Blood Bond

by Green, Michael

  ‘Zach, why don’t you take the children upstairs and sort out some beds?’ Steven asked. Once the children had disappeared he addressed his father from the edge of the patio area. ‘So why Zoë?’

  ‘She’s the logical choice. I couldn’t choose Zach, because he’s the only male. I couldn’t choose Gina, since she’s Katie’s only daughter — the only survivor carrying her father’s genes. For the same reason I couldn’t choose Audrey. It had to be either Nicole or one of Sarah’s two children.’

  ‘I can understand that you don’t want to expose Nicole first, but what about Holly?’ Penny asked.

  ‘Nicole is the only female with her father’s genes, and she’s also the one closest to puberty, so we will need her in the future. Likewise, we need either Holly or Zoë for their Maori genes. And Holly is going to reach puberty before this little mite. That’s why I chose Zoë.’ He hugged the little girl affectionately. She had been listening intently to the conversation but he hoped she didn’t really understand it. He felt guilty, but he knew he had been forced to make a decision.

  ‘Once we’ve got everyone settled up on Marina Hill, Penny and I will start a proper search for Jane, Katie and Sarah,’ Steven said. ‘Do you have any ideas where we should start looking?’

  Mark stared downward. ‘Jane can’t be anywhere around here, or she would have heard the gunshots and come in like the children.’

  ‘I can’t believe she would have left this area had she survived.’

  ‘Unless Sarah and Katie sailed back here and found her,’ Penny said excitedly. ‘With no sign of the children, they might have assumed they had all drowned. This place is practically destroyed. They were having trouble with the dogs. They could have decided to move elsewhere.’

  ‘Surely they would have buried Christopher. And Jane would have left a note here for us in case we returned,’ Steven countered.

  ‘Maybe the dogs scared them off. Seems to me that the key is to find Raconteur,’ Penny said.

  ‘You’re right,’ Steven conceded. ‘Once we have the houses set up, I’ll take you and Lee on a cruise around the gulf and we’ll see what we can find.’

  23

  Diana was seated on a large gilt chair behind a huge oak desk that had been placed on one side of the dais in the Great Hall. She was wearing her barrister’s gown and wig, which she had collected from her old law firm in Sevenoaks.

  On the other side of the dais, sitting on a row of chairs, were the members of the jury: Paul, Cheryl and Bridget Grey, Susan and Theresa Morgan, and Duncan, Jennifer, Virginia, Kimberley and Rebecca Steed. There were no adults left to represent the Dalton family. The younger members of the community sat at the refectory table below, intently watching the drama being acted out on the dais.

  Diana looked across and addressed the jury. ‘Clearly, we cannot operate a legal system in the same manner as before the pandemic. It was an inefficient and unnecessarily protracted system. All that is important now is that justice is administered fairly.’

  Greg, Damian and Jasper had been brought from their respective cells, their hands tied behind their backs. On the way to the Great Hall they had been marched past the cart which they themselves had previously used as an execution platform, the axe and block in place. The brothers huddled together in the centre of the dais, surrounded by the cousins they had terrorised for more than three years. They were hobbled together, a single rope wrapped around each of their ankles. They were shaking with a combination of fear and cold.

  ‘Why don’t we just get on and execute them?’ Duncan said.

  Diana ignored the question, turning instead towards Jasper. ‘Jasper Chatfield, you are charged with the murder of Warren Dalton. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Guilty,’ Jasper replied.

  Diana looked satisfied. She turned her attention to Greg. ‘Greg Chatfield, you are charged with the murder of Cameron Steed. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  Greg started to cry.

  ‘Be a man,’ snapped Jasper.

  ‘Guilty,’ Greg sobbed.

  Finally, Diana turned to Damian. ‘Damian Chatfield, you are charged with the murder of Mathew Grey. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘I didn’t murder him — I was just the executioner acting on my father’s orders.’

  There were murmurs of indignation from the jury.

  ‘Silence,’ commanded Diana. She turned back to Damian, staring hard into his eyes. ‘I will take that as a plea of not guilty.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he sneered defiantly.

