The Black Book of Secrets (16 page)

Joe seemed to be talking to himself, reassuring himself
that he had done nothing wrong. ‘I have always paid a fair
price,’ he muttered. ‘When the deal is done, it is done and
no one owes anyone. But still for these people it’s not
enough. They accused me of making false promises.’

‘They misunderstood you,’ I said.

He looked up at me. ‘I promised nothing. Jeremiah has
no hold over me, but that doesn’t mean I can do anything
about him.’ His face was screwed into a deep frown and his
eyebrows were almost touching. ‘There are rules and I must
obey them.’

‘Rules? What rules?’ I asked. But Joe was talking to himself
again.

‘I gave them money, far more than they deserved, and I
told them to be patient. That is all. It is hardly a commitment.
But now they treat me as if I have betrayed them.
Why must it be in human nature to hear one thing but to
believe that it is another?’

‘Because we want things to get better,’ I said. ‘Otherwise,
we would all give up.’

Joe closed his eyes.
‘Dum spiro, spero,’
he said. ‘While I
breathe, I hope.’

Down at the Pickled Trout Benjamin Tup was struggling to
cope with his customers’ demands. He had never had to
deal with a full tavern before and tonight the place was
heaving with the villagers, some of whom, such as Perigoe
Leafbinder, had never even been over the threshold. They
sat and stood and leaned and perched on every available surface
in a tight circle, somehow managing at the same time
to hold on to a mug or a jug of ale. Job Wright was the only
one who was reasonably comfortable, having taken centre
stage on a rickety ale-stained table.

‘Fellow villagers,’ he boomed to the excited and slightly
tipsy crowd, ‘I say the time has come to take back what is
rightfully ours. You all saw Horatio this afternoon, a braver
man I have never seen. The way he held on to that turkey
is something I will not forget for the rest of my years.’

Horatio blushed at the praise and staggered under the
slapping hands that rained down on his back. He covered
his ears as deafening cheers rattled his brain.

‘But this is only the beginning,’ continued Job. ‘All this
time we thought it was Jeremiah who was the source of our
misfortune. But now we know, he is merely the lackey of
Joe Zabbidou. Stirling was right, Joe is the devil and he is
playing his evil games with us. Is there any one of us here
who can say we are not in his debt?’

‘We all owe him,’ they shouted back. ‘Each and every
one of us.’

‘He had us fooled,’ said Job grimly. ‘But it’s not too late.
We can still stop him.’

Only one voice dissented and that belonged to Polly. She
jumped up on the table and stood in front of Job. The villagers
were surprised into an uneasy silence.

‘Don’t listen to this,’ she urged. ‘It’s not Joe we have to
worry about. It’s Jeremiah. Joe helped you all. Why are you
doing this to him?’

Some of the villagers, the more sober among them,
murmured that Polly had a point.

‘The girl’s right,’ said Lily Weaver. ‘Shouldn’t we deal
with Jeremiah first?’

Elias Sourdough then climbed up on to the table, which
now shook alarmingly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s Joe needs sorting.
And if you want proof, listen to this.’ He reached into his
pocket and took out a piece of paper and read from it.

‘If you wont to keepe yore seecret leve five shilins at the
churche gattes tonite and I’ll say nuffin.’

The crowd gasped.

‘Yes,’ said Elias, ‘a blackmail letter, left secretly in my
shop, no doubt by Ludlow, and written by none other than
Joe Zabbidou. And this is only the beginning. Who will be
blackmailed next?’

The villagers needed no more convincing, and outside
the tavern, hidden in the shadows, with his ear pressed up
against the window, Jeremiah Ratchet also heard what Elias
had to say. As he listened an ugly wet-lipped smirk spread
across his fleshy cheeks. Now he knew everything.

Inside Polly’s heart sank. I’ve got to tell Ludlow, she
thought, creeping out of the tavern and darting away up the
hill. She rapped loudly on the pawnbroker’s door until
Ludlow finally let her in and brought her through to the
back room. Polly stood uncomfortably in front of the fire,
twitching and wringing her hands. Her face was pale and
she licked her lips nervously.

