by Paul Kane
“There was all kinds of stuff in the medical packs...”
Whatever it was, it packed more of a punch than any fist.
Robert looked down and realised that his clothes were gone again, stolen. He glanced to his right and saw the clipboard with the sketch on Mary had drawn. Him with and without his hood. It was then that he’d had the first inklings of what she was intending to do. “No... Mary, what were you thinking?”
Snatching up his bow and arrows, and the sword she’d given him, he’d staggered from the tent wearing virtually nothing. It didn’t matter, because there was nobody in the camp apart from a sleeping Mills, tied to a tree. All Robert’s men had left to put the plan – his plan – in motion. But they’d left without him!
He looked up at the sky and saw the first hints of light there. Whatever Mary had used had put him out for most of the night. But there was still a slim chance. Robert raced round, grabbing clothing where he could find it – spare bits of uniforms, mainly. Then, though his head was pounding fit to burst, he ran through the forest he knew so well, taking a short cut to try and reach Bill. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t have set off yet.
Robert just about made it, propelling himself from the trees just as Bill was preparing to take off. He’d waved his hands to attract the man’s attention, but when that hadn’t worked, Robert had fired an arrow across the front of the helicopter’s nose bubble. Bill had looked over, mouthing the words ‘Judas Priest!’ when he saw Robert.
“Yer supposed to be in the city,” he said as Robert climbed inside and put on the headset. “Left ages ago.”
“That was Mary,” explained Robert. “I’ll tell you about it when we get in the air.” And he had, waiting until they were well on their way.
Bill tutted. “What’s she playin’ at? Lass’ll get herself killed.”
Robert knew exactly what she was doing, and why, but he didn’t say anything. He just instructed Bill to follow the plan as if nothing had happened. They’d assess the situation when they reached Nottingham.
They came in low over the city. If all had gone well, then De Falaise’s spotters on the ground had now been replaced by theirs, but they couldn’t risk using the radios to check in case frequencies were being monitored.
“We ’aven’t been shot down yet. That’s a good sign,” Bill commented. He kept low until dawn had broken completely, then he lifted the helicopter up above the rooftops and began their run.
By the time they reached the castle, everything was kicking off. “Looks like the party’s already started.” Bill pushed the chopper forward, dipping the nose to gain more speed.
Robert had his face pressed against the glass, looking down at his men attacking on several fronts – Jack from the north; Granger and Tate from the south; the rest from the east. It was the latter who were encountering the most resistance from the soldiers on the walls firing at them. Robert also saw the crowd and the gallows, making out the figures of De Falaise, a huge man who had to be Tanek, a smaller figure who was undoubtedly Mark – and someone dressed in his clothes. “Mary,” he said.
Even as he watched, he saw Jack tackle Tanek – quite possibly the only man who could stand a chance against him at close quarters – then De Falaise and Mary’s duel begin.
There was a heavy ping as a bullet ricocheted off the side of the Sioux. “That were too close for comfort!” Bill exclaimed. “Looks like we got our man there’s attention.”
Robert took his eyes off the scene below and refocused on the castle rooftop. There was the sniper Granger and the others had told him about, and he had his weapon trained on them.
“Think you can keep us alive long enough for me to take him out?” Robert asked Bill.
“Aye.”
Bill zigzagged the chopper and Robert saw now what the man meant about manoeuvrability. If they’d attempted this in any one of the planes from the museum, they’d have crash-landed.
Robert opened the door of the helicopter, wrapping one thigh around the safety belt and using it to hold him while he leaned out. He didn’t dare look down, and kept his mind totally on the job at hand. This was a tricky shot, especially while the chopper was moving, and with the sniper still firing at them, but Robert shut everything else out apart from the gunman and the threat he posed. Time slowed down; he was back in the woods, in the forest, hunter versus prey. Robert slipped an arrow into his bow, drawing it back as far as he could.
