Henry & Sarah

by Kadrak, Suzanne

  Afraid that Damian would shortly begin to scream again in his nascent rage and attract the attention of even more people who could possibly hinder Henry and Sarah in their attempt to escape, Henry quickly took off his shirt and tore off the right sleeve. He put the shirt back on although he now looked quite odd with the shirt missing a sleeve, but he guessed that nobody would really notice it as he was also wearing his coat. Then he took the sleeve that he had torn off, twirled it to a gag and muzzled Damian, who snorted angrily and tried in vain to free himself.

  “Donʼt worry, Damian, as you know the guards are on the way and will surely take care of you as soon as they find you,” Henry said matter-of-factly. “But I will be long gone by then, and you better not try to ever find me, because this time I am letting you go, but I promise that next time I see you, I will kill you.”

  And with these words he turned around, took Sarah by the hand, and together they ran away.

  Chapter 16 – On a Knife Edge

  Oscar was standing at the pier and nervously looked up and down the road, waiting for Henry and Sarah to arrive.

  All around him the crew and officials were desperately trying to handle the massive rush of travellers as hundreds of people, packed with bundles and trunks, were streaming towards the ship. Many of them were confused and excited, many of them were in tears because they had just bidden farewell to friends, wives, and children.

  “Donʼt be sad, my boy. As soon as I have found work, you and mother will follow,” one man next to Oscar said merrily as he was kneeling in front of his young son, the latter staring at his father uncomprehendingly. Oscar guessed that the boy was only about six years old and surely unable to grasp what the departure of his father really meant, unable to fathom the distance which would soon lie between them. His mother, however, seemed to know very well. She was crying her heart out.

  “Everything will be alright...” her husband said to her. Then the couple fell into each otherʼs arms, and when Oscar saw the manʼs face, he became aware of all the emotions that he tried to hide, of his sadness and despair, of his fear and insecurity, of his feelings of guilt because of leaving his family behind.

  When the man let go of his wife and looked at her, his face appeared happy and cheerful again. He encouragingly pinched his sonʼs cheek, then he took his suitcase, quickly turned around, and left, not risking another backward glance which might have made him reconsider his decision and stay.

  Oscar looked at his pocket watch.

  It was eight minutes past one, and although coaches kept pulling up every now and then, there was none with Sarah and Henry in it.

  He knew that the coach was supposed to pick Sarah up in front of the hotel at half past midnight. And considering a ride of about twenty minutes at normal speed, he guessed that the coach should have arrived by about ten to one.

  Seven minutes later, when there was still no sign of Henry and Sarah, Oscar was sure that something had gone wrong.

  He didnʼt hesitate any longer, grabbed Henryʼs suitcase and his own luggage, and in a rather brusque manner jostled his way through the crowd as he was running over to one of the coaches which had just arrived and brought even more passengers; a man in uniform, his wife, and his young son. They all shot Oscar an indignant look when he almost stumbled over their child in his attempt to get in the coach before they had a chance to get out.

  “Easy, Sir, easy…” the coach driver grunted. Then he produced a small bottle of whisky from underneath his coat and took a sip. Then he let out a burp.

  “Can you drive me to Mount Merrion Hotel and bring me back here by two oʼclock?!” Oscar asked excitedly. “It is urgent!”

  “Thatʼs a little bit tight, donʼt you think? And my horses are tired, you know,” the coach driver mumbled and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

  “Alright, alright, alright...!” Oscar muttered angrily, fumbled in his trouser pocket for his wallet and took out a couple of bank notes.

  “Is that enough?” he barked, waving with the bundle of banknotes in his hand.

  The coach driver risked a curious glance at the money, grabbed it, and quickly stuffed it in his pockets.

  “That will get you all the way from here to the Orkney Islands in an hour,” he remarked with a satisfied grin on his face.

  “No, thanks, the Mount Merrion Hotel should do for now…” Oscar answered with a sigh.

  “Alright, Sir, close that door and better hold on tight!”

  Oscar was hardly sitting when he heard the driver let out a deafening scream as he fired his horses. Then the coach began to move so fast that Oscar fell into one corner and almost hit his head.

  But Oscar didnʼt complain as long as he quickly got to the hotel to see what had happened to Sarah and Henry.

  * * *

  Henry and Sarah were hurrying along Kensington Road, every so often risking a backward glance to check if anybody was following them. Luckily, the further they got away from the hotel, the more they were swallowed by the darkness, and the chance that they would be detected was small.

  Still, they were far from being safe. Henry was aware that the guards could turn up any moment, free Damian out of his unfortunate situation, and then search the whole area for the two fugitivesʼ whereabouts. Henry hoped that he would shortly encounter a side street where he and Sarah could hide, but there was none. Instead, the road they were following seemed to stretch on infinitely.

