The room was square and windowless, a cold stone cellar, lit only by the light of the flaming, pitch-soaked torches which stood in iron brackets around the walls. It smelt of blood and human ordure. Steel noticed with apprehension that around the walls at intervals, chains with manacles had been fastened into the stones. It looked for all the world like the sort of medieval torture chamber he had heard about in boyhood history lessons. He shuddered. In one corner there even stood a brazier and in another a wooden table covered with what looked suspiciously like bloodstains. In another area lay a filthy divan on which four of the pirates, all of them drunk to various degrees, were taking turns with two half-naked serving-girls. They did not stop as Trouin entered, nor did he attempt to make them. There were other pirates in the room, most of them sitting in chairs or on stools. All these too seemed to Steel to be the worse for liquor. Those that could do so and remain steady, which was only a few, got to their feet and went to greet their captain. Trouin acknowledged them with a wave and was rewarded with a cheer; he turned to Steel.
‘You see. I do believe in rewarding my men when we have the opportunity. I know how to treat them well. Don’t I, boys?’
Another faint cheer went up.
‘Now lads. Here’s a little sport for you. We’ve captured some spies.’ He signalled to Stringer who pushed Steel before him, further into the room. Another of the men entered with Marius Brouwer. The Belgian looked terrified. Behind them a third pirate followed with Lady Henrietta. Trouin turned to another of his men. ‘Strip this English gentleman to the waist and put him in those manacles. Do the same with the other one. You can leave the woman for me.’
Steel spat: ‘You bastard. Leave her alone. And let this gentleman go, you have no quarrel with him. It’s me you want.’
Trouin turned on him, smiling: ‘Oh, you’re quite wrong there, Mister Steel. I have very much a quarrel with this gentleman, for without his help you would not have been admitted into this town or have infiltrated our little band. He has much to answer for, more than you even. He is a traitor, Steel and for that I assure you he will pay. As for milady, she has done me no great wrong. But by the rules of piracy she belongs to me, to do with as I please. So, I would advise you, Mister Steel, to keep a civil tongue in your head. You will find that it makes for a much easier time with us. And there will be a moment as the evening wears on when you do wish that things were easier. I can assure you of that.’
Trouin grabbed Lady Henrietta around the waist with a grip so tight that she felt almost suffocated and dragged her across the room.
She tried to struggle. ‘Let me go! Get away from me!’
‘And you too, My Lady. You would do better not to resist. It will go so much easier for you. Who knows? You might even end up enjoying whatever lies in store.’
‘I order you to let me go. At once!’
Trouin slapped her hard across the face. Just once, and she was silent. Then, pushing her roughly against the far wall, he thrust first one slim fair hand and then the other through the pair of manacles which hung from the wall and snapped them shut. He stepped back. ‘Yes. Very pretty, madame. Perhaps if …’
Reaching forward he grabbed the material at the décolletage of her dress and pulled hard. It ripped and the bodice of the dress fell away, fully exposing her ample white breasts. Lady Henrietta, unable to cover her shame, gasped and stared hard at her assailant.
Trouin laughed. ‘Yes. That is so much better. Don’t you all agree?’
Stringer was beside him now. ‘Oh yes, Captain. I must say that’s very nice, sir. Lovely, ain’t she. Quite lovely, if I may say so.’
Trouin moved across to Steel, whose waistcoat and shirt had now been removed. The pirate stared at his hard muscular torso and caught sight of two long scars, one which ran down his side, from shoulder to stomach, the other down his arm. The pirate moved a finger along each of them, feeling the puckered skin.
‘You look as if you may have seen some action, Captain? Am I right?’
‘More than you I dare say and in better company, Trouin. And in the service of my country.’
Trouin tut-tutted and shook his head: ‘No, monsieur, there you do me an injustice. You see, I too fight in the service of my country. Of course, there is a little self-interest involved. And I am sure the same is true of you. But I am engaged by King Louis. I fact, as I think I have already mentioned, I am rather a favourite of His Majesty.’
Steel smirked. ‘I find that hard to believe, monsieur. I had heard that you were an officer of France. But now I see that you are no better than a common thief.’
Trouin bristled. ‘You will regret that comment, Mister Steel. And you are quite wrong. A thief I may be, as you say, but I am far from common. I have the most refined tastes, as you have already seen for yourself.’
He crossed the room again to where Stringer was still ogling the half-naked form of Lady Henrietta. Trouin stood back and looked carefully at her as if she were a work of art. ‘Yes, I covet only the most beautiful objects.’
