CRY HAVOC (Jack Frey Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  They stopped by the side of a river at midday. The five boys were released from the cage but Smythe and Jones immediately put them in leg chains. They hobbled to the shade of a great oak and sat down.

  Jones built a small fire whilst Smythe filled a pot with water from the river. Aidan left his horse to graze on the grass. He removed a small book from his saddlebag and settled down in the shade on the other side to the boys. As his men prepared a stew, Aidan started to read.

  Jack looked down at the shackles around his legs. He tugged at the clasp but there was no give in it. He tried slipping it over his foot but succeeded only in scraping his skin against the metal.

  The whip cracked him across the hand, leaving an angry welt.

  Smythe glared at him, his whip ready to strike once more. "Do you want to try your luck again, boy?"

  Jack stared defiantly back, cradling his injured hand. Smythe swung the whip back but Aidan stopped him.

  "Leave him. He is only doing what you and I would do," said Aidan, not looking up from his book.

  "I'd listen to my betters, that's what I'd do," replied Smythe, putting down the whip. He chopped a carrot, dropping it into the pot.

  "He has plenty of time to learn," said Aidan.

  The group sat in silence until Smythe served them bowls of stew to eat. "If you want to talk, now's the time. If you need to go shit, now's the time. If you go, walk no further than ten yards from this spot and start counting so I can hear your voice and not have to watch you. We leave again in thirty minutes and there will be no stopping till nightfall. Clear?"

  The boys nodded.

  "Good. Now eat."

  "There's no saving any of this till later, is there?" said Brendan with a slight grin.

  "No," replied Jack as he scooped some stew out and then watched it dribble off the spoon back into the bowl.

  "Might as well eat it then?"

  Jack looked at his brother. "You making fun of me again?"

  Brendan raised his eyebrows but it was enough to set them laughing.

  "What's your names?" asked one of the other boys, with wiry blonde hair.

  "I'm Brendan and this is my brother Jack."

  "I'm Erik," the blonde boy replied. "The large lad is Thomas and this one is Bryan." Bryan had an olive complexion and was painfully thin. He waved his spoon in greeting. Thomas barely looked up from his food.

  "What did you do to end up here?" said Erik.

  "Got caught breaking into a house," said Jack. "What about you?"

  "Tried picking the Black Dog's pocket, didn't I? Not the smartest thing I could have done."

  "My family couldn't afford to feed all of us," said Bryan. "So my dad sold me to the Dogs. Said at least I'd get to eat with them."

  "What about you, Thomas?" asked Brendan.

  "Was homeless. They offered me a home. Simple." There was a twitch to Thomas' face as he spoke as if someone was tickling his nose. Jack had noticed it a few times but had not thought anything of it till now.

  "Why do you twitch your face like that?" he asked.

  Thomas jumped to his feet with a rattle of chains. His bowl clattered to the ground as he raised his fists. "What are you trying to say?"

  "Oi!" snapped Jones. "Sit down."

  Jack held up both hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

  "I can't help it, alright?" snarled Thomas. "Mention it again and I'll beat the shit out of you."

  "No harm's meant," said Brendan.

  "Alright then," replied Thomas as he sank back onto the grass.

  "You all from Brixteth too?" asked Jack.

  "I am," said Erik.

  "I was roughing in the Docks, picking up scraps there," said Thomas.

  "Brixteth, down near Weston Way," said Bryan.

  Jack looked at him again. "Is your old man Sean the roofer?"

  "Yeah, that's him." Bryan spat as he said, trying to act all tough but his cheeks flushed, giving away the hurt he was trying so desperately to hide.

  "I thought he had have plenty of work with a job like that," said Brendan.

  "No one's making enough money these days," replied Jack. "Must have been hard for him to let you go."

  "Yeah, well..." said Bryan. "Not sure I want to be here instead though. Could have looked after myself with no problem."

  Jack leaned in closer to the center of the group. "Any of you tried running?"

  Thomas laughed. Erik shook his head. "Ask to go have a piss. See how far you can get without anyone jumping on you. Then ask us again."

