The chase

You leant against the wall in the mouth of the alleyway, letting the shadows conceal you from onlookers as you caught your breath. You hoped, at least, they would do that job. You had been running for some time, and you had a stitch in your side and a pain in your chest. You could run no further, for a little while at least. Hopefully your pursuers would not find you while you were so vulnerable. You had lost them for now - or at least you thought so.

           Gradually, the pain subsided. You pushed your hair aside from face and peered out from the alleyway. It was market day in the broad square in front of you and, early though it was, the place was already becoming busy. Stallholders were opening up for business, animals were stamping straw into the mud, and townswomen were examining the wares on display, hoping to snatch the best of the bargains.

           You considered your next move. With luck, it would become easier to avoid pursuit now that there were more people on the streets. "Calm and natural, as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on," you muttered to yourself. Plucking up your courage, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the alleyway, hoping that onlookers would see nothing more in you than just an unremarkable young woman. As you wove your way among the growing crowd, the thumping of your heart and the jangling of your nerves screamed at you to run, and it was all you could do to walk at a normal pace, stopping now and then to look at a stall. You had never before considered how difficult it was not to look suspicious while also avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

           "There she is!" The shout came loudly and suddenly, discordant with the subdued atmosphere of the early morning. Without a moment's hesitation, you were off running, without turning to see who had shouted, or even if it was you they were after. Bursting through a knot of people, sending one or two flying in your wake, but ignoring the indignant cries, you sprinted out of the square into Marketgate, running as if your life depended on it - as indeed it might. Cursing your skirts for getting in your way, you ran on.

           As you raced along the street, you heard the distant cry: "Stop, thief!" You were no thief, but those words were dangerous even so. Without warning, a hand grabbed your arm.

           "A thief, is it?" This voice belonged to a heavy-set man, whose fine clothes sat strangely with his scarred face. His grip was like iron, despite your struggles to pull away. "Stop wriggling, girl. Stop it, I say! You've no mark on you, so it'll just be a branding for you if you've stolen something. It's not too bad, a branding, just to teach you to behave like honest folk in future."

           You were feeling desperate now. From the direction of the market there were now approaching two armed men, wearing the armour of the town watch. The man who held you turned to the newcomers and grinned. "Looks like I've caught one for you, gentlemen."

           It was now or never. You hurled yourself at the man and, as he turned in surprise you stuck his thumb in your mouth and bit down with all your might.

           It cannot have hurt all that much even so, but the man gave out a startled yell and loosened his grip just enough for you to wriggle free. Throwing yourself between the two guardsmen, you were off again.

           Patting the precious package under your dress, you ran at full speed round the corner. Your chest was bursting and sweat ran down your forehead. The river, though, that was the way to go. If you could only get there, you could get off these wide, busy streets, and disappear into the maze of alleyways around the docks.

           You headed off downhill towards the river, more slowly now, giving yourself time to think. How were you going to get to your destination? Still, you seemed to have lost your pursuers for the moment. Or was that beggar watching you a little too closely? Just as you were dismissing the thought as the mere product of your tightly wound nerves, the beggar who was sitting by the side of the road took a whistle out from under his grimy clothes and blew a sharp blast. Off you went again, running blindly along the road. You could hear the cries of your pursuers now, behind you and to either side, only a few streets away at most. Reaching the docklands, you plunged gratefully into an alleyway, aware though that this was only a temporary reprieve. Hurrying on into the warren of back streets, you were only too painfully conscious of the ring of pursuers closing in on you, tightening like a noose. You were now right against the river, and however long it took the pursuers to search these streets, there was no way out - except one. Turning to the river and taking a deep breath, praying that the contents of your precious package would not be harmed, you plunged into the river.

           Even at this time of year, the river was freezing cold, carrying still a reminder of the icy northern mountains in which it rose, and you gasped in shock as you went under. Kicking off your shoes, you pushed yourself up from the bottom of the river, and let yourself drift along just under the surface. Knowing that death might await you every time you came to the surface, you held your breath as long as you could before, lungs bursting and everything beginning to go grey, you surfaced. Gulping the air greedily, you plunged downwards once more, and began to head for the far bank with strong strokes.

           Spluttering, you pulled yourself onto the bank, trying to keep low in order not to be seen. You were almost there, now, almost you had reached your destination without being caught. You were soaked and shivering, weak with hunger and more tired than you had ever been, but you were almost there. You stumbled to your feet and, held up by little more than willpower, you stumbled away from the river bank towards a certain house in a certain street, not far away.

           In a few moments, you stood across the street from the house you had been trying to reach. You leant against the gable wall of a house to recover a little strength, and then forced yourself on.

           As you stepped onto the road, something hard coming out of nowhere cracked against your temple. As you collapsed to the floor, you could almost weep at the thought that you had been caught so close to your destination. As the darkness crept in at the edges of your vision, and consciousness faded, you felt strong, efficient hands pluck your precious package from under your dress.

           You had failed.