Fortune's Fools

by Paul Tomlinson

  “We should if we want to get paid,” Bryn said.

  Gosling closed his eye and leaned back against the tree. “We’ll just wait for him to escape. Then we’ll kill him.”

  “What makes you think he will escape?”

  “He’s that sort of character,” Gosling said, “they always escape.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Lord Algernon Breel of Southfield was not seen to enter the town, but he was heard scant moments after his arrival. The unfortunate Guardsman who came upon him first bore the full extent of the nobleman’s wrath. The guard’s face was almost the same scarlet of his tunic by the time he’d escorted his lordship to Captain Sheldrake’s office. The Guardsman bowed and ran from the room, leaving the captain to try and quiet Lord Algernon.

  Algernon was angry and distraught. There was a small graze on his left cheek and his dark hair and moustache were matted with dry mud. His hose was torn at both knees, and mud and grass stained his silk shirt and travelling cape. He dabbed at the graze with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Captain Theldrake, I have never before experienced thuch treatment on a public highway, which I can only put down to the ineptitude of your policing. If one ith not thafe on a highway in these parts...!” Algernon’s voice rose an octave and his lisp became more pronounced.

  Sheldrake’s head began to throb. He held up a hand for mercy from the verbal assault. “My Lord Algernon, please. I do not understand the nature of your complaint. If you would just...”

  “It is quite plain. I was thet upon by ruffians, thiefs, murderers! Not two miles from your town gate! I was travelling here with my man, Alphonse, and we were ambushed. Poor Alphonse was thlain protecting my life,” he sniffed into the handkerchief. “And my horse and personal possessions were thtolen. I was left alone, thtranded in the middle of nowhere –  at the mercy of wolves and heaven alone knows what else. I had to make my way here on foot!”

  “My Lord, let me assure you, had we known of your coming we would certainly have sent guards to escort you safely through the forest.”

  “If you’d known? If you’d known? Of course you knew!” his lordship shrieked. “You knew I was coming here, because Lord Eòghan thent a letter to me, asking me to come and thtay with him here. He thaid he would arrange for a pair of your Guardsmen to meet me and ethcort me along your motht dangerous woodland road. Thurely he told you to expect me?”

  “But my Lord, I was not expecting...”

  Algernon waved the captain to silence. “I have had enough of your excuses, captain. I am tired and I am hungry. I thould like to bathe and rest. But first I would like you to take me to Lord Eòghan, I am thure he will have something to say on this matter!”

  “But, my lord, I thought you knew: Lord Eòghan was slain two nights ago by an assassin,” Sheldrake said.

  Lord Algernon swooned theatrically into a chair. “This is all too much, captain. I thall have to report this to the King. Are outlaws and criminals allowed to run riot unchecked here? Do the Guard do nothing?”

  “I assure you, my Lord, we do...”

  Algernon again waved him to silence. “No more excuses! Have someone escort me to a suitable inn: I should like to bathe and change my garments before I pay my condolences to his wife. I assume that you have redoubled patrols throughout the town? I do not wish to wake up with my throat thlit tomorrow morning!”

  “You have my personal assurance that you will be adequately protected.”

  “You have no idea how reassuring that is!”

  “Besides which, the murderer is already in custody, my Lord.”

  “Excellent! It seems I thlightly misjudged your competence. I thall wish to question the prisoner.”

  “My Lord, I don’t really think...”

  “Yes, and that is your problem, captain. Whereas I do. I may be able to glean thomething from this prisoner which you in your ignorance have managed to miss.”

  Captain Sheldrake sighed. It would obviously do no good to argue. “Very good, my Lord. I will have him made ready for you to speak with first thing this after...”

  “Thay in one hour’s time. That will give me opportunity to bathe and change into more thuitable attire. Have him brought...  Have him brought into this office. I am thure you will be able to provide me with adequate protection in thuch a place.”

  The captain sighed as his plans for the day collapsed around him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, captain,” Lord Algernon breathed deeply. “You know, I think I am going to enjoy being here.”