  "Right, I will," said Jack, getting to his feet. "I need to go."

  Smythe nodded. "Ten yards. No more. And I want to hear you count. If you run out of fingers and toes, start over till you finish."

  Jack made his way from the group. The chains connecting his feet were heavy and dragged in the long grass. The shackles bit into his ankles with every step. He tried lifting his feet to see if that would make it easier but to no avail. By the time he reached ten yards, he was worn out. Running in the chains would be impossible.

  He started to count, calling out the numbers as he did his business. As long as he was doing that, Smythe would know where he was. If he moved, his own voice would betray him. Jack's heart sunk. He shuffled back, dejected.

  That night, they camped in a small field. Jones built a fire while Smythe tied the boy's chains to a central stake, leaving them just enough rope to move around slightly. Jack watched the two men attach one side of a canvas to the side of the wagon and peg the other in the ground. Aidan thanked them and settled down beneath it as Smythe and Jones moved onto preparing the evening meal.

  It was warm by the fire and the grass soft. Jack stretched out his stiff arms and legs, rattling his shackles. Smythe's head jerked up and he fixed his eyes on Jack. Nothing was said as they stared at each other over the fire. It was only when Smythe put down the carrot he was peeling, picked up his whip and began to stand up that Jack looked away. Satisfied, Smythe resumed the meal preparations.

  Half an hour later, Smythe distributed bowls of food to the boys. He left Jack until last. When Smythe stood in front of him, his hands were empty. "No food for you tonight. You can do with going hungry. Learn some gratitude."

  "You can't do that," protested Jack.

  "I can and I am. Keep complaining and it won't be the only meal you'll be missing."

  "Bastard," muttered Jack once Smythe had returned to his spot closer to the fire.

  "Don't worry," said Brendan. "You can have some of mine."

  "No he won't," shouted Smythe. "Anyone gives him anything, they can lose it all."

  "Leave it, Brendan. I'm okay. It's not worth the trouble," said Jack. He let his anger fill his stomach as the others finished their meals. It would take more than going hungry to upset Jack. He glared at Smythe's back. If only there was a rock to hand. The man was close enough for Jack to crack him over the head. The thought made Jack smile. Smythe could keep his poxy stew.

  Night came and the group settled down for the night. Aiden slept under the canvas while the two men lay down next the fire with blankets pulled over them. The boys had nothing to help keep them warm but it did not take long for Erik, Bryan and Thomas to fall asleep.

  "Night," said Brendan to his brother.

  Jack gave him a nod of the head in response. He sat, still glaring at Smythe's back while his mind refused to accept the situation he found himself in. Smythe's body was stopping most of the heat from the fire reaching Jack, adding to his sense of injustice. When he heard the man's snoring, he clenched his fists. He really wanted to lean over and hit Smythe. That would shut him up.

  Smythe rolled over onto his back and something slipped from his pocket. A hint of metal caught in the moonlight. Jack craned his neck to see what it was.

  It was a key. The key to their shackles.

  Jack's mouth went dry. He forgot the hunger in his belly. He glanced around, but everyone else was asleep. He had to be careful. He lay down on the grass with only a sligh
t rattle of his chains. Someone grumbled in his sleep at the noise but no one woke up.

  The breathing around him got heavier. Smythe's snoring grew louder but the noise comforted Jack now. He knew from burgling houses that it was always best to wait until the early hours of the night when people's sleep was at its deepest before making a move.

  The hoot of an owl drifted by and Jack took that as a sign to make his move. He wriggled through the grass, keeping his chains pressed against the ground to muffle any noise. His eyes were locked on the key. He made his way inch by inch. Every clink of the chain made him pause but there was no change in the sounds around him. Even his heart tried to betray him, hammering away in his chest. How could they not hear it? He took slow, steady breaths to calm himself.

  Jack looked behind him. There was no more give in the rope securing him to the stake in ground. He moved his arms forward, reaching ever so slowly for the key. It was so close. His hand was almost there. He stretched once more. His fingertips brushed the key. So close.

