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you knowRafeLeckenbie ?"
He sat back and stared hard at me. "Aye, and who does not who knows aught of
the streets? I know him not, but of him ... yes."
"I know him. What would you say to a complete revelation of his activities?
All the plots and machinations of the man."
"You know whom you deal with?Leckenbie is no catch-penny rogue but a
thoroughgoing rascal. He's into river piracy and the lot."
"And a devil of a fine swordsman, too."
"Ah? I have heard of that, but doubted it. There is a rumor that he killed a
gentleman in a duel shortly after he first appeared inLondon , and another one
inKent ."
"I know nothing of that, but he is a superlative swordsman."
"You speak from experience?"
"I do."
"Yet you live?"
"That was long ago, and in another place than this. I was not as skillful
then as I now am ... yet I narrowly escaped."
"I see ... yet you would dare this? He would set his men upon you. Not upon
me, for I am of the company and no man would be such a fool. Yet I fear for
you."
"Let that be my worry."
Field tapped his fingers on the manuscript. "Very well then. Two pounds for
this, four pounds for theLeckenbie story if it is true or nearly so. But do
not think I shall pay so much again, for there are not many stories of the
likes ofRafeLeckenbie ."
"I understand."
He paid me two pounds and I took it gratefully. It was a goodly sum for the
time, and evidence that he thought well of what I had written. Yet I was not
misled, for the stories I had written down had been told and retold by
generations of Irishmen and belonged to all who heard them. They had stood the
test of time. Yet never had they been in print, for the Irish were not
permitted to publish. They were tales told in taverns. I might do another as
well, for there were many such stories, but that would probably be the end of
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it unless I could enrich my knowledge by talking to road people and gypsies.
Where wasKory , I wondered. I could use him now, and could pay him, too.
Tucking away the two pounds with my small store, I went back to the inn,
loitering along the way. I saw nothing of anyone I knew, yet I did see a rogue
or two who seemed to be following me.
Were they Cutting Ball's men? Those ofLeckenbie ? Or both?
For a week I loitered about the White Hart, the Red Lion, the Mermaid, the
ThreeTuns , the Golden Lion, King Harry Head, as well as the Bear and the
Ragged Staff. I went from one tavern to the next, buying a glass here, or just
sitting and watching, sharing a drink with some wandering rascal. But I was
listening all the while.
Usually, Ijust listened. If the soil seemed fertile I might drop the seed
ofLeckenbie's name, and then sit back to hear what might be said. It was a way
to learn, and I learned much.
Soon I learned thatLeckenbie directed the affairs of threestalling kens, or
places where stolen goods might be sold, each in a different quarter ofLondon
. He also had several stables where horses might be let to pads, as highwaymen
were called. He had a fist into everything, and he was making enemies all
overLondon . Cutting Ball was not alone in dislikingLeckenbie or his ways. It
was simple to see that he was a master scoundrel.
Swiftly then, I wrote. It was not the whole story, certainly, but it was
enough. I entitled itRafeLeckenbie, Thieves' Master And Master Thief. Then I
hastened toBlackfriar's and put it into the hands of Master Field.
He looked at it, swore a little, and pressed on to read further. "I will take
it," he said at last, "but do you look to yourself,Tatton Chantry. Once this
is on the street your life will be worth next to nothing." He snapped his
fingers. "Not that!"
"Four pounds," I said, "and I'll wear a loose blade."
"You will have it," he said, "but I fear for you."
And in truth, I feared for myself.
20
Now that I had come upon a means of earning a bit I did not neglect the pen,
but my next two attempts failed of acceptance. These had neither the wit nor
the novelty of my first successes. Yet it was about this time that
theLeckenbie piece was published abroad. In a day it became the talk of the
town. When I went to the tavern below, the place was abuzz with it, and not
knowing who might be the author, they were of one mind: that he had but a
short life left to him, onceLeckenbie saw the piece.
Cutting Ball came hurriedly to the tavern. "What,Tatton Chantry! Is it you
who has done this thing? You have destroyed him!"
"That was my purpose, but we do not know yet what may happen. We can but wait
and see."
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"AllLondon will be about his ears," Ball insisted. "And to think that you
have done this! A mere lad! And with a pen, too, and with no sword or mob or
soldiers!"
Yet that day went slowly by and nothing happened, nor were any ofLeckenbie's
men seen about, nor on the second day. There was no move against him by the
Queen's men: there was only talk. On the third day, well armed and with Ball's
men about, I ventured into the street.
This time I was bound forBlackfriar's with another tale of theMerryDamber ,
which had proved successful. I sold the piece toMasterfield for a pound, and
turned about, planning to go at once to my own tavern.
Suddenly I found myself face to face withLeckenbie !
He stopped upon the street before me. My hand went to my sword. "If it is to
be, let it be here," I said.
He laughed. "You mean then to fight me?" he roared, laughing the while. "Do
not be a fool! You have done me only the greatest service! Why, had I ordered
the piece written it could not have been better!"
He was chuckling and cheerful. I stared at him incredulously. "Take your hand
from your sword!" he said. "I shall certainly kill you one day, be sure of
that. But not today, when you have just done for me what I could not do for
myself!"
"What do you mean?"
He chuckled again. "Come! I'll split a bottle with you, and a haunch of beef
as well! Don't you see? You have made me sound so powerful, so evil, so
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