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leaving houses empty. The Side therefore was lit by a single lantern outside a house about halfway up and I trod carefully, conscious of the shadows reaching out
to me from alleys and doorways. Only a fool walks about the town on his own after dark (only a fool and a man with a living to earn), and even then he keeps to ways that are well-lit. But to
retrace my steps and go by Butcher Bank after all would make me late, so I went on, nerves prickling with apprehension.
    I failed to hear them, even then. Something slammed into my back, hurling me forward to crash into a wall. Hearing shouts behind me, I found myself on my knees, my hand slapping into a dog turd.
Heart beating fast, breath in a flurry, I scrambled up, ready to defend myself.
    But I was an unintended victim. Someone had hurtled out of an alley and knocked me flying as he passed. I could see him stumbling desperately down the Side, panting, only yards in advance of the
two men pursuing him.
    And even as I saw the cudgels hanging from the beefy hands of the assailants, I recognised their quarry.
    Light-Heels Nichols, the dancing master.
     
    7
    BATTLE PIECE
Movement II
    God help me, I almost turned and ran. Not out of cowardice but from the motive of self-preservation. In affairs like this ribs get cracked and heads get bloodied but, worse,
hands get trodden upon and broken – an eventuality no musician can regard with equanimity. But Christian feeling took over and I stepped into the fray, roaring. One of my father’s
favourite maxims: “Charles,” he would say, “make as much noise in the world as you can.” No doubt he had not had a brawl in mind.
    I grabbed the collar of the nearest villain, lugged him backwards. His hands flew up; I plucked the cudgel out of his grasp, and swung it at his head. He went down with a gasp. I rounded on the
other fellow. Nichols was down on the ground, curled up as the remaining villain kicked at his most private possessions. I swung the cudgel. At the last moment, the ruffian realised his danger and
ducked. He slipped and I thought I had him, then he lunged away and was off down the street.
    Poor Nichols was writhing and groaning on the cobbles. The dark street was still deserted. No one had come out to see what was happening. Wise souls; I have bolted my own door against brawls
before now, particularly in London.
    “Guggle, guggle,” said Nichols and spewed up his last meal at my feet. I leapt back and avoided the worst of it but the stench almost turned my stomach. He crouched against the wall,
clutching his groin and making noises like a man about to expire.
    “You are most fortunate, Mr Nichols,” I said, “that I was about when those villains tried to rob you.”
    “Rob!” His voice ended on a squeak. “Why should they rob me? What do I have?”
    “A watch,” I pointed out. “And a ring upon your finger. Perhaps a guinea or two in your pockets. Ruffians have killed for less.”
    “Nonsense!” He straightened. I saw an idea dawn in his face. “I have been set upon deliberately! By that fellow Demsey!”
    “Now, sir,” I said soothingly. “You are confused.” Damn him for getting that idea – but I won’t deny it had been the first in my mind.
    “And you’re a crony of his!” Nichols drew back in alarm. “You’re in league with him! You knew he’d set those fellows on me and came to watch the
fun!”
    “If I were in league with Demsey,” I pointed out, “I would not have intervened to save you. But if it will reassure you, I will leave you and let you find your own way
home.”
    Fear crossed his face. The moon, though still full, was half-hidden by clouds, and the head of the Side, rising above us, was in darkness. I did not much like the look of it myself but I
flattered myself I was not a coward, or a dancing master.
    “You may take this cudgel, sir, to guard you,” said I. And I held up the stick I had taken from the first ruffian.
    My luck was still running foul. As I raised