Naseby shook his head. “Oh, he’ll not be going alone, never fear. That little poppy top tries to run, he’ll have his tongue ripped out and his prick lopped off, and they’ll be carried back to me for my dinner afore I chucks you to the sharks.”
“Has it not occurred to you,” Ludovic said, “that we might be telling the truth? It seems you will go to a great deal of trouble, three of us will die to no avail, and your journey will be delayed for no reason whatsoever.” His head hurt. He leaned against the mizzen mast. The lateen sail, neatly folded, lay roped on the deck. The ship was far cleaner above than below.
“Well now, I’ll take that risk. Got naught else to do as it happens,” said Naseby, gap-toothed grinning. “Bin poor pickings this past month, for shipping’s lean in winter. Happen I’ll get me a ransom from your lordship fine enough to buy me a comfy cottage in Mevagissey and settle down for the cold months. You’d like to know your coin is well spent, no doubt.”
“I need to see my servant,” Ludovic repeated. “Is he unhurt?”
“Let me see.” The captain scratched his groin. “A mite squashed, maybe, but no more than that I reckon. So far, anyways. The little lad, though, well there was a few of my men couldn’t resist.”
Ludovic frowned. “What has been done to him?”
“Ain’t none o’ your business, as it happens,” grinned the captain. “Not your servant, is he? If ‘tis true you was a paying passenger aboard the other ship, and the brat the cabin boy – well then, he’s naught to do with you. But just to be friendly, one gentleman to another, I’ll tell you anyways. Thing is, you see,” Naseby scratched again, “we’ve a problem with women. There being none.”
“It’s hardly surprising. None would want you,” said Ludovic. “But I’d have assumed you’d not be averse to using force?”
Naseby shook his head cheerfully. “Not in the slightest, my friend. Pleases us no end. But we spend many a long month at sea, and females is bad luck on board. Now that little lad were too skinny for me, but there was plenty others took a turn. One arse is as good as another for most. But me, well, I reckon you’d suit me better.”
“I’m flattered. But now,” said Ludovic, “I still wish to see my servant.”
Naseby nodded to one of the men who scurried off. “You can, as it happens,” he said. “For it’s both of you I wants to speak to. Reckon I’ve given you a fair idea of what will happen if you’d don’t co-operate. Now we’ll get down to business, my friend.”
Gerald’s hands were tied tightly behind him but he was clearly unhurt and unmolested. Seeing Ludovic, he smiled. “How’s the boy?” asked Ludovic.
Gerald shook his head. “Not good.”
Kenelm’s cabin boy was brought up over one of the men’s shoulders. He was tied wrists and ankles, had been crying until sick, and was deeply cowed. Vomit streaked his shirt, he was bare legged and bruised. The pirate slung him down on the deck at Naseby’s feet. Naseby stared across, glazed eyed, at Ludovic. “Now you’ve power over three lives, my young friend, and ‘tis time to decide. You’ll stand there and watch while I carve up the urchin here, and have his skin off him like I peels a Seville orange, starting at them little pink toes. If you’ve not spoken by the time I gets to his scalp, I’ll start on you. One ear maybe, or a finger. Or face down on the deck in the boy’s blood, with your hose round your ankles.”
Ludovic smiled. “What a lurid imagination the Cornish do have,” he said. “But of course, under the circumstances, I will tell you whatever you wish to know. First, however, I should like to hear exactly what you intend doing to each one of us afterwards.”
“You gets to go home,” Naseby grinned. “And your servant with you, once he’s back with my coin in full. And like I told you. What I says, I does. I’m an honest man, I am. You’ll get no more than that from me.”
“And the boy?” Ludovic indicated the barely breathing child near his feet.
“We’ll keep him,” Naseby said. “And alive. He’ll join the crew. One ship’s alike another, and he’ll be cabin boy here instead. But wi’ us, he’ll get his share of the loot like all the crew does. Maybe he’ll have a few other duties, and my cook has taken a rare fancy to him, but he’ll get used to that too in time. Might end up a pirate captain hisself in time.”