Pushing the Englishman aside, Trouin extended his hand and, flexing the long fingers, ran it slowly down her exposed breast, lingering and teasing her form just as he had done with the thick gobbets of dried oil paint in the Rembrandt of the flayed ox. ‘I covet and enjoy only the very finest things, Mister Steel. D’you see?’
Her face contorted with revulsion, Lady Henrietta tried in vain to pull away from him.
Steel strained against the manacles which cut painfully into his wrists. ‘You bastard. Take your hands off her.’
‘Oh dear, Captain, another mistake. You have to learn that you must never, ever give me orders. But you are right; it would be a shame to spoil such perfect beauty, wouldn’t it? Particularly as I have not yet decided what to do with so fine a prize. Who d’you suppose will pay the most for her? Your people or some fat sultan? Or perhaps I shall keep her for myself. Or should I just give her to my men, for their pleasure? I am a generous man, you know.’ He reached out towards Lady Henrietta and again took hold of one of her breasts. With a firmer grip this time, making her gasp. She looked away. ‘So very irresistible. Yes. Later perhaps.’
Trouin let her go and walked over to Steel who stared at him hard in the face. ‘Call yourself a man, Trouin? You’re no more than an animal.’
Trouin froze. He shook his head. ‘And again. Will you never learn? I think that Mister Steel needs a lesson in good manners. Let’s teach him how to be a gentleman, shall we? Sergeant Stringer – perhaps you would take a particular pleasure?’
Stringer snapped out of his titillated trance before the half-naked woman and gave Steel a smile. Then he clicked his fingers at two of the pirates and walked across to a hook on the wall where a cat-o’-nine-tails hung. Taking it down he walked over to where Steel was hanging, his arms straining uncomfortably against the chains which were high, even for a man of his height. Stringer brought the cat up level with Steel’s face and flicked it gently through the air, letting him see it. Gradually he began to whip it back and forth with more force until the knotted ends of the leather thongs began to make an obscene crack. The two pirates took hold of Steel and turned him round so that the manacles crossed over above his head, stretching his arms still more painfully in their sockets and he was staring at the stone wall with his bare back exposed to the room. Then each of the men grabbed hold of one of his legs and held it firm, pushing down on to the floor. Steel, unable to see behind him, guessed at what was coming.
Stringer’s first stroke hit him like a hammer blow, smashing into his shoulderblade like a blunt object. The second, laid upon the same place with unerring precision, did likewise. Steel remembered that it had been Stringer who had schooled the drummer boys of the regiment in their task of administering punishment floggings. He gritted his teeth and took care not to bite or swallow his tongue. For unlike any official military flogging, he had not been supplied by Trouin with the customary piece of leather on which to bite. He had seen this punishment meted out many times in the British army – to the rank and file – and part of him had always been curious to discover how it felt. But this was not the time or the way in which he had thought he might make that discovery. The third stroke brought a different sensation of pain, more acute, as if someone had stuck a hot needle into his back. And that was how it continued. Within minutes Steel was lost in a rolling sea of pain. No one was bothering to count the strokes as they would have on a punishment parade, but in his mind he registered every one to a total of twenty. Then, to his surprise, it stopped.
Somewhere from within his mist of pain Steel heard Stringer’s voice: ‘But Captain, sir. I was just getting into a rhythm.’
Trouin was being merciful. The two men turned Steel round to face the captain. Stringer, downcast, was standing at Trouin’s side, cradling the whip on which Steel could see what he took for gobbets of his own flesh. He gagged with rising nausea.
Trouin addressed him: ‘So, Mister Steel, how does it feel to be on the receiving end of that most barbaric of punishments, which nevertheless I am sure you have ordered for your men so many times. And for the most trivial of offences? Perhaps now you will have better manners. Not that you will ever have the chance, I think.’
Steel said nothing. He could feel the blood and sweat mingling as they ran in rivulets down his back which throbbed with rhythmic pain. Looking down he saw that pools of blood had also collected around his feet. Trouin looked across to where Marius Brouwer was hanging from a similar set of manacles. He too had been stripped to the waist and his scrawny white form made a contrast to that of Steel. Trouin went over to him.
‘But you now. What about you? You are most certainly not a man of action. What on earth were you thinking of getting yourself involved in this business? You are an idiot. This is not the thing for schoolteachers to get mixed up in – not at all. They might get hurt.’
