Pip Vaughan-Hughes - Relics

'Calm yourself, brother: we have the letter,' hissed the Captain, looking about us anxiously. 'Now we must all get back to the ship.'

'There was another copy! A copy, damn my foolishness -and now I have killed those good brothers of mine! I must go to them…'

And with a force that took us unawares he threw himself between us and began to run on faltering legs back towards the crowd. Will and I stared at each other slack-mouthed, then took off after him. We were two or three strides from the edge of the crowd when we caught up. I almost had hold of his flapping cloak when a man broke free from the mob and met Adric as he careened heedlessly on. The two seemed to bump shoulders by accident, but Adric gave a high yelp of surprise and pain and stood swaying, bony hands raised before him as if in benediction.

'Knife!' Will shouted as Adric collapsed against him. My hand was on my sword but the man was drawing back his hand for another blow – now I saw the long, slender blade – and so I slammed my right shoulder into him, drawing my sword as I brought my elbow up under his ribs. He stumbled back – perhaps he would have attacked, or maybe he was about to hide himself in the crowd – as I swung backhanded. The sword jarred as it struck him full in the neck. His head bounced forward onto his chest and bobbed there, held by the windpipe as he tottered, gouts of blood pumping from the void between his shoulders. Full of rage and disgust, I kicked him over. Then I looked down and saw the man I had killed. A pale eye goggled fishily at an impossible angle. I felt my gorge rise.

Adric is hurt – quick, Patch,' said Will, from a great distance. At that moment Gilles and the Captain came running up. Will was on his feet, sword out, and the two of us faced the crowd which, torn between two entertainments, was beginning to edge towards us. Adric sat hunched over, rocking in pain and clutching his left side. 'Help me lift him,' Gilles said to no one in particular.

'No, let me up – I can stand,' wheezed the librarian, unfolding himself like a rusty clasp-knife. Gilles grabbed him under one arm, and I made to take the other, but Adric winced and waved me off.

'It is not bad: the fool hit my pectoral and scraped my ribs. I can make my own way, boy,' he said, his voice weak but determined. 'Let me away to my brothers…'

'No! Do you want to die? I will not let you. Back to the ship with us all, now!' It was the Captain. 'Don't let him go.' He tapped Will and me on the shoulders. 'Fine work, lads. Do you know him, Will?'

He nodded curtly at the dead man. Aye,' my friend said tersely. I began to wonder what he meant, but then the corpse gave a horrible, mechanical kick and the crowd gasped as if with one breath and surged forward. We turned and ran for it, Gilles with Adric slung over his shoulder as if the old man were nothing more than a bundle of dry twigs. We had taken no more than a dozen strides when we were brought up short by a knot of latecomers to the grisly spectacle behind us. They paid us no heed, but gave no leeway either. One of them, a paunchy burgher, halted directly in front of Gilles, craning his neck impatiently, seemingly oblivious of our burden or our haste. Will and I made ready to apply rough shoulders to this obstruction, but as we approached, and the man's arms came up in remonstration and his fleshy mouth opened to protest or scold, I heard an odd sound like two wet hands clapped together and the man staggered backwards and began to pluck at the front of his tunic. Still frowning indignantly, he dropped to the ground. His companions began screaming at one another, and at us: appeals for help, for explanation. A tall woman, her face caught between horror and tears, grabbed me by the elbows and began to shake me. I brushed her aside, and as she reeled past Will her coif seemed to leap from her head and I caught a vision of rent cloth, grey hair and hot blood that spattered my cheek before she sat down hard, mouth open in a silent, perfect O. That was enough for us and we leaped forward. As we did so, Will stumbled and fell heavily against me, his arms tangling in my scissoring legs. I fell in my turn and hit the cobbles hard, but in a moment I was up again, reaching for my friend, who I assumed had tripped over the woman. But even in the dim light I could see that something was wrong. Will's face was a gargoyle's mask of agony and he was whining through bared teeth. 'Come on!' The Captain had paused, looking back.

I bent down, trying to haul Will upright, and as my hands sought a hold on his clothes they touched something hard and Will gave a choked, animal shriek. I realised I had hold of the shaft of an arrow, in up to the feathers in the centre of Will's back. Looking up, I saw that the woman, bent over now, her head between the knees, was bleeding hard from a deep, long gash in her scalp. Her companion, a younger man in foppish headgear, was in the act of drawing his dagger, his eyes fixed on me, teeth bared in fury. At that moment another arrow struck the wood of a nearby door with a hollow whack, and the man dropped to the ground and covered his ridiculous hat with quivering hands. 'Captain!' I yelled. Will's down! He's been shot!'

There was a whirring in my ear, then a clatter. Then another whirr, and Gilles cursed. 'Away, boys! The swine has the light behind him!'

'I have had my cloak shot through,' said the Captain, matter-of-factly. Will: can he walk? No? Petroc, take his legs – be quick about it!'

What happened next is not very clear. Gilles and the Captain grabbed Will by the arms and I seized his legs and between us we ran, Adric following close behind, the body of my friend face down between us, limp and leaden. There may have been more arrows, but I had no thought but for the man I carried. The tumult grew dim behind us. Then we were back inside the Taverna, laying Will down on the table where – an hour ago? More? – I had dined on roast pig.

'It was a crossbow,' said Gilles, cutting away Will's tunic. He slid his hand under Will's body and shook his head. The bolt, thick as my finger, had struck where Will's shoulder blade met his backbone. The feathers – no, not feathers: strange ribs of leather – were red with blood, which welled strongly around the shaft. 'A quadrello: a mankiller. And it is buried. If it was out the other side…' He tugged gingerly on the bolt and Will convulsed. 'No, no… It is barbed.'

'For the love of God, turn me over.' Will's voice was like the wind blowing through a field of corn. Gilles looked at me. He had bitten through his lower lip. He leaned close and whispered in my ear.

Your friend is going to die, Patch, whatever we do. I cannot pull the bolt out. He is bleeding fast, and probably much faster inside. He will not last out the night. I am… I am sorry.' 'Can we do nothing?'

We can make him comfortable.' He looked up, and saw the innkeeper watching us anxiously. He went over to the man and whispered urgently to him. The innkeeper hurried from the room and returned a minute later with something that he handed to Gilles. After consulting the Captain, who was seated in front of the fire with a pan of hot water, treating Adric's wound, he returned to the table.

'Farrier's shears,' he said, holding up a pair of enormous, crude black scissors. 'Hold your friend still.'

I went to the head of the table and grabbed Will's arms above the elbow, pinning him down. I leaned close.

'Don't worry, my brother,' I said, sounding as calm as I could. Gilles had taken the shears in both hands and now, with one motion, cut through the bolt where it met Will's flesh. There was a sharp crack and Will screamed, high and lonely like a fox on a winter's night.

'It is done, it is done, my brave lad,' I soothed. We rolled him over as carefully as we could, Gilles taking care to bunch Will's cloak under his back so that his weight would not force the bolt in further. When we were finished, he lay, eyes wide and staring at the shadows on the ceiling, breathing like a spent horse. Sweat had soaked his hair, and his feet twitched and beat gently against the table and each other. 'Does it hurt very much, Will?' He closed his eyes as if thinking, then opened them again. There's something on my feet. Get it off, would you?' I made to look, but of course there was nothing there. 'Is it gone now?'