The boy made no response to this information and Ludovic was unsure as to whether he was conscious. “Then my name’s – Lionel,” Ludovic said at last. “Younger brother to William, Earl of Berkhamstead. At present he’s at court for the Christmas season, but my servant knows him and can find his way there easily enough. My father’s long dead, but my brother William is head of the family and will, reluctantly I imagine, pay the ransom. But the family’s neither powerful nor wealthy, as you can find out easily enough yourself. What will you ask?”
“An earldom, eh?” Naseby scratched inside his shirt. “Good news, that is. I’m obliged to you, my friend. And though I were looking forward to a little pig sticking, it keeps the decks cleaner this way. Flaying can leave a nasty mess. Besides, that poor little bugger is bleeding a fair bit already, and my cook wants the chance to clean him up sweet again. Now then,” he turned to those of his crew who were crowding around. “Reckon we’ll sail tighter to shore and then row these two in to land. I’ll keep his pretty lordship in the usual place up at the big house, whilst a couple of you hold the servant’s hands nice and tight and trot him off to London.” He turned back to Ludovic. “I’ll give your Pownsey six days. If they’s not back with the ransom before that, I shall be true to my word. Fun first, and then into the bay with you.”
“I need to speak to my servant in private,” said Ludovic. “Any objections?”
“Private?” Naseby seemed to find this amusing. “Talk all you likes, your fine lordship. But I’ll be listening.”
Ludovic turned to Gerald and smiled. He spoke fast and without pause, and he spoke in Latin. “Strangely enough, I believe this man. He’s proud of his word being his bond, so I’ll be all right. Get to William, and see if he’ll cough up a ransom. Naturally I’ll pay him back afterwards.”
Gerald nodded and replied also in Latin. “I could go to Father.”
“There’s still the problem of the royal arrest warrant,” Ludovic said. “I imagine William would be the safer bet, even though he’s presumably still at court. Keep acting the servant and just make sure your own name doesn’t get discovered. And that absurd red hair of yours is far too obvious. I suggest a hood. Anyway, there’ll be no problem getting to speak to William privately, since whatever ruffians accompany you will never dare set foot inside Westminster Palace.”
“They’d be thrown out by the guard,” Gerald pointed out. “I could have them arrested on the spot.”
“And get yourself arrested too, once you had to explain your story and say who you are. Meanwhile I’d be fed to the fish.”
Naseby, losing patience and irritated by a conversation he could not understand, stepped forwards with a grunt and clipped his knife hilt over the side of Ludovic’s head. The existing wound broke open, oozing blood. Ludovic winced, wiping the sticky trickle from his forehead. “You’s got time all night for blethering your nonsense together,” Naseby said. “Now get moving.”
They were exceedingly glad to leave the ship. Climbing down the high carvel’s sides, walking the perpendicular planks with one hand to a loose hanging rope, made Gerald sick and Ludovic half blind with the headache he had suffered since waking. The rowing boat pulled away immediately they climbed in, four men to the oars, Naseby sitting in the prow, Ludovic and Gerald aft and two others beside them. Within minutes they heaved in to shore, a tiny beach tucked beneath the cliffs. The rowers dragged the small hull up high onto the pebbles and then all nine trudged inland.
First through a scrubby lane shielded by hedges, the land then flattened out, the hedges tangled into thorn and bush, and a sudden twist in the path stopped abruptly at a wide iron gateway. The high studded metal obscured all but peaks of turreted towers touching
the low clouds. Naseby produced a key and unlocked the gates. His men shoved the iron spokes open, clanking and reluctant, and immediately the sun flooded back across the land. Beyond was a stone manor, its two towers tall and narrow, the main building squat, and its flanks low and pale in the sunshine. Ludovic and Gerald stared, amazed. “Put ‘em in the old barn,” Naseby said. “Rope ‘em tight. Then come up to the back kitchens. I’m not sure who’s at home so watch your step.”
Still at some distance from the grand house, Ludovic and Gerald were hauled around the far side where the outbuildings straggled, several barns once housing dairies, breweries and stores. Now they appeared abandoned, but the property was not entirely overgrown. Paths were raked, some hedges nearer the house were clipped, the lower windows gleamed, but the barn where they were dragged had been long closed and smelled of rats. Two straw bales had fallen, scattering into trampled stalk and dust. Ludovic was thrown to the ground on the straw, his wrists tied behind him, the rope looped down to his ankles and tied again. The same was done to Gerald, and then they were left. The group of pirates, muttering and nervously uncomfortable, disappeared. The barn door was pushed shut and a bar could be heard wedged down.
