Chapter 21

The Payment

Ech day me comëth tydinges thre,

For wel swithë sore ben he:

The on is that Ich shal hennë,

That other that Ich not whennë,

The thriddë is my mestë carë,

That Ich not whider Ich shal farë.

†

On the ride from Bertradaburg they’d not even considered letting Lizbet ride her own horse; her skills were not sufficient for the flight they would need to make. She was forced to sit behind Jack, arms wrapped tightly around him, eyes closed in terror, sure that at any moment she’d fall from the galloping horse. They had ridden for hours, resting the horses, and then setting off again, putting as much distance between them and the castle as possible.

The pace finally slowed and they spent the next two days riding and resting briefly, resuming the journey south until Jack was sure they were now far enough away to have evaded any pursuit. They had not seen anyone on their journey as they had kept from the roads and he was sure there would be nobody to point Gelfrat’s men in their direction.

Any elation he had felt over their escape did not seem to be one shared by his brother. He had seemed uncharacteristically quiet and happy to take direction rather give it. Dan and Jack had exchanged glances and Jack had just shrugged. He’d no idea why Richard had suddenly become so withdrawn.

Jack brought his horse close to Richard’s. “We are going to need to stop soon, to rest the animals and ourselves properly. We should be far enough away now. There’s a village down there – should we see if we can stop there for the night?”

Richard met his eyes, but didn’t seem to have a sense of what he’d been asked, and Jack had to repeat his words.

“Yes, it has been a long two days,” Richard replied distractedly.

“Three,” corrected Jack. Richard made no move and it became obvious Jack would need to go. “Here, take Lizbet. I’ll ride down with Dan and see if it is safe.”

Richard switched the reins to his left hand and accepted the tired, cold girl from Jack. Richard pulled her close, wrapping his cloak around her. The reins he kept in his left hand, and his right arm encircled the woman, holding her against his body.

Corracha was tired and his head drooped, so Richard held him to a slow walk as he waited for Jack and Dan to return and Froggy, equally as tired, rode next to him.

There was a warmth from her that he had not expected and a weight from her he had not been prepared for. Hooking the reins briefly over the saddle pommel, he used both hands to lift her to a more secure position in his keeping .

Lizbet moved in his arms and her arms snaked around him, one going to his waist while the other pressed under his jacket and his shirt. His own hold on her tightened, drawing her closer.

Then Lizbet spoke, her voice beyond tired. “Jack, I am sorry for being a trouble.”

Did it matter? He considered it for a while, as her head rested on his shoulder and they rode on slowly. Not really, he supposed.

Corracha, raising his head, alerted his Master to the stream they had arrived at. Richard shortened the reins, guiding the stallion to the narrowest point. The horse picked his way across, and his jolting gait woke Lizbet; her head rose from his chest for a moment.

“Where are we?” Lizbet murmured.

Richard was about to answer, but before he could, Lizbet’s eyes had fastened on the silver gilt buttons on his doublet. Realising it wasn’t Jack she was riding with, Lizbet recoiled from him as if stung. She tore her hand from his shoulder where it had rested so gently on his skin, seeking his warmth.

“Sit still woman, or you’ll have us both off!” Richard said angrily as she strained against his hold.

“Sorry… sorry,” was all she could manage.

The body around which he still had an arm was now rigid.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. That a woman from the stews of London had a better liking for his brother than for him should be of little importance. So why then, did it rankle him so much ?

Jack chose that moment to arrive back and saw the relief on Lizbet’s face as she swapped horses to sit back in front of him. Jack had found an inn, secured rooms, and soon they were inside, out of the reach of the pelting rain, and shaking water from their clothes.

Dan and Froggy had insisted they ride on ahead to try and close the gap between the Master and Andrew with the men. Carrying Lizbet with them was slowing their progress and, after securing fresh horses, Dan was sure they could catch up with Andrew and halt their journey south.              

†

Jack watched his brother closely. Richard was still quiet and when Jack had tried to engage him in conversation, Richard had provided curt replies and made it quite clear he was in no mood to talk. When he had left the room, a wench from the tavern in tow, Jack had watched his departure with dark eyes.

There had been no time during that flight for considered conversation. Lizbet had badly wanted to talk to Jack and riding behind him she had little opportunity to be heard.