  With that Lord Algernon was gone. He waited in the courtyard for a guide. Then he strode towards the main entrance with as much dignity as he could muster, adjusting the battered brim of his hat, and trying without success to unbend the peacock feather in its band.

  The gaoler stood before the captain’s desk, there were spots of blood on the front of his shirt. “Sir, the prisoner is still unconscious. I think we should send for a physician.”

  The captain looked up. He had been hastily completing the paperwork on Lord Eòghan’s murder in time for Algernon’s return. “What?”

  “The prisoner still hasn’t recovered consciousness.”

  “Shit! Lord Algernon Breel has arrived. Apparently he is some friend of Eòghan’s. I am summarising our evidence now, what little there is. Hopefully Lord Algernon will sign the warrant for the prisoner’s immediate execution. There is not time to send for a physician, his Lordship will return shortly. Get yourself smartened up before he gets here, and get the prisoner cleaned up ready for questioning up here. This fellow, Algernon, is likely to cause trouble at the slightest fault, so let’s do this properly.”

  “Sir, I’ll...”

  The door was slammed open with such gusto that both men started. Lord Algernon stood in the doorway, resplendent in a doublet of red velvet, gold silk at his neck and cuffs, and pink hose embroidered with fine gold latticework. The red velvet hat was set at what his lordship considered to be a rakish angle.

  The gaoler muttered something about the nobleman’s sexual habits, while the captain’s curse was less considered and more audible.

  “Ah, this must be the prisoner,” Lord Algernon waved a silk square at the gaoler as he stepped into the room. “Must thay, he certainly looks the criminal type, the thcoundrel. Face like that –  he must be guilty!”

  “M-my Lord,” the captain stuttered. “This is one of my best men...”

  “One of your men! It just thows that one cannot even trust one’s own people these days! You realise that he thall have to be dishonourably discharged before we can execute him?”

  “No, no, sir. This is not the prisoner. The prisoner is downstairs in the cell.”

  “Then why did you not thay tho?” Lord Algernon hardly paused for breath. He stepped aside. “Lead on, captain. I would thpeak with the murderer forthwith,” he was half out of the door before the captain had chance to catch his arm.

  “My Lord, why don’t you wait here and we will have the prisoner brought up,” Sheldrake cast a glance at the dungeon-keeper. “A prison cell is no place for a gentleman.”

  Lord Algernon pulled himself free of the captain’s grip and straightened his shoulders theatrically.

  “No, if I am to be of any use here, I cannot thirk my responsibilities. Lead on, captain.”

  Sheldrake took a torch from the wall, thrusting it into the office fireplace to light it. Then he led the way down the stone steps to the cells. He tried to prepare himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. No matter how he looked at the situation, he could see no pleasant way out of it. He could, of course, blame his men, but what sort of captain doesn’t know what is going on within his own Guard House? He knew his Lordship could justifiably use any show of incompetence as an excuse to replace him.

  “Tell me, captain, does the dungeon always thmell tho foul?”

  “Generally so, my Lord.”

  “I thee... It ith most unpleathant.”

  “Imprisonment is not intend
ed to be a pleasant experience, sir,” the gaoler offered, in defence of his realm.

  “No, that ith tho,” his lordship conceded.

  Sheldrake’s hands seemed to be shaking as he fumbled with the keys. He couldn’t understand what he had to fear from this foppish lord. Nobility always inspired fear in the common man. And resentment, of course. The captain was more used to being on the side of the nobility, carrying out their orders, ensuring that the common man had reason to fear them.

  The door finally swung in on well-oiled hinges, to reveal the prisoner hanging limp, half-naked in his chains.

  Lord Algernon gave a little ‘eek’ and collapsed in a dead faint. Sheldrake must have been half-expecting this, for he dropped the torch and caught his lordship before he hit the ground. Wrapping his arms around the nobleman’s chest, he struggled to drag him back up the stairs. Looking back over his shoulder, he gave instructions to the dungeon-keeper.

  “Clean up the prisoner and bring him upstairs. I will revive his lordship. I will give you as much time as I can,” he continued up the stairs with his burden.