Silence seeped back, ruffled only by the sounds of wind through the bare tree branches outside and the distant boom of the sea. Gerald sighed, leaning back on the broken bales. “Every muscle aches,” he said. “It’s all night I’ve been tied up, and now here I am bound again.”
“At least the ground beneath us doesn’t roll and pitch,” said Ludovic, closing his eyes. “And you’ll be released in the morning I imagine. I’ll probably be kept like this until you return. How long will that take, do you think?”
“Depends on where we are.” Gerald shook his head. “Kent perhaps.”
“Kent for sure.” Ludovic stretched his roped hands down behind him, edging them under his back until he could bend up his knees and hook his feet through. He brought his hands up before him with a sigh. “That’s better. Now, what were we saying?”
“That we’re somewhere in Kent.”
“On the Kentish coast, fairly near Dover. I recognise the lie of the land.” Ludovic managed to pull up his wrists to his mouth and began testing the knots with his teeth. “So it won’t take you long to get to Westminster. Hopefully Berkhamstead is still there. If he’s already left court, then we’re in a mess of a fix.”
“He’ll still be there,” said Gerald. “Unless he’s been arrested too, of course. It’s the start of the Christmas season. No one leaves court now unless they have to.”
“I’ve no idea what the date is,” said Ludovic, mouth full of rope. “Could be epiphany for all I know.”
Gerald was quiet a moment, silently counting. “It’s the twelfth day of December,” he said. “At least I think it is. Or is it St. Lucy? Not that it really matters.”
Ludovic had loosened but not managed to untie his wrists. He leaned back, resting a moment. “Are we doing the right thing, Gerry? You going straight back into danger like this? Perhaps I’m wrong, and it’d be better to go direct to Father.”
“No, you were right. Either Father doesn’t even know about the warrant and will resist all attempts to explain. Or royal guards have been sent to surround Sumerford and will still be waiting there for us. At Westminster I can go in disguise and pretend the servant. At Sumerford there’s no disguise possible and I’d be known at once. But it’s all a guess isn’t it? Whatever we choose could be wrong.” He was struggling to manoeuvre his own hands to the front, but being far shorter than his brother, the rope uniting wrists to ankles was not as long. “I’d like to get to William as soon as possible. I’ve an idea I can arrange something. Get the money, come back here and set you free, but have William follow me with a band of men. Attack this place and kill that bastard Naseby.”
“At the moment he’s only brought seven men here. But he could land half the boat load over the next couple of days.” Ludovic reached over to help Gerald, tugging up one booted foot and then the other. “This house could be bristling with fifty pirates by the time you get back. Besides, who has he got in the house already, for it’s not been entirely deserted. They must be friends of his, strange though it seems. Someone of reasonable wealth lives here.”
Gerald puffed, brought his hands up over his knees, and smiled with satisfaction. “That’s a bit more comfortable anyway. Now what?”
“It’ll be dark soon. We wait.”
Gerald nodded. “And your head, Lu? It’s not bleeding anymore but it looks a bit of a mess. Should have been washed at least.”
“I doubt pirate’s trouble with much doctoring,” smiled Ludovic. “Injuries are normal fare, I imagine. The more of them die of wounds and infections the better.”
“In terrible agony, I trust,” said Gerald cheerfully. He had also managed to loosen the knots on his wrists with his teeth.
Several times they heard voices outside, shouting twice and once the clash of steel on steel. Without windows they could guess time only by the thin crack beneath the door which no longer let in light. Then after some hours an owl hooted very close, the wind dropped and the rats began to scrabble in the straw. His headache still raged and Ludovic was tired. His wrists no longer rubbing, he found some small comfort amongst the straw, shut out the misery of thought and curled, hoping to sleep.