  ‘Damian Chatfield, you are also charged with the murder of Margaret Dalton. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘The same — I was acting on my father’s orders.’

  A ripple of angry muttering passed through the jury.

  ‘Again, I shall record a plea of not guilty. Damian Chatfield, you are charged with the murder of Charlene Dalton. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty.’

  ‘Not guilty.’

  ‘I saw him shoot her in the back!’ Duncan shouted. Diana stared at him, warning him to not interrupt proceedings again.

  ‘Damian Chatfield, you are charged with the murder of Melanie Morgan. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Not guilty.’

  Duncan threw up his hands in disgust.

  But Diana had not finished with Damian. ‘Damian Chatfield, you are charged with the rape of Mathew Grey, and for being responsible for his death by deliberately concealing the fact that it was your sexual abuse of him that caused him to run away from Haver, for which he was executed. How do you plead: guilty or not guilty?’

  Damian stared down at the floor. Everyone, including his two brothers, looked at him in disgust. ‘Not guilty,’ he said quietly.

  Diana turned to the jury. ‘Damian Chatfield has pleaded not guilty to all charges. He therefore has the right to a fair trial.’

  ‘Mathew never got a fair trial!’ Cheryl exclaimed.

  Diana ignored the outburst. ‘I now intend to pass sentence on Jasper and Greg Chatfield. We will then have a fifteen-minute recess before commencing Damian’s trial.’ Turning towards Jasper, she said, ‘Jasper Chatfield, you have pleaded guilty to the murder of Warren Dalton. Is there anything you would like to say before I pass sentence?’

  He shook his head, his long blonde hair matted on his shoulders.

  Diana opened one of the drawers of the desk, took out a black silk handkerchief and placed it on top of her wig. ‘Jasper Chatfield, you have pleaded guilty to the murder of Warren Dalton. I sentence you to death by beheading, this sentence to be carried out at seven-fifteen tomorrow morning.’ She removed the handkerchief and placed it on the desk.

  The jury clapped. Led by Mary-Claire, the children at the refectory table added to the commotion by chanting ‘off with his head, off with his head.’

  Jasper stared straight ahead. Greg began to sob again.

  ‘Silence!’ Diana ordered, her sharp features turned on the jury. ‘This is a court of law. I will not have any such demonstrations.’ As the noise died down, the stifled sounds of a second person crying could be heard. The members of the jury looked towards Jennifer, then they looked at each another uncomfortably.

  ‘Greg Chatfield, you have pleaded guilty to the murder of Cameron Steed,’ Diana continued. ‘Is there anything you want to say before I pass sentence?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. Jasper fired his gun and I just lost control.’ His words were barely audible between sobs.

  Diana again placed the black handkerchief on her wig. Greg’s crying became louder and she was forced to raise her voice. ‘Greg Chatfield, you have been found guilty of the murder of Cameron Steed. I sentence you to death by beheading, this sentence to be carried out at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.’

  She waited until Greg’s sobs had subsided before addressing the jury again. ‘We will now take a fifteen-minute recess before Damian’s trial begins.’

&n
bsp; Duncan rose to his feet. ‘I’ll take Greg and Jasper to their cells.’

  ‘No,’ Diana snapped. ‘I want Damian’s trial to be witnessed by his brothers.’

  ‘We don’t want to witness it,’ Jasper said defiantly.

  Diana glowered at him. ‘Oh, you’re going to witness it all right,’ she said, her voice steely. ‘It’s about time you knew the truth about your brother.’ She turned back to Duncan. ‘When we reconvene, I want the children to operate the treadmill for a few minutes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I intend to try the charge relating to Mathew’s rape first.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with the treadmill?’

  ‘Don’t forget, the treadmill also drives a dynamo which provides current to computer equipment in Damian’s dressing room. When we recommence the trial, I want the jury and the Chatfield brothers taken to Damian’s quarters. There’s a video clip on Damian’s computer that I want everyone to see.’

