A gaggle of children followed. Steven pondered how fertile his branch of the family was and wondered who had fathered Cheryl and Bridget’s babies. He also realised how hard life in Haver still was. Cheryl had only had her baby in the early hours of the morning yet she was walking slowly to dinner in the Great Hall. There were no concessions for new mothers at Haver.
As the family passed under the arch into Flag Court, Penny saw the axe and block. Steven could hear her wailing from his cell and watched as his Uncle Paul tried to comfort her. Damian and Greg had heard the commotion too. Damian strode across the courtyard, stood another turnip on the block and split it in two while Greg helped Paul drag the distraught Penny through the entranceway leading to the Great Hall.
Steven slumped onto the floor. If only he hadn’t been so obstinate. If only he had listened to his father’s warnings about the perils of returning to England. Why hadn’t he been more cautious? Then he became angry. Why had Paul hoisted the flags if it wasn’t safe to return?
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Damian and Greg entering the cell. Damian had his pistol drawn, and Greg carried two short lengths of rope.
‘Hands behind your back,’ Damian snapped. Steven knew it was pointless to resist. He put his hands behind his back and waited as Greg tied his wrists together.
Damian wore a full dinner suit. If the circumstances weren’t so tragic, it would have been farcical.
‘Where are we off to?’ Steven asked.
Damian smirked. ‘I’m off to enjoy my dinner. You’re off to wait for my brother to confirm your sentence. Hobble his feet too,’ he instructed Greg.
‘He’ll never get down the staircase.’
‘Tough,’ Damian said.
Greg didn’t tie the hobble too tight but even so, Steven was forced to jump down the steps like a kangaroo. Despite the fact he knew he was going to die, his brain wouldn’t allow him to simply fall down the stairs. His legs ached painfully by the time he reached the foot of the staircase; his muscles had seized up and he could no longer walk. Damian and Greg grabbed his arms and dragged him across Flag Court.
They hauled him into the Great Hall and stood him in front of the dais facing Jasper. Steven caught a glimpse of his reflection in the silver tureen standing on the table in front of him. He wished he’d used some of the beer to clean his face after his earlier fall, but he’d had no way of knowing how bad he looked. There were angry mutterings from the refectory table behind him.
‘Get on with your meals!’ Damian shouted. He sat down, picked up his fork and skewered a piece of rare steak from a silver platter on the table. Putting it on his plate, he looked Steven squarely in the eye and took his knife between his fingers and let it arc down onto the steak. To emphasise his point he tilted his plate so Steven could see where the blood had run out of the meat.
Jasper sat on the throne with Virginia one side of him and Damian on the other. The two outside seats were taken by Amy and Beatrice. Jasper, like Damian, was in full dinner-suit regalia. Virginia and her daughters wore exquisite evening dresses. Greg had been dispatched to sentry duty.
Feeling was returning to Steven’s legs, so he shuffled to one side so he could see the reflection of the hall behind him in the silver tureen. When he had been taken through the Great Hall for his initial interrogation he had wondered why there was a tablecloth at the end of the refectory table closest to the dais. Now he understood. There were three well-dressed small children on the end of the table, one of whom he recognised as Virginia’s daughter Hazel, so he assumed the other two were also hers — or her elder daughters’ children. They were being looked after by another member of the Steed family, Rebecca. She, like everyone else at the refectory table, was dressed in a grey tunic. It was obvious that only Virginia, her children and grandchildren had high status among the Steed family.
Steven stood waiting for the meal to end — waiting for the uncertainty of not knowing what was going to happen to him to be over. He felt totally helpless. He had presented his proposal to Jasper and had no plan B. His Lordship was staring at him, as were others at the table. Only Beatrice showed any sign of compassion.
He heard the sound of one of the wooden benches behind him grating on the stone floor as people stood up.
‘Sit down,’ Jasper growled.
‘We were just going to get the pudding, Your Lordship,’ Susan explained.
‘Sit down.’
In the reflection of the tureen Steven saw Susan and Jennifer hastily regain their seats.