Bill helped him by bringing the chopper sideways on, though he couldn’t hold the position for long. It would be a case of who fired first, and who was the most accurate shot.
“Now! Y’have to take it now!” Bill shouted.
Robert let out the breath he’d been holding, then let go of the arrow. At the same time, the sniper fired off another shot.
The sniper’s round grazed the back end of the Sioux as Robert’s arrow rocketed through the sniper’s scope and straight into his eye. The man let out a howl that could be heard above everything else. Flailing around, his hip caught the edge of the roof’s wall and he went over.
“Shot!” Bill clapped Robert on the shoulder as he eased himself back inside.
The helicopter made a strange noise that sounded like a cough. That cough turned into a splutter and Bill wrestled with the controls.
“What’s happening?”
“Must’ve nicked somethin’,” Bill told him.
“Can you get us in lower, I need to help Mary and put those soldiers on the wall out of commission.”
“We’ll be goin’ in lower, all right,” said Bill as the chopper took a turn downwards.
It was the speed they were coming in at that Robert didn’t care for. He glanced at Bill, who threw a look back, and they both focussed their attention on the ground that was coming towards them fast.
THEY SAW NO more soldiers on their way up through the caves. Only when they reached the exit did some of De Falaise’s men begin shooting.
Granger and his group returned fire, picking them off with bullets and arrows alike. It was Tate who pointed out that the men on the walls needed to be incapacitated first. “Try just to wound or injure if you can. The fewer deaths the better,” advised the Reverend.
“Tell that to them,” replied Granger, nodding at the soldiers with machine guns. “They’re not holding back on our men outside.” But they took it on board and, where possible, fired to debilitate rather than kill.
Gwen ran off ahead on her own, desperate to reach the Middle Bailey and find De Falaise. Tate limped after her, knocking one soldier out with his stick and taking another one down with a series of simple judo moves.
“Gwen, wait! God will provide his own revenge,” promised the Reverend. But just then he got caught in a crossfire of bullets and was hit in the shoulder. Gwen turned and doubled back to check on him. She pressed his own hand against the shoulder and told him to keep pressure on it.
“I have to go,” she told him firmly.
“Gwen...” mumbled Tate, but she was already on her way to meet De Falaise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GWEN STRODE THROUGH the grounds of the castle, spraying bullets from her rifle as if she was dealing with a bug infestation.
She was out of ammo by the time she reached the Middle Bailey where the bulk of the action was taking place. So she cast the rifle aside and took out her pistol – the one she’d used to murder Javier.
No, she hadn’t simply killed him outright in the end, had she? Appropriately, it had been more by accident than intent. Just as she’d been wrestling with what to do, gunfire had echoed through the caves: Granger and Tate attacking the south side entrance. It had proved enough of an interruption for Javier to make a play for the gun, spluttering that he mustn’t die, couldn’t risk what would happen to him if he did.
Javier had grabbed the weapon and they’d wrestled with it. He’d almost turned it around on her when she summoned strength from somewhere, jostling him back against the wall. His hands had closed around the pistol, forcing
her finger on the trigger, and the sudden bang had made them both jump. Her because of the noise; Javier because the bullet had entered his chest.
She backed away from him as he clutched at the wound – tried to stem the blood pouring from it – then he reached out with one of his shaky hands. “You... You must forgive me, señora... please... before it’s too late.”
Gwen shook her head firmly. “Damn you.”
He smiled, though it was more of a grimace. “I... I am already damned...” The light went out in his eyes, and he slumped to the floor.
Gwen stepped over the body. “For you, Clive,” she whispered. Then the sound of gunfire came again, snapping her out of her daze. The castle was under attack. It had to be Hood’s men, an attempt to stop the executions. She had to go and help.
Holstering the pistol, she’d unslung her rifle and followed the sound to the fight. Before long Gwen came upon the soldiers defending the lower cave entrance. They’d turned in her direction, but before they could fire she’d pulled the trigger of her own rifle, filling the cave with light and sound.
