Nickson - At the Dying of the Year

T he story of Skull and Stones Yard, as it became known, is a real Leeds tale. The stone with the two skulls stood in the yard of the Crown and Fleece for many years, then vanished when the stable was pulled down. It was rediscovered in the 1970s as part of the wall of a warehouse on Buslingthorpe Lane. Quite how or why it ended up there, no one seems to know. But it remains a link to a long gone Leeds.

Rather than a tale, the bell pits are very much Leeds history. Excavations under Briggate have found evidence of them, and they were dotted around Leeds. They date from medieval times (and can be found in other areas, such as South Yorkshire and Derbyshire). The pits were dug by hand, a shaft that descended vertically, after which people would dig outward at the bottom, continuing until the pit was in danger of collapse. The miners descended by ladder and the coal would be raised in a bucket. It was small-scale mining before any industrialisation, mining on a very human scale. Generally, pits would be filled in before they fill in, to eliminate danger.

As always, Im grateful to Kate Lyall Grant and everyone at Crme de la Crime for believing in this book and in Richard Nottingham, to Lynne Patrick, the best editor a writer could ask to have, and to Thom Atkinson, whose insightful critiques improve everything I write. Penny, as ever, shows remarkable patience and incredible support for which Im constantly thankful. A bow, too, in the direction of Leeds Libraries and Leeds Book Club.

THE BROKEN TOKEN

COLD CRUEL WINTER *

THE CONSTANT LOVERS *

COME THE FEAR *

AT THE DYING OF THE YEAR *

* available from Severn House

R ichard Nottingham exhaled slowly as his boot heels clattered over Timble Bridge, feeling the wool of his breeches rasp against his thighs as he moved. Partway across he stopped to rest for a moment, leaning heavily on the silver-topped stick and listening to the birds singing for the dawn. His breath bloomed in the November air and he pulled the greatcoat collar higher.

Five months had passed since hed last walked this way to work. Five months since the knife sliced into his belly. For a week hed drifted in and out of the world, living in a place made of furious heat and bitter chills, the pain always there, powerful enough to fill every thought, every moment. Few believed hed survive.

Finally the fever burned out of his system and he woke, the daylight so bright it hurt his eyes, his wife Mary sitting by the bed, holding his hand. Hed live, the apothecary announced after examining him, although the healing would take a long time.

The summer of 1733 was warm, sticky, full of the drowsy scent of wildflowers in the fields as he began to walk again, shuffling like an old man. At first he could only manage a few yards before he was exhausted, forced to stop, frustrated by his body and its weakness. Strength returned gradually, at its own dismal pace. He went further, first to the bridge, then into the city, a little more distance each day.

And now he was back to work. Richard Nottingham was Constable of the City of Leeds once more.

He stood at the bottom of Kirkgate, relishing the sight of early smoke rising from chimneys. The thick smells of the place, the shit and piss, the smoke and the stink, rushed into him like perfume, hearing the sounds of voices and the rumble of early carts along the street. His gaze crossed to the Parish Church, eyes picking out the grave of his older daughter, Rose and resting there for a moment, thinking how close hed come to joining her in the earth.

He pushed the door open and walked into the jail, feeling fear and relief in equal measures. Simply being here seemed like a victory over all the doubts and fears hed had in the last months. He gazed around the room, as familiar to him as home, and smiled.

John Sedgwick sat at the desk, looking as if he belonged there. Then he glanced up and his face broke into a wide grin.

Welcome back, boss, he said, standing quickly and moving aside. For almost half a year hed been the deputy whod worked as Constable, with all the responsibility of the job and none of the pay. Now hed be back where hed been before. Nottingham tried to read the expression in his eyes.

Hello, John, he said, pleasure filling his voice. I see it hasnt changed at all.

We kept it just this way for you.

He winced as he lowered himself on to the chair, feeling the sharp twinge of pain shooting from the scar right through his stomach. All because of a stupid, simple mistake; hed known better for so many years. Hed let down his guard and for one second forgotten everything hed been taught. That was all it had taken for the man to draw the knife from his boot and cut him open.

A noise came from the cells and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Robs sweeping them out, the deputy explained. No one in there at the moment.

Soon enough Rob Lister appeared with a broom, standing straight as he saw the Constable.

Good to see you back, boss. He was a young man, his red hair flying wild no matter what he tried to do with it, eyes bright, eager and ready to work. His was a familiar face; he seemed to spend all his free time at Nottinghams house courting the Constables younger daughter, Emily.

So what do we have, John?

Not too much at the moment. Two men died fighting each other a couple of nights back.

At the Talbot? he asked, sure he knew the answer.

Aye, where else? Sedgwick answered with a dark grimace. Apart from that theres just a few small thefts, someone shot himself. He poured a cup of ale from the mug on the desk and passed it over. You look like you need it.

The Constable drank gratefully. He was thirsty, his body ached, and even the small effort of walking from home had drained him. He sat back and brushed the fringe off his forehead.

You take the thefts, he said. Rob, go and ask around about the fight, see what you can find out before you go home.

Yes, boss. Lister leant the besom against the wall, stretched and yawned exaggeratedly.

Get on with you, the deputy laughed. Anyone would think you were shy to meet a little honest work.

Hed probably rather meet Emily, Nottingham said with a sly smile. Rob shook his head at the two of them and left.

Hes turning out well, Sedgwick said thoughtfully. Twice during the summer he solved things that I couldnt see.

Hes bright, the Constable agreed. Dont worry, though, he cant replace you. Have you finished the daily report?

The deputy pulled it from the top of a pile of papers. The writing was childlike and uneven, but hed laid everything out clearly enough and Nottingham nodded his approval. Good. Now you get busy on those thefts.

Yes, boss. Sedgwick grinned again. He paused, then added, It feels right to have you back.

It feels right to be back, Nottingham said with satisfaction. Where I should be.

He belonged in this place; it was part of him. During the endless summer Mary had begged him to retire. She wanted him whole, and with her. After so long when work had come first she wanted her own good years with him; shed never put it like that, but he knew. And the city had been fair. Theyd offered him a small pension and the house on Marsh Lane that had come with the job. But hed known he could never give her the thing she craved more than all else. Hed seen the fear fly across Marys face as hed left the house that morning, the worry he might never return.

He wasnt ready yet to do nothing, though, to watch the days blur endlessly one into the other, to sit and see the seasons change until he died. He needed this. John had come often enough to ask for his opinion and advice on things, and Rob had told him everything that was happening. But it wasnt the same as being involved himself. Hed chafed for the spark of the hunt.