Page 64 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

Angus followed his lead, lifting the body so Darius could pass the rope beneath it and wrap it around, over and over, until it would be impossible for the tarp to become unwrapped. “Now, help me get it onto my shoulder, and we can be half done with this nasty business.”

It took a good deal of force to bend the roll and for Darius to shove his shoulder under it, but soon he was standing nearly straight. “Hold the back door open for me,” he instructed.

Angus did his bidding. Despite trying to ease the roll into the single-horse cart so it wouldn’t make too much noise, the resounding thud had them freezing in place.

When no lights appeared in neighboring windows or in the stable at the end of the mews, they went back inside to look for any evidence of what had happened.

Other than a few smears of blood, the floor was clean. They checked the stairs, Angus wincing at the reminder of what he had almost seen happen to Iris. Had he arrived a minute later, Iris might have lost her virtue to the villain.

Darius pulled a rag from his pocket and disappeared out the back door for a moment. When he returned, the rag was wet, and he bent down to wipe up the blood smears.

“I can do that,” Angus said, taking the rag from Darius. He rinsed it in the sink and scrubbed the wood planks, over and over, until Darius finally placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough,” he said. “We best leave now.”

Angus nodded. “Agreed.” Stuffing the rag into his pocket, he took one more look around with the lantern before finally exiting the building. He hung the lantern on the dog cart’s lantern post and climbed onto the bench.

Darius saw to locking the door before joining Angus. He took up the reins and set the horse into a slow walk.

“Where are we going next?” Angus whispered.

“The river. Blackfriars Bridge,” Darius whispered. “With any luck, the fog will help hide us.” Once they exited the alley and were on Fleet Street, they headed toward the Portland stone bridge at a faster clip.

“I didn’t realize how many people would be about this time of the night,” Angus murmured, his gaze darting to the prostitutes who openly plied their trade against the balustrade on the side of the bridge.

“Neither did I,” Darius whispered hoarsely. They were halfway across when he glanced back to discover the fog was beginning to settle. Directly ahead, the lights from lanterns bobbed about, but no figures were visible in the growing gloom. “Here,” he said, halting the horse.

The two jumped down and met at the back of the cart. It took several hard pulls on the ropes before the roll was finally positioned so Darius could hoist it onto his shoulder. The loose end of the rope dangled to the ground.

“What about the rock?”

Noting the ledge that extended beyond the balustrade, Darius heaved the rolled tarpaulin onto it and then followed it over, careful not to get too close to the edge. “Give me the rock.”

Taken from the back garden when they were on their way to the mews, the squarish boulder was difficult for Angus to lift. Once he had it atop the balustrade, Darius easily hefted into place.

“Keep watch,” Darius ordered, before he quickly wrapped the rope around the rock. He crossed the rope on the bottom in a perpendicular manner before securing the end on the top of the rock in a series of knots that made it apparent he had at one time served in a navy.

“Anyone coming?” Darius asked in a hoarse whisper. The fog had grown thicker, causing sounds on the bridge to be eerily muffled.

“No, sir,” Angus replied.

Darius pushed the rock to the edge of the ledge and then braced his back against the balustrade to give it a hard shove with his booted foot. Gravity took over, the rock tipping over the edge to fall, causing the wrapped corpse to follow it down.

Still leaning against the balustrade, Darius knew he wouldn’t catch sight of it in the fog. Finally, a splash sounded as if from far away.

Angus joined him at the balustrade and glanced over the edge. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet, young man,” Darius warned. “I have plans on how you’re going to repay me,” he teased, easily jumping back over the balustrade.

“Yo! Who goes there?”

Startled, the two turned to discover a portly constable regarding them with curiosity.

“Two very tired blokes who had to take a piss,” Darius replied. “Evening, constable.”

“Evenin’, sir. A bit too much ale?” he asked, his fists going to his hips.

“We haven’t even started on the ale,” Angus replied. “We just finished our shift.”