by Eric Flint
It was at that point that Thatcher walked quietly up behind the man, and rapped him on the side of the head with the pommel of his sword. Not enough to kill him, certainly. Just enough to render him senseless for a while. There was a skill to hitting someone that way, and it took considerable practice over the years to get it right. As well as a few fatal and near-fatal errors. He'd gotten good at it by practicing on Irish prisoners five years ago.
They dragged him out of the pub, and waved at the concerned barkeep and the serving girls. "He's had a bit too much. We'll take care of him . . ." They dragged him toward an alley not far across the lane. There, Thatcher would find out who he was working for and report it to his Lieutenant. Should be a bonus in it for him, he figured.
"Take him over there, lads, and sit him down against the wall." Thatcher knelt before the semi-conscious Otto. "Well, well, well. What have we here? A German asking questions about a worthless green-grocer woman. I wonder why that is." He stood up, turned to his men, and smiled. "Right, lads. This is where I'm going to teach you a little about interrogation. Pay attention and learn from your sergeant." The two regulars grinned at each other expectantly.
"First, we need to wake this lad up." He squatted back down and began to slap Otto hard about the face, first one way and then the other. Otto moaned as he began to regain consciousness.
"Next, we need to make sure he is not going to go anywhere."
The first soldier spoke up. "Do you want us to tie him up so he won't run away?"
"No. Not necessary." Thatcher pulled his dagger and ran it through Otto's calf, just below the knee. Otto screamed. Thatcher twisted the dagger so he could pull it out. Otto screamed again. . "Wakes them up and keeps them from moving, it does."
The regulars nodded at the wisdom and efficiency of their sergeant. He squatted down next to Otto again.
"I know that a man such as yourself, who has been in so many illustrious battles, won't tell me anything because you are so tough." Thatcher grinned up at the two regulars. "But let me ask this. And you should answer, otherwise, I run you through on the other calf. Then your thighs, then the wrists, the arms, and finally your dick. You won't be dead. You will then tell me what I want to know, so that I kill you to stop the pain. Let's get started shall we? Who are you working for?"
"Fuck off, you shithead." The three soldiers laughed.
"Well, at least you aren't like some of those dammed Irish, begging for your life right away. There will be some sport in this, lads. Pay attention and learn from the master." All three men were smiling. The man on the ground in front of them was helpless, bleeding and holding his calf with both hands. They didn't see his right hand slipping into the top of his boot.
Sergeant Thatcher turned to smile at his two pupils. "Now, lads, the next cut will be to the opposite calf
They were just beginning to grin when Otto's dagger went deep into Thatcher's neck at the base of his skull.
Otto left the dagger where it struck and pulled the sergeant's sword from its sheath, launching a desperate lunge at the vulnerable neck of the closest soldier before either of them could react to his savage assault. Otto's lunge caught the man through the carotid artery . Blood sprayed from the wound as the man gurgled and stumbled backwards before falling to the cobblestones.
The third soldier had his sword out. He surprised Otto by attacking immediately instead of running. Otto barely parried the lunge, and stepped back defensively. His calf gave out and he fell to the ground. He cursed his incompetence as he fell, cursed himself for not remembering the wound. He made a mental note to remember wounds—if there was ever another.
"You bloody bastard," the remaining English soldier growled. Otto lay on his back with his blade raised ineffectively.
"Probably won't be a next time," thought Otto.
The soldier batted aside Otto's sword and stepped up to deliver a fatal thrust. Suddenly he froze. He looked confused, then reached behind him. His hand returned stained with blood.
Otto saw the light go from the man's still-confused eyes. Then the soldier fell.
"About goddamn time, MacKay."
"Aye, Otto, sorry. I had to piss."
"Well, hold it next time."
"How's the leg?"
"What do you think? It bloody hurts. I just hope the damage isn't too bad."
Alex surveyed the carnage in the alleyway. "After all of this, have we learned anything?"
"The soldiers in the tavern said it was some rich bastard by the name of Lauder. No idea why, just who."
* * *
"And just what is a Committee of Communication?"
"The Committee of Correspondence, Mr. Lauder." Lieutenant William Hignall sighed inwardly. His bosses in the privy council had told him to give this man whatever he wanted. Hignall was trying to accommodate, but he was not happy about it. He would be respectful, polite, and try very hard not to kill the idiot where he stood. He took a breath and continued. "The people hiding Jenny Geddes are called the Committees of Correspondence. There are a couple of Germans involved, as well as many Scots. My men apparently escorted a German out of the pub last night. According to the barkeep, this man is a known organizer with the committee."
"I thought they were killed due to your men quarreling among themselves, Hignall. As competent as they seem to be, it would not surprise me at all."
Hignall bit his tongue at the clumsy sarcasm. It was either bite, or run the man through right then and there. "Sir, the fact that we can get no information from our informants in the city is also typical of the Committee's methods. They are as bad as the worst criminal gangs, sir. And they are political. They are linked to the Americans in Thüringia. We have been unable to get a spy into their inner council."