  He wriggled his body and tried again. He touched the key with one finger. Gritting his teeth, Jack dragged it towards him. He hooked a second finger on to it and pulled it into his hand. He squeezed the cold metal and a smile spread across his face. He shuffled back to his original place near the other boys.

  Covering his left hand with his body to muffle any sound, Jack inserted the key into the shackle. He felt rather than heard the click as it opened and he pulled his hand free. He did the same with his right hand. Excitement grew inside him.

  Smythe snored and grumbled in his sleep. Jack and Brendan would be miles away before that fool even knew they were gone.

  He sat up to unlock the chains around his feet and found a blade at his throat. He looked up to find Aidan standing beside him.

  "You are a naughty boy," he said.

  "Wha...." Smythe jerked up right, confused and befuddled. The rest of the camp followed while Jack sat motionless with the cold steel pressing into his throat. The key was forgotten.

  Smythe saw the open shackles on the ground. He grabbed his pocket, found it empty. Rage flooded his face as he spotted the key in Jack's hand and the gawping faces of the other boys.

  "Control your charges," said Aidan to Smythe as he removed his sword from Jack's neck. It slipped inside its sheath with a whisper. Smythe stood motionless while Aidan returned to his bed. His fingers twitched as if they were already squeezing the life out of Jack. Then he lunged.

  Smythe cracked the back of his hand across Jack's face. The blow threw Jack backwards and before he had a chance to sit back up, Smythe was on him. He pummeled Jack, alternating blows from fist and whip. Jack curled up on the ground, covering his head with his arms but the beating continued.

  "Leave my brother alone." Brendan threw himself at Smythe but the man shrugged him off. He slashed the whip across Brendan's back for good measure.

  "There's plenty more where that came from if you want it," Smythe shouted. Spit flew from his mouth. He turned to the other boys. "And that goes for all of you. Anyone tries anything and you'll be wishing you got off as lightly as this little shit."

  No one said anything as Smythe relocked the shackles around Jack's wrists before storming back to his bedroll.

  Jack buried his face in the ground. The cold grass soothed his battered face and muffled the sounds of his sobs. He felt Brendan put an arm around him but it gave him little comfort.

  Dawn came too soon and Jack had managed only one or two hours sleep. Everywhere hurt as he struggled to his feet. The camp was packed away and Smythe gestured to the boys to climb back in to the wagon, unlocking their chains as they did so. Jack was last in line and he didn't like the look on Smythe's face as he approached.

  "It's your lucky day," Smythe said. "I'm not going to lock you up with the others." He held up a rope. "You get to walk."

  Aidan sat on his stallion, staring down the road while Smythe tied Jack to the back of the wagon. Once he was secured, Smythe sat in the driver's seat and snapped the reins. The horses trundled forward and the group was off.

  Jack felt the pull in his arms as the wagon moved and stumbled forward with it. The chains on his feet clanked with every step, biting into his skin while the shackles on his wrists rubbed up and down his skin. Stones and gravel dug into his feet, cutting even his hard skin. Already tired, hungry and bruised, Jack knew he had a hard day in front of him.

  He fell a few times, wrenching his arms and bashing his knees. Each time was harder to get back to his feet but he forced himself to ignore the pain because the wagon wasn't going to stop to help him. The boys watched him from behind the bars but Jack ignored them. Their concerned faces would be too much for him. He needed to be strong, so he concentrated on the next step.

  Every now and then, Smythe looked over his shoulder to check on him. The smile on the man's face infuriated Jack so he made sure he smiled back. It was a small victory for Jack but one he drew energy from each time.

  The party stopped for lunch in the shade of a large oak tree. Jack was allowed to rejoin the others while they rested. He sank his ripped and bloody feet in the cool grass, grateful for the respite from the hard road. Jones passed a small bucket of water to them and Jack gulped as much as he could down, expecting at any moment to be stopped by Smythe.

  "You okay?" asked Brendan, sitting next to him.

  Jack looked at him and then down at his feet.

  Brendan grimaced at the sight. "It wasn't your best idea last night."

