The Tower Grave

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The Tower Grave Page 14

by J. E. Moncrieff


  He remained silent, watching the soldier.

  “Because unless you tell me who you were with, that iron is going up your backside with your skin still stuck to it. Gaoler?”

  The masked bull of a man turned once more, the poker freshly warmed to an almost white heat. John slipped straight into panic.

  “I was here alone, I was curious!” he screamed.

  The gaoler stepped behind him and held the metal close to John’s buttocks so that he tensed in reaction and the hairs shrivelled away.

  “Then who killed the guard?”

  “Me!” he shouted.

  “Why was your knife clean?”

  “I threw the other one in the hole. Please?”

  “Gaoler.”

  The poker touched John’s buttocks as he swung, making him lurch in agony.

  “Why were you here?” Rogers asked again.

  “Curiosity.”

  “Gaoler, run him through with that thing.”

  “I’m here to steal!” John shouted in panic, making the torturer hesitate at the new information. “I came here to steal and I killed the guard to escape.”

  “Lies,” Rogers said.

  “It’s not lies! I swear to you.”

  “Gaoler!” Rogers roared as the door flew open behind him.

  “Stop,” ordered an authoritative voice John recognised. “Rogers, you are required in the barracks immediately,” said Sergeant Sykes.

  “I am in the middle of something here, Sykes.”

  “No, you are not. You have orders to attend the barracks. I’ll carry on with my prisoner, thank you.”

  The tall and slim Rogers stood from his stool and looked at John closely.

  “I’m not finished with you,” he said looking him up and down. “Stealing? Bollocks. You’re a traitor and you know it. You won’t get away with it. You’ll be hung, drawn and quartered within a month, I’ll see to it.”

  “Rogers,” Sykes warned. “They’re waiting.”

  Rogers fixed John with a menacing stare then turned his back on him, shooting Sykes with an angry look as he stormed past and out of the door. Sykes looked back at John who had now spun past and faced the other way. He could see the weeping, bloody wilts in his sides and the small, blistering abrasions on his buttocks and he sighed to himself. He noticed the torturer standing still holding a long, now pale-red poker; his grim look hidden but obvious behind his mask.

  “What’s your name, Soldier?” he asked.

  “Burgess, Sergeant,” answered the gaoler in a very young and almost feminine voice.

  “You don’t work down here.”

  “No, Sarge. Sergeant Rogers brought me down.”

  “Did you volunteer for this?”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  “Right, well what’s your usual duty?”

  “Guard, Sergeant.”

  “Guard. Ok, update me so far then.”

  “The traitor won’t talk, Sarge. Started off with some bollocks about curiosity, then panicked and said he’s a thief. It’s rubbish though, Sarge. We know what he is.”

  “Really? How?”

  “Obvious ain’t it? Sneaks into the Tower through a tunnel? A noble? Traitor.”

  “Why not a thief?”

  “He made it up.”

  “Oh right. What did he answer with first?”

  “That curiosity shit.”

  “And what’s the point of interrogating with pain?”

  “Makes ‘em talk, don’t it? To stop the pain they tell the truth.”

  “Correct. So he said curiosity, you burnt him. He said curiosity again, and then when you were going to spear his arse with that thing, he shit himself and coughed up that he’s a thief, yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So it worked didn’t it?”

  “What did?”

  “The torture worked!”

  “I guess so. But he’s a traitor, isn’t he?”

  “How do you know?” Sykes shouted, annoyed. “Look at him. He still says he’s a thief after all that.”

  “But a noble…”

  “Bloody King’s castle you idiot. There’s plenty to steal here regardless of who you are. Right, let’s get to the bottom of it. Go upstairs and get me two buckets of hot water and some thread.”

  “Sarge?”

  “You don’t know much about this do you? Get going.”

  As he dropped his mask, the baby-faced young guard scurried out of the room. Sykes spun John around to face him.