Wide awake, Gerald was gnawing at his ropes, kicking out at a sudden quivering pink snout. “This is ridiculous, Lu,” he muttered. “I believe you’d manage to sleep on the scaffold. And where do we aim for afterwards anyway? Back to Somerset? Back to Flanders? Where’s your tame captain gone, do you think?”
“London,” sighed Ludovic, opening his eyes again. “He still has all my money hidden onboard and will be waiting for me to collect it. Once free from here, we should make for the docks. Then we set sail for Flanders once again, unless we’re waylaid in the meantime of course. In which case we can put your theory about the scaffold to the test.”
“Stop joking, Lu. It could happen. The axe anyway.”
“Go to sleep Gerry,” Ludovic complained. “We are certainly both going to need our strength.”
A wearisome boredom, the impossibility of walking or even getting to their feet, the apathy of pointless discomfort and the bleak reminders of the probable morrow enclosed them, soon drifting into uneasy dreams. The rats were left in peace, nesting in the straw or nibbling at the new arrivals, their leather boots and their ropes.
It was bitterly cold when both men awoke together, startled back into consciousness. Furious voices had interrupted the silence. Footsteps, someone banging on the barn door as if falling against it. The wind was now gusty and rattled the walls. The rats hid. The arguments were too distant to understand but then someone shouted. Finally a much quieter voice, a little sibilant, cut through the squabble outside. A hushed and educated voice. Ludovic sat up in a hurry.
“You had the temerity to bring prisoners here? A titled man, who might recognise this property? And who, if he does not already know it, soon will. Who might know me?”
“My lord, I beg your pardon.” Naseby’s voice, apologetic and worried. “I didn’t think. But no need for you to be seen, unless you wishes it.”
“This creature’s name?”
“Seems to be a Lionel Berkhamstead, my lord,” Naseby mumbled. “With his brother William being an earl what’s staying at court.”
A pause. Then the first voice. “I don’t know the earl, but have heard of him. He’s a nobody, a minor figure with no influence, and I doubt much wealth. I had not heard of any brother, and have no contact with the family. You are lucky, my dear. Had this been a friend of mine, I might have killed you.”
“You’ve always said the gentry was free for sport, my lord,” muttered Naseby. “You never said to be careful o’ friends before.”
“You are absurd. It is not because of friendship,” said the quiet voice. “I’ve no interest in bleating sympathies or the dreary loyalties of acquaintance. A title is the
only prisoner to covet after all. What point holding some shepherd’s apprentice to ransom? It is the use of my property which disturbs me, for the imprisonment of some creature who might trace its misfortune back to me. You are unutterably brainless Naseby, for all your experience. I sometimes wonder why I chose you to partner.”
“Because there’s no better, my lord.”
Another pause. “Tomorrow, at first light and before my entire estate can be clearly identified, you will remove this Berkhamstead back to the ship and you will keep him there until his ransom is delivered. Throw him in the hold, in the damned bilges if you wish, but well out at sea. I have no need to see him and he must not see me. You will send the servant off to Westminster at the same time. Is this understood?”
Naseby grunted. “How much to ask then?”
“Berkhamstead is not wealthy, but to get his brother back he’ll surely stretch his purse. But we cannot wait around for him to raise funds elsewhere.”
“’Tis you to decide, my lord, and I’m guided by your word as always,” said Naseby. “So if you’ll write the demand letter for me now, I’ll send Pownsey off first light with four of my men.”
“Who?” the quiet voice interrupted, louder suddenly as though startled, and with a hint of menace.
Naseby recognised the menace. He paused before answering, cautious, his voice subdued. “’Tis only Berkhamstead’s young servant, my lord,” he murmured. “By name of Gerald Pownsey.”
With an explosion of fury and astonishment, the quiet man was quiet no longer. “Dear God in Heaven, Jesus Christ and all the saints, what the fuck have you done?” he exclaimed.
It was a voice both Ludovic and Gerald had already most certainly recognised, having been listening in amazement for the past half hour.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The door crashed open, slamming back against the wall. Naseby and the other man stood, one tall and the other far shorter in the pearly puddled moonlight, the night’s thickness behind them. In the house beyond the barns, twenty windows reflected a moon’s repeating gleam of silver.
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