  "It is over just like that," Mullins said back to him. Mullins was humiliated now for making such a scene. People would ask what it was about and someone was bound to come to the right conclusion or to have heard what Muc had said. Muc sprang forward as Mullins was lost in this train of thought and he felt the hard forehead smash into his mouth and nose, and Mullins was sent sprawling to the ground.

  "I'm too drunk for this now blacksmith, but we'll go again," Muc said. Mullins felt the blood run from his mouth and nose and he tasted the iron of it and spat. Muc was stumbling away in the direction of his home and Mullins just looked after him. The pain was terrible in his face, and it was a cold damp ground underneath him. All in all, it could not have been a much worse end to what started out as a pleasant evening.

  Chapter 14

  Kate went to Skipper's Lane the evening following Edwards giving her the letter. The boy she'd sent with the letter to Mary had told her to come tonight to the second floor room where Kate once lived with Mary and Sarah. Kate walked along the dirty street and looked about for signs of anyone watching her, or for places Edwards or one of his agents might spring from to further surprise or interrogate her. She got to the door safely and unhindered, and she went in and up the stairs to the room and knocked on the door.

  "Come in!" Sarah said seeing who it was. She went in and saw Mary was standing by the fire stirring something in a pot that smelled very good. Mary smiled and said hello and Kate returned the greeting.

  "Will you eat?" Mary asked when Kate sat down. She wanted to, but she knew she was going to eat at home and she didn't want to take food from them. Especially knowing that they were tight for money and needed all they had and all they could get. Kate often felt sorry that she had to leave them, but she wondered why they didn't just get someone in to take her place, even if it was only for a short time just to get some money in. There was no shortage of people looking for somewhere to stay and there was surely some girl like themselves who could use the room.

  "No, thanks. I'll be eating with Tim later."

  "How is he?" Sarah asked.

  "He's good. He looks after me." Kate wondered had Mary already told Sarah about the letter. She assumed she would have done.

  Mary dished up a bowl and handed it to Sarah and then another smaller one which she handed to Kate.

  "Just a little bit, so you don't feel left out," Mary smiled and Kate took the bowl with a thankful nod and returned smile. When she poured her own bowl, Mary sat down at the small table with the other two. There was silence for a few moments as they ate. Kate decided to break it.

  "So what about this letter?" she said. Mary and Sarah looked at one another with concerned faces. "What? What is it?" Kate asked, fear evident in her voice. She didn't like the look they'd exchanged; saw something sinister in it and she was terrified now as to what the letter contained.

  "It's nothing to be frightened of," Sarah assured her, taking her by the forearm.

  "What did it say?"

  "He said that he loves you. That he wants you to be with him."

  "He loves me?" He had never said this to her before. Mary nodded.

  "He said he is willing to make sure that Tim is looked after financially if you leave him."

  "He wants to pay my husband for me!" Kate shrieked. She was furious, but instantly she felt embarrassed as she realised that he had paid for her many times over the last few years, and what he proposed was no different really to what had gone before. Neither of the women said anything to this. "He expects to be able to pay Tim and I'll just to him?" Kate asked in a calmer voice.

  "That was the gist of it by my reading," Mary said.

  "He said that Tim wouldn't have to work again if he was willing to go ahead with this," Sarah said.

  "He thinks you don't really love Tim; that you feel you owe something to him," Mary went on.

  "But I do love him," Kate said pleadingly, as though she needed to convince her audience.

  "We know that," Mary smiled at her.

  "What will you do?" Sarah asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "How will you reply?"

  "I'll tell him no."

  "What if he goes to Tim himself and makes the offer?"

  "Does he say in the letter he'll do that?"

  "No, but what if he does?"

  "Then Tim will make him regret it," Kate said triumphantly.

  "And then Edwards will make him regret that in court," Mary said. Kate looked at her. She was right. If Tim struck Edwards that would all he needed to have him locked up or worse. She knew that Edwards had deep connections everywhere. He could arrange anything he wanted in a court trial.

  "You have to find a way to say no gently," Sarah said. They were all silent again, as they thought about a way of possibly doing this, but they all knew but didn't say that this was not possible. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

  "A man in love is a very dangerous beast," Sarah said.

  "I've seen what they are capable of in the name of 'love' before," Kate said. It was true that a man in love, especially unrequited love, could do all sorts of things that you wouldn't think him capable of. It was like they were being denied air and they would lash out in the most unexpected ways, even to themselves it seemed. All logic would leave the benighted man when a woman he loved was unattainable to him.

  "Are you going to talk to Tim?" Mary asked.

  "I think I should, but I have no idea what I'll say to him."

  "How do you think he will be?"

  "Mad as hell!"

  "Do you think he'd do anything?"

  "It's hard to tell. You both know that Tim has fight in him, and I know he needs to let off steam from time to time. Maybe if I got him just after one of those times, it would be better."

  "Send him out for a few drinks tomorrow night and then tell him when he gets home," Sarah laughed, and the two women giggled with her.

  "I could do that, but maybe wait for the next morning," Kate said.

  "How do you think Edwards will react to you saying no to him?" Mary asked.

  "I know he doesn't like it when people say no. He not used to hearing it."

  "You should probably try to appeal to his feelings for you," Sarah suggested, and Mary nodded in agreement. "Tell him that if he really loves you, he will let you be happy or something like that."

  "Do you think that would do any good?" Kate asked. They both shrugged.

  "You know him better than we do," Mary said.

  Kate thought about this, and for a brief moment, she could imagine him backing away gracefully with a smile as she said this. Him telling her to look after herself and that he would always be around if she changed her mind. But this fantasy was short lived as she saw his evil sneering face, one that she had seen many times in the past. She knew him better all right. She knew how vindictive and petty he could be. How he always wanted his own w
ay, like a child, and he got it which was worse. There was no happy outcome for her here. It was going to be bad, it was just a matter of how bad. The stew in the bowl was warm, and it tasted good as she chewed.

  "It's not going to be pretty, one way or the other," she said as upbeat as she could. "Now what's going on with you two?"

  Chapter 15

  Sunday at three o'clock came, and Mary stood in this drizzle at the stall waiting for Colonel Spencer's carriage to collect her. She was nervous and almost hadn't come, but Sarah had reminded her about the money and said that she would probably be well fed there into the bargain. She also asked if Mary was not curious to see what his house looked like.

  Mary had left home with butterflies in her stomach, and it had almost turned to nausea now as she waited. She wore a plain black dress, the best that she owned, but she knew it was tatty compared to what even Spencer's maids probably wore. Her cloak covered her head from the rain, and she had washed her hair and her hand's as well as her face and neck before she came out. Sarah had dabbed some fruit water on her, and she could smell the light aroma from time to time as the wind drifted over her in weak waves.

  A carriage appeared from the narrow lanes; two fine horses pulling a gleaming black coach. The driver pulled up and nodded to Mary.

  "Colonel Spencer's?" he asked her.

  "Yes." She was right about his being in the army so.

  "Climb in, please. Do you need assistance?" the driver asked cheerfully. He was an older man, in his late fifties probably, and he too had the air of the military about him as Spencer had done.

  "No I'm fine, I can get up." He leaned back and opened a door for her, and she hiked up her dress and stepped up into the back, and then they were off.

  "Do you need to stop anywhere on the way, Miss?" the driver asked.

  "No, thank you." Mary didn't really understand why he had asked her that, but she assumed that this was what carriage drivers did. They were charged with looking after the people they ferried back and forth after all.