It had paved the way for Granger and his men to enter, for them to begin taking down De Falaise’s regime. Whether or not Granger could be trusted still remained to be seen – he hadn’t lifted a finger to help her when she was being held captive – but she’d deal with that later. Right now, she had a mission... a promise to keep.
And absolutely nothing was going to stand in her way.
JACK WRESTLED WITH Tanek on the platform. He tried using some of his moves on him, but the olive-skinned man had a few of his own.
A swift elbow in Jack’s stomach saw him releasing his grip, and Tanek was up and had a dagger drawn. He was just about to plunge it into Jack when he paused, his eyebrows twitching. Then he looked down.
Jack’s eyes followed and discovered what had made him hesitate. There was a bolt from a crossbow sticking out of his calf. Tanek scowled, but before he could do anything, another bolt hit him – this one in the side. Jack traced its trajectory to Mark lying on the floor. Resting on his stomach, the boy had the crossbow propped up and was shooting at Tanek.
Jack took the opportunity to rise and land an uppercut – not a legal move in wrestling, but something that came in handy when the referee wasn’t looking. Tanek reeled backwards, but didn’t fall. Instead, he cleared his head, then threw the dagger in Mark’s direction. It missed the boy by inches as he rolled over, letting go of the crossbow in the process. Jack came at Tanek again, but this time the giant sidestepped him, bringing down his own fist on the base of Jack’s neck – sending him crashing into one of the wooden gallows.
Tanek stalked over towards Mark, snatching up the crossbow where it had fallen. Jack attempted to get up, but failed. All he could do was watch as Tanek picked out the bolts like splinters, still not showing the slightest sign of pain.
Tanek looked down at Mark and pulled a strange face – halfway between a smirk and a scowl – then he turned the crossbow on the boy who’d caused him so much trouble.
NOW THAT THE gunmen on the walls were falling, Granger saw that their own men had begun climbing up the other side using grappling hooks and ropes. They were swinging over the tops and taking out more of the guards.
In the grounds, confusion reigned supreme. Gunshots were ringing out and nobody really knew who was firing at who. De Falaise’s army was bigger, but they were panicking.
Granger spotted Tate as he was making his way towards the Middle Bailey. The Reverend assured Granger he was okay, and begged him to go after Gwen, so he left one of his squad to look after him.
She didn’t take much finding. The auburn-haired woman was striding through the mayhem, shooting at anything that moved until her rifle was spent. Granger ran off after her just as she was pulling out her pistol.
But there was a soldier behind her, off to her right, aiming his gun at her head. Quickly, Granger loaded an arrow and pulled back the twine. He let the projectile go and it embedded itself in the soldier’s side, causing him to fire up into the air. Gwen heard the noise and turned, saw the arrow and mouthed a thanks to him.
Then she turned back to get on with her task.
Granger began after her again, but before he’d got three steps an arc of bullets patterned the sky above him – then lower, hitting him in several places all at once. He seemed to go down in slow motion, holding the bow close, feeling the red-hot blood leaking out of him.
He toppled to the floor, vision blurring.
Granger could just see the figure of the woman heading off towards the platform, off to do what he’d been trying to stop her from doing – though would have done himself given half a chance.
“Go... on, girl... do it for E-Ennis...” he managed. “Do... it for m –”
Granger closed his eyes and lay still, while all around him the battle raged on.
SHE SAW HIM – there he was.
The man who’d left her in bed that morning, the man who’d done all those things to her. The man who’d given the orders for Javier to follow. Gwen approached the platform. A soldier came up on her right and she shot him in the leg without even blinking.
“I’ve heard what they say about you... That you let him... do things. All kinds of things to you.”
Not anymore. Now it was payback time.
De Falaise was terrorising some other woman now, she saw; a dark haired girl dressed in green and khaki. They were looking up at something, and though Gwen registered the sound of the helicopter, she didn’t take any notice. Then the Sheriff punched the woman in the face with the hilt of his sabre.
