'I've touched bottom.' Barak's voice echoed with a ringing hollowness. I guessed the well must be deep, perhaps thirty feet. 'I'm on something soft.' He called. 'Cloth. And something else, like fur. Ugh. I'm going to light the candle.'
I heard a scrape, caught a tiny spark far below in the darkness and then another. 'The arsehole won't catch! Wait, there it is – oh, hell!' I jumped back as a startled yell echoed from the pit. At the same moment a sudden flicker of light appeared at a first-floor window in the house.
I grasped the side of the well and leaned in, regardless of the stench. Barak's candle had gone out again. 'There's a light in the house!' I called out. 'Get up, now!'
There was a frantic scrabbling as he hauled himself up. I glanced at the house again. The light had moved to the next window. Someone was walking around with a candle. Had they seen or heard us, or was it just someone going to the privy? The end of the rope ladder trembled as Barak climbed rapidly. I reached in and thrust a hand into the darkness. 'Here!'
A hard hand grasped my own. My back screamed in pain as I helped Barak up. He scrambled out as though the devil were behind him and stood panting beside me, looking over at the house. His eyes were wide and there was a rotten, meaty smell on him. The candlelight was still there, but no longer moving, flickering at one of the windows. Was someone looking out? We were a good distance from the house and partly shaded by the tree, but the moonlight was bright.
'Here, come!' Barak whispered urgently. He had grasped the well cap. 'They may not have seen us. If someone comes out, run!'
We slid the cap back into place and Barak scrabbled for the padlocks he had laid on the lawn. He put them back in place, moving with smooth, practised speed.
'The light's gone out!' I whispered.
'Right, nearly done.' He shut the second padlock with a click and stepped away. Just then I heard the creak of a door opening, and a voice I recognized as Needler's called out, 'Hey! Who's that!'
Barak turned and ran for the wall. I followed; he had already bent and made a stirrup of his hands. I glanced back: it was hard to make anything out across the lawn and flower beds but there seemed to be dark shapes in the open doorway. Then I heard an angry bark.
'Dogs,' I hissed.
'Get up, for Jesu's sake!'
I grasped the wall, put my feet in Barak's hands, and again he hauled me up. I almost overbalanced but managed to sit astride the wall. I looked back fearfully to see two large black dogs loping across the flower beds, not barking now but running towards Barak in deadly, intent silence.
'Hurry!'
He grabbed the top of the wall and, setting his feet against the bricks, began hauling himself up. The dogs were almost on him. Behind them I heard footsteps. Needler was following. Then Barak cried out. One of the dogs, a big mongrel, had his shoe and was holding on, growling evilly. The other dog leaped up at me. I almost overbalanced but managed to hold on. Fortunately the wall was too high and the creature fell back. It stood, paws against the wall, barking angrily up at me.
'Help me, for Christ's sake!' Barak hissed. For a second I could not think what to do, then remembered the pebbles in my pocket. I pulled out the largest and threw it straight at the eyes of the dog that held his foot.
It yelped and jumped back, startled. It only lost its grip for a second but that was enough for Barak to haul his leg up and we both half-dropped, half-fell into the long grass of the orchard, just as Needler's voice shouted again from the other side of the wall. 'Who's that? Stop!'
We lurched back into the cover of the trees, half-expecting the steward's face to appear over the wall, but he remained on the other side, where the dogs were barking frantically. No doubt he was afraid to pursue us on his own. I heard a voice that sounded like Sir Edwin's calling from the lawn. Barak grasped my arm and led the way through the orchard at a fast limp. We went back through the broken door into the lane, back into Budge Row and down Dowgate. Only then did he stop, leaning against a wall and lifting his foot to examine it.
'Are you hurt?' I asked anxiously.
'Just a graze. Thank Christ I had my pattens on, look.' He showed me where the dog's teeth had gouged bite marks in the wooden soles, then looked at me keenly. 'Would that steward have recognized you?'
'He didn't get close enough to see.'
'Just as well he's a coward and didn't come after us, or you'd have had some explaining to do.'
I looked nervously around the deserted street. 'Sir Edwin will rouse the constable.'
'Ay, just give me a minute.'
'What – what made you cry out in the well?' I asked. 'What did you see?'
He looked at me grimly. 'I'm not sure. There are clothes down there, cloth and fur. And I seemed – I thought I saw eyes down there.'
'Eyes?'
He swallowed again. 'Dead eyes, glinting in the candlelight.'
'Whose eyes? For God's sake, whose?'
