The Midwife's Tale(40)

“As we walked away from my former life, Tom sang the praises of life as an outlaw: ‘I’ll show you how to rob a man blind without him knowing it, and how to kill him if he finds out. When I’m done with you, you’ll be able to pick locks and pockets. You will follow a man without being seen, and break into his house without making a sound. Ah, Martha, there are great and terrible things ahead of you, and I will make them possible.’

“Whatever his faults,” Martha continued, “when it came to teaching thievery, Tom was as good as his word, and soon I surpassed him in all his crimes. At the time, it seemed like a grand adventure, for there is nothing quite as exciting as sneaking about a man’s home when he is asleep. Tom took great pride in stealing from the rich, and I told myself that we had greater need of money than the people we robbed. For a time we were fortunate, too, and nobody got hurt. My sin was far less than Mr. Holdsworth’s.”

I took a deep breath. “Martha, I have to ask you this, though I fear the answer more than you can know.”

“You want to know if I ever killed anyone.” I nodded. “No, my lady, I never did. At the time I thought it was because we were careful, that Tom tried to avoid situations that could lead to murder. But soon enough I saw that it was simple luck that kept my hands free from blood.”

“Soon enough?” I asked with trepidation. “Do you mean Mr. Holdsworth?”

She nodded. “But even before that awful night, I began to search for a way to escape from Tom. We had tested our luck too many times. I knew that soon it would run out, and we would hang. But I did not know where I would escape to. I realized that my only hope was to take the money that Tom and I had stolen together and strike out on my own. I made a plan that would get me my money, my freedom, and, best of all, revenge on Mr. Holdsworth. But with Tom, even the best plans end in blood.

“My plan was simple. I convinced Tom to rob Mr. Holdsworth. Once we had his store of coins, I would knock Tom on the head to then take the money for myself. The loss of his money would hurt Mr. Holdsworth more than anything, and I was determined to deal that blow. Tom is a greedy soul, and readily agreed to the plan. We returned to Hereford, and while I remained in a nearby town, Tom watched Mr. Holdsworth’s house to make sure that everything was as I’d said. A few days later he returned, and I could tell from the look in his eye that it was.

“That night, Tom and I walked quickly through the fields and forests to Mr. Holdsworth’s house. From my time in service, I knew the surest paths and which ones would be deserted at night. When we arrived, the house was dark and the doors locked tight. But I knew that he had refused to replace the broken lock on a narrow kitchen window. I would squeeze through the window and let Tom in the front door. The money was on the first floor in a small room protected by heavy oak door. It was made to withstand hours of battering, but our plan did not involve breaking it down.

“I waited for clouds to pass over the moon and raced from the woods to the house. I eased open the broken window and slipped in. As always, the keys to the back door hung on a nail in the buttery. I opened the door, and Tom, moving more like a shadow than a man, crossed to the door that stood between us and our prize. He took his tools from his pocket and went to work on the lock. He was as good a burglar as you’d want to meet, but this lock was more than his match. After a half an hour he looked at me, his eyes ablaze. I could tell he was ready to charge upstairs and demand the key from Mr. Holdsworth at knifepoint. I did my best to calm him, and took the tools from his hands. The lock was tough, but after ten minutes’ work, it clicked open. Tom was first through the door. He stopped short with a soft cry, and I pushed past him. The room was completely empty. The only sign of its former use was an iron ring in the wall to which his cash box had once been chained.

“Tom turned to me, and demanded where the money had gone. His fury was something to behold. I could do nothing except shake my head, for I had no idea what had gone wrong. Tom drew his dagger and charged up the stairs. I knew that Mr. Holdsworth wouldn’t be any match for Tom, so I waited below. I could imagine the scene: Mr. Holdsworth would awake to the tip of Tom’s knife pressing into his throat, perhaps drawing a little blood. Tom would ask him if he preferred his life or his wealth. I hoped Mr. Holdsworth would have the good sense to tell Tom where the money was. A few minutes later I heard Tom shouting and I knew that Mr. Holdsworth had refused. Then I heard a pistol shot from upstairs. I started up the stairs and froze. Tom wasn’t carrying a pistol that night. I heard bodies crashing about the room, a strangled cry, and the sound of a body falling to the floor. It had to be Tom. I had always known he’d meet a violent end, but never thought it would be at the hands of a man three times his age.”