  “Jesus, what the hell are you doing, Rougemont?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Sykes,” John replied with barely more than a breath. “I’m not used to this shit. What’s the hot water and thread for? It’s not going to hurt as much as this is it?”

  “No it won’t hurt. It’s to keep him busy.”

  John looked at him questioningly.

  “Don’t ask questions. Just stay very still.” He picked up a small blade from the table and held it below one of John’s wounds, catching the blood and pus on both sides. Putting it back on the table, he loosened the end of the rope at the wall and let John fall to the floor. Unbinding him, he put some cloth onto John’s wounds and put a clean robe on him.

  “What’s happening?” John asked, quietly.

  “You’re a thief. You’ll be imprisoned somewhere else until you escape or get rescued. You’ve got powerful friends, though, and won’t be moved for a few weeks so relax. There won’t be any more torture, but there may be some rats.”

  “What’s up with that Rogers? I saw him bully a peasant when I came here last.”

  “Brierly? Yeah, you’ll meet him,” Sykes smirked. “Let’s get you back up the stairs to the holding cells.”

  In silence, Sykes led John up a tight set of stairs to another below-ground, torch-lit corridor where more cells were located. Opening an iron door, Sykes paused behind it and put his fingers to his lips to stop John saying anything.

  “In you go,” he said, encouraging John inside then nodding at him as he shut the door with a clang. John sat down in the darkness and listened to the footsteps fade away.

  Twenty

  20th June 1483

  Sergeant Sykes tucked his hands into his tunic to shield them from the biting air as he crossed a courtyard within the Tower. He sighed as he spotted the one man he wanted to avoid walking directly towards him with an evil smirk on his face.

  “Sykes, just the man,” Rogers called, grinning cunningly. Sykes stopped for him but said nothing. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Robert. You gave up on Rougemont far too early.”

  “He’d been tortured and he admitted theft and a defensive kill. What more do you want?”

  “Command as a whole is not at all pleased.”

  “Well then, I’ll have to justify my decision to them if they ask. I need not justify a thing to you. He’s imprisoned, Rogers. He’s never getting out.”

  “Too right he’s not,” Rogers answered, chuckling. “He’ll stay inside that cell for the rest of his tiny, three day life.”

  “Three days? What are you talking about?”

  “You may have saved your boy from a punishment for treason, Sykes. But he’s still a thief and a murderer. He is to be hanged in three days on the hill outside.”

  “You can’t do that. For thievery?”

  “For theft in the Tower and murder, Robert. I didn’t do it, I merely recommended it.”

  “To whom?”

  “The Duke of Gloucester, of course.” He fixed Sykes with a smug glare. “I don’t know what your game is. Either you’re fucking your bound prisoners in the darkness every day, which is probably why you didn’t want me to burn his arsehole; or you’re a traitor yourself and you’re on his side. Either way, Robert, I will sniff you out.”

  Sykes leaned in close.

  “Call me a queer or a traitor again and I’ll bite your gullet from your neck and chew it while you choke to death. I do not fear repercussions over your death, Roger. It would be worth my
own death to see your throat extracted.”

  “Watch your threats, Sykes. I’m not the only one looking at you.”

  “I’m not scared of you, Rogers, and it’s no joke. Stay away from me, or I’ll kill you.” Knocking past his adversary, Sykes stormed off in a mock rage as the panic spread through him. Who was watching him? And how could he save John De Rougemont?”

  “What do you see, Jake?” Courtridge whispered from under his hood. Jake stood with his back to a wall outside the Tower, watching the movement around the rear barracks. As he slowly lifted his hood, he watched the details of the soldiers crossing the walls, taking positions and moving around the entry gates by the river. The day after John’s capture, Jake had met Courtridge and been assigned to him for reconnoitre duties at the tower. Courtridge had spent the first year of his preparations cultivating his team and his plan, then the following months developing his inside contacts before turning to final preparations and entry plans.

  “Seems pretty structured up there,” Jake replied as he watched the walls. “Are you sure we have enough contacts to do this silently?”

