by Anya Karin
Realization dawned on John and Red at exactly the same time.
“Be careful with this one, Two-Fingers,” Red Ben said. “She’s smarter than you are.”
“Better looking, too,” Lynne said, “but he’s got his good points.”
She looked up at him. Lynne searched the side of John’s scarred face for some hint of his thinking.
“Aye,” he said. “It’s true on all counts. That it is. But we’ve got to do something about Gavin, and I’m starting to get concerned about Kenna.”
The carriage bouncing along the road continued toward the three of them, huddled against the growing chill that continued as the night darkened around them.
“What do you suppose that cart is doing? It’s driving awfully wobbly-like,” John said, squinting. “You don’t suppose we’re about to be joined by a fourth?”
“No,” Lynne said, “looks to be a rather lumpy man driving. And unless my memory is quite a bit worse than I thought it was, Kenna’s not a lumpy man.”
After almost pitching itself over to its side, the carriage righted, and a bundle of laundry fell out the back that the driver didn’t seem to notice, or to care about. And then the wad of blankets and tablecloths began to wiggle a bit.
“Suppose he’s lost a puppy?” John said.
“Well, if’n he did, that’s the reddest-haired puppy that I’ve ever seen. Come on, boys,” Lynne said. “Let’s get busy saving a thief and ruining a day or two.”
Chapter Fifteen
“One!”
The sheriff slapped Gavin hard across the mouth.
“What do you mean you don’t know where they are?” The sheriff said. His words dripped out of his mouth just like the brown juice ran down his chin and into his collar. “I thought you were supposed to have a gaggle of friends coming to save you. You don’t suppose they forgot all about pitiful Gavin and left you for dead, do you?”
Gavin glared at Alan through red, puffy eyes that had been open for a day and a half, bloodshot from exhaustion and the near-constant beatings that had been delivered since it occurred to the sheriff that he could do whatever he wanted with his prisoner and no one would say very much.
“Two!”
He whipped his hand around, bashed it against Gavin’s already cracked lips and laughed as he pitched forward and spat blood.
“Answer me, or I’ll break your teeth.”
“I...” Gavin sucked air. “I don’t know where they...are. I’m a bit indisposed.”
Alan raised his hand, but reconsidered. Not out of mercy, but out of a desire to hit him somewhere else. He took the horsewhip from the table and gave him a savage lick across the shoulders.
Gavin grunted, let his head drop low on his shoulders, but didn’t cry out.
“I don’t...I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Not much of anything, really. You’re dead. After tormenting me for two long, damnable years, you’re dead and I’m going to kill you. A week from now, you’ll be two days in the ground, and the people you wasted your life trying to help will have all happily forgotten you and moved on to worshiping someone else, while they worry about where they’re going to get their weekly turnips and gruel. Have you thought about that?”
“I’ve been more worried about bleeding as much as possible since that seems to make you happy.”
“If we weren’t on opposite sides of this, I think I’d like you. You’re funny. Three!”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” Gavin let out pained groan when his back lit on fire from another lash.
“Tell me, prisoner, what is it like to know you’ll be dead in five days?”
“I haven’t...really...thought on it.”
“Stand up.” Alan yanked Gavin to his feet and then caught him under the arm when he almost immediately collapsed again. “You’re in quite a bad way.”
With a dramatic chest-clearing sound, Alan spat a foul, brown stream on Gavin, who just grunted.
“Do you have to do that? Isn’t the...the beating enough?”
Another lash whistled through the air and met flesh, but Gavin didn’t react he was so numb. Somewhere in the distance, there was a faint sound that echoed through the prison’s hard, stone walls, but it seemed to both men to be nothing out of the ordinary. Just a scream from a prisoner, or a guard letting off some steam, whatever it was didn’t draw any attention, especially from Gavin who was turned around and given another smart blow across the mouth.
“Why are you doing this?” Gavin said in between being slapped. “Does beating me give you some kind of joy?”