On the last word, Trouin pushed against Brouwer and swiftly brought his knee hard up into contact with the man’s groin. Brouwer gave an agonized shriek and then a moan.
‘Silly little man.’ He turned back to Steel: ‘But Captain, do you not agree that he must learn that you cannot be a traitor and be allowed to get away with it. Spies and traitors must be punished. Isn’t that right, Captain? Boys?’ There was a cheer and yells of approval from the company around the room. ‘But we are not savages. We shall hold a proper trial. Every man is allowed a fair hearing. Now, who will defend this wretch?’
Stringer stepped forward: ‘Begging the captain’s pardon, but may I be allowed that privilege, sir?’
Trouin nodded: ‘So. We begin. The charge is that the accused, this man, did allow an enemy of the town and the people to enter Ostend with the express purpose of laying it to waste, murdering every one of its inhabitants, including the company of Captain René Duglay-Trouin and, most importantly, abducting that lady you see over there. How do you plead?’ He looked at Brouwer, who had gone ashen white and was trembling with fear.
Stringer spoke for him: ‘He pleads guilty, m’lud. There is no other plea and in effect, Your Honour, we have no defence.’
‘In that case I find the defendant guilty as charged of treason.’ The pirates cheered. Trouin stood at the head of the mock court and held up his hand. ‘Justice will be done. I have decided. This is a man who would betray France. Sentence will be passed. Justice must be seen to be done. There is only one sentence for such a crime – death.’
Brouwer began to shake. Trouin continued: ‘And first, we must teach him not to betray us, not to talk of us ever again. Ajax, I think you know what to do.’
Steel looked on as the huge negro advanced upon Brouwer. The Dutchman screamed. Ajax smiled at him and, while one great black hand held open Brouwer’s mouth, dislocating the jaw, the other reached deep inside and grasped hold of his tongue. And then pulled. Marius let out an unearthly shriek and it was done. Mercifully, Steel saw, Lady Henrietta had fainted.
Ajax threw the bloody tongue on the stone floor. Trouin snapped his fingers and one of the pirates loosed his dogs who fell upon the organ, fighting over who should have the larger share. Marius was still screaming. But the noise was so weird and otherworldly that it seemed not to come from his mouth, but from somewhere deep down within. It felt to Steel, even in his own agony, as if the entire room was shouting.
Trouin spoke: ‘So, then. You all know the punishment for spies. And now boys, I hand the wretch over to you, what there is left of him. You may exact our own justice, in our customary way. You need some target practice, do you not?’
Steel had heard tales of pirate torture, but thankfully till now had never witnessed it. As he watched, some twenty of the crew who were not too drunk to stand gathered around Brouwer. One of them, a grinning Moor, took a few paces back and drew a small dagger from his belt. Taking care to aim, yet swaying on his feet, he drew back his arm and hurled the knife at Brouwer. It struck him on the arm, lodging deep in the flesh. The pirate cheered and punched his fist into the air. Immediately another, a dark-haired Spaniard, took his place, this time hurling a short tomahawk at Brouwer, which struck him on the left hand, severing two of his fingers. The Belgian screamed and stiffened with pain. Steel watched as Stringer stepped forward and drawing his pistol, cocked it. Steel looked away, heard the report and the scream and gazing back saw that the ball had passed through Brouwer’s right kneecap. Stringer grinned, looked Steel directly in the eyes and winked.
‘It’ll be your turn soon, Mister Steel, sir. Don’t you worry.’
Steel did his best to smile and wondered how long that would be. He needn’t have worried. A full half-hour later, they had still not done with Marius Brouwer.
Steel could not bear to look. The pirates were taking their time now, making every cut, every shot, every blow hurt as much as possible, prolonging the poor man’s agony as far as they could. Brouwer’s body was a mass of cuts and he was covered in blood. His legs too were bleeding heavily. It seemed there was hardly a part of his body that had not been ripped or gouged by some weapon. And still they came on. Surely to God, thought Steel, this vile butchery could not last much longer. He knew that there was no point in protesting. That would only make his own suffering worse. He knew too that in part this spectacle was being enacted for his benefit. That Trouin, who had stood throughout in a darkened corner of the room, looking on, was revelling in what he knew would be Steel’s increasing terror. And Steel knew too that Brouwer was a lost cause. He prayed silently that the man would expire soon. He was thankful at least that Lady Henrietta was still in a faint and that Trouin had not thought to force her awake. It occurred to him though that, when his own turn came, the pirate captain would ensure that she was fully conscious of what was happening to him and that she saw every ghastly, degrading stage in his own slow execution.
