part0024

It’s below ground! Jack could already feel his skin crawling with fear. His two gaolers had him held fast between them as another in front swore and fumbled for the right key on the ring.

“Come on, Erin,” the man to his left complained. “It’s freezing down here.”

And it was. Even in the dim light, Jack saw his breath billow in a cloud before him.

Dark and cold. Christ, not again.

Erin, impaired by trying to hold a torch and twist a key, swore under his breath. The rattling of the lock and keys continued, and then there came the unmistakable click as the right key twisted tumblers in the lock. Erin swung open the door and the restraining hands propelled Jack towards the black oblong where the door had been. Missing the last step, Jack fell, sprawling on the floor, with his hands out before him to save himself. Behind him he heard laughter, which was abruptly cut off as the oak of the door was slammed back into the frame and the key turned once more, forcing the lock securely back in place.

Air caught in a choking gasp in his throat. A claw forced its icy talons into his chest, squeezing his heart, stopping the blood .

“There’s light there.”

The voice startled him, but the strong hand under his arm helping him back to his feet shocked him even more. Richard!

“There’s a grill there. Can you see it?” His brother pulled him across the room and sure enough, high up in the wall was a grey square of night pinpricked with stars and moonlight glistening from the wet iron bars. The helping hand let go of its hold and, by degrees, Jack’s eyes became accustomed to the dark. He could pick out the silhouette of his brother where he had hitched himself up onto the top of a barrel.

“Good God, what are you doing here?”

“I tried to get you out. They would hear nothing of my words.” Jack’s heart was hammering in his chest so hard that his words were stilted and broken.

“Jesus! Jack, you should have left me. You have reason enough!”

“You got me out of Marshalsea. I had to try,” Jack replied, his voice a little steadier.

“You owe me a debt?” Richard put the question.

“Yes, I do,” Jack replied.

Richard tipped his head back and rested it against the wall. A debt, was that all that was left? After what had happened, his brother had still come for him. Indeed, he’d pledged his life.

“Andrew has taken the men with him. He hopes to plead your case with the Knights and secure your release. It is a noble mission but I knew he had not the time to make it succeed,” Jack managed slowly. “He did not want to leave, but he had little choice. ”

“Jack, you should have left me,” Richard replied wearily.

“Don’t make me wish I had,” Jack replied. The panic was beginning to subside and his heart rate was steadying.

Richard was silent, and after a moment Jack said angrily, “Do you have nothing to say to me?”

“Shush Jack, I’m trying to think.”

“I bloody well will not. I risked my life to try to get you out and I’ll not have my words stilled like a child’s!” Jack’s temper flared.

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Let me think how I am going to get you out of here then,” Richard said through gritted teeth.

Jack’s hands were still trembling as he pulled himself up to sit next to Richard.

The silence lengthened between them, but eventually Jack did speak. “They are going to hang you.”

“That fact has been made painfully clear already, and now it seems it will be a fate we will share unless I can think of something,” Richard said.

“I thought fate was not something you believed in?” Jack said. His head was still reeling.

“I didn’t think I did. There are, however, a set of circumstances that keep on recurring and I am starting to believe that no matter how many times I elude her, she keeps on setting the same trap. Perhaps the end was always inevitable, and anyway this time I think I deserve it.”

Jack shook his head. “What are you talking about? ”

“Store rooms, always a bloody store room. Always,” Richard replied as if somehow Jack was supposed to understand.

The next noise was a dull thud as Richard’s boot heel banged against the cask he was sat on. “They are, it seems, not empty. I had been debating on pulling the bung out, but to drink on your own would sadden even Baccus, but now you are here that does change the situation somewhat.”

“Are you sure you have not already pulled that bung free?” Jack kicked the cask he was sitting on and listened to the hollow noise. “Yes, this one sounds a good third empty.”

“It’s an attractive proposition. Do you think they would hang you if you were blind drunk?” Richard asked.

“There is only one way to find out, but, knowing my luck, it won’t be malmsey in these casks, it will be pickling vinegar!”

“Ever the optimist!” Richard jumped down from this perch and began to feel around on the floor for a tool he could use. Exclaiming in triumph, he stood a moment later, an object in his hand that Jack could not make out. “Shall we find out?”

Richard had found a hammerhead that had lost it’s shaft. Hitting first one side and then the other, he used it to loosen the bung on the side of the cask. Before it was free, a trickle of liquid sluiced down the side of the cask and the odour of wine rose to their noses.

“It’s not pickling vinegar,” Richard announced. Cupping his hand against the stream, he caught enough to fill his mouth. “It is wine, and it’s not bad either.”

Jack’s hand was next to his in a moment. He took a mouthful and followed it with another. His shaking was lessening and the cramped pain that had set upon his muscles was lessening.