“It’s just a way to pass the time,” he said. “Four!”
Outside the door, Rodrigo tapped his fingers in a low rhythm on the thick, oaken door. Then, judging from the sound, on the iron that wrapped it, and then on the wall. His boots scraped slowly along the floor and then he turned. Someone spoke, but it couldn’t have been him.
As far as Alan knew, Rodrigo had no tongue.
The sheriff turned his attention back to his prisoner, back to the intense, tight, thumping pleasure that swelled inside him every time he struck Gavin, every time he made him bleed.
“Five!”
“Ach, is that him?” Kenna said as Red Ben, Lynne and John all crept off down a hall to her left. “The one with the lump for a nose?”
“Aye, that’s him,” Lynne said. “He’s called Willem, and although he looks rather like an ogre, he’s a sweetheart. A lonely sweetheart. Good luck.”
You were ready to leap out the back of a moving carriage to meet him, you can at least spend a couple of minutes keeping a lonely old man company to keep Gavin from dying, Kenna thought as she strode softly down the hall.
“Who-”
“Shh!” Kenna said with a hushing finger to her lips. “You’re Willem, aye?”
“Aye, and a pretty lass you be. What’re you doing in a place like this?”
“Oh, one of your friends thinks you need a wee bit of relief from how long and how hard you work. They said you never take breaks, and...”
“Ooh!” Willem giggled as he felt a hand on his thigh. “Aren’t you a wonder, then?”
The words and the things Lynne told Kenna to do were all working just like she said, but still Kenna kept shifting her eyes around to make sure no one was coming. There was no danger, Lynne told her, of being caught, because for the whole night, from dusk until dawn, Willem walked this section of the prison by himself while the sheriff stayed in his office entertaining himself with any number of horrible recreations. Aside from that, the whiskey on Willem’s breath wasn’t difficult to smell.
But still, she couldn’t shake the fancy that something was lurking just around the corner to jump out and grab her.
“A pretty young lass like you wouldn’t just be trying to fool old Willem, would she?”
“Oh, no, not at all, I-”
“Even if you was, would you tell me? Would I care? Whassat?”
Kenna shrugged, looking past Willem into the darkness behind him as three silhouettes dashed past.
“You din’t hear nothin?”
Kenna shook her head. “Nothing except my heart pounding in my chest. Let’s get you out of that uniform, aye?”
“Oh ho ho, well I think we canna be doing any of that. I might spend most of my time at work pissed, but only one of us that can be with a lass instead of working is the sheriff. Maybe you mightn’t go see him.”
“The sheriff? He sounds important. Are you sure I should bother him?”
“Oh, lassie, I think he spends most of his nights hoping for someone to come along and help him pass the time. He’d be happy to see someone like you.”
“I thought you said you knew where we were going, Lynne.”
“I do, just...give me a wee bit before you start panicking. He’s been moved, I think, or at least been taken somewhere for a while.”
The three of them crept, crouched low, only standing to look into the cells they passed, each one that had no Gavin was more di
sappointing than the last until finally they came to the end of the hall and had to double back.
“I’m sure he was in this one. I remember this-”
“Hey, who’s out there? Gavin?”
Lynne’s eyes flicked back and forth. She looked at John, pursed her lips, then at Red Ben, who shrugged.
“We’re here to get you out. Keep your voice down,” Lynne said. “Gavin’s gone?”
“Aye, and I’m Liam.”
“Good to meet you Liam – where did they take him?”
“I dunno, but, um, he’s been gone a good while now. Day, maybe more.”
“Liam? It’s me, John. I came to visit-”
“Aye, I know you, you bloody traitor, come up here and I’ll throttle you!”
“Shh! We’re not here for that. We’re here to get Gavin and the rest of you. You’re all political prisoners, aye?”
“Jacobites, the lot of us. All fought for the Bonnie Prince, then got thrown in here when the King won. Bloody shame what’s fallen on this place.”