"My God, you do have the excuses, Hignall!" Lauder's sharp and thin face looked as if it were about to burst. "All I wanted was a simple arrest and killing of one greengrocer, a woman at that. And this one German, who was dragged unconscious out of the pub, is possibly part of this correspondence committee and lethal enough to kill three of your men in an alley. It is far more likely your men were fighting over who was going to steal this German's boots, or whatever else he might have on him. Although I can't imagine anything he could have that was so valuable." The rich businessman stopped and wagged his finger, and Hignall had the briefest fantasy of snapping it off and shoving it up his ass. "This is simple incompetence, and I will have words with my friends on the privy council. You know what the council does, don't you, Hignall?"
Hignall felt his tongue bleeding in his mouth. "Yes, sir, I do. But—"
"The council is the group that advises the king on all matters regarding Scotland. They have the direct ear of the king. Most of them are my friends, Hignall. You would do well to remember that. It seems you need constant reminding."
Hignall swallowed some more blood, and replied. "Yes, sir."
"There's a limit to my patience, Hignall. Get the job done, soon. Otherwise we might embarrass the privy council, and that would be very—how should I say it?—awkward for you. So. You have two more days. Otherwise . . ." Lauder paused, and tugged on his goatee, and waved his hand. "Otherwise, there will be severe consequences for you. Do you understand?"
"Aye, sir. I understand."
"And Hignall, how many Germans do you think are in Edinburgh?"
"Can't be that many, sir. Less than a hundred maybe."
"Find that German from the pub. He should lead you to the woman."
Hignall bit his tongue even harder, if that was possible. "We are working on that now, sir. Looking for the German."
"You are? Wonderful. It seems you do have a brain, Lieutenant. You have two days. Any more than that, I will have to stop looking, and you will stop . . ." He smiled a great officious, oily and false smile. ". . . stop doing whatever it is you do."
Outside Lauder's fortified house, Hignall took the reins from his man, and they mounted the horses for the nine-mile ride back to the walls of Edinburgh. He spat the blood
out of his mouth onto the ground. "This asshole wants to be a bloody damn Lord-dumbshit-royal-bastard." He spit more blood. "He don't need to work very hard at it, he already has the stupid-asshole-bitch-like-a-woman part down. He will fit right in with the rest of those pricks."
The soldier next to him nodded. "Aye, sir."
"We got to find us a German or two." Hignall spurred his mount harshly, and rode off toward the town. His man followed.
* * *
Julie Mackay rapped the proper code on the door of the safe house, with Thomas, the MacKay's bodyguard servant in tow. The door opened cautiously, and then was immediately thrown open.
"Julie! This be a surprise, lass. What brings ye here? Hello, Thomas." The large man nodded. "Well, come in, come in, don't stand out there like a couple of beggars, come on in. It's not too fancy, but it's clean." She closed the door behind them after a quick glance up the empty street.
"I've come to bring you a little present, Jenny. Is there somewhere a little more private that we can talk?" Jenny looked about the small first floor, and then at the staircase.
"Up here. But mind the seventh step."
"Why the seventh step, Jenny?"
As Jenny bounded up the stairs, she pointed to the seventh step. "This one here is a stumble step. It's different than all of the other stairs, so if ye be creeping up the stairs in the dark, and ye don't know the house, you are going to stumble and fall, and wake us up."
As Julie walked up the stairs, she smiled. "Well, son of a gun. Seventeenth-century burglar alarm. You have to step up another couple inches to clear it."
"Aye. Your Otto is a clever one, Julie."
"My Otto?" Julie giggled. "I sorta thought he was your Otto." She walked into one of the larger bedrooms on the second floor.
"Very funny. I got no time for that nonsense. Men can be a pain in the arse."
Julie sat on the side of the bed and motioned for Jenny to sit down beside her. "What do you mean, Jenny? Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? And smiles? In all the time I have known Otto, I have never seen him smile that way. And it is always at you. Nobody else I've ever seen."
Jenny remained standing, and fiercely shook her head. "I ain't seen nothing of the sort. You're imagining things, you are." She popped her pipe in her mouth with a frown. "I be too long in the tooth for that sort of thing, girl. No time, no money. Men can be a pain in the arse."
"Jenny. Please sit down."
"I am fine where I am, lass."
Julie snickered a little under her breath. "You know that Otto is a very busy man. He runs what we hope will become a real Committee in Edinburgh. Have you seen anyone else come and take care of you? Have you noticed the way he looks at you? The way he smiles? I noticed as soon as I saw him with you in Robert MacKay's home the other day. He likes you, Jenny."
"That be children's play, that is." She crossed her arms and pulled on the unlit pipe. "I ain't got the time nor the inclination for that sort of foolishness."