  “When is the ship leaving?” Sarah asked breathlessly as she hastened along the road next to Henry.

  “In half an hour,” Henry replied.

  Sarah looked at him, a troubled expression on her face.

  “Will we make it at all?”

  “No. Not on foot.”

  “But where are we heading to then?”

  Henry frowned.

  “I donʼt know, Sarah,” he answered.

  And it was true. He didnʼt have the faintest idea where to go. He felt Sarahʼs hand clasp his own, hoping that this sweet sensation would inspire him enough to have a sudden brainwave telling him how to proceed.

  They didnʼt have many options: For once, there was no point in trying to get to the port unless a coach would bring them there. But the street was deserted and there was no coach in sight; and Wheeler, who had so terribly let them down, was far and away. For a moment, Henry wondered if he should at least try and get as far as Mrs. Potterʼs guesthouse and, for the time being, hide Sarah there, hoping that the room he had vacated only a couple of hours ago was still free. But he soon realized that it was very unlikely that Sarah would remain undetected with Mrs. Potterʼs habit of poking her nose into his room as she had done so many times in the past. Apart from that, Henry was quite certain that the guards would find him there eventually.

  Suddenly, Henry heard the sound of horse hooves in the distance. He whirled around and spotted three uniformed men on horseback, carrying torches and roaming the area near the place where Henry had tied Damian to the fence.

  “The guards!” Sarah called out and got such a fright that she almost stumbled.

  “Faster, Sarah! We must run faster!” Henry pulled at her hand. He heard her puffing as she tried hard to keep up with him, and Henry worried that he was demanding too much of her. But he knew they needed to go on or all would be lost.

  “Are you alright?” he asked her when he saw her clutching her belly with her hand.

  “Donʼt mind me, Henry,” she moaned. “Just side stitches…”

  But Henry didnʼt listen to her. Instead, he immediately stopped, lifted Sarah up and then started to run again, carrying her. By no means he wanted to endanger the child.

  Suddenly, a stinging pain ran through his chest. He clenched his teeth to suppress a cry and kept running as fast as he could, but after only a few yards he needed to put Sarah back down in order to draw a little breath and fight the nausea which accompanied the pain.

  Sarah panicked.

  “Henry, whatʼs wrong?!”

  “I am fine,” he q
uickly said.

  “I can clearly see that you are not! Let me walk again, maybe I can go faster!”

  Again Henry ignored her and instead lifted her up once more although the pain was close to becoming unbearable. He tried to concentrate on the road, still hoping that he would shortly spot some dark alleyway where they could hide, and if it was only for a little while. But the road went on and on.

  After only a few minutes, he needed to put Sarah back down again.

  “Henry, you need not carry me!” Sarah said, “Let me walk, I am begging you!”

  Henry just nodded imperceptibly, them he clutched Sarahʼs hand and together they continued running through the night until the pain in Henryʼs chest intensified so much that it forced him to stop again although this time he wasnʼt even carrying Sarah.

  A tiny break, just another tiny break... he thought and leaned his back against a nearby lantern post, closing his eyes.

  After a few seconds, the pain was still there. But so was his willpower to go on.

  No, he wouldnʼt let anyone or anything come between him or Sarah again.

  He wouldnʼt grant Damian any satisfaction by failing.

  He wouldnʼt give up.

  Determinedly and with gritted teeth, he walked on.

  No, he wouldnʼt let go of what was so dear to him—Sarah; not after all they had already been through.

  Suddenly, he gasped and a cry of pain escaped his mouth. The next moment, the world began to spin around him and it seemed to him as if his ribcage was breaking apart in its entirety.

  God…

  He stifled another scream. He clutched his chest. He tumbled over to the wall of one of the houses lining the street, leaned his back against it.

  “Henry! My dear Henry!” Sarah called out. She took his face in her hands and looked at him with eyes full of worry and despair.

  “We need... need... to go on...” Henry croaked although he knew very well that he couldnʼt. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere, but there was no way of even thinking about it. He knew that the guards were coming closer. He could hear them as they were shouting commands at each other, as they were firing each other to keep on searching, to track him down and catch him, dead or alive. Preferably dead, as Henry presumed, because he was certain that Damian would not want to run the risk to have horse dung rubbed into his face ever again.

  Sarah flung her arms around him. He weakly opened his eyes and looked into her face. Tears were streaming down her checks. Her voice was trembling as she spoke.

  “Henry...” she wailed, “donʼt you see that... that you and I... that it is just not meant to be...”

  Henry stared at her wordlessly. Deep in his heart he knew that she was right.

  It was over.

  He had tried it all. But he came to the conclusion that some things just couldnʼt be changed. No matter how much one tried.

  Bloody Seneca...

