Correcting themselves, they lifted the hoods of their cloaks and crept across the rainy, filth-ridden street to the doorway on the far-side. Touching the door gently, it swung open to reveal an almost pitch black room within. Checking the street, Jake held Charlotte’s hand as he led her into the room and let the door shut behind them, concealing them in a blind, inky darkness. With weapons stowed upon them, they both touched their knives gently with their hands as Jake slowly led the way through the almost unbearable smell that threatened to make Charlotte gag. A sweet and sickly scent like rotten, perfumed fruit covered the smells of faeces and garlic that was thick in the air around them. To Charlotte it was like rotting flesh and human excrement. It intensified suddenly as a waft of warm air hit her face and she let out a small scream as a voice sounded only inches from her ear.
“Can I help you, Miss?” said the husky, deep voice behind her, making her spin round to be met only with an eerie darkness still. Holding her breath, she stepped backwards and pulled her knife nervously. The voice sounded again. “Put the blade away, my sweet, or I’ll cut your eyes out with it before you ever see light again.”
“Where are you?” Jake bellowed, turning around, but the voice replied from a new position.
“I’m in here with you, of course. Now, I’m not hostile, so put the blade away. Please tell her, Rougemont.”
Jake’s head snapped round towards the voice as his heart thumped at the recognition of him.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, aggressively. “How do you know us?”
“I know everybody, Jake. That is my job. Mademoiselle Du Lac, the knife, now.”
Reluctantly, Charlotte lowered the knife and re-sheathed it under her cloak. With the door still standing slightly ajar, the tiny piece of light was enough to let their eyes adjust to the room and get a rough measure of the space and the hooded shadow moving before them. As the shadow sat down, he indicated for them to do the same.
“Please,” he said. “There is a bench behind you.” Waiting until they were seated, he spoke again. “What is it that you want here?”
“I want you to reverse what you’ve done,” Jake said.
“What I’ve done?”
“My brother is rotting away in a dungeon suffering torture and disease, and he is due to be executed on Saturday.”
“I know.”
“Well, I need him out.”
“And understandably so, but what exactly do you think I can do about it?”
“You got him there, you can get him out.”
“I got him there?”
“You were involved in the set-up, don’t deny it.”
“I deny nothing, ever. But I don’t discuss my business either.”
“Business? Is that what this is to you? Are you working with Spence? Do you still?”
“I don’t discuss my clients, Jake.”
“You don’t discuss much, do you? Right, well we’re getting him out and you’re helping us.”
“That’s no way to ask.”
“I’m not asking, I’m telling,” Jake threatened.
“Telling?” the voice replied before dropping harshly. “You don’t tell me, Rougemont. You ask me or you don’t get answers, do you understand.”
Jake took a gamble and pulled his knife from his sheath.
“You will help us, or you will die,” he said.
The figure paused as though angry for a moment, before seeming to relax and leaning back in his chair.
“You cannot threaten me, Jake, believe me,” he said. “It would serve you well to put that blade away, or you will die holding it. I will say no more about it. But I do like your courage and your aggression. You’d make a good client, I think.”
“Do you want us to employ you, Sir?” Charlotte asked gently.
“If he puts that knife away, then I’d consider your employment,” he replied calmly.
“How much would you charge?”
The voice dropped sternly once more.
“The knife,” he said.
Sighing, Jake tucked the knife away and turned back to the shadow.
“You understand my nerves,” he said. “But if we pay you, how can we trust you? You’ve worked with Spence who caused this. How do I know you won’t turn to him in this, or even set us up when we go for John?”
“You either trust me or you don’t, young man. I do not discuss my work or my clients in any direction. Do you understand me now?”
“Ok, I do. How much do you need?”
“We’ll sort it out, but it will be expensive.”
“I thought it might, but we can afford it. Ok, if you can impress me with a plan, I think you’ve got a deal.”
A harsh laugh sounded from the shadow.
“Impress you?” he whispered. “Hear that, boys? He wants me to impress him.”
Charlotte shifted closer to Jake as at least eight other shadows moved around the room and disappeared into the darkness once more. The voice laughed again.
“You didn’t think I could manage without staff did you?” he said.
“No wonder you were so calm,” said Jake looking around for more signs of movement. He had no idea how many armed men stood around him ready to strike. “Who are you, shadow?” he asked.
“Just call me Starkes. Now listen up.”
Twenty-Two
“Do you think we’re alone down here?” John asked Richard Brierly across the dark empty cell.
“Sometimes,” Brierly replied. “Before you came there were some out there. It was far noisier. I heard the screams when they were taken downstairs. No one ever came back down though.”
They’d been together in the dark cell since John had been tortured. He’d counted the days by the two bowls of slop he received each day, but even that was getting messed up. It was under a week, he was sure, and his sores had finally begun to heal with Sykes’ regular supply of fresh water to clean them and Brierly helping him to re-dress them after each meal. He liked Richard a lot. He was intelligent and honest and was wrongly imprisoned. If John ever got out of the cell, he swore to himself that he would take Richard with him.