Brouwer was crying now. Or rather he was trying to cry. He had lost an eye to one of the daggers and the bloody hole gaped sightlessly out at the room. And, of course, he was unable to speak. But still a ghastly sound emanated from the gaping, gory ruin of his mouth. Through his miserable mewings Steel thought he could detect that the man was now begging for death. He thought about Marius’s family, the children soon to be orphaned and poor Berthe. They would know nothing of this, of the way their father had died like a butchered animal. When Steel returned to them and broke the news – as he kept reassuring himself that he would – he would tell them that their father had died a hero, fighting to the end. When he got out of here. He looked around and suddenly began to doubt that certainty. If he got out of here. The pirates were flagging slightly in their perverse exertions now and it seemed to Steel that Brouwer must be on the brink of death.
Trouin too noticed both and advanced from his dark corner. ‘Gentlemen, I believe that this miserable miscreant has at last paid for his crime.’
He nodded to Ajax. The pirates stepped back as the giant walked up to Brouwer who did not seem aware of anything beyond his own suffering and who had stopped even the small, animal noise which until now had signalled that he still retained a breath of life. The blackamoor snatched up Brouwer’s head by the hair and at the same time drew the huge pearl-handled sword from its scabbard at his side. Then, with one quick and terrible move, he flicked up the blade with such power that it completely severed the Belgian’s head, which flew from the body in a horrid, spouting arc, before falling to the floor.
Trouin applauded: ‘Oh, well done. Bravo. Ah well, that’s the end of any idiotic notions of freedom for these peasants. Better to embrace the only true code of life, the code of the corsair. Eh boys? Let’s have a song.’
Steel looked on as, even with the mutilated, headless corpse of Brouwer still hanging on the wall, one of the pirates took up a fiddle and began to play and a few others, less inebriated than the rest, managed a passable jig. With the music, Lady Henrietta stirred and awoke. Looking across the room she focused instantly on Brouwer’s decapitated body and screamed. The fiddler played on and Trouin walked towards her.
‘Oh no, dear madame. Don’t worry. We still have his head.’ From behind him Ajax pushed the bloody severed head, now impaled upon a pike, towards her face and she fainted back into unconsciousness. Trouin stroked her breast. ‘Such a sensitive beauty. So very soft. So … ready.’ He stopped himself and turned back to Steel. ‘But now, Captain. We come to you.’
Steel felt his throat grow dry with fear as Trouin approached with the huge black man as always close behind.
‘What I wonder will be your fate? What should we do, do you think, to one who so blatantly disregards the code of honour by which we live? Who sullies my own house and the very earth with his presence. What shall it be?’ He turned to the pirates. ‘You will decide, men.’
The fiddler stopped playing and those who were able, through the alcoholic haze, looked towards Steel.
‘We shall take a vote on it. That is the way of the pirate. We are fully democratic, are we not? A band of brothers.’ There was a cheer from the company. ‘So what shall we say first? What exquisite end shall we devise for this traitorous scum?’
There was a groan from Lady Henrietta in the corner, who was coming round.
Trouin heard it. ‘Ah. I believe that our other guest is waking up. And just in time for our little entertainment.’
She was staring at him, wide-eyed. Slowly her head turned and she surveyed the room, saw the shambles that remained of Brouwer hanging from the wall by chains. But she did not scream this time, merely gawped. She looked across to Steel and he could see the pure terror in her eyes.
Trouin saw it too: ‘Do not be afraid, madame. Your fate will be as nothing compared to your friend here. We were just deciding what to do with him. Have you any imaginative ideas?’ She said nothing. ‘No? Well then, I shall put it to the ship’s company. What is it to be? Shall we pull out his tongue too, like that fool? Or shall we blind him first?’ A cheer went up around the room. ‘Yes, good. Or perhaps, yes, perhaps we should simply geld him and prevent him from siring any more of his breed to sully this earth with their dishonour.’
Another cheer, louder this time. Stringer huzza-ed. Steel grimaced.
‘Yes. Perhaps that would be the way. What do you say, Mister Steel. Would you rather be without sight, or without your manhood? Speak up.’ Trouin smiled and cupped his ear in mock deafness. ‘I can’t hear you.’ He bent his face closer to Steel’s: ‘Come on, tell me, Captain. What’s it to be?’