‘
What can I do for you, my dear?’ asked Joe evenly.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’ Her voice was
barely above a whisper. ‘Something I think you should
know.’

In the corner Ludlow paled. What could she mean?
Don’t tell him what we did, he urged her silently.

‘I want to help you.’ She was almost apologetic, and
then the words tumbled out all over each other. ‘I’m here
to warn you. I think you are in danger. Since the turkey fight
everyone’s been in the Pickled Trout. They’re all so angry.
I’ve heard some awful threats. Something dreadful is going
to happen, I just know it.’

‘To me or to Ratchet?’ murmured Joe.

The answer was clear in Polly’s eyes. ‘Now that everyone
knows what you do at midnight, they’re all talking
about the Black Book. They think you used magic to charm
their secrets out of them.’

‘Magic?’ Joe raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

‘Obadiah said you gave him an enchanted potion to
loosen his tongue.’

Joe’s eyes widened. ‘What pyretic brains these people
have. It’s nothing more than brandy, to calm their nerves.’

‘Job says you paid all that money so they’d always be in
your debt. He says you’re trying to take over from Jeremiah
Ratchet.’

‘He’s just a troublemaker,’ tutted Joe dismissively. ‘So
the villagers have taken a dislike to me because I paid them
too much? This is madness.’

‘They judge you by the standards they know, and all they
know is Jeremiah Ratchet. You promised things—’

‘No,’ he interrupted sharply. He never promised.

Polly corrected herself. ‘They
believe
you promised
them help but now you’ve fallen back on your word, like
Ratchet.’ She paused for a second. ‘And then there was the
letter.’

‘Letter?’ Joe and Ludlow spoke in unison.

Polly shifted uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t believe it until
Elias Sourdough showed it to everyone in the tavern. He
read it out. It’s a blackmail letter. He says it’s from you. It
says you want five shillings at the church gates tonight to
keep quiet about his secret.’

‘So that’s why they wouldn’t talk to me,’ exclaimed
Ludlow.

‘They think I wrote a blackmail letter? For five
shillings?’ Joe laughed in utter amazement. ‘They believe I
have started to threaten them?’

‘Yes,’ said Polly hurriedly. ‘And if you want to win back
their trust then you have to show that you’re on their side.
Before they do something terrible.’

‘Whose side do they think I am on?’

She didn’t answer, just nodded down the hill.

‘Tell me,’ said Joe in a voice that was strangely flat, ‘how
do I prove otherwise? What would they have me do with
Jeremiah?’

‘Maybe you could give the potion – I mean brandy – to
Jeremiah.’

‘And if I do? What then?’

Polly looked a little embarrassed. ‘Under the influence
of the brandy, he is bound to admit to a terrible crime and
then you can blackmail him back.’

I snorted loudly. Joe would never do something as
underhand as that.

‘This is beyond belief!’ thundered Joe. ‘Blackmail is not
my business.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Zabbidou,’ said Polly quickly, shrinking
back against the fireplace. ‘I’m only trying to help. Everyone’s
so angry with you. I just thought you should know.’

‘What of Jeremiah?’ asked Joe suddenly. ‘What does he
know of this?’

Polly shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But
I’m sure he’s up to something too. He had one of the Sourdough
boys in his study the other day. I just wish I knew
why.’

Joe shook his head wearily and leaned against the
mantel. ‘How it saddens me to see how quickly men turn
against each other.’

Polly looked desperately at Ludlow. ‘Please be careful,’
she said and then she was gone.

After Polly left Joe took out the brandy and two glasses and
set them on the mantel. Then he sat down heavily and
closed his eyes. ‘Now we must wait,’ he said.

‘Are you expecting someone?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Should I fetch the book?’

‘Not yet.’

I sat at the table. What else could I do? I was trembling,
I had been all day, and my mouth was dry. I heard the church
bell ring every hour. Midnight came, and went, and all outside
was still. My lids became heavy and I rested my head
on the table and began to doze and then to dream. I was
running for my life. I knew there was someone behind me
but I couldn’t see who it was. Every time I looked back I
was blinded by a glinting light that came out of the darkness.
My lungs were screaming and my legs were leaden. I
tried to call out but I couldn’t open my mouth. Pa emerged
from the mist again and threw me to the ground and started
to choke me. I could hear Ma and someone else running
towards us, their footsteps pounding like hammers.