‘Before we enjoy our pudding,’ Jasper said, ‘I will pass sentence on Steven Grey.’ Grey was the name Mark and Paul Chatfield’s families were given at the Haver community; only the brothers could be called Chatfield. The room was quiet. Damian sat smirking, arms crossed.
‘Steven Grey,’ Jasper continued, ‘my father passed the death sentence on you over two years ago. Since that sentence, you have committed further crimes, including escaping from Haver, being an accessory to the murder of my brother Miles —’ Steven’s jaw dropped; he hadn’t expected to be accused of that ‘— and aiding the kidnapping of my father’s wife Allison.’
‘He didn’t kidnap her,’ Luke shouted.
‘One more word from you and you’ll end up with the same sentence as Steven,’ Jasper warned.
Steven tensed, praying Luke would keep quiet. He gritted his teeth. So Jasper had made up his mind, and was hell-bent on revenge. Steven suspected that some of Jasper’s craving for retribution had its roots in events that had occurred while Steven wasn’t even at Haver — the Chatfields’ treatment at the hands of Diana. It didn’t matter. No one could say or do anything that would make a difference. His fate was sealed.
Satisfied he would not be interrupted again, Jasper said, ‘Steven Grey, before I pass sentence, do you have anything else to say?’
Steven looked hard at Jasper as he uttered the words, ‘No, Your Lordship. I said everything that needed to be said this afternoon. I can only call upon your sense of justice and your knowledge of the truth.’
‘Very well,’ Jasper said. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a black silk handkerchief. As he lifted the handkerchief towards his head, a baby started crying. In the silence, the sound echoed loudly off the walls. It was a noise that in days past might have infuriated passengers travelling on a long-haul jet, or diners eating in an expensive restaurant. Today it infuriated Jasper.
‘Whose is that baby?’ he yelled. There was no reply. ‘Whose is that baby?’ he thundered again, glaring towards Paul and his family.
‘It’s yours, Your Lordship.’ The voice was barely audible.
‘What did you say?’
‘It’s one of your babies that’s crying, Your Lordship.’ The voice was a little more resolute now.
‘One of my babies!’
‘Yes, Your Lordship.’
Cheryl stood up, the baby she was holding wrapped in the shawl uttering a loud cry. She nodded to Bridget, who placed a second baby in her free arm. Then, cradling the two infants, she walked towards the dais. ‘I had twins, Your Lordship, early this morning.’
‘And they’re mine?’
‘You know very well they’re yours, Your Lordship.’
The baby, comforted by the gentle rocking of Cheryl’s body, had stopped crying. Steven noticed the look of anger on Virginia’s face. He also noticed the look of concern on Amy and Beatrice’s faces.
‘What sex are they?’ Jasper demanded roughly.
‘You have a beautiful daughter, Your Lordship, and a handsome son.’
‘A son, I have a son!’ There was triumph in Jasper’s voice. He looked at Damian. The look of thunder on his brother’s face matched that on Virginia’s.
Cheryl handed Jasper one of the babies. He looked inside the nappy. Then triumphantly he stood and held the child aloft. ‘I name my son Prince Nigel in memory of my father. And may he one day be as great a ruler of Haver as my dear father was.’
There was silence.
Then Susan began clapping, nodding vigorously towards the other members of her family. Slowly they joined in until the room was ringing with the sound of clapping.
As the applause subsided, Cheryl offered Jasper the other baby. ‘Your daughter, Your Lordship.’
Jasper waved the child away. Prince Nigel began crying again.
‘You’ll have to give Prince Nigel back to me now, Your Lordship,’ Cheryl said. ‘He’s hungry, he needs a feed.’
Gently, somewhat reluctantly, and with one last look inside the nappy, Jasper handed the baby back to Cheryl and sat down on his throne, his face radiant.
Damian coughed. ‘What about the sentence on Steven Grey?’
Jasper reached for the black silk handkerchief lying on the table, then hesitated. He stood again and drew himself up to his full height.