“Tell me about your family, my friend?” he asked.
“My family? You’d love them, John. My wife Anne is so friendly. She’s tall and plump and has brown hair that glows auburn in the sun. At least, she used to be plump,” he continued in thought, “‘til the food disappeared.”
“She sounds lovely, what about your daughter?”
“I miss her so much. She’s so tiny and is amazed by everything she sees. She’s obsessed with horses. Whenever anyone passes she watches them, awestruck and envious every time.”
“Do you have a horse?”
“Unfortunately, no, we don’t. We had a pony that I used before Mary was born. But we had to sell her to eat when my wife couldn’t work.” He was lost in thought again for a moment. “It’s hard for farmers like me, John. The world, the weather, the nobility…it’s hard.”
“I can only imagine. Do you think they’re ok?”
“I hope so. I came here to plea for us. They’ll be wondering if I’m even alive. I was meant to go straight home after seeing the Duke, and I came alone when I did. I have been gone a long time. I’m just relieved they didn’t take a blade or worse to me like they did you. And I hope those bastards on my land have let them be. If I ever get a chance, John, I swear I will rip William Spence’s heart from his chest.”
“Yes you and I both,” John replied.
“I can’t believe he set you up like that. It’s beyond awful. What about your family?”
“Mine? Complicated,” John replied, trying to find the best way to explain. “You have to remember that it is different where I’m from. I have two wonderful children in their teenage years, and I have an ex-wife.”
“An ex-wife?”
“Yes, we are no longer together.”
“But how can that be?”
“It is just the way where I am from. We can part if required. But
recently, I also have a new woman in my life. Jane.”
“So Jane then, she is your new wife?”
“No not at the moment. But she may end up being so one day. She’s certainly worthy of the job.”
“What is she like?”
“She is an expert rider so she has legs that can stop your blood flowing.” Brierly laughed. “But she’s gentle, and beautiful, and…”
He was cut off as a heavy key turned in the cell door and it was pulled aside, letting in a small glow of firelight. The large silhouette of Sergeant Sykes filled the doorway and he stepped in quietly, looking grim.
“John, I’m sorry,” he said, walking in closer. “I was briefly taken off cell duty and have been shadowed since. The bastards are watching me because of that piece of shit Rogers. I’ve had no chance to warn you.”
“Warn me of what?” John asked.
Sykes took a deep breath and looked at the man he’d grown to like.
“Bloody Rogers wasn’t happy with your confession and punishment. He poked his nose in and spoke to the Duke, the meddling bastard. He recommended you be hanged for theft and murder. I’m sorry, John. The Duke agreed.”
“But I didn’t kill anybody.”
“I know, but your confession says otherwise.”
John’s heart sank and his head swam as the realisation of his confession to save Jake and divert the questioning sank in. He’d fooled himself that this had been no more than a mishap, and in fact it had felt like no more than a dream. But now here he was, stuck in the Tower of London at the mercy of the vicious medieval English forces. He had absolutely no chance of escape before he was dragged in front of the masses and murdered with an agonizing death. He felt bile rise in his throat.
“When is it happening?”
“There’s more news first. Your hanging is set for two day’s time at sunset. But,” he added as John’s face opened with despair, “There is a plan in place. I don’t know what it is, but there is a plan. Someone is coming for you tonight. As far as I can work out, you’re out of here.”
“When?”
“Probably in a few hours, my friend. Let’s just hope it goes smoothly for both of us. Be ready.”
John nodded with hope and determination clear in his eyes. He looked at Sykes meaningfully, words of thanks caught in his throat.
“Don’t say it,” the big soldier said sternly, offering his hand. “We’ve all got a job to do in this fight. The whole country has its own agenda.” John nodded silently and took the hand. A moment of understanding was shared before Sykes let go and backed away. “Be ready,” he said as he closed the door and stepped away, his footsteps once again echoing down the corridor.
“Get yourself ready, Richie-boy. You’re not staying behind.”
“Richie-boy?”
John laughed.
“Just get ready.”
“Are you all ok?” Jake asked the team as they crouched by the bank of the Thames, fifty yards from the dark, west gate of the Tower. He’d often forgotten that Charlotte had no actual undercover experience and that David and Chris had no confrontational policing experience whatsoever. Now looking around him at their scared but determined faces, he felt overwhelmed with pride and more than a little nervous. He realised that their nodding faces actually made him feel safer in the wild, ancient world they’d landed in and he had every confidence in them. He looked up at the daunting Tower and the gloomy, impenetrable appearance it put across. Different from the Tower he knew, it appeared less developed inside but far more dangerous on the outside. The western gate was extended with a bridge, and the moat beneath it ran around the outer walls, both still and deadly in the dark of night. The river glistened with dotted reflections of firelight as boats slowly made their way and got swallowed up by the darkness. He shook his head, unable to comprehend the scene without Tower Bridge looming over them. The place to him looked like every day London with the top chopped off and a fancy-dress makeover. Turning his attention back to the gate, he took in the immediate risks of their entry point. There were guards outside it and archers above it. Force was not an option on the way in. The chance of fighting through was impossible and would result in only their deaths. He cursed under his breath at the trust he had placed in the fiendish Starkes that morning. To place trust in him and the guards was his only option and his instincts screamed in protest at the impending move. The gate’s door was thick with iron and wood, he remembered. If they were suspected and it was locked, the only way out would be to fight their way up to the walls and leap over into the icy waters below. Those walls, he assumed, also held an archery capability. But in all his observations he had not seen a bow held and he guessed they only took up the tactic with warning. His final glance was to flatten his nerves, but with the only light coming from random torches of fire spaced evenly around, the effect of the light flickering up against the stone walls inside was as frightening as the men outside them. He took a deep breath and turned back to his team.
