Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

Josiah grinned. ‘I never trust the militia, sir, so I thought to bring along a little ’elp. Just in case, as it were.’

‘As well you did. Let’s hope they caught the fugitives.’ From the direction of Leadenhall, there was the sound of laughter and, as if on cue, the two tall runners appeared holding two hooded figures between them.

‘Ah, ’ere are the boys, sir, and they seem to ’ave caught something,’ said Josiah. ‘Well done, lads. Miss ’Enrietta will be pleased when I tell ’er.’ Oliver and Rupert had shed their yellow satin in favour of black shirts and trousers for the occasion, but there was no mistaking them. As they approached, two of Joseph’s men clattered up from the opposite direction, pistols drawn and swords rattling at their sides.

Thomas stepped forward and pulled back the shorter prisoner’s hood. He found himself looking at a plump, plain face, red with exertion and exuding fury. The thin lips pursed and spat at him. He wiped away the spittle and stared into a pair of narrow, livid eyes. ‘Well, well. If I’m not mistaken, Madame Louise d’Entrevaux. How unexpected. Enchanté, madame .’

Louise d’Entrevaux’s reply was a look of the most venomous loathing that Thomas had ever seen. If Rupert had not been holding her, she would certainly have leapt at him and tried to scratch his eyes out.

He pulled down the other hood. ‘And could this be Monsieur d’Entrevaux?’

One Alchemist would have been a fine catch. Two was more than they could possibly have hoped for. They must be delivered to Joseph without delay. ‘If Oliver and Rupert would care to hand over their prisoners, we will escort them back to Cheapside and they can return to Drury Lane with our grateful thanks.’ He was rewarded with two deep bows and two enormous grins.

‘Thank you, lads,’ said Josiah. ‘Tell ’Enrietta I’ll call in the morning.’ The lads handed over their prisoners to the guards and strode off chuckling.

At the house Josiah opened the door and stood aside for the prisoners to be pushed inside by the guards. He and Thomas followed them. At first glance, the room was empty. No guards and no Joseph. But when the door slammed after them two figures stepped from behind it. One was Joseph with an arm around his neck and a knife at his throat, the other the disfigured Dutchman. The Dutchman spoke first. ‘You will place your weapons on the floor. Or this man will die.’ His eyes never left Josiah.

‘Kill him,’ croaked Joseph. For a moment no one moved. Thomas was the first to recover.

‘Do as the Dutchman says,’ he whispered. The two guards barely hesitated before unbuckling their sword belts and placing them on the floor with their pistols.

‘And the stick,’ growled the Dutchman. ‘I know what that can do.’ Josiah put his stick down beside the swords. ‘Now you will stand facing the wall with your hands against it.’ With his head he motioned to the wall on the other side of the room. The four of them did as they were ordered.

For the first time Louise d’Entrevaux spoke. Her voice dripped with malice. ‘Idiots. Did you suppose we would come unprotected? Comme vous êtes foux . And now you will die for your stupidity.’ While they faced the wall, two pistols were cocked and two shots fired almost simultaneously. Both guards slumped to the floor. Thomas and Josiah jumped round. Blood poured from the guards’ heads. Louise d’Entrevaux had already thrown the pistols aside and picked up the swords. She glared at Thomas. ‘You were fortunate to break the cipher and discover the address, but not, it seems, fortunate enough. We suspected a trap and only came because we were instructed to. We insisted upon our friend accompanying us.’

‘Let us kill them and go,’ said her husband, shakily. Beneath the hood he was pale as a sheet.

The Dutchman still held Joseph with a knife at his throat. ‘They will join the other two in the kitchen soon enough. First I have a score to settle. Pick up the stick, Hill, and break the little man’s knees.’ Thomas did not move. It was beyond imagining.

‘You are evil.’

The Dutchman pressed the knife against Joseph’s throat and snorted. ‘Do it. Or Mr Williamson will die and I will do it myself while Madame d’Entrevaux holds the point of a sword in your mouth. Then I will remove your testicles and his eyes. Which is it to be?’

‘Let him kill me. Then kill them all.’ Joseph’s throat was so constricted that he was barely audible.

‘That might be difficult,’ sneered the Dutchman. ‘We three have this knife and two sharp swords while you have a single stick. Do as I say, Hill. Now.’ Thomas hesitated, then bent to pick up Josiah’s stick. Having never held it before, he had not realized how heavy it was.

‘If we are to die, why would I cripple Josiah first?’

‘I have explained the consequences if you do not.’

‘Indeed. Mutilation and death. And revenge.’ Thomas was saying whatever came into his head to gain time. The shots might have been heard and help might yet arrive.

‘Enough, Hill. Break his knees. NOW.’ It was the closest the disfigured man could get to a shout.

‘Go on, sir,’ whispered Josiah, ‘then kill him.’ He stood calmly with his back to the wall, no hint of fear in his eyes.

Thomas hefted the stick in both hands, trying to think clearly. Josiah’s knees to gain a little more time? Or refuse and risk Joseph dying with an instant stroke of the knife? He glanced at the woman and saw the spite in her eyes. She took a step towards him and hissed, ‘Do it well or you will pay.’

It was the malevolence in her voice that did it. Thomas moved without thought and at a speed of which he would not have thought himself capable. The stick crashed against the side of Louise d’Entrevaux’s head, sending her unconscious to the floor and the swords clattering towards Josiah. Without hesitating, Thomas turned to the Dutchman, expecting to see blood gushing from Joseph’s throat. But Joseph had seized his chance and jabbed an elbow into the Dutchman’s ribs. It had gained him just enough space to grab the man’s wrist and force the knife away from his throat. Another second or two and he would have lost his advantage, but before the Dutchman could react, Josiah was on him. He thrust his knuckles into an eye and twisted. There was a furious scream and the knife fell to the floor. Joseph stepped away and picked it up. Without a word, he turned and slashed the blade across the Dutchman’s throat and watched him slide to the floor, blood gushing from the wound. ‘No point in interrogating him,’ he said quietly. ‘We would not have got anything from him. And he’s too dangerous to live.’ The Dutchman clutched his throat, stared in disbelief at Joseph, spluttered and died.

Monsieur d’Entrevaux was kneeling beside his wife, her head in his hands. He had taken no part in the fight and Thomas reckoned it would have made no difference if he had. He was plainly not a man of action. Madame d’Entrevaux, on the other hand, was dangerous enough for both of them. Thomas bent down and felt her neck. There was a pulse and she was breathing. ‘She is alive, Joseph,’ he said.

‘Good. Two more for a visit to the Tower and a few questions. Are you wounded, Thomas?’

Thomas felt his cheek where the shot had grazed him. There was a trickle of blood. ‘It’s a scratch. She fired from too far away.’

‘And you, Mottershead?’

‘Quite well, sir, thanks to Mr ’Ill.’

Thomas grinned and patted Josiah on the shoulder. ‘Say no more about it, Josiah. If the woman had not stepped too close, I don’t know what would have happened.’

‘Right, Mottershead,’ said Joseph briskly, ‘kindly go and fetch help while Thomas and I keep an eye on these two, and we’ll need the bodies removed before morning.’