‘To celebrate the birth of my son,’ he announced, staring directly at Steven, ‘I am commuting your sentence to life imprisonment with hard labour. You will be responsible for all power generation along the lines of the proposal you outlined to me this afternoon.’
‘Thank you, Your Lordship.’
There was a spontaneous round of cheering and clapping. Susan tried desperately to curtail the celebration, aware it was far more enthusiastic than the ovation that had followed the naming of Prince Nigel.
‘Now go and join your family, before I change my mind,’ Jasper said to Steven as the noise subsided. ‘Susan and Jennifer, serve the pudding.’
Steven noticed Penny rise from the table, intent on coming to help him. Paul made her sit down again. Paul, like Steven, realised that having Steven hobble slowly down the hall was all part of Jasper’s power play.
As he shuffled towards Penny, Steven wondered what had changed Jasper’s mind. Was it his offer to take full responsibility for generation of power, and to increase output by fifty percent? Was it the offer of his trade skills? Or had a spark of fair play been ignited when he had told Jasper that it had been Damian’s attempt to drug and rape him that had led to him wounding Damian with his own gun? No, it couldn’t be that. Jasper had covered that escape route by adding the additional charges relating to the murder of Miles and the kidnapping of Allison.
Steven had nearly reached the end of the hall when Susan, carrying a large jug of custard, sidled up alongside him and whispered in his ear, ‘Well, young Steven, it looks as if your half-brother, Prince Nigel, has just saved your life.’
He looked at her in astonishment. Then all became clear — not only how Susan had hidden Allison’s baby, but also why Jasper had spared his life. He had hit the right button after all — Jasper’s loathing of his brother Damian for what he was and what he had done. Jasper had needed to have a son of his own in order to understand why Steven had been so desperate to protect the young boys in the community.
Once Paul had untied the ropes binding Steven’s wrists and ankles, he sat down at the table between his uncle and Penny and opposite his cousins Cheryl and Bridget. Luke was also seated with them. The young man was unusually quiet. He had discovered during the afternoon that his only surviving close relatives were his sister Charlene’s two daughters, who were being cared for by Bridget and Cheryl. Charlene and Uncle Warren had been killed in the massacre following his escape from Haver. He had lost his father in Cape Town and his brother Robert had been murdered in Australia. His only other relative, his Aunt Allison, had just died in childbirth.
Everyone else was talking at once. Greetings were exchanged. All the children were introduced. Steven was surprised how much some of them had grown, particularly Cheryl’s three children, Mary-Claire, Ruben and Harry. He took Penny’s hand and smiled. ‘That was a close call.’
‘What was the offer you made His Lordship?’ Cheryl asked.
‘First things first,’ Paul interrupted. ‘There’s one thing we all need to be very careful about.’ His voice was a mere whisper. The adults leant forward. ‘The only people who know the truth about baby Nigel are we six and Susan. It’s imperative that baby’s true identity remains secret. You all know what will happen if Jasper discovers the truth.’
They sat in silence for a few seconds, digesting the significance of Paul’s words.
‘So what was your proposal to Jasper?’ Cheryl asked again.
‘Like he said, I’m taking responsibility for power generation.’
‘You volunteered!’ Bridget exclaimed. ‘Have you any idea what torture that equipment is?’
‘I can guess.’
‘Who’s going to be on the treadmills with you?’
Before he could answer the question Jasper thumped his fist on the table and the chatter in the hall died immediately.
‘Right,’ His Lordship announced, ‘to celebrate the arrival of my son, all power-usage restrictions have now been lifted.’
There was a rumble of satisfaction around the hall.
‘That’s great news,’ Cheryl whispered, turning to the stocky, cheeky-faced Mary-Claire. ‘You can have your hair blow-waved tonight.’
‘So Steven Grey,’ Jasper continued, ‘had better get across to the Punishment Room and start pedalling. And take the crew you volunteered to help with you.’
Steven stood up. ‘Yes, Your Lordship.’ He turned back towards the table and nodded at Ruben, Harry and Lee. ‘You three boys,’ he said simply.
‘You volunteered my sons for that torture?’ Cheryl shrieked.
