The Crimson Ribbon Read Online Free PDF

and sister. I won’t lay a finger on you. Think on it. You’re unlikely to find a better offer.’
    ‘Brother and sister?’
    ‘Why not? Yours is a Fenland accent like my own. No one will suspect us.’
    Until then I had not noticed the familiar round tones in his voice.
    ‘Where are you from?’
    ‘Hilgay. A small village, not four miles from Downham Market. And you?’
    ‘Ely.’
    He smiles to himself. ‘I knew it. You have the look of a Fenlander.’ He pours the last of the wine into his cup, without offering it to me. ‘Ely is a fine town. I know a little of it. I’ve friends from there. Why leave?’
    I am silent.
    ‘Ah, more secrets,’ he says, holding up his cup as if to make a toast. ‘Well, it has been interesting, but I have business to attend to and if you’re determined to reject my offer . . .’ He stands to leave and turns away from me.
    ‘Wait,’ I say, thinking of brigands and bandits on the journey ahead, or worse yet, a second night at the Devil Inn. ‘Will you promise that no harm will come to me? That we will travel as brother and sister? That you will make no claim on me once we reach London?’
    He pulls up the hood of his cloak and leans close. ‘I can promise you only this. No harm will come to you by my hand.’
    ‘Then . . . I will come with you.’
    He smiles. ‘Good. The cart leaves at dawn. I’ll call here for you at first light. Be ready to leave.’
    Again he holds out his hand and this time I take it.
    ‘And what is my new sister’s name?’ he asks.
    ‘Ruth. Ruth Flowers.’
    ‘Ruth.’ He lingers over my name, as though savouring it on his tongue. ‘Have you a bed here tonight?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then I suggest you retire to it. And bolt your door.’
    I nod.
    ‘Until morning, then.’
    Before I can reply, he turns and sweeps out of the inn, leaving me staring at the empty flagon and wondering what I have done.

Chapter 4
    Joseph Oakes keeps his word and comes for me a quarter-hour after the first crow of the cockerel. I am awake and dressed. I have snatched only moments of sleep, plagued by hot, fervid dreams and the topers in the taproom until the early hours.
    Joseph takes me away from the Devil Inn and leads me through a maze of alleyways with high red-brick walls, speckled with leaded casements, until I have quite lost my way.
    ‘Where are you taking me?’ I ask, but get no reply.
    I make a silent prayer for mercy. If I am walking to my death, then at least make it a swift one. I notice that Joseph carries a sword, the one he used to threaten Lytham, strapped to his pack. The slash of a blade across the throat is preferable to the end that haunts me. I have no desire to jerk and jump at the end of a hangman’s rope. Whether that rope belongs to Isaac Tuttle or some deceitful stranger makes no real difference.
    But then we come to an open tract of land that adjoins one of the colleges and beyond it a road, stretching south. Sure enough, a cart waits there: an open wagon, loaded with barrels and pelts, all tied over with canvas. A sore-looking nag stamps and snorts snatches of breath that float up and away to meet the dawning clouds.
    Joseph greets the carter with a handshake – a welcome more civil than any I have received. ‘Siddal, this is my sister, Ruth,’ he says, rough-handling me forwards. ‘She will come with us.’
    Siddal is the sort of man who stays ruddy and rotund against the odds. I wonder how much of his cargo he siphons to keep his belly so plump.
    He takes off his hat, displaying a round bald spot on his crown. The skin there is as red as fresh beef. ‘Well, now, Mister Oakes, this is not part of our bargain.’
    ‘We will make it worth your while.’
    ‘A man who can handle a weapon is a useful thing, but a woman?’
    ‘She’s small, as you can see, so she won’t add much to the load. And, besides, she has a pass, issued by her mistress.’
    Siddal raises an eyebrow and holds out his hand expectantly. I push Old Bess’s