“What’s up with you?” Lizbet’s words cut through his thoughts.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he said absently, his eyes still on the door that Richard had departed through, closed now.

Lizbet followed his gaze. “He’s not in good humour tonight, is he? ”

“God! Would you be after all that has happened?” Jack replied.

Lizbet leaned across the table and placed her small hand firmly on his wrist. “Listen to me Jack. Andrew… I tried to tell you he was not all he seemed to be, didn’t I? He’s taken the men, everything. Everything the Master has, he’s got it all now.”

“He had no choice. He’s gone to plead Richard’s case, woman. What else could he do? If he had waited, if the men had waited, they would surely have been arrested,” Jack replied. “Andrew is Richard’s man, Lizbet. We just need to catch up with them.”

Lizbet dropped back in her seat, a dark look on her face. What had it been that Andrew had said to her? ‘They’ll never believe you anyway’. Lizbet knew she was going to have to pick her moment better to raise the subject of Andrew again.

“No, and I have no doubt there’s much weighing on him, but there’s something else tonight as well,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on the table thoughtfully.

“He’s not going up there to get drunk at least. He’s taken a lass with him,” Lizbet said. She was well acquainted with Richard’s infrequent but debilitating bouts of drunkenness. Sometimes he drank like a man who wished to never rise again.

Jack was still watching the door thoughtfully. “He’ll not drink. He knows we need to be gone tomorrow early so we can catch up with Andrew.”

†

The woman he’d taken to his bed liked him well enough. Her soft warm body didn’t pull away from his. Wrapping a hand around her, he drew her face to his chest, and closing his eyes, he lay his cheek on top of her head of auburn curls for a moment. The head in his mind though, had long chestnut hair that hung down her back and high cheekbones giving her face a permanently enquiring look. Richard smiled, but running his hand though the woman’s hair, it stopped short of where it should have. He placed his palm against her cheek. It was plump and rosy and not finely boned like the one his mind dwelt on. He turned her on her back and covered her body with his. She was shorter, he noted as well, shorter than she should have been.

Jack saw the whore’s reappearance in the inn room shortly after he’d finished his meal. She’d not been gone long. Lizbet was still eating, and Jack bid her wait for him. Crossing the room, he exited through the door Richard had taken and headed up the stairs.

Knocking, he received no answer. Jack knocked again, his eyes casting along the passage. Had he got the wrong room? Then from inside he heard the unmistakable sound of movement and banged on the door with his fist.

“Richard, open the door,” Jack demanded.

Silence.

A sudden feeling of dread hit him in a wave and his hand grasped the handle, but the latch was down and secured from the inside .

Jack banged again. “Richard, open the bloody door.”

No reply.

Jack was aware of the fear now creeping through his veins and he waited no longer. Bracing himself, he shouldered the door and the insubstantial latch on the other side splintered and the door swung open.

The smell that met Jack’s nose he recognised, but for that first moment, not the source.

Jack’s first thought was that the woman had taken a knife to his brother before leaving him, but two more steps into the room and he knew that it hadn’t been the whore who had ripped the knife across his brother’s wrist.

“No!” Jack gasped.

Richard was pale and barely conscious, blood pouring from his left wrist. The grey sheets on the bed and the rough wool blankets were sticky with it. He’d done an efficient job.

Richard’s shirt was on the floor and Jack had it torn into two in a moment, and then bound the wrist punishingly tight to stop the last of his blood from leaving his veins. There was no response from Richard at all; he let Jack do what he wished.

Leaving him for only a moment, Jack took the steps back to the tavern room three at a time, appearing at the door and waving an arm to summon Lizbet.

Lizbet pointed down at her unfinished meal, a pained look on her face, but the expression disappeared in an instant when Jack held up his hand for a moment and she could clearly see his palm covered in blood and the look on his face.

Without a moment’s hesitation she was across the room and following in Jack’s wake.

​ “Close the door,” Jack instructed. He was pulling the bloodied sheets from under Richard whose whole body seemed to be covered in smudges and stains of his own blood. Then he supplied by way of instant explanation, “There’s no one to blame, he’s done it himself.”

Lizbet, dropping to her knees next to Richard, placed a hand on his chest. “He’s still alive. God love us! Why’s he done that?”