No words came to Steel, but in a last defiant gesture he managed to summon up sufficient phlegm in his mouth to spit directly into Trouin’s face. It was too much. The pirate lashed out and dealt Steel a stinging blow across the face. His head spun. He felt as if his jaw had been broken. Then Trouin’s fist connected with Steel’s abdomen and knocked the breath from him. He closed his eyes. Another blow came in fast, then another and another, with unexpected strength, until Steel felt as though the pirate must be splitting his organs beneath the taut skin, smashing the bruised bones. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the frenzied assault stopped. Steel blinked and watched as Trouin wiped his spit from his face with a bloody, gloved hand and spat words back in his face.
‘You disgusting piece of filth. When we’ve finished with you your own mother won’t know you and no other woman will ever want to know you again. Oh yes. We’re going to let you live. You will be a worthless piece of shit, a blind, castrated beggar.’ He turned to his servant. ‘Ajax, you may begin. And then we shall all enjoy whatever pleasures may be had from this English milady. I think I have decided not to sell her after all. I think that I will keep her for my own amusement, and for whoever else in my crew I deem worthy to sample her.’
He moved across to Lady Henrietta and with a deft gesture ripped off the remaining portion of her yellow dress, leaving her yet more exposed, half-naked in only her short petticoat. ‘Yes. Well Ajax, don’t stare, she’s not for you. You would kill her. What are you waiting for? Get on with it.’
Steel stared wild-eyed as the negro bore down on him, a short knife gleaming in his hand. He struggled against the chains but only succeeded in gouging further into the cuts around his wrists. But he knew that the agony was nothing to that which he was about to experience. Reaching Steel, Ajax grasped his left arm and with a swift motion flicked the tip of the blade towards it. It made contact and left a faint, thin line along the flesh. Steel felt nothing and gazed at it and as he did so blood began to trickle from the cut and the pain kicked in.
Trouin laughed: ‘What’s wrong? He’s only playing with you, Steel. He just wanted to make sure that the blade was keen enough before he got on with the real business. Continue.’
Again the blade flickered forward, cutting another thin line into Steel’s arm and then again and again. The black giant stepped back and surveyed Steel, who had forgotten in his terror and pain what it was they intended to do to him first. Blind him or castrate him. It didn’t seem to matter. Again Ajax advanced towards him and Steel closed his eyes, waiting for the awful impact of the razor-sharp metal on his skin.
But before it could happen the room burst into thunderous noise as a volley of musket shots raked the door and shattered the wood around the lock. Steel opened his eyes. In front of him, thankfully, Ajax had stopped in his tracks, distracted by the cacophony and Steel watched with the others as through the white smoke around the door uniformed men began to pour into the room. For a moment Steel thought that it must be a dream, that he must have passed out under the pain or be having hallucinations. He was uncertain whether he wanted to will himself back to reality, knowing what it would bring. And then it gradually began to seem real. There were voices – dimly, he saw two ranks of men form up and level their muskets at the pirates. He was conscious of a movement to his right. One of Trouin’s men hurled a knife at the soldiers, missed and paid with his life as another shot rang out. Steel’s mind was spinning. Surely the British assault had not yet begun? And how would his men know to find him here?
He peered into the smoke, looking for a familiar face; Williams, Hansam. Instead though he saw only anonymous soldiers. And the coats they wore – white. These were Frenchmen, regular army. Steel shut his eyes again, unable to take it in. He opened them and across the room he could see Lady Henrietta, still shackled as he was. And then a voice was talking to him. In English. He turned his bloody head towards it.
‘Jacob?’
Jacob Slaughter pressed his face close to Steel’s ravaged features. ‘Don’t worry, sir. You’re safe now. Christ almighty, but what they’ve done to you. This place is a butcher’s shop. Looks like we came just in time, sir.’
Steel mouthed words. None came. He wanted answers.
‘Don’t try and talk, sir. You’re safe now. And the lady.’
He looked across to Lady Henrietta still half-naked as she was, and looked quickly away, finding only Brouwer’s headless corpse, still hanging in chains from the wall.
‘Poor bugger.’
Another voice rang out from the doorway and Steel strained to see from whom it came. A tall young French officer was standing framed in the arch.
‘Captain Trouin, I am placing you under house arrest for gross misconduct. This is not the behaviour of a French officer.’
Trouin grinned at him: ‘But I am not a French officer, merely an officer in French pay, monsieur. Unlike you I did not lick the king’s arse to get my commission. I earned it in blood.’
