J. Tomlin - The Winter Kill

Cormac slogged along North Street and passed through the port gate. He wrapped his plaid tightly around his shoulders to keep out the chill of the still, bright day. The sun, already sinking toward the western horizon, reflected in a blinding sheen off the snow as he tramped along the edge of the Town Ditch. A thin layer of ice covered the water, and eddies of snow played on its surface.

When he reached the house that had belonged to Kennedy, he found a spot and scouted around. An oak tree in the front was hung with icicles. The hawthorn bushes were all heavily coated with snow, like big, white bundles. He tried the door and was surprised when it swung open. No doubt, Law had not left it unlocked, but just as obviously Brother Hugh had a key. Inside the air was almost as frigid as outside. Something warm to drink would have been nice, but Cormac just pulled a stool next to the door and opened it a sliver to watch. As the temperature dropped and the afternoon darkened, his breath plumed with fog, so he wrapped his plaid around his lower face to hide it. Besides, his nose was growing numb.

There was nothing to do but wait and think. How irate would Law be when he learned Cormac had broken his promise to follow instructions? He sniffed in a soft laugh.

Law allowed Brother Hugh to get well ahead of him on the way out of Perth, barely within sight as he trudged between merchants tearing down stalls and laborers wearily journeying home through the fading daylight. He pulled his cloak tight so that his clothes didn’t show and slumped as he walked so that he blended better with the people around him. He didn’t dare let the man entirely out of his sight. Cormac was too much at risk for that even back at the inn.

Once through the port gate, he dropped back even more, since the friar would have to pass him if he turned back for town. Cormac should be safe now. He tramped through the snowy silence of the suburb. He heard a dog bark and a sound of distant laughter. He jumped when snow dropped from a bush with a splat.

When he reached Kennedy’s house, he looked around. There was no sign of Brother Hugh. The door was closed. He tried the door and then cursed himself for not having brought the key. Standing beneath the oak, he listened to the silence. He slowly paced down the slope to the edge of the town ditch to look at the ice-covered water. What to do next? Could Brother Hugh have circled around to get past him and have returned to town?

The silence had an ominous quality. The hair on the back of his neck rose. It felt as though something had happened here. He squatted and examined the edge of the ditch below. Thick along the edge stood dead weeds; the ice looked thin but undisturbed, unbroken.

As he stood, a big white-fronted goose burst from the weeds with a raucous, laughing call. He heard a squelching sound in the snow behind him. Before he could turn to see what it was, pain exploded in the back of his head from a blow, rattling his brain inside his cranium. A flash of darkness enveloped his senses. No sooner than the flash had happened, he was face down in the snow. A hand pressed his face down into the wet, cold mass. Law choked, head hammering with pain.

He twisted and saw Brother Hugh looming over him, saw the bounce of blond curls and the blue eyes, narrowed and rapt. Hugh dropped on his knees in the middle of Law’s back. Law grunted with the blow. The weight pushed him back down, and he cursed.

But Law was tougher prey than poor Jannet. He bucked, pushed his hands deep in the snow, and heaved against the frozen earth.

As Law reared, the friar grabbed onto his shoulders. The friar slid sideways, half-off, and Law rolled, twisting. With a grunt, Law grabbed him around the waist, struggling to get on top. Brother Hugh let go of Law and swung a fist. Law’s teeth snapped when it landed on his jaw. They rolled. Law smacked the side of his head and his shoulder on rocks. He made a dazed grab for the edge of the ditch.

His arm was grabbed and yanked loose.

The smash of ice shattering under him jarred his body, but plunging into icy water cleared Law’s head. Brother Hugh wrapped his arms and legs around Law. He threw back his head, his eyes wide, teeth bared. Law floundered, trying to get his feet under him. His feet slipped in slick mud, and he was chest deep in frigid water. He struggled, trying to get leverage to free his arms and land a blow. When his feet slipped again, he went under the water. Brother Hugh’s powerful hands closed on his throat and pushed him down. He thrashed to regain his feet, grabbed the strong wrists, and yanked. Still, the friar’s weight pushed him down into the muck. In the wet, he couldn’t get a grip to jerk the choking hands free. His lungs spasmed in a frantic need for air as he fought. In a desperate moment, he realized the mad friar did not care if he killed them both.

His chest heaved, but in a despairing act of will he locked his throat closed. He jerked on the wrists again, digging his nails into the skin to find a grip. He tore the hands away. Finally free, he twisted to get his feet under him. As he fought upward toward the air and the light, Brother Hugh grabbed him and forced him down.

It had taken too long. His breath expelled in a noisy eruption and he sucked his lungs full of icy water. At once he was in a dark dream. His lungs seemed to scream with the agony. Above was the icy sheen of the surface as darkness closed in around him.

Hard fingers dug into his throat. As he faded like a lamp burning out, he felt Brother Hugh clutch him like a lover. He had his muscular legs wrapped around Law’s hips. Brother Hugh reared back, his face fierce, bucking his hips in a savage, deadly mockery of making love. With a surge of rage, Law thought of the friar leaving him here in this blue, frigid world to go after Cormac. His hand floated before his face, and with a last desperate effort, he swung it toward Brother Hugh’s throat. It hit. He chopped again and then again.

Brother Hugh surged away in an eruption of waves. Law raised both feet and pushed feebly into Hugh’s chest. It thrust him into a dazzling, bright world. He vomited up a gush of water. He choked and gagged, but in the glittery sunlight he saw the edge of the ditch only a steps away. He surged through the chest-high water, feet sliding and skidding in the muck; he coughed and heaved.

Brother Hugh thrashed to the surface beside Law. He steadied himself in the water, his face fixed in a rictus of fury. He lunged, hands outstretched, going for Law’s throat. Law grabbed him by his robe, saw in the bright sunlight the man’s strong chest where the robe had ripped away. Law pulled back his fist and swung as hard as he could…too hard, he realized with horror, when the force slid his feet out from under him. He crashed backwards, the friar on top of him. The friar’s hands closed around his throat, and he went down into wintry blue darkness…

Law heaved and gagged. Water rushed out of his mouth onto the ground. Someone had him around his waist and jerked. He tried to shout for them to stop, but the jerk came again. He spewed more water and caught the fist pressed into his stomach and tried to push it away. The fist loosened, and the arms let him go.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side. He opened his eyes and looked up at Cormac’s blurry face. It was pale, and hair hanging into his forehead clotted with blood. He pushed Law’s hair back out of his face and said something with mo luaidh in it. He started to sit up, but Cormac pushed a hand against his chest to stop him. He managed to rise up on his elbows. “You’re hurt,” he said. “What happened?”

Maister Braidlaw, from the tannery, was suddenly beside Cormac, shaking his head in somber disbelief. “When the dog started raising a fit and howling to raise the dead, I thought I’d better come with Gil this time. I saw the two of you flailing about in the water. Was running toward you when this lad burst out of the house yon. Just as you went under, he grabbed up a rock. He flew off the edge of the ditch like a falcon, that rock raised above his head. Down it slammed, and that was the end of the fight.”