Jack lifted his cupped hands to his mouth when Richard’s sudden grasp on his wrist made him spill the liquor from his hand.

“Do you think they will let us stop in here if they knew we had loosed their Master’s entire supply of wine over the cellar floor?” Richard said quietly in his ear.

“No, no, I don’t suppose they would. However, how would that help us?” Jack said.

“Possibilities, Jack. Who knows?” Richard said.

“If we end up in the empty room next door, you do realise I will hate you?” Jack wiped his hands dry down the front of his hose.

“It is a risk I am willing to take. Anyway, we both know how much you like to extol on my errors so at least you will be able to go to the rope primed with the injustice of the wronged. And should you meet Saint Peter you can then tell him with some certainty that you are there not at all through your own fault but through mine.” Richard was laughing bitterly.

Very soon the gaolers at the top of the steps became uncomfortably aware that they had made a very bad mistake. The smell of the Master’s stored wine was beginning to filter its way around the door frame to their noses. The noise of drunken revelry from within, interspaced with the noise of hammering followed by loud cheers, made them painfully aware that their captives were releasing their Master’s wine all over the cellar floor.

It wasn’t long before the door was flung open and a torch thrust in for them to see the carnage their captives had wreaked on the wine supplies. The cellar floor was standing in liquid, the fumes were eye watering and several of the barrels were now on their sides, glugging forth their contents.

Jack put up a good fight as they dragged him up the stairs, breaking one man’s nose and earning himself a split lip and a grazed face from the stone wall in return. Richard took their shoves and pushes and kept his temper in check. Their new room was devoid of alcoholic indulgence, but it was above ground, warmer and drier, with two grilled windows letting nightlight flood into the room. The floor was dusty and Richard guessed it was used as a flour store for the bread ovens.

“So much for possibilities,” Jack proclaimed to the room as the door closed behind him.

There was then a silence between them. Jack was, for once, lost for words, and Richard kept his own counsel. Indeed, he sat propped against the wall, his eyes closed, and Jack was sure that he slept.

Both men, like dogs on guard, their senses heightened by their plight, heard the noise at the same time.

Laughter. Laughter and footsteps. A woman’s laughter, higher pitched above the men’s more guttural exclamations .

Richard and Jack exchanged a look.

The noise paused outside the door, and then a woman’s voice spoke loudly. “You’ll keep me safe, sir, won’t you?”

“It’s Lizbet!” Jack was on his feet in an instant, but Richard, next to him, placed a firm hold on his arm. “Keep quiet, Jack. Don’t say anything.” Richard shook him until he received an affirmation before letting him loose.

“Aye,” they heard one of the men reassure her, “we’ll make sure you are safe. We’ll go in first. You just wait here.”

She spoke again, loudly and unnecessarily. Both men realised what it was, a warning.

“Thank you, sir. You are both such a reassurance to a lady.”

The door opened and the gaolers, one holding a vicious nailed club, pushed both men against the wall and tied their hands tight behind their backs. Jack felt the hessian rope bite hard into his wrists, and knew the bond would stop the blood to his hands. Their gaolers thought they were wary of Mal and his nailed club, which would take a man’s face off at one stroke, and leered at them both in satisfaction.

“They are safe now. You can come in.”

An instant later a hesitant Lizbet emerged around the door frame. “Are you sure, sir? Show me I am safe. He’s already laid his filthy hands on me once and I’d not have it happen again.”

“He’s trussed like a fowl,” one said, and delivered a blow to Richard’s stomach that sent him staggering back against the wall. “He can’t touch you, and he knows if he does, Mal here will tear the flesh from his bones.”

Lizbet stood straight, with an air of confidence settled about her. Taking three steps into the room, she announced, “Well then, Master Fitzwarren, how does it feel to be at a disadvantage?” She took two more brisk steps towards him and before anyone realised what she meant to do, she slapped Richard hard across the face.

His gaolers laughed and she delivered another stinging blow.

“Careful Mistress, Master wants something left to hang!”

“Oh, I’ll not kill him. I’ll leave that to the drop at the end of the rope.” Reaching up, Lizbet laid her hand on the side of his neck. “When the rope cuts into you, think of me, think of what you did to me, you bastard.” Her face was close to his now and his impassive grey eyes held hers calmly. “It is for luck, so they say, to kiss a dead man.” Lizbet pulled his head to her own, closed the gap between them, and planted her mouth on his to a series of cat calls behind her. Her other arm slipped around him, pulling him closer for a final kiss.

Lizbet had not expected his mouth to open beneath hers, not expected him to return the kiss. He couldn’t pull her against him, but his mouth drew her hard towards his body, and a moment later she pulled away, breathless.