That did it.
Gwen rushed up towards the platform, pistol drawn. “FRENCHMAN!” she screamed, mounting the steps.
De Falaise looked over and puckered his brow. Perhaps he didn’t quite realise what was happening, how she could be here in uniform, brandishing a gun – instead of in a nice dress by his side. “My dear...” he began.
“Don’t!” she warned him. “I’m going to kill you now, just like I killed Javier.” Gwen pointed the gun at his head.
“Then by all means get on with it,” he said snidely.
Gwen’s hand shook. She remembered what Javier had said about sparing her from what he was to go through, about saving her soul.
“You cannot do it, can you?” De Falaise grinned that smug grin of his. “You cannot just kill me like this, defenceless.”
Gwen pulled the trigger.
The gun clicked empty.
De Falaise’s eyes widened, then he began to laugh.
Gwen saw red. She threw the useless pistol at him and took out the knife from her pocket, the one she’d originally intended on using.
“I am afraid that mine is much bigger than yours.” He held up the sabre to illustrate.
Gwen didn’t care. She ran at him anyway, shouting at the top of her voice.
She was stopped in mid-lunge by something hard plunging into her shoulder, sending her spinning. It was De Falaise’s second in command, shooting one of his crossbow bolts at her, a young boy hanging on to his leg and skewing his aim.
Gwen toppled sideways, falling away from the laughing Sheriff. He was slipping out of her reach. But before she fell off the side of the platform completely, she threw the knife with her one good arm.
It landed in De Falaise’s thigh.
As she dropped, uncertain of where she would land, she at least had the satisfaction of hearing the Frenchman let out a shrill yelp.
Then she was tumbling away, falling and hitting her head. Before she lost her grip on consciousness, she looked up, and it was then that she saw the helicopter flying overhead, much closer than it should be to the ground.
THE SIOUX CAME in to land with a bump, not far from the war memorial.
Robert and Bill jolted forwards, but both chopper doors were wide open within seconds, the blades still turning. Bill took up his shotgun, Robert had bow and arrow ready again.
On their sprint up the incline, Robert bagged a coupl
e of soldiers and Bill opened fire over the heads of two more, causing them to drop their rifles and run off in alarm.
They ran up the path – back up towards the platform and the scene they’d just passed over. “I’ll take the left, you take the right,” Robert told him.
On the right, there was Tanek, reaching down to grab Mark again – to shoot him, finally, with a bolt to the head. On the left were De Falaise and Mary.
Bill aimed his shotgun at the bigger man and ordered him to let Mark go. The olive-skinned giant looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. Then he pointed the crossbow in Bill’s direction. He shot, but at the same time Mark produced Tanek’s own discarded dagger and rammed it with all the strength he had left, through the man’s foot.
Tanek did make a noise this time, more a growl than a scream.
The bolt hadn’t flown straight, though it had found Bill – lodging itself into his pelvis. As he dropped, though, the farmer squeezed his own trigger. The blast hit Tanek in the middle of his chest, sending him reeling backwards with a grunt. The whole platform shook when he fell, but he didn’t get up again.
Robert, meanwhile, had an arrow trained on De Falaise’s head. But the Frenchman already had a dazed Mary pulled close to him, and he took this opportunity to bring the sabre up to her throat.
“The real Hooded Man, I presume.” said the Sheriff.
Robert’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I am. And I know you.”
“Indeed.” De Falaise kept Mary between him and the line of arrow fire. “You care for this woman, I can see that. I can use that.” He looked all around him at the devastation, looked back over his shoulder to see Tanek lying on the deck, then he added: “And much as it pains me to leave before we have had a chance to get properly acquainted, there is a saying that seems appropriate: Prudence est mère de sûreté. Discretion is the better part of valour. And so I will live to fight another day, non?” He began to drag Mary backwards with him, limping – a knife still in his leg. Robert kept his arrow on him the whole time, but couldn’t risk a shot.
