The Midwife's Tale(11)

“Ah, I see I was mistaken. Yours are not the clothes of a gentlewoman, but of a bawd, and this must be your whore. No wonder you are abroad at this hour. Now, bawd, is that how you should speak to a gentleman such as myself? I think I should show you and your whore your proper place. Perhaps I shall make the two of you my whores.”

Without warning, he lashed out with his foot and knocked my legs out from under me. I landed hard on the stone street, my breath knocked out of me. Try as I might, I could not call for help. As I struggled to regain my breath, I looked up and saw that the soldier now held a knife. My heart racing, I scrambled to my feet, desperate to find a way to protect Martha from whatever horrors this monster had in mind. He seized Martha’s collar and held the knife against her neck. When she felt the blade, Martha froze, though I could see her eyes darting left and right in search of some escape.

“Unless you wish to bathe in her blood, hold your tongue,” he hissed at me. He pressed the knife to her throat to underline his threat. A drop of blood, black in the moonlight, slid down her neck before pooling in the notch of her collarbone. “I’ll take my pleasure with your whore now. If she pleases me, I’ll send you on your way. If not, perhaps I’ll see if you are more to my liking. If you move before I have finished with her, I will cut her throat.”

Panic welled up inside me as he dragged Martha toward the mouth of the alley. I could not cry out or run for help, for he would undoubtedly kill Martha and flee. But neither could I stand by as he raped my maidservant. Martha’s fate lay in my hands, and I resolved to save her life, even if it meant losing my own. If I could surprise this rogue and knock the knife from his hand, we might be able to escape. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the coming battle.

I charged into the alley, but before I had taken more than a few steps, the lamp slipped from Martha’s hands and shattered on the cobblestones. As the candle sputtered out, I saw the soldier struggling to keep his grip on Martha’s cloak as she twisted away. As to what happened next, I had only my ears to guide me. From the shadows, I heard a man’s voice shout in surprise. This cry was followed by the sounds of desperate combat and a moan that ended in blood. I knew I had just heard someone’s last breath. I peered desperately into the darkness, knowing I should flee but unable to leave Martha behind.

“Martha!” I cried. “Are you there?” When she didn’t respond, I shouted for help: “Murder! Murder!” At that moment the full moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the street. To my surprise Martha strode from the alley, her bodice and apron shining black.

“Hush!” she whispered. “You’ll wake the whole town.”

“My God, you’re covered in blood!” I cried, and pulled desperately at her cloak, sure I would find a fatal wound. She grabbed my arms firmly and looked into my eyes.

“It’s his blood, my lady. We’d best be going. Mrs. Asquith needs you, and neither of us wants to spend the evening answering the constable’s questions.” She reached down, picked up my valise, and handed it to me. I still could not comprehend her words or what she must have done.

“Martha, what happened? Where is that man? Did he run off?”

“No, he’s there,” she said, indicating the alley. “We must go.”

“But we need to summon the trained bands and have him arrested,” I said.

“He’s beyond arresting,” she said with a hint of irritation. “You can either spend the rest of the night explaining why your maidservant killed one of the King’s soldiers, or you can come with me and deliver Mrs. Asquith.” I hesitated. “Trust me,” she added. “For both our sakes, we should go.” I nodded and gripped the handle of my valise. She picked up the birthing stool and held my arm as we hurried away from the alley and the bloody work its shadows concealed.

For a time I paid no attention to which streets we took as we walked—all I saw were Martha’s blood-soaked clothes, and all I heard were the echoes of our attacker’s final breath. Martha’s path twisted and turned as she put as much distance as she could between us and the soldier’s body. I did not object until I realized that Martha had led us onto a street that would eventually return us to the very alley we were trying to flee.

“Martha, stop.”

“My lady, we cannot. We must get as far as we can.”

“Martha, this is the wrong way.”

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She cursed softly and shook her head. “These shitting streets and alleys. It’s as if the city were built by a lunatic.”