“Hit me again,” Richard said under his breath. He had to repeat his words before Lizbet suddenly had the sense of them and slapped him hard again. His head twisted away from her and Lizbet prayed he caught the words she quickly whispered into his ear.

Lizbet put on a performance that had the men howling with laughter as she set about hitting and slapping Jack with every ounce of her strength. She finished off with a knee in his groin that dropped Jack to his knees and had the gaolers crying with mirth. Spinning on her heel, chin high, she stalked from the room leaving the gaolers, still laughing, to scramble from the room after her.

Jack, his shoulder against the wall for support, pushed himself back to his feet, and turned a clinical blue stare on his brother. “Possibilities perhaps?” It was a question.

“Perhaps.” Richard didn’t add anything else.

Jack continued to stare at Richard. “If there could ever be another word for loyal, it would be Lizbet, and God knows why.”

“It’s the story of Eve,” Richard grunted, twisting the small knife Lizbet had pressed into his hand, and feeling the bite of steel as he set to cut the rope. “And an apple.” A moment later, his wrists bleeding, his hands free and Jack turned so he could apply the knife to the rope holding his wrists fast behind him.

“God love the woman,” Jack said quietly over his shoulder as the bonds were neatly slit. “What else did she say?”

“Worryingly that they have a quantity of black powder and shortly they are going to ignite it.”

Jack was grinning broadly. “How do we get out? The door’s locked. Will they blow it off its hinges? ”

Richard held up a small metal ring with three keys attached that Lizbet had dropped down the inside of his shirt. “I think she thought we might use these,” he replied, returning his brother’s smile.

It was the second key they tried that fit the lock. Slowly Richard turned it and the door, although still held by the tight fitting-frame, was now open.

Impatient as always, Jack said, “How long do we wait?”

“Bide your time Jack. They’ll wait until Lizbet is out and has let them know she has spoken to me before they do anything. It will take a little while. If they have it right, they will set a charge to cause as much confusion as possible and then we leave.”

Richard, his weight against the door should anyone try the handle on the outside, was alert. His eyes were closed and all his concentration was on the noises beyond it. Jack’s heart hammered in his chest. Like a beast in a cage that was too small, he paced and turned, again and again.

“Come on, Richard, something must have gone wrong. Let’s go and not lose the opportunity.”

“Patience is bitter, Jack, but its fruit will be sweet,” Richard said quietly, still listening.

Jack swore under his breath. “Easy words to say.”

“Not mine. They’re Aristotle’s, if you must know,” Richard said, still blocking Jack’s path to the door.

“I’ll bet Aristotle didn’t say that when he was waiting to find out if he was about to be blown into the hereafter. ”

“Probably not. I believe Aristotle lived a fairly quiet life in comparison to yours,” Richard replied quietly.

“Was that meant as an apology?” Jack asked.

“Yes, I think it was. It was my careless words that made Andrew take a whip to you. Please don’t blame him.”

“Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t blaming him,” Jack said bitterly as he tried to get closer to the door.

Neither of them had long to wait though. Jack was always sure later that he felt the blast before he heard it. The slabs beneath his feet seemed to tremble like the uncertain stepping stones in a stream. Then the unmistakable noise of a gunpowder explosion, like a dull thump, met his ears. Jack needed no invitation and he was as close as his brother’s shadow as they opened the door and set off down the corridor. Half way along, there was a second blast that sounded like cannon fire and the windows on either side of them imploded into the castle, scattering shards of glass and lead, but the pair did not stop running.

The corridor ended with a set of steps and in a moment they spilled into the courtyard. Richard had been right about the chaos. One of the charges must have been in a cart and the splintered, burning remains were scattered across the yard. The second must have been near the curtain wall as a huge plume of dark acrid smoke billowed from it.

Jack’s instinct told him to run from the site of the explosion, but Richard ran straight towards it, and as they ran coughing into the anonymity of the smoke, he realised why. The third and final explosion was to their left and peppered both of them with stones and earth as the charge ripped away part of the chapel wall and sent a large quantity of roof slates into the air.

It was Froggy’s uneven face they both saw coming towards them in the smoke. All around them were the shouts of men, the screams of woman and the panicked noise of livestock and horses.

Richard, a hand on Jack’s back, pushed him toward Froggy. “Go, run.”

Jack dug his heels in and stopped. Richard was already turning back the way they had come. Jack’s eyes were wide. “Where are you going?”

“Run, I’ll stop them. Just run, Jack. Now!” Richard said, taking a step away from him.

“No, we go this way, together.” Jack had at first just a hold of Richard’s sleeve but in a moment his hand clenched around flesh and bone, dragging Richard with him, further into the smoke. Froggy was shouting directions and Jack, with Richard in tow, blindly followed them.