Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

Ignoring the knife, Madeleine screamed, ‘Kill him, Thomas.’ The point pressed into her throat and drew blood. ‘Kill him.’ Her voice rasped in her throat and sweat ran from her brow.

‘If you try, she will be the first to die. You have my word on it. Now sit down, both of you. Mr Hill and Mr Carrington – it is Mr Carrington, is it not? – you will put your weapons on the floor and kick them towards me.’ Charles did not move. More blood trickled from Madeleine’s neck.

‘At once, or she dies.’ The quiet voice would not be denied. Charles slid his swords across the floor and sat down. Thomas did likewise.

‘Good. Now let us consider the position. I assume that none of my colleagues is now available to assist me, so you are two and I am one. But I have Miss Stewart – a queen to your knights, one might say. How do you suggest we proceed?’ The voice barely rose above a whisper.

‘I suggest you release Madeleine and then we discuss your future.’

‘Very amusing. My suggestion, however, is a little different. You will stand up and walk backwards into the other room. Miss Stewart and I will follow you. You will then return to this room.’

‘Where you will lock us in and depart with Madeleine?’

‘Exactly.’

Thomas looked at Charles and saw the faintest twinkle in his eye. A little acting was needed. ‘How do we know she’ll be safe?’ asked Thomas.

‘You don’t. What you do know is that she will not be safe if you do not do as I say.’

‘In that case, Thomas,’ said Charles, ‘we’d best do as we’re told.’

He got to his feet, opened the door and walked backwards into the other room. Thomas let him pass and followed him. A few steps behind, Madeleine emerged, the quiet voice behind her with his knife still at her throat. There was blood on her neck and she was ashen. As she walked through the doorway, a slight movement to her right made her turn her head. Quiet Voice saw it and immediately tried to drag her back into the room. He was too late. Josiah’s stick came down on his shoulder with a crack like a musket shot and the knife fell from his hand. Madeleine fell forward and he subsided on to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Josiah stood over Quiet Voice and put his foot on the man’s neck. Thomas helped Madeleine to her feet and sat her gently on a chair. She was sobbing.

‘Shall I put ’im out of ’is misery, sir?’ Josiah sounded keen on the idea.

‘Not yet, Josiah. We need a little talk with the creature first.’

‘As you wish, sir.’ Josiah hauled the man to his feet and dumped him on a chair. When he pushed him down, the man gasped in agony.

‘There. Comfortable? Now answer Mr ’Ill’s questions like a good boy, or you’ll ’ave a pair of broken shoulders.’ Josiah stood behind him while Thomas and Charles faced him. The disfigured face was contorted with pain.

‘We have information that the man who recently committed several murders in London was disfigured. Was it you?’ Quiet Voice said nothing. ‘Very well.’ Thomas nodded to Josiah, who tapped the man on the shoulder with his stick. He screamed. ‘Was it you?’ Louder this time. The man nodded. ‘That’s better. And who told you to carry out the murders?’

He shook his head. Another tap on the shoulder, another scream and the words came out in a rush. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That is difficult to believe. Someone gave the orders. Who?’

‘I tell you I don’t know. The orders came in writing.’ The words were barely audible. Quiet Voice was sinking.

‘To where?’

‘An inn in Bishopsgate.’ An inn used for passing messages – Joseph had said there were many – although Quiet Voice might be lying.

‘What inn?’

‘The Fox.’

‘Were you paid?’ He nodded. ‘How?’

‘Dutch bank.’

‘Gold?’ Another nod.

‘You’re a traitor. Why?’

Quiet Voice pointed to his face. ‘Naseby. Bluecoats. Fools should have run like the rest of them.’

‘Are you English?’

‘Half. The better half Dutch.’

‘Last chance. Who gave the orders to murder those men and hold Madeleine Stewart to ransom?’ Quiet Voice glared at him. ‘Do the names Aurum and Argentum mean anything to you?’ Was there was a flicker in his eyes? ‘Do they?’

‘No.’

‘You’re lying. You are a traitor and a murderer, and someone is giving you orders. Who are they?’ Quiet Voice said nothing. ‘You have a word with him, Josiah. We’ll be outside.’

His arm around Madeleine, Thomas left the cottage and walked a few yards away, where he laid her gently on the ground. Charles followed them. ‘Are you hurt, my dear?’ he asked, his hand on her cheek. It was burning hot.

‘I’m unhurt but I have a fever. It frightened the guards. They thought it might be plague and did not dare to touch me. And that’s why they moved me – in case the other cottage was a plague house.’ There was a ghastly scream from the cottage, followed by another.

Thomas sat beside Madeleine with her head on his lap and stroked her forehead. Her breathing was very shallow. Charles bent to speak to her. ‘It’s over, my dear. No need to be frightened now.’ There was another yell from the cottage. Charles and Thomas looked up sharply. The voice was different. It was not the Dutchman’s, it was Josiah’s. Charles leapt up and rushed inside. Almost immediately Josiah emerged, bent double and clasping his side.

‘Bugger’s out the back,’ he croaked. ‘Mr Carrington’s after ’im.’

‘Sit down, Josiah. Charles will catch him.’ Still bent over, Josiah sat down painfully. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

‘Bloody fool, I am. ’E was play-acting. Not as ’urt as I thought. Grabbed my stick and ’it me in the back. Didn’t wait to finish me off. Just ran for it. My own fault. Bloody fool.’

‘Calm down and breathe deeply, Josiah. The man is injured and he won’t get away.’

‘’Ope not, sir. Dangerous one, that.’ Josiah coughed and yelped in pain. He arched his back and spat out a mouthful of bloody spittle. ‘Kidney. ’Urts like the devil, but I’ll live.’

‘That’s a relief, Josiah. There’s enough dead bodies in the cottage.’ Josiah’s laugh was cut short by another stab of pain. ‘Apologies, Josiah. This is no time for jokes. Lie down beside Miss Stewart and we’ll wait for Charles to bring the Dutchman back.’

By the time Charles returned, Josiah was recovering but Madeleine was barely conscious. Charles was breathing heavily and he was alone. ‘Swine got away, I fear. Had to stop to get rid of my sword belt. Would have caught him a few years ago.’ The words came out in bursts between lungfuls of air. ‘Lost him in the reeds. Thought I’d better leave him and get back here. How is she?’

‘Weak and feverish. We need to get her away from here,’ replied Thomas, ‘and Josiah’s hurt too.’

‘It’s nothing, sir,’ said Josiah, standing up and squaring his shoulders. ‘Nothing a bit of a walk won’t mend.’

‘I’ll carry her,’ said Charles, handing his swords to Thomas. He picked Madeleine up very gently, his arms under her knees and shoulders, and set off. Walking steadily, they were back in Dartford within twenty minutes. ‘I think it might be prudent to avoid the inn,’ advised Charles. ‘That ferret of a landlord is not to be trusted.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed Thomas. ‘But we need the horses and we need something for Madeleine. She can’t ride or walk to London.’

‘Leave it to me, sir,’ said Josiah. ‘If Mr Carrington would accompany me, I expect we’ll find something useful. You wait by the church.’

Charles handed Madeleine to Thomas. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly. ‘Can you walk?’ he asked. She nodded. He put her down and helped her to the church, where they sat on an old bench by the gate. He felt her face. ‘You’re very hot. Do you want water?’