Chris Nickson - The Broken Token

He didn’t know how to answer. A chill filled him. He stared at the other half of the token again.

“No,” he replied thickly. He reached out, picked it up and polished it with his fingers before putting it back on the table. Like this it explained nothing at all.

“Now, are you sure still want the whole truth?”

Nottingham nodded.

“Please,” he said, knowing he was begging and not caring. He had to hear the tale.

Worthy raised a thick eyebrow. “Right, then. You remember what happened when you were a lad?” he asked, searching for confirmation in Nottingham’s eyes. “You know your mother took a lover? Well, that lover was me. I don’t suppose it matters any more how it happened, save that we didn’t meet until after you were born — you were three, in fact. But your father found out eventually, and convinced himself that you couldn’t be his son. So he turned the pair of you out, never mind that the house was a place she’d inherited from her father.” Worthy coughed, picked up a glass of gin from the table and swallowed it in one swoop. “You remember leaving?”

The Constable nodded. He’d tried to put it from his mind, but he’d never been able to completely.

“She turned to me. I’d have helped her if I could. But your father had decided to destroy me, too.” For a minute he appeared lost in his reflections, but Nottingham stayed silent, scarcely breathing. “He was a powerful man in this city, was your father. I was in trade, not a merchant, not that class, although they were my main customers. Your father made sure they all knew who was responsible for the downfall of his wife. Within two months I didn’t have a business any more. He’d succeeded.”

“What about my mother?” Nottingham’s voice was dry, his throat suddenly parched.

A wan smile crossed Worthy’s face.

“I had no money left to support her, lad. I had no reputation, I had nothing. I tried thieving for a while, but I wasn’t any good at it. I wanted my revenge on them all, though. Your mother had been forced to whore, just to make ends meet.” His words tailed off. “She hated it, you know,” he said, looking at Nottingham. “There just wasn’t anything else she could do, she had no skills, no one would take her as a servant with a child, especially a fallen woman. So she did the only thing she could. When I started running girls just to get by she started to despise me. I was making money, but she wouldn’t take any when I tried to give it to her. Then she refused to take any comfort in me.” He shrugged. “So finally I stopped coming around where I wasn’t wanted any more. She wouldn’t even let me near.”

When he finished, the only sounds were muffled, only half-heard from other parts of the house.

“The token?” Nottingham prompted him.

“I made it when she was still with your father. Cut the coin and drilled the holes myself. It was our secret, our bond.” He began to cough again, then spat phlegm on the flagstone floor before nodding at the coin. “Take it.”

The Constable hesitated.

“Take it, laddie. I’ve told you the story now.”

Abruptly, Worthy turned and left the room.

Nottingham stood slowly. The muscles in his back ached and he took time to stretch. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to hear when he arrived, but it hadn’t been this. He reached out and closed his fingers around the token, weighing it lightly, looking at the way time had eroded the design. Worthy had carried it around all the time. His mind felt as if it was tumbling around him, bringing to light things he’d locked away for years. Then he slipped it into his pocket, where it could finally join its mate after so long. He made his way down the hall. Worthy was in the front room, standing over the old woman in the chair.

“Think on, lad. The past is past. You’ll get nowt for dwelling on it. The present is the only thing that counts.”