‘And poor Lee?’ Penny demanded.
‘It’s for their own good, I promise you.’
He truly believed it. He had tried to get Luke as part of the crew too, but Jasper had baulked at that. Luke would have to take care of himself.
‘Don’t stand there all day arguing,’ Jasper bellowed. ‘Get across to the Punishment Room and get on with your work before I change my mind about your sentence.’
Steven and the three young boys hurried from the room.
‘I’m having a blow-wave tonight,’ Mary-Claire boasted to her younger cousins further down the table.
‘No you’re not,’ corrected her mother.
‘But …’
‘You’re not and that’s the end of it.’
‘I’ll have a chat with the Morgans and Steeds,’ Paul said glumly. ‘See if we can reach an agreement to keep the power usage down.’
‘How much difference will that make?’ Cheryl asked bitterly. ‘It’s going to be that lot at the top table using all the electricity. They’re not going to be careful, are they?’
At the completion of the meal, Jasper and his entourage stood up, prompting everyone else to stand too.
‘Duncan,’ Jasper commanded, ‘relieve Greg on sentry duty and tell him to come to the Crimson Gallery to join Damian and me.’ With that he hurried from the room, followed by Damian. There was a look of thunder on Virginia’s face as she in turn led her daughters away. As soon as they had left, the hall erupted with excited chatter.
Jasper led Damian off to the Crimson Gallery where he planned to celebrate the birth of his son in style, watched over by the portraits of the British nobility. He realised he was going to have to justify his actions to Virginia later. Not that it really mattered, he told himself. She, like the rest of the community, was there to serve him. If she didn’t like it, she knew what to do, and she could take those two daughters of hers with her.
It was a pity Cheryl had all those scars on her body: she had a good figure and she certainly knew how to produce boys. His son Nigel was her third. It was as well for Virginia that she was by far the best looking woman at Haver; maybe she would give him a son one day, or at least one of her daughters might.
Virginia, meanwhile, had stormed through the ballroom and into the Turner Gallery, Amy and Beatrice hard on her heels.
‘I’ll kill that little whore, Cheryl,’ she spat when she finally came to a halt.
‘She probably didn’t have any choice,’ Beatrice said. ‘What choice does anyone have when the Chatfield boys want something? It’s not Cheryl you should be blaming, i
t’s that so-called husband of yours.’
‘Would that be wise?’ Amy asked sharply. They both looked at her. ‘Think about it — if you upset Jasper he might turf you out. He might turf us all out. I think you should congratulate him.’
‘Congratulate him!’ Virginia spat. ‘I’ll cut his balls off!’
‘I think you should congratulate him — tell him that you want to adopt little Nigel as your own son,’ Amy persisted.
‘What!’
‘Think about it. I bet the Grey girls are already planning to take our place at the top table. Isn’t that what we’d be doing if the boot was on the other foot?’
Virginia thought for a moment, then nodded.
‘Exactly,’ Amy said. ‘We’ve got to shut them out, keep them in their place. If we’re not careful it’ll be us eating on the refectory table, cleaning the toilets, doing the laundry and sleeping in those poky little attic rooms — and them in our staterooms.’
The thought was appalling to even the good and generous-natured Beatrice. ‘Of course, Mother, if you could give him a son …’
‘Do you think I haven’t tried? I think it’s too late for me. I think that’s why Jasper’s eyes are wandering. If I can’t give him a son, one of you …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I’m sorry, I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but we have to give him a son, one of us.’
‘In the meantime,’ Amy said, ‘for God’s sake adopt that little bastard Nigel Grey.’
‘He’ll always be Jasper’s favourite — the first born and all that,’ Beatrice observed.
‘I’ve a feeling,’ Virginia said, ‘that when Jasper’s got one of our sons, poor little Nigel might just become sickly or have an accident.’
Alarm spread across Beatrice’s face. ‘You wouldn’t?’
Her mother didn’t answer the question. Instead she said, ‘You two are going to have to make eyes at him, try to entice him to sleep with you.’
Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? Page 19