  He buried his head on Sarahʼs shoulder and decided not to put up resistance anymore. All he wanted was to enjoy these final moments of feeling her in his arms for as long as it was possible; wanted to forever memorize her, memorize the beating of her heart, her smell, the feeling of the little bulge underneath her dress, his baby, of which Damian now knew that it was not his own child at all. Henry had no idea what consequences that would have for Sarah and for himself.

  “I love you, Sarah... I always will...” he breathed.

  “I love you, too, Henry…” Sarah sobbed as she was holding on to him, unwilling to let him go.

  Again they heard the sound of hooves, as they were coming closer.

  The guards…

  Henry didnʼt dare to look up. He didnʼt see any point in doing so. Soon enough, he would stare into the guardsʼ ugly, triumphant faces and he didnʼt feel the desire to see them now in this moment of fake bliss, which almost felt like heaven.

  Suddenly, he heard the screeching of wheels.

  Hesitantly, Henry raised his head. To his right, he saw the guards hastening in his direction. But to his left, coming from the other direction—from the direction of the port—was a coach. A man was half standing on the coach box next to the driver, looking as if he was ready to jump down any moment from now.

  “I seriously do not think that this is the right time for getting intimate! If you still want to make it you better get in that damn coach!” the man on the coach box shouted over to him.

  Henryʼs eyes grew huge.

  He recognized the voice, knew it all too well.

  “Oscar...” he whispered, dumbstruck.

  Sarah stifled a scream of surprise. Then she fainted.

  “Thatʼs all we need...” With a sigh Oscar quickly hopped down from his seat next to the driver and onto the pavement where he ran over to Henry and helped him pick Sarah up from the ground.

  “Oscar! My goodness, Oscar!” Henry exclaimed, incredulously staring at his friend as if Oscar was a hallucination.

  “Get a move, Henry!” Oscar said. “We donʼt have any time to lose at all!”

  Henry panted heavily as he saw himself overcome by heavy spasms of pain again. Still, he gathered his final strength and together with Oscar he lifted Sarah up and helped carry her over to the coach where they quickly shoved her inside.

  “Henry, are you hurt?” Oscar asked when he saw how much Henry struggled.

  Henry just nodded weakly.

  “Try to hold on!” Oscar told him and grabbed Sarahʼs bundle which she had dropped and which was still lying on the ground. He cast Henry a puzzled look when he heard the rattling sound of broken porcelain coming from inside the bundle.

  “Chamber pot… Damian… head…” Henry managed to croak as an explanation.

  A gloating grin emerged on Oscarʼs face.

  “Now, thatʼs what I call a dignified exit…” he mumbled and ushered Henry inside the coach.

  “Off we go! Quick!” he yelled at the driver and climbed inside as well. He slammed the door, let himself fall into the leather seat and took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket with which he dabbed the sweat off of his face. He looked rather pale and worn out as if he too had run for miles. But Henry guessed that it was just the stress and the excitement.

  Henry heard the coach driver shout at his horses. Then the coach turned over and galloped off at breakneck speed, back to where it had come from. Henry wondered with how much money Oscar had bribed the driver to make him go that fast.

  But it still was not fast enough. Henry saw Oscar peering out of the window, and he didnʼt like the troubled expression on his friendʼs face which told him that the guards were now trying to come after them.

  “Are they following us?” Henry asked nervously.

  Oscar didnʼt answer. Instead he stuck his head even further out of the window and yelled at the driver again.

  “Can you go a little faster? Donʼt forget, we need to catch a ship!”

  “For an extra ten pounds I know a shortcut!” the driver slurred.

  Oscar rolled his eyes.

  “Whatever! But bring us to that port!” he called back.

  The next moment, Henry noticed the coach considerably speed up .

  When they had finally reached the end of Kensington Road, the coach took a sharp turn to the right and then another turn to the left, followed by another to the right, until they eventually found themselves in a very dark and sinister quarter which Henry had never set a foot in during all of his life.

  “Are you sure this is the way to the port?!” Oscar asked the driver.

  “Trust me, I know this place like the back of my hand! Theyʼve got some nice brothels here!” the driver called back as the coach was jolting over the uneven cobblestone street and past the grimy facades of houses which looked as if they had been long deserted and were left to rot away.

  The coach driverʼs roaring laughter filled the air. Then he began to sing, “Esmeralda, the whore, is the one I adore…!”

  Henry let out a moan.

  Is this awful night never coming to
an end…

  “Thank God, the good man is drunk like a fiddler and does not know at all what is going on,” Oscar mumbled and poked his head out of the window again to check if they were still followed by anyone.

  He let out a sigh of relief.

  “Seems we outdistanced them,” he said and loosened his collar before looking at Henry again, who had weakly sunken back into the leather seat.

  “Good Lord, Henry, you look terrible...”