“Good,” he continued. “You know the plan. Charlotte and David take positions out of sight out here. Apparently we should be in and out without raising alarm, but if anything happens with the gate while we’re inside, we’ll need you to make sure we can get back past unnoticed. David, you watch the walls. If anyone wanders too near that doesn’t seem to be on a looped patrol, draw them away somehow.”
“No problem,” he replied nervously.
“Stay out of sight, I’m told the guard on the gate won’t change. We’ll be quick.”
Linking hands, they all shared a moment of goodbye before Jake and Chris shot off towards the gate in a crouch. Charlotte and David ducked down amongst a pile of wooden crates and watched the Tower closely. From their position, Charlotte watched her friends walk towards what common sense could only predict as a certain death. Her heart beat wildly with nerves and adrenalin as she yearned to call out to Jake but held it back along with her rising tears. With sharp breaths, they watched together as the gate opened and a second guard stepped out to join the one stationed outside.
“Oh my god, David,” Charlotte whispered in panic. “Please don’t let this be a trap.”
“I know, Charlotte. I know,” he replied, gripping her hand and watching as the guards stepped aside and let Jake and Chris through before closing the door behind them. They shared a nervous glance then stuck to their task and watched the Tower.
Inside the main gate, the street was lit by torches lined along the walls and the area was eerily quiet. Without saying a word, the short, bull-like soldier who had let them through now led them to a room at the side under a wall. Not being what he had expected, Jake was filled with nerves as he followed him into the dark room.
“Shut the door,” the guard whispered as he took a single torch from the wall and lit several more around them. “Here’s your gear, lads. You won’t have long and we’ve got a right bastard of a Sergeant on watch tonight.”
“Thank you, soldier,” Jake said, sincerely.
“Don’t thank me, knight. I merely follow my orders. What is my choice is who I take them from. Now, when you’re changed, go straight out and down the street with the river outside it. Remember this is the king’s Tower of London. We have important prisoners at times, so there are two holds. I hear your brother is in the less desirable one. Head down the street and you’ll see a black door on your left just after you pass the inner gate. Go in there and keep going down. You’ll find what you’re looking for and shouldn’t have any resistance.”
“Shouldn’t have?”
“No, as I said, you shouldn’t have. Getting out,” the soldier continued, “Head straight for the gate, we’ll be nearby but not on it. It’ll be open, just leave and I’ll shut it behind you.”
“Easy as pie,” Chris said, laughing nervously and receiving a strong look up and down from the grizzled soldier before him.
“I was told you two were tough,” he said. “You better not fuck up and get caught tonight. There’s no fight here. If the alar
m is raised, it’s over for you. You’ll be tortured and hanged. If I’m around you when that happens? I’ll kill you before you betray me and my people, you understand?”
“We do,” Jake said. “We’ll be out before you know it.”
“Good luck,” the soldier said as he stepped outside the door.
By the end of the conversation, Chris was dressed in the heavy mail shirt and tunic of the Tower soldiers and began to strap on his sword.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said smiling.
“Are you ok?” Jake asked as he strapped on his own sword.
“Yeah, man. I’m more than alright. I love it!”
Jake smiled back at him, seeing his genuine excitement and feeling his own nerves vanish with his infectiousness.
Opening the door and stepping back out into the quiet, dimly lit street, the only sound was their boots as they walked the deadly path to the dungeon. Strolling confidently like young soldiers at work, they spotted the door and headed for it before it opened in front of them and two soldiers stepped out. Jake immediately recognised one of the men as the Sergeant who had given the peasant a hard time on their first visit to the court. His chest constricted with nerves as he continued his path and kept his face out of sight of the man. The long and lanky soldier sneered at them as he walked out and his young accompaniment closed the door behind them.
“Where are you two off to? This isn’t a patrol route tonight,” he said, looking them over.
“Cells, Sergeant,” Jake replied in a cockney accent. “Chris here is due to shadow before his first watch down there.”
“Since when have we been doing that, boy?”
“Don’t know, Sarge. Just got told to bring him down and introduce him by the boss up in the barracks.”
“Sykes didn’t say anything about that to me.”
“Apparently he knows, Sarge. Probably be happy for the company to be fair.”
“Yes, well it’s still odd but I guess they always do this sort of shit. Are you from the barracks, boy?” he asked, turning to Chris. “I didn’t know we had any new guards in.”
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