I woke, shaking and with my heart racing, but the hammering
continued. Someone was banging on the door. Joe
was already in the shop. I knew who it was. There was only
one man in Pagus Parvus who would feel the need to make
his presence known in such a heavy-handed fashion.

Jeremiah Ratchet.

I ran through and saw Jeremiah’s huge silhouette blocking
out the light from the moon. His fist was raised ready
to come down again, but Joe was already there and opened
the door so quickly that he fell in.

‘Hurrumph,’ he snorted, predictably, as he steadied
himself.

‘Ah, Mr Ratchet, what a pleasant surprise.’

Jeremiah planted his feet firmly on the shop floor and
took a good look around as if he was claiming the territory
for his own. He saw the frog and for a second the two creatures
eyed each other with interest, though Saluki’s waned
first. Then he pushed his way past and went into the back
room. Joe went after him. I slipped in and sat at the table
and shrunk against the wall, trying to hide in the shadows.

Jeremiah stood at the fire warming the seat of his pants.
He folded his arms and wrinkled his nose, as if the place had
a bad smell. Joe poured a couple of brandies, large and
small, and handed the large one to his visitor. Jeremiah
drank it in a single gulp.

‘Mr Zabbidou,’ he said, ‘I’ll come straight to the point.
I am not the type to mince words. I believe in saying what’s
what.’

‘And that is?’ Joe was strangely calm, but my stomach
was turning over and over.

‘You had me foxed for a while, but I’ve worked it out
now. I know your game.’

He waited for Joe to respond, a smug smile across his
cheeks, as if he expected praise.

‘My game?’

‘I’ll not deny it, you’ve caused me and my business no
end of trouble. At first I thought you were plotting against
me. I’ve seen the comings and goings in the middle of the
night. The villagers thought you were some sort of hero,
but I couldn’t understand why. To me you were just a
nuisance. But now I know what you do and I’m here
because I want you to help me.’

He seemed nervous and droplets of sweat oozed from
his hairline. He dabbed at them with his handkerchief.

‘What?’ I exclaimed before I could stop myself. I looked
at Joe. ‘You don’t believe this, do you?’

Joe signalled to me to be quiet. ‘How can I help, Mr
Ratchet?’

Jeremiah sighed deeply and sat down heavily, wedging
his quivering posterior into the armchair. Then to my
astonishment he began to sob. It was not a pleasant sight.

‘I wish to unburden myself of a terrible secret,’ he
mumbled through his tears. ‘I didn’t know who else to
turn to. You are the only one who can help.’

I could hardly contain myself. Ratchet wanting to confess?
Ratchet sobbing? This had to be some sort of trick. But
Joe carried on as if this behaviour was completely normal.

‘And how can I do that?’ asked Joe kindly.

Jeremiah looked out through his chubby fingers. ‘With
the book,’ he said, ‘the Black Book of Secrets.’

I shook my head in disgust. Jeremiah Ratchet did not
deserve even a drop of ink in that book. I was about to say
as much, but Joe spoke before me.

‘A wise decision,’ he said. ‘Ludlow, fetch the book,
please.’

I was paralysed with confusion. Joe was going along
with this charade. He was going to buy Ratchet’s secret.
Why? To blackmail him, like Polly said? Surely Joe would
never do anything like that!

‘The book, Ludlow,’ repeated Joe pointedly.

With dragging feet I went to fetch it, aware of Ratchet’s
eyes on me all the time. I pulled the book out from under
my cushion and was about to lay it on the table when, with
a loud sucking noise, Jeremiah launched himself from his
chair and came right at me. The speed of his approach was
surprising, his bulk gave him great momentum, and I put
up my hands to shield myself. Jeremiah threw himself
against me and with a violent shove sent me crashing into
the table. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the book spin
off towards the ceiling, its pages flapping and turning, and
then a huge swollen hand reached up and snatched it from
mid-air.

Jeremiah Ratchet was in possession of the Black Book of
Secrets.