The officer prickled: ‘You will desist from such conversation, sir. And hand me your sword.’
Trouin considered his options. There were none, for the present at least. Reluctantly, he unbuckled the wide leather belt that encompassed his hips and let the sword clatter to the stone floor.
‘Come and take it for yourself. If you have the stomach for it.’
The officer signalled to his sergeant who moved swiftly across to Trouin, picked up the sword and handed it to the lieutenant who spoke again: ‘And now, you will release your prisoners into my care.’ He saw Brouwer. ‘What is left of them. The keys, if you please, Captain.’
Trouin reached into his waistcoat and produced a ring on which were hung several large keys. He threw it across the floor. The officer gestured to two of his men, one of whom stooped to pick up the keys. Then, together they went across to Lady Henrietta. While one of them covered her nakedness with a cloak, the other worked the key in the locks of the shackles before helping her down.
Trouin spoke: ‘You wil regret this, Lieutenant. What is your name?’
‘Lejeune, sir. And I would advise you to choose your words most carefully, Captain. For what I have witnessed here is evidence of an act of gross indecency and will surely result in your court-martial.’
Trouin laughed: ‘D’you suppose for one minute, young man, that I am afraid? That I am at all intimidated by your justice? I am not subject to your military laws, nor to any others. Do you know who I am? What I have done?’
‘That, sir, is only too evident.’
It occurred to Steel that he recognized the voice. He peered through the still smoky room which now reeked of powder, mingled with the stench of sweat and blood. Did he know his saviour? A French officer? He tried to place the man, but his head was still filled with images of blood and he was trying to grasp the reality of the fact that he had been saved by some miracle from a fate so agonizing as to be unimaginable.
The two soldiers, having escorted Lady Henrietta to the safety of their comrades, now turned to Steel. Carefully, they unlocked his chains and eased his bloody arms out of the manacles and down from the wall. One of them folded him in a cloak. Somehow Steel managed to mutter a grateful word of thanks before Slaughter came to his aid and helped him slowly across the room, towards the French. He looked up into the eyes of the officer, who spoke first.
‘Monsieur, I cannot express my sorrow. This is monstrous. Thank God we were in time.’
Steel just gazed at him and said nothing. Then he had it. He recognized the face from what seemed now like years ago. A village, an angry peasant mob. This was the terrified junior officer that he had saved from a lynching, D’Alembord’s lieutenant. And now it seemed the man had found a chance to repay that debt. Steel thanked God. He smiled through the blood that had crusted around his face, and tried again to speak.
Lejeune saw it: ‘Do not thank me, Captain. I see that you know me and yes, this is a debt of honour. But it is no more than I would do for any man. This is not war, it is cold-blooded murder. Worse than that. This is not the war that I fight, Captain. I hope that you will believe that, that we in France do uphold a code of honour.’
He turned to his men, uttered a command in French and the rear rank filed around and to the side of the front and slowly and deliberately began to take Trouin’s men prisoner, binding them together in pairs.
Again the pirate commander laughed: ‘D’you think that these few drunkards are all of my men, Lieutenant? Don’t you know that I have many more above in the tavern and others on the two ships lying in the harbour? Don’t you suppose that they will rescue me?’
Lejeune shrugged. ‘Your men in the tavern are already under my guard, monsieur, on their way to the cells. As for those in the harbour, we shall see. Soon though, I surmise that we will have more pressing problems. We have received information that the British are about to attack – most probably in the morning. Even now my major is making plans to defend the town.’
Trouin spat: ‘Malbec? What does he know? Does he know of this? I can’t believe that he ordered you to arrest me.’
‘He didn’t. I came here on my own initiative. And thank God I did.’
Leaving behind a small party to take care of the mess that had been Marius Brouwer, they left the cellar, Lejeune first with Lady Henrietta, followed by Steel and Slaughter. Then came Trouin and behind him in small groups, contained with stout ropes and prodded on by bayonets, his men. For Steel every one of the stone steps they took back up into the real world, away from the charnel house of the cellar, was agony. He made no sound. But with every pace the pain in his entire body seemed to grow, cutting through him like a red-hot knife. They reached the main room of the tavern, which had been cleared of Trouin’s men, and went out into the street. It was early morning now and the bells of the great church had begun to chime for matins. Steel turned to Slaughter and smiled and finally found the words.
‘Christ Jacob, you took your bloody time.’ And as he spoke he felt his knees suddenly give way and then there was no choice but to let himself go, thankfully into the peaceful velvety blackness.