I should do as I was bid. Hand him the purse. My fingers slipped to the leather bag tied below my waist.
No.
Before I even knew what I was doing I reached up and shoved his arm from my throat, pushing him off balance. I spun round to face him, backing away slowly. Let him stab me if he must. But I would look him in the eye as he did it.
We circled each other warily. He wore his hat low across his face, and he’d wrapped a black cloth about his nose and mouth. Only his eyes were visible, dark and steady.
I took another step back, gaze fixed on the long, keen dagger in his right hand. My own dagger, damn it, sharpened by my own hand. One quick slash would be enough to rip me open.
‘Come, sir, don’t be a fool,’ he said, in a calm, reasonable tone. And then, under his breath, ‘I’m not alone.’
He stretched out his free hand for the purse. The blood pounded in my ears.
I ran.
The world spun as I fled past the boy who was grinning now, thrilled by the action and his part in it. The street began to narrow even further, and a high brick wall loomed up ahead. It was too dark to see if there was another way out. I would have to clamber over it. I lengthened my stride, ready to spring at it when a black figure flew out of the shadows and knocked me to the ground.
For a moment I lay dazed. He began to grope for my pockets, hunting for my purse. With a loud curse I pushed him from me, kicking and punching my way free and back on to my feet, but there were others now, scurrying down from the roofs and balconies and dropping softly to the ground, calling out to one another in low voices. I fumbled in the darkness, searching for a brick or a piece of wood to defend myself, but I knew what was coming. I had gambled, and I had lost.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and I whirled about, frantic. And then another, and another, tearing and snatching, pulling me down like devils dragging me to hell. I fought them off, terrified now, but there were too many of them. I fell heavily to the ground again.
‘Hold him there, lads!’ their chief called out.
They pulled me to my knees and pinned my arms behind my back as he strode towards us. He ruffled the link boy’s hair as he passed and somehow I realised – strange! the clarity that comes to you in such a moment – this was the boy’s father. And I thought there was more affection and pride in that gesture than my father had shown me in a lifetime.
He came closer, crouching down in front of me, dark eyes skimming my face. ‘I told you not to run,’ he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.