  “Of course we do, my young friend. I can pass us through the front gate and clear the outer perimeter. Thanks to you and your brother we can take the inner wall. Then it’s just a matter of taking the white tower as stealthily as possible. It’s old, Jake, it’s Norman age. But it’ll fall. With the heavy fortress on the outside, the guard on the king is less so. Why all the questions?”

  “I am just careful to ensure my brother won’t be left behind is all. He sits there now in the darkness. Maybe chained, maybe gagged. Is he being tortured? Is he alive? What state is he in?”

  “I said we will find him. Why are you pushing this?”

  “Because if this goes wrong and we have to escape, I know you will not risk sacrificing yourself for my brother. To take the cells and free him is another challenge altogether and is one I don’t feel you are considering.”

  “Don’t push it, young man,” Courtridge said a little more firmly. “I can arrange his rescue prior to our visit, it will be done.”

  “And if we are compromised and must escape?”

  Courtridge paused and looked at Jake from his hood.

  “Success of our objective is my priority.”

  “And so is your arse.”

  “Yes, so is my arse, Jake,” he snapped back. “I do not wish to be tortured in there any more than your brother. Now what happened is unfortunate, but in the world in which we currently live, people will die. It is inevitable. A vicious war stirs in the very underbelly of this country’s nobility. Two factions exist here, and if we want the country to succeed our way, we must take risks. Now, I will arrange this for you and we will get your brother out, ok? Watch the walls.”

  Jake grunted and turned his attention back to the seemingly impenetrable fortress before him. Counting the time between soldier movements, Jake caught sight of a smartly dressed messenger standing near him at the periphery of his reduced, hooded vision. The man held a mallet and nail and hung a script on a wooden board by the wall beside them. Jake thought he saw some of the words but didn’t believe them until the messenger had gone and he moved forward to read it more closely.

  “Ed,” he said. “What the hell is this?” He pulled it from the wall and swore in panic as he read the text. ‘MURDER IN THE TOWER’, it said across the top. Jake began to read to Courtridge.

  “‘After a failed attempt to steal the King’s treasures and the subsequent murder of a Royal guard; nobleman Sir John De Rougemont is to be publically hanged on the Tower Hill at sunset, Saturday. Rougemont will be granted his last prayers then transported by cart to the gallows on the hill.’ That’s two nights from tonight, Edmund. We have to get him out. What shall we do?”

  “Jake I’m sorry, I cannot allow it. I could spare manpower but I cannot use my favours and our surprise entry on anything before the job. If we do, we will have blown our chance at success and that is not a possibility. I’m afraid there is a bigger picture here.”

  “Bollocks, there’s your own picture, you mean. That’s my brother in there. I can’t stand by and let him die. I won’t. With or without you, I’m getting him out.”

  “Out? You? Are you planning to storm the castle with your little family? You have no other allies here.” Courtridge’s beard bristled as he thought about the predicament and weighed up the aggressive young man before him. He didn’t doubt the danger of the cocky knight, but the choice was easy and he told Jake straight.

  “If you get him out of there yourself, you’re out. If you try, fail, and blow my plan, you’re dead.”

  “He’s coming out, I’m not dead, and we’re still in.” Jake replied sternly. “Three guards by the barracks, patrol pass every ninety seconds. No other patrols until the forward inner wall.” He turned his back on the huge Lord and walked away.

  Twenty-One

  Despite their location, Jake had an over-whelming urge to wrap his arms around Charlotte and kiss her in the darkness of the recess they occupied. She stood agonizingly close to him in the tight space and as she shuffled to move aside for him, their hands touched, silencing their breathing in an instant. Without communication, they gingerly gripped each other’s fingers and held on. Jake watched the side of her head from where he stood. She slowly lifted her eyes and glanced at him, grinning shyly as she saw he was watching her. He smiled back.

  “What can you see?” he whispered to her, breaking the silence but not the tension between them.