  The man hanging in the chains had been arrested as a murderer. He was accused of killing Lord Eòghan, the gaoler knew that. But all he could see was the battered body of a young man. Dried blood caked his lips, the hands and feet were swollen purple. There were several fresh burns down one side of his body. The prisoner had undergone this treatment within the dungeon’s walls.

  Sheldrake had claimed that they were attempting to elicit a confession of guilt from the young man, but the torture seemed to have begun almost on a whim, and in secret: the captain had an obvious dislike of the prisoner and seemed to take great joy in it. Even if the man was guilty of Eòghan’s murder, which had yet to be proved, the treatment seemed –  unprofessional. There was a time and a place for torture within a civilised legal framework, and there were accepted methods for obtaining specific results.

  The gaoler sighed. He doused a cloth in a bucket of cold water and squeezed it out over the prisoners head. Anton stirred, one eye flickering open, his head lolling. Gently the gaoler washed away the blood, cleaning the wounds as best he could. He soaked the cloth again and placed it over the swollen lip, heard the breath whistle in between the prisoner’s teeth. The prisoner finally focused his gaze on the gaoler.

  Releasing the shackles the gaoler caught the prisoner as he slumped. Gasping and groaning with pain, the prisoner was unable to support himself. The gaoler sat him on the edge of the wooden bench.

  “Lord Algernon Breel of Southfield is waiting upstairs, he wants to talk to you,” the tone was almost apologetic.

  Anton frowned.

  The gaoler picked up the torn shirt which lay by the cell door. It would at least hide some of the wounds from the sensitive eyes of the Lord Algernon. He carefully pulled it over Anton’s head and eased his arms into the sleeves.

  Anton looked towards the door. “I cannot walk.”

  The gaoler looked at him and nodded.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Captain Sheldrake waited as long as he dared before attempting to revive Lord Algernon. When his lordship’s eyelids began to flutter, he placed a wet handkerchief to Algernon’s brow.

  “Where am I, nurse?” Algernon asked faintly.

  “Sir? Are you feeling better?” He poured wine into a glass, putting it to Algernon’s lips. The lord took a sip and sprayed it into the captain’s face.

  “How terrible! Tastes like vinegar.” He dabbed daintily at his lips with the damp handkerchief.

  Captain Sheldrake’s face dripped wine.

  Lord Algernon sat up as there was a knock at the door. Anton was carried in by the gaoler. Anton and his lordship regarded each other silently as the gaoler lowered Anton into a chair. Lord Algernon stood, pushing aside the captain’s offered support. He straightened his shoulders and glared at the captain.

  “You will have thome valid explanation for the barbaric treatment of this prisoner, am I correct, captain?” Lord Algernon asked.

  “Sir, I...” Sheldrake could think of none.

  “Perhaps I resisted arrest and fell onto the rack?” Anton suggested.

  “Is it normal practice for the Guard in this town to mutilate their prisoners in thuch fashion?”

  “No sir.” The captain mumbled.

  “I thee. Then this only takes place in thpecial cases?”

  “Yes – er – No. I...”

  “Sir, this man killed Lord Eòghan,” the gaoler offered.

  “That hath yet to be proven. The King makes the laws to be kept, and takes a dim view when they are broken, especially by his own Guardsmen. The prisoner has certain rights when he is held in custody. He thould not be thubjected to thenseless assaults thimply because the Captain of the Guard takes a dithlike to his face!”

  “No, sir,” Sheldrake mumbled.

  “I think before we go any further that both you and the gaoler thould apologise to this man,” Algernon crossed his arms, his stern expression that of a school mistress.

  Both men hesitated, exchanging glances, but finally bowed beneath the threatening gaze.

  “Sir, I apologise for the treatment you received in my dungeon,” the gaoler said.

  “I too – apologise,” Captain Sheldrake relented after further pause.

  “Now, gentleman, I would thpeak with the prisoner alone.” Lord Algernon held up a hand to stem their protests. “Have a guard posted outside the door and I thall be perfectly thafe. Thanks to you, the prisoner is in no thtate to attack even me!”

  This they had to concede, and the captain and his gaoler hurried out, glad to escape.

  Anton slumped in the chair, sweat beading his forehead. “You are a better actor than you are a lord, my lord,” he said.

