Much Ado About Murder

“My apologies,” said Smythe, relaxing his grip a bit, but still maintaining it. “I did not expect a woman.” He saw the other man make a move toward the sword lying on the ground. “And you stay right where you are, ruffler,” he said to him. “Unless you want your friend to have her throat cut.”

“You would cut a lady’s throat?” the woman asked him.

“Not a lady’s throat,” said Smythe. “But I would have no compunctions about cutting yours.”

“Aargh, God’s bollock?” the first alleyman swore, still doubled over and clutching at his shin with both hands. “The bastard damn near broke me leg!”

“I wish he had broken it, you simple-minded oaf,” the woman said. “As for you, laddie, I take it back. You were more than quick enough.”

“What do we do now, Moll?” asked the second alleyman, in a confused and frightened tone.

“Whatever he tells you to, you fool,” she replied. “And keep your bloody mouth shut.”

“Moll?” said Smythe. He recalled the name from one of the pamphlets he had purchased. A woman who went about dressed as a man, who fought with a sword as well as one, ran a school for pickpockets and lifts, dealt in stolen goods, and carried a great deal of influence in the thieves’ guilds of London. “Moll Cut-purse?”

“You know me?”

“I have read about you, it seems.”

“Ah. Greene and his damn fool pamphlets. Sure an’ I should have drowned him in the river like a sack of cats long since. He’ll get me hanged yet. So… now that you have me, what will you do with me? If you kill me, my boys will break your head, you know.”

“Well, I suppose they can try,” said Smythe, trying to mask his uncertainty. “But I could always call out for the watch.”

She laughed. “Call all you like, laddie. They’ll be gathered in some tavern, having cakes and ale. And if you try to take me in to them, you’ll not get far, I promise you. My boys will see to that.”

“What, these two sorry rufflers?” Smythe said. “They were not much help to you just now, were they?”

Moll whistled sharply through her teeth and a moment later, Smythe became aware of dark figures stepping out from the shadows all around him. There were at least a dozen of them or more.

“Oh,” he said. “Damn.”

“So, laddie, what do you intend?” asked Moll.

“Well now, ‘tis an excellent question, Moll,” he replied, uneasily. “To be honest with you, I do not quite know. But if I let you go, ‘tis clear that things would not go very well for me, whereas so long as I have you, I have something to bargain with, it seems.”

“Indeed,” she said. “So then, what do you propose?”

“Right now, methinks I would settle for getting out of this with my skull intact,” said Smythe.

“That sounds entirely reasonable to me,” Moll Cutpurse replied. “You spare me throat, and I shall spare your skull.”

“Ah, but there’s the rub, you see,” said Smythe. “What assurance have I that you shall have your men stand off if I should let you go?”

“You have my word.”

“The word of a thief?”

“I may steal,” she replied, “but I always keep me word. Ask anyone.”

“ ‘Tis true,” one of the alleymen replied.

“Well, with such an impeccable gentleman vouching for your honor, how could I ever doubt your word?” asked Smythe, wryly.

She chuckled. “Laddie, if I wanted you dead, I could have you followed, and then once I knew where you hung your hat, I could have you done in at any time. Anytime at all. Once all is said and done, what matters it to me if I am hanged for theivery or murder?”

“Your point is well taken,” Smythe replied. “Well then, ‘twould seem that someone is going to have to trust someone first, else we shall be standing here like this all night. And that would profit no one.” He took his knife away from Moll Cut-purse’s throat and stood back, cautiously, keeping his blade ready.

Moll stepped away and turned around to face him, her hand instinctively going to her throat to feel for blood. There wasn’t any. Smythe had been careful not to cut her. The other men started to close in, but she held her hand up, holding them off. They stopped at once.

“Would you have done it, then?” she asked, softly. “Would you have cut me throat?”

“To be honest, I truly do not know,” Smythe replied.

“ ‘Tis an honest man who can admit his own uncertainties,” she said. She came up close to him, so she could see him better. She gazed at him thoughtfully. “I have seen you before, methinks,” she said.

“I stay at the Toad and Badger,” Smythe said. “And I am a player with the Queen’s Men. So now you know where you can find me, if you truly wish me dead.”

“If that were so, then you would be dead already,” she said with a smile. “A player, eh? You are a strapping big lad for a player. You have the look of a man who does honest labor for his living.”

“I apprenticed as a smith and farrier,” he said. “Though I am no journeyman, I still do some work for Liam Bailey now and then, what with the playhouses being closed.”

“Liam Bailey’s last apprentice had his head broke in a fight, I heard,” she said. “ ‘Twould be a shame to deprive him of another. He’s not getting any younger.”