  "I'm sorry he beat you as well."

  "Yeah, I am too but what can I do? You're my brother."

  Smythe walked over with stew. Again he handed over bowls to everyone except Jack.

  Jack clenched his fists and glared at the man.

  Smythe shook his head. "You've still got lessons to be learned haven't you?"

  "Stop picking on my brother," said Brendan.

  Smythe raised an eyebrow. "You want to get involved as well?" He snatched the bowl of food out of Brendan's hand and slowly poured it onto the ground. "There you go. You can both go hungry now."

  "I'm not eating this either," said Erik, standing up. He emptied his own bowl on the ground.

  Bryan joined him. "Me neither," he said as he threw away his food.

  Thomas was already half way through eating his meal when he realized what was happening. He looked from the stew to the other boys and back again. With a look of deep regret, he rose to his feet as well and poured his food away as well.

  "Why, you little shits," said Smythe. His hand curled into a fist.

  "Leave them," called out Aidan. He smiled at Jack and gave him a slight nod of the head as if he were pleased with what was happening. As if Jack passed a test of some sort. It gave little reassurance to Jack — he had little doubt things were going to get worse.

  8

  702 PN

  On the third day, the troop made an early start. All five boys sat in the back of the wagon with grumbling stomachs but Jack was grateful he wasn't walking anymore.

  There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere as they set off. Aidan established a faster pace than normal and Smythe wasn't shy about pushing his horses. The landscape changed, with trees becoming scarcer and grass growing more sparsely. The cart rattled over the stony ground, shaking Jack to his bones. And there was something about the air. It smelled different. There was a touch of salt to the wind.

  Aidan paused his horse at the top of a rise. When the cart caught up, Jack could see what had stolen his attention. The land ended and water stretched as far as the eye could see. The River Thyme could fit into it a thousand times over at least. It was the largest thing he had ever seen.

  "What's that?" he asked.

  Smythe went to rebuke him but Aidan waved him to be silent. "The Angel Sea," the Black Dog answered. "The Nostros are on the other side of that ocean.

  "Then why do you fear them? No one could cross that," said Jack, gesturing at the ocean.

  "It is not as big as
it seems. A good boat can make that journey in a day and a half. I myself have crossed it many times," answered Aidan

  Jack looked at him in disbelief.

  "Yes. Even I. And one day, so will you or, perhaps the Nostros will come to us."

  Jack looked again at the ocean. The horizon had to be the end of the world. The priest was obviously teasing him. Aidan smiled at Jack's bewilderment before spurring his horse. He galloped off along the road as it curved along the coastline.

  Smythe spat off to the side of the cart. "Death is on the other side of that sea, boy. And it's hungry for you." He laughed as he cracked the whip to chase after Aidan.

  The wind whipped through the cage with a bite that brought color to the cheeks and water to the eyes. Jack stood to watch over Smythe's shoulder. He wanted to be the first to see what they were racing towards.

  It was a dark shadow at first and Jack mistook it as part of the cliff top. But as they drew closer, the shapes of buildings formed. A single large tower was on the southern side, over looking the ocean. In front of them was a wall, some twenty feet high and stretching maybe a quarter of a mile in length. A pair of small watchtowers stood sentry on either side of the main gate with others dotted along the battlements. Whatever else the place was, there was no doubting it was a fortress.

  They slowed as they approached the gate. A guard, wearing the same black uniform as Aidan, walked towards them with a rifle in his hands. Aidan brought his horse to a stop. They two men laughed and joked as the cart caught up with them.

  "These the puppies?" said the guard, casting an eye over the boys. "Don't look like much."

  "Nor did you when I found you, Sirus," said Aidan.

  "True. Can't argue with that," said Sirus. "Well, you know where to take them. See you at evensong."

  Smythe drove the cart through the double gates and into a large courtyard. Gravel crunched underneath the wheels as they made their way. Men walked around purposefully, all dressed in the same garb, all armed with swords and the occasional pistol. Jack and his brother found themselves in the midst of an army.