  “Straight across, next to the burn-stain on the wall, there’s a crumbling doorway under the overhang. Lean across and you’ll see,” she whispered back, trying to keep her mind on the job.

  As he tried to shift past, he leaned out to look, acknowledged the door, and then turned back to find their faces only inches apart. He stopped and watched her, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his own heartbeat threatened to blow their cover. The tip of her tongue absent-mindedly moistened her lips as her eyes flicked between his gaze and his mouth. Still amazed at the full shape of her mouth, only Jake’s professionalism and the unfamiliar fear he felt kept him from kissing it right there and then.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, quietly.

  “I’m thinking that no matter how hard I try to concentrate on this job, I can’t help falling in love with you.”

  She took a sudden, sharp intake of breath in surprise then bit her lower lip in attempt to cover her excitement at his words.

  “I think I love you too,” she said, almost giggling and watching him grin in reaction. “I can’t believe I feel like this after only just meeting you. But we have to be professional,” she teased.

  “I’m getting sick of being professional.”

  “Me too,” she said as she watched his mouth again. “But it is pretty dangerous around here, you know.”

  “I know,” he said as he gently allowed his fingers to slide into the hair behind her ear. His thumb explored her cheekbone and down to the corner of her lips as their bodies leaned closer together in longing. She reached up to his face and pulled it towards her. Her eyes closed early as her lips reached out to kiss him and, spellbound, he found himself lost amongst them. Their softness entranced him as they pressed against him and opened, and he matched her, allowing her tongue to tease his own in a rush of warmth. Her kiss was both delicate and strong, and he pressed against her in reaction in a way that stirred them both to a deeper desire. They kissed with an urgency that worked them both into an unstoppable state, and they rocked together in the warmth of each other’s embrace, forgetting for a moment the harsh world they were stuck in. Breaking the kiss, Charlotte looked urgently out of the opening as her hands scrambled around the front of his robe and reached into his hose as it came apart.

  “Jesus,” Jake exclaimed in surprise, closing his eyes and gasping at the cold touch of her hands as she took hold of him and played with him energetically. Lost again in her kiss as she made his legs quiver, he too reached d
own and dragged up her skirt, letting his hand ride her inner thigh and feel her muscles tense as he teased upwards into the heat of her crotch. His own sensation threatened to overwhelm him and he broke the kiss in surprise as he discovered her absent underwear, catching only her devious grin in reply before her face changed to concentration, working him harder as she moved against his own touch.

  The excitement and intimacy of their position coupled with the unexpected declaration of love caught Charlotte unawares. She found herself shuddering, her ever weakening legs shaking and her stomach squirming as her muscles tightened around him and she began to climax. She released a restrained howl as she came and the feeling of her climax where he touched her brought Jake to his own sudden end, pulsing as she felt him and eased off to see him through.

  Pressing themselves together, their legs shaking and breathing laboured, they stood there, shocked and silent as they relived the moment and calmed enough to speak. Charlotte giggled mischievously at what she had initiated most unusually, and leant her head against his chest in embarrassment.

  “I didn’t expect to react like that,” she said through heavy breaths.

  “Me neither,” he replied. “That was, well, wow.”

  “I know, and ever so professional.”

  “It felt professional!”

  “Hey!” she exclaimed, smacking his chest playfully. “What are you suggesting?”

  Jake laughed.

  “I’m calling you talented and sexy,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, you’re not too bad yourself. I had no idea you’d make me feel like that, and I can’t wait to explore you more.” She bit her lip as she looked up to him. “But we’ve got plenty of time for that,” she said, shaking herself. “We mustn’t dwell here, the sooner we’re back indoors, the sooner I can get to know you better.”

  “Good point,” Jake said grinning and managing to pull his attention away from her back to where they were.

  “We should get in there.”

  “Are you ready now?”

  “Yes,” she said, reaching up and kissing him once more. “As long as I’m with you I am.”

 

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