  “How did you know?” Edison asked with a sheepish grin. He filled a glass with wine and held it towards Anton.

  Anton held up his swollen and useless hands. Edison held the glass to his lips and allowed Anton to drain it before replying.

  “I know a little more about the peerage than Sheldrake and his men,” Anton said. “Lord Breel of Southfield! The family Breel ended its line with a sour old maid, Lady Hortense, twenty years ago. While the only ‘Southfield’ I know of lies on a highway between Knotford and Cruxton, and boasts only an inn that serves fine ales and home-baked chicken pie.”

  “I have eaten a good many!”

  “There was also the fact that while mopping your brow, the captain wiped away some of the colouring from your left eyebrow.”

  “Shit!” Edison curse, licking his finger and rubbing ash from the hearth into his eyebrow.

  “My friend, I am glad you came.” Anton looked down at the swollen hands in his lap.

  “I wish that I could have been here sooner.”

  “You got here before they had my head on the block. Aside from that, my predicament is the fault of my own stupidity.”

  “You didn’t really kill him?”

  Anton shook his head. “Sheldrake slit Eòghan’s throat. He had me on the rack intending that I would confess to the crime, and leave him in the clear.”

  “They had you on the rack?” Edison asked.

  “I would be there still if it were not for you.”

  Edison looked away. “You must understand that I am not here out of some kind of altruism,” he said, “this is not some sort of heroic rescue attempt. I am here to try and assuage my guilt: to try and make myself feel better. My motives are purely selfish. I am not doing this for you.”

  “I understand,” Anton said. “I assume you have a plan to get us out of here?”

  “I did not have a plan to get us this far!”

  “You jest?” Anton looked genuinely worried, teeth clenched and a fire suddenly burning in his eyes.

  “I jest. Can you walk out of here?” He looked down at Anton’s feet.

  Anton shook his head.

  “I could carry you, but that would be to step out of my assumed character and would arouse suspici
on. What we need is a cart and some sort of explanation for our leaving. And someone to carry you out, a young Guardsman...” He paced the room. “If we have someone to escort us out of here... We can pretend to be seeking out a physician to have those wounds dressed. We will lose the guard along the way, and then seek a place to spend the night. By dawn I hope that you will be recovered sufficiently to travel and we can leave town.”

  “The Guard will institute a search as soon as we are discovered missing, where can we hide that they will not discover us?”

  “We will make our way to Megan’s ship, it is now out of the repair dock and ready to sail. She will hide us until the search is done,” Edison pressed his ear to the door, frowning.

  “The plan sounds practical,” Anton said.

  “You think so?” Edison turned, still frowning. “You have more faith than I.”

  “Not so, I merely thought that you appeared in need of a little encouragement.”

  “Hmmm,” Edison, unsure how to respond, reached for the door latch. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Anton breathed deeply, then nodded. He marvelled as the muscles of Edison’s face relaxed, taking on a wide-eyed naivete, and the expression of someone about to empty the contents of their stomach onto the rug, a lace-edged handkerchief pressed to pale lips. He threw open the door, and the startled yeoman whirled round.

  “Uggh! It ith dithgusting in there!” Lord Algernon lisped. “The fellow is bleeding all over the rug. I think I thall vomit! Quickly, help the fellow. We must escort him to a physician with haste.”

  Edison staggered aside to let the guard enter. The young man moved quickly, his lordship was too close to his new uniform: he favoured blood to the smell of vomit.

  The guard carried Anton as they made their way down to the courtyard.

  “How do you feel, my Lord?” their fresh-faced escort asked, staggering a little under his burden.

  “Uh – oh, better, thank you. The cool air has – er – refreshed me thomewhat,” Edison stuttered. He was gauging the distance across the courtyard to the open gate. He raised his head regally, set his hat at its most rakish and strode ahead, leaving the young guard to struggle on behind as best he could. He stopped to question another yeoman as to the location of the nearest physician. There didn’t seem to be too many guards around. A dozen at most. A cart and horse were located, and Lord Algernon and the prisoner helped aboard. They just might make it away.