  ‘Guilty, I plead guilty!’ Everyone turned to look at Damian. ‘I plead guilty to all charges,’ he reiterated.

  ‘I think we should see the video,’ Duncan said.

  ‘As Damian has now pleaded guilty, there will be no further trial, and no evidence will be presented or witnesses called,’ Diana announced.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because I’m the judge and because I say so.’ Before any further debate could start up, she turned back to Damian. ‘Damian Chatfield, you have pleaded guilty to the murders of Margaret Dalton, Charlene Dalton and Melanie Morgan, and to the rape and murder of Mathew Grey. Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?’

  Damian stared down at the floor and did not reply.

  For the third time, Diana placed the black handkerchief atop her wig. ‘Damian Chatfield, I sentence you to death by beheading. Yours will be the first execution, sentence to be carried out at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.’ Diana rose to her feet. ‘Take the prisoners back to their cells.’

  Late that afternoon, Diana summoned Duncan to the ballroom.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked brusquely as he strode in. Diana was sitting at the Boulle table, writing. The chairs that had been placed around the table for their previous meeting had been returned to the perimeter of the room and Diana did not invite him to take a seat. Eventually she put down her pen and looked up. ‘When I was allocating responsibilities at the Cabinet meeting you made a great fuss about the number of posts allocated to the Morgan family.’

  ‘I didn’t make a fuss,’ Duncan protested.

  ‘Yes, you did.’ The abruptness of her tone was reminiscent of Nigel. ‘So I have awarded you an additional responsibility. You can be Chief Executioner.’

  ‘What?’ Alarm spread across Duncan’s face.’ I don’t want that job.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got it.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘I can’t ask Paul. Given what happened to Mathew, I don’t think he could handle it. He’d almost certainly break down. And I don’t want to give it to any of the women — I’m not sure any of them have the necessary strength to swing the axe properly. I don’t want the executions botched.’

  ‘How do you know I won’t botch them?’

  ‘Because you’re going to practise.’

  ‘Practise! What do you mean practise?’

  ‘Use your common sense,’ Diana said impatiently. Duncan turned to leave. ‘And by the way,’ she continued. Her head was back down and she appeared to be busy writing. ‘Ensure the prisoners are in the courtyard when you do your practice — and make sure you miss a couple of times.’

  ‘Any more instructions?’ he asked sarcastically.

  ‘No,’ she said, looking up. ‘But you might be interested to know I have decided to move the Morgan family into the staterooms.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m moving the Morgan family into the staterooms.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘I say,’ Diana said.

  ‘On whose authority?’

  ‘On my authority.’

  ‘What makes you think you should have the staterooms?’ Duncan blustered.

  ‘The community elected me Leader and, like any leader anywhere, it’s only right that I be afforded appropriate accommodation.’

  ‘You already have appropriate accommodation. You snaffled the best rooms around Lawn Court when we first arrived.’ Duncan’s voice was laced with bitterness.

  ‘I’m not debating this issue,’ Diana said firmly.

  ‘It needs to be discussed by the Cabinet.’

  ‘I’ve already told you — it’s not up for discussion.’

  ‘You’re worse than Nigel! Anyway, the rest of your family aren’t leaders, so why are they moving into the staterooms?’

  Diana sensed the argument was won. By moving on to challenge her family’s right to move in to the staterooms, Duncan had already conceded Diana’s own right to do so. It was time to wrap the matter up. ‘My family have sweated and slaved in the staterooms for more than three years — it’s only right they enjoy the fruits of their labours.’

  ‘No one should…’

  ‘Clearly,’ Diana interrupted. ‘As manager of the farm and gardens, you hold the second most important position at Haver. What I propose is that when we move tomorrow, after the executions, the Steed family takes over the current Morgan accommodation.’ She could almost see the wheels turning in Duncan’s brain. ‘You’ll have a lot more room. And I will, of course, allocate you some additional furniture from the staterooms. With Jennifer’s flair for decoration, you will be able to make the space very comfortable.’