“I agree Liam, but listen,” John said. “We’ve to be careful. The guards are about, even if there’s not many, and we don’t need any alarms raised. Do you know where the jailor is?”
“What, the one keeps the key?” Liam said, loud enough that the three crouched figures all cringed. “Aye, he’s got a room down t’end of the hall. He’s a fat fella, with little tiny legs. That’s the night guard anyway, t’other one’s a little more limber.”
John, barely able to keep from laughing, said: “got it, thanks friend. We’ll be back.”
“What is it about this place that makes me so uneasy?” John said when he crept back to Red and Lynne.
“That it’s a prison you could easily be living in by the time morning comes around?” Ben said. “At least, that’s what does it for me. After you.”
A symphony of popping knees and groans issued forth from Red Ben, but he soldiered along, following close behind the other two with a hand on the wall beside him for support.
“You do know where we’re going, aye?” John said as they passed what seemed to be the same intersection of hallways for the third time. “We’re not just going in circles?”
“Shh! You’d talk to a dead horse if you thought it’d answer. Keep to the right, and eventually you’ll end up by the main entrance. It’s hard to say how long we’ve to go, but it’ll happen. Just keep quiet.”
They crept past two guards, one of them asleep, and then happened upon an open door, with a man very much like the one Liam had described within. He, too, was sleeping, but lightly.
“John, go get the key,” Lynne said.
“Who? Me?”
“Unless we’ve acquired another John. Go!”
To the end of the hall he went, then poked his head inside the room.
“Hey! What’s-”
A gloved hand with two big, heavy rings thumped against the guard’s temple, and John slid back to the others along the wall with only a slight jingle when he walked.
“Right, so, that was easy.”
“This won’t be. Come on.”
“Wait, where are we going? I thought you said right at each turn?” Red Ben said.
“We’ve got to go free Liam. He’ll do most of our work for us. Nothing like a diversion to keep burglars safe, aye?”
“I like the way you think, but what about the sheriff? If that’s really where Gavin’s at, isn’t he probably in some danger?”
“He’s likely to be getting beat fairly hard if I had to guess, but the sheriff won’t kill him. A big public execution is much more Alan’s way, with trumpets and everyone wearing costumes.”
“Trumpets?”
“Shut up, let’s go.”
“Fourteen!”
Alan’s hand thudded on Gavin’s cheek in a blow with considerably less vigor than when he started. Gavin hardly reacted, which just made the sheriff angrier. He rubbed his knuckles.
“You’re a stubborn creature, aren’t you? Why won’t you tell me anything?”
“Because there’s...nothing to tell you.” Gavin said in between ragged breaths.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you’re a bad judge of truth?”
“You’re not going to stop with the wit, are you?”
“I’ve got nothing else left.”
Another brown stream shot out and fell across Gavin’s back. He didn’t react.
“I suppose that’s true – what was that?”
“The only thing I can hear is my heart beating in my ears. If you’re going to give me more punishment, just get on with it so I can get some rest before you kill me.”
“Shh – listen to that. Are you sure you don’t hear anything? Rodrigo! Come in here!”
For a moment there was no response from the silent Spaniard, but eventually the boots began to scrape along the floor back in the door’s direction, and it swung open with a creak.
“What is that noise?” The sheriff demanded as soon as Rodrigo stepped inside. “It sounds like people moving around. The guards haven’t got together and started with the dice and the drink again, have they? These damnable Scots can’t keep themselves upright and sober for more than a half a day it seems.”
Rodrigo shrugged.
“Well, go look!”
With a finger on the hilt of his very fancy rapier, Rodrigo watched Alan for a moment with a look on his face halfway between hatred and pity. He sighed a heavy sigh and turned around and walked out the door. The slow, grinding, scraping steps went down the hall, away from the office, and faded into nothing the further he got.