Julie laughed out loud. "I hear you saying it, Jenny. I'm not buying it."
"Suit yerself."
Julie grinned. "I am glad I met you, Jenny Geddes. I didn't realize how long it had been since I talked openly to another female about anything. I really needed to. We must have gone on for three hours."
Jenny cleared her throat, and put her pipe away to stall for some time. "Well, I think ye needed it too, Julie Mackay. Even if you are some sort of duchess or baroness, or whatever it is. And that little Alexi is a cutie. I'll be here for you if you need to talk, any time. Providing that the king's men finally give up on me someday."
"Do you want to see your present?"
* * *
After Julie and Thomas had left, Jenny showed the present to the girls. "This tiny little thing is a revolver. It is a gun, like a great gun a cavalryman wears, so don't you girls go messing with it. It looks like a toy, but she says that it will kill a man right quick. It's a twenty-two caliber, the smallest of the guns she has. I'm going to hide it under my bed and I don't want you two touching it. Ye hear me?"
"Yes, Mum."
She didn't tell them that Julie had shown her how to use it. It was to be used up close and personal. And she was to keep pulling the trigger until it stopped firing.
* * *
William Hignall knew that he had made a mistake the first time he did what that idiot Lauder had told him to do. Take the troop out and capture the woman. It didn't feel right the first time, and sure enough, it went to shite. He should have taken a small squad, just a few men, and picked her up at her home. No fancy show, just get the job done. This time, he was not going to make the same mistake. He broke the men up into three- and four-man teams, each one tracking one German or another. He took three of his better men with him, and went after any Germans that might be involved with the Committee of Correspondence. Those were the most promising leads. And one of those, a fellow named Otto, was the most likely prospect.
They tracked him, through the word of some street urchins, to a small, out of the way street that appeared to dead end. The urchins said he was there often. Hignall surveyed the short street. "We'll start on this side. Bang on the doors, break 'em down if you have to. We're looking for the German and Jenny Geddes."
The first decrepit townhouse they came to had a large family with six or seven kids living in two rooms, and another family upstairs. When the door was answered, they forced their way in, and there was a lot of screaming by children and adults.
Hignall grabbed one of the kids—she looked maybe nine or ten—and held her by the hair. His men kept the others at bay with drawn swords. "Quiet," he roared. "I am going to make this very simple. I am looking for a German, or a woman with two children. They might be on this piece of shite street. Who in here does this filth belong to?" He presented the child in front of him, still holding her by the hair, his dagger pulled and pointing at her neck. "I want an answer now, you ignorant Scottish bitch." He raised the blade as if to strike, and a woman came screaming and sobbing out of the gaggle of ragged people. She was halted at the points of the drawn swords of his men.
The woman sobbed, pacing in front of Hignall's men like a caged animal. Agitated, but harmless, thought Hignall. Like some bitch of a dog. "She be my child, sir. What do you want to know? Please don't hurt her. I'll tell you, what you want to know." The rest of the children were cowering in the corners, and a few had run off. Hignall didn't care much where they went; it didn't matter. He was going to find out what he needed right now.
He pressed the blade to the back of the child's neck. "Answer me, woman. Is there a German living on this street?"
She glanced with apprehension over her shoulder at her other children and what looked to be her husband, then turned nervously back to Hignall. "Aye. Please sir, let her go."
"Which dwelling?" The woman hesitated, and Hignall pressed the blade tighter to the little girl's neck. She began to whimper. "Which dwelling, woman?"
"He be three doors down, sir. Clean house it is, good house, with windows in it. Please sir, let her go."
"Anyone living with him?"
"He don't live there, sir, he just visits. Every day." She was struggling to be calm, fighting to stay rational. "Please, sir."
"Is there a woman and two kids living there, two girls about this one's size?" He nodded toward his hostage.
The woman dropped to her knees. "Please sir, do not harm my little girl. I beseech ye, please."
"Answer the dammed question, woman, or I will run her though in the name of the king. A woman and two children?"
"Aye sir, she be the one you are looking for. Three doors down. Please sir, I beg ye."
Hignall snapped, "You know this is the one we have been looking for? Why didn't you come forward?"
"I don't know, sir."
Hignall almost whispered. "The next time your king, through his men, tells you to do something, you do it, woman!" With that, he pulled back his dagger and neatly sliced off one of the girl's ears. She s
creamed, the mother screamed, and Hignall threw the bleeding child toward her. "You will be reminded of your duty to your king every day now. All of you."
He turned and stalked out of the room and into the street, wiping the blade of his dagger between his fingers to clean it. "Damn these Scots. They are almost as bad as the Irish." He turned to his men. "Let's get this over with. I need a drink." He sheathed his dagger and strode to the third door down, leaving the screams behind him.
"Prime your wheel locks, lads"
"Aye, sir"
"Shoot the German if he's there, and run everyone else through. We'll just take the heads, don't need the whole thing."