  Duncan hesitated. Diana guessed he was torn between the attractions of the accommodation offered — which was much larger than the rooms his family currently occupied — and the principle of the matter. ‘Of course, if you don’t want it, I’ll offer the rooms to Paul and his family.’

  ‘We’ll take it,’ Duncan said quickly. ‘But I still don’t like what you’re doing.’

  ‘That’s decided then,’ Diana said, ignoring his last comment. ‘Go and get on with your execution practice, and make sure the Chatfield brothers are watching while you do.’

  Damian had not slept all night. He stood by the window of the Punishment Room, peering out at the sky, which was beginning to lighten. There was not much time left and he was filled with dread.

  The previous afternoon he had been let out of the cell for exercise in Flag Court, joined by his brothers. They had been forced to parade naked around the courtyard, their hands tied behind their backs, hobbled together. If they stopped walking they were jabbed with sticks by the children. Worse still, as they walked they were forced to watch Duncan practising his execution skills on the cart. He had a huge pile of turnips which he placed on the block one at a time. Whenever the axe came crashing down and a turnip split into two, the children would cheer. Whenever he missed they would boo. There seemed to be far more boos than cheers.

  A light flickered in one of the windows around Lawn Court as a candle was lit, then another window was illuminated. The community was stirring. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Greg, in the clock room high in Cromwell’s Tower, had stood a chair on top of the table to climb up and look through the tiny window above the clock. He also saw the flickering lights in the windows below and once again began to cry. His sobs were drowned out by the clock chiming six. One hour to go.

  Jasper lay on the bare floor of his cell on the floor below Greg. While he was resigned to his fate, he silently cursed Damian. He was convinced that it was Damian’s cruelty that had brought the death sentence upon them all.

  By seven o’clock the majority of the community was already gathered in Flag Court. Diana, dressed again in her barrister’s gown and wig, emerged from the direction of the Great Hall followed by Duncan, who was wearing a balaclava. They walked purposefully through the assembled crowd and ascended the steps which had been placed in front of the cart.

  Duncan picked up the axe and kicke
d the remaining turnip halves off the side of the cart. Diana nodded to Theresa, wearing a black cassock and white surplice, who hurried off towards Cromwell’s Tower. A few minutes later a drum roll echoed off the stone walls surrounding the courtyard. Everyone turned towards the direction of the tower and watched.

  From the shadowy arch beneath the tower Theresa appeared, with Cheryl’s son Harry walking slowly behind her, a side-drum bouncing off his legs as he struck a slow, rhythmic beat. Following him shuffled the three naked Chatfield brothers, their hands still tied behind their backs and their ankles hobbled, so they walked with tiny, shuffling steps. Bridget, Paul and Cheryl followed, carrying pitchforks. Cheryl jabbed Damian several times on the slow march across the courtyard, aiming a particularly vicious jab at his buttocks as he hesitated at the foot of the steps leading onto the cart.

  The prisoners’ legs were too tightly tethered for them to mount the treads, so Paul and Duncan were forced to drag them one at a time onto the cart, where they lined them up in the order they were to be executed. Damian was closest to the block, with Jasper beside him and Greg at the end of the line.

  ‘Put your head on the block,’ Diana commanded Damian. He stood mesmerised, seemingly unable to move so Cheryl rushed up the steps and jabbed the back of his legs with her fork, causing him to fall onto his knees. When he continued to refuse to put his head on the block, she jerked his hobbled legs back and held his shoulders down with the fork.

  Mary-Claire’s voice rang out around the courtyard. ‘Off with his head, off with his head!’ As the other children joined in the chant, Diana nodded to Duncan. He began to lift the axe, but then he suddenly put it down again, shaking his head. ‘I can’t do it,’ he said.

  The chanting gradually subsided. Damian began whimpering.

  Diana looked at Paul. ‘You’ll have to do it.’

  Paul shook his head. Cheryl, with her back to everyone except Diana, pointed to herself, indicating that she was volunteering. Diana shook her head gently. Instead, she turned towards the sobbing Greg. ‘If you execute your brother, I’ll commute your sentence to life imprisonment with hard labour.’