Jack shook his head. “Get some clean sheets from my room, he can’t lie on these.”

“Will he be alright?” Lizbet said, rising on shaking legs.

“I don’t know. Why didn’t we see it? Why didn’t I see this coming? Christ, how much did I think he could take?”

Lizbet returned with the sheets from Jack’s room.

There were tears on her face. “There’s blood everywhere. Are you sure it’s just his wrists?” Lizbet had the remains of his shirt in her hand. “It’s all over your face, you foolish man.” She tried to rub it away but it had already begun to dry and her efforts just smeared it across his cheek.

Lizbet swallowed hard. “What do we do, Jack? What does he need?”

Jack said. “What salve can you give a man who does not wish to live? I do not know.”

“Should we get him a priest?” Lizbet suggested quickly.

“Are you mad, woman? He’s just committed the final sin. A priest is not likely to like that very much, is he?”

“I suppose you are right,” Lizbet replied. “Let me get some water. Please don’t wrap him up like that.”

Jack was folding blankets around Richard’s bloodstained body.

“Go on! Hurry up.” Jack’s voice was raw with emotion. With Lizbet gone, he knelt next to his brother. “You bloody fool. Always you try to face everything alone. Am I not equal enough yet to stand by your side?” His voice was angry. Jack saw that his brother’s eyelids had flickered. “Can you hear me?”

The grey eyes opened and stared for a moment into the distance, not registering Jack before they closed on the world again. The words, when they came, sliced into Jack’s heart. “I hear you.” The words were spoken quietly, slowly, and Jack heard the pain behind them. “Let me go, Jack. Please. I need to pay for what I’ve done.”

Richard’s right hand moved to the bindings on his left wrist and when his bloodless fingers pulled ineffectually at the tightly wrapped linen, a sob escaped his throat.

“No,” was all Jack could say. He picked up the lighter form of his brother and pulled his body hard against his own chest. “You’ll not leave me again. ”

Richard marshalled what strength he had left, and spoke for the last time. “Please.” It was just one word.

Jack held him then at arms’ length in a brutal grip. His blue eyes bored into his brother’s half-closed grey ones and Richard dropped his gaze from Jack’s.

“Look at me,” Jack growled and shook the lighter man. “Damn you! Look at me.”

Lizbet returning to the room, stood transfixed near the door.

Richard raised his head by degrees and looked at Jack with an unsteady gaze.

“You’ll not leave me. It wasn’t your fault and I’ve forgiven you.” Jack’s voice was harsh.

Richard didn’t reply and as Jack watched, his eyes started to close.

Jack shook him again. Richard’s eyes opened a little further, a pained gasp escaping his lips.

“Swear you’ll not leave me,” Jack said, his fingers digging deep into his brother’s arms as he held him.

Richard pulled away, and with effort, stood.

Jack rose to face him. “Swear it, damn you!”

“Jack, stop it!” It was Lizbet’s voice, but Jack ignored her.

Richard spoke quietly, his words little louder than a breath. It was only Jack who heard them. “You can’t win every time, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes darkened, his face set hard. He ripped the knife from the guard on the inside of his wrist, folded the hilt in his brother’s limp grasp and wrapped his own two hands around Richard’s. The blade hung between them, the point scraping the skin on Jack’s chest.

“Together then,” was all Jack said.

“Sweet Mary! Jack, no!” Lizbet wailed.

There was alarm on Richard’s face. He had been held up by Jack, but now that support was gone, his whole weight was against the knife’s hilt. If Jack lessened his hold on the hilt and Richard’s hands, the point would drive straight into Jack’s chest.

“Swear it!” Jack said again.

There was a plea in Richard’s eyes.

Jack began to release his hold on Richard’s hands. The knife point stabbed through his skin and a red plume spread, staining his shirt around the point.

Jack tried one last time. “Swear it!”

Richard’s lips moved, and he mouthed the words Jack so desperately needed to hear. Unshed tears dampened his lashes.

Jack pushed Richard back. Opening his hands, he let the blade fall to the floor. Richard’s face was ashen and his eyes closed as unconsciousness claimed him. Jack collected him this time in a gentle embrace and carried him back to the bed.

Lizbet was white; she’d forgotten to breath.

Jack lay his brother down. When he released him, Lizbet saw his hands were trembling.