“You’d think I torture him for how badly he behaves.”
“Have you considered being more civil to him? After all, without him you’d be lost. You’d have to cut your own tobacco and read your own mail.”
“I suppose that’s true,” the sheriff said, “but I can’t have him getting used to kindness. His sort gets lazy when they aren’t disciplined.”
“That sword of his looks like it might hurt.”
“What are you saying, worm?”
“Ach, nothing, Sheriff. Just seems to me you might get him to do things for you quicker if you were a little nicer. That’s all.”
Alan tugged the cuff of his glove and snugged it around his fingers.
“I’ll keep it in mind. Seventeen!”
“What am I to do with this?” Liam said as he took the key ring from John.
“Well first you’re to count to a hundred, then start letting people out.”
The man looked at him in stunned silence.
“But if I’m in here-”
John opened the door and then closed it again to show him it was unlocked.
“Start at this end and just keep going until everyone’s out. By that time there should be sufficient excitement to keep the guards busy.”
“They’ve swords though, and axes and some of them even have pistols. What’re we to-”
“Those pistols only shoot once.”
“Some have two barrels.”
“Twice, then. It’s awfully hard to shoot people when you’ve got to reload. What I need from you is to keep everyone quiet until the doors are open, and then all at once, rush out! The guards won’t be able to stop you.”
“We just leave?”
“Aye, do you understand?”
“I canna imagine the guards will much be pleased, nor the sheriff.”
“You’re escaping. Of course he’s not going to be happy about it.”
“If you say so, but I’m still not sure I trust you.”
“Then stay there!” John’s voice raised before Red Ben shut him up with an elbow to the ribs. “Just do what I said, right?”
“Aye, I’ll do it,” Liam said. “But I’m not pleased that you shouted at me.”
With a grunt, John and Red Ben went to rejoin Lynne, who was lying flat on her stomach, staring down the corridor, into darkness only broken by two torches, one of which a man walk
ed past.
“D’ya see that?” She said. “That’s his grunt. That’s the Spaniard who can’t talk. I’ve seen him fight before. You don’t want him pulling that sword.”
“I can handle him,” John said.
“No you can’t. This isn’t a time to size up your cock. John, we’ve got to hurry if we expect to get Gavin before the sheriff beats him to death.”
“I thought you said-”
“I say a lot of things. We’ve no choice. We have to either avoid him, or...”
The padding of bare feet came down the hall to the left of Lynne, Ben and John. Tentative, slow, then in a furious burst, then slowly again.
“That’s no guard,” John said.
“No, it’s the worst thing that could possibly happen.”
“Kenna! No!” Lynne stood, shouted, and charged as quickly as she could. “Kenna!”
She was too far away.
Much too far.
Chapter Sixteen
I wish these torches were more regularly placed, I-
“Kenna! No!”
“Lynne? Is that you? What is...oh, no!”
Kenna looked up just in time to see the leather straps across Rodrigo’s chest as she walked straight into him.
Rodrigo grunted.
His hand shot out so quickly that Kenna didn’t know he was reaching for her until she felt his leather glove on her throat.
“I...I can’t breathe!” She squeaked.
He squeezed harder.
“Put her down!” Red Ben barreled toward Rodrigo, red-faced and enraged, but the Spaniard simply dodged to the side, stuck out his foot and sent Ben barreling straight into the wall and then the floor.
John tried next, ripping his dirk from his boot. He lunged at Rodrigo with murder in his eyes. The first of three quick slashes caught and drew blood but the other two cut only air.
With his hand still firmly around Kenna’s throat, Rodrigo ducked a wild jab, kicked Red Ben’s foot out from under him as the big man was trying to stand, and whipped his rapier from its scabbard.
“You’re quick,” John said.
Rodrigo smiled.
John backed up, drew the long-knife from his belt and tossed the dirk to his two-fingered hand with the blade lying down his wrist to be used for blocking.
