I followed him through the orchard, jumping again as a clutch of hens fled clucking from under our feet. Barak made for the far wall; this wall was lower, perhaps seven feet high. He gestured to me to stand beside him. His face was alert; he looked as though he was enjoying himself.
'The garden's on the far side. If I help you up, can you drop down?'
I looked up dubiously. 'I think so.'
'Good. Come on, then.' He squatted, making a stirrup of his hands. I reached up, grasped the top of the wall and placed a foot in his cupped hands. He took a firm grip and hoisted me into the air. I scrabbled at the wall and a moment later was lying spreadeagled on top, looking down into Sir
Edwin's garden. The effort had brought me out in a sweat. I blinked water from my eyes, looking rapidly around. Beyond the lawn and the trellised flower beds the rear of the house was as dark as the front, all the windows closed. The round structure of the well was only fifteen feet away.
'Everything quiet?' Barak whispered from below.
'Seems to be. All the lights are out.'
'No dogs?'
'I can't see any.' I had not thought of that, but it was quite likely a wealthy house like this would be guarded by dogs at night.
'Throw a couple of pebbles before you go over. Here.' I felt some small stones being pressed into my hand. So that was why he had wanted them. I managed to sit upright on the wall and threw one into the garden. It bounced off the well cap with a clunk that would have brought any dog running and barking, but everything remained quiet and still.
'It's all right,' I whispered.
'Get down, then, and I'll follow.'
I put the other stones back in my pocket, took a deep breath and jumped onto the lawn, jarring my spine uncomfortably. I leaned against the wall, conscious that I was trapped there now. If something happened I doubted I could climb up again on my own. There was a scrabbling sound and Barak dropped down beside me. He stood looking round, watchful as a cat.
'You keep watch,' he breathed. 'I'll get that well open.'
He loped quickly across the grass. He dropped his knapsack to the ground and there was a faint clink as he pulled out a couple of tools. I made for the cover of the big oak and sat on the bench underneath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart, watching the still dark house. Barak seemed to know what he was doing, frowning a little as he inserted a narrow metal rod like a jeweller's tool into a padlock. I wondered how many locks he had picked before on Cromwell's orders. The padlock came free. He tossed it to the ground and started on the other. I glanced at the silent house again, thought of the old woman asleep, the two girls, Sir Edwin, the steward Needler. What had happened in the garden that day? This was the bench where Sabine and Avice said Elizabeth had been sitting when they came out after hearing Ralph yell. Elizabeth had told me that if I went to the well, what I saw would shake my faith. I shivered.
Barak grunted as the other padlock came off, and gestured me over. 'You'll have to help me with this. It's heavy.'
'All right.' I felt strangely reluctant to grasp the wooden cap, remembering the dreadful stink I had smelt before, but I helped him slide it off. We propped it against the side of the well and looked down. A few rows of bricks were visible and, below that, darkness. I felt a draught of cold air and caught again the miasma of decay.
'Still smells, then,' Barak whispered beside me.
'It seems less strong than before.'
He leaned over and dropped a pebble down the well. I waited to hear it splash into water or clatter on stone, but there was no sound at all. Barak looked at me. 'Seems to have landed on something soft.' He took a deep breath. 'I'd hoped to get some idea how deep it was. Well, just have to hope the ladder's long enough.' He pulled the rope ladder from his knapsack and quickly secured it to a metal rod in the brickwork where the well bucket must once have hung. He let the ladder go and it unfurled into the darkness. Barak took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and looked at me seriously. I realized he was daunted by the prospect of that descent.
'Give me a shout if anyone stirs. I wouldn't want to be caught down there.'
'I will.'
'I've candles and a tinderbox for when I get to the bottom,' he said. 'Wish me luck.'
'Good luck. And thank you.'
He lifted a hand to his shirt and, loosening a button, put his hand inside to finger his little Jewish symbol. Then he clambered over the side of the well. He found the ladder with his feet and began climbing down. The top of his head vanished into darkness, giving me the strange feeling the well had swallowed him up.
I leaned over. 'Are you all right?' I asked in a loud whisper.
His voice came back, hollow and echoing. 'Ay. That smell's stronger.'
I glanced at the house again. All was still silent.
