But could he leave knowing Antonio was beating Bianca? Could he escape over the horizon with Sophia knowing that poor woman was taking the blows whenever her bastard husband had a mind to do it? Antonio was likely to beat the woman to death if they left. Sophia put her hand back on his arm as if reading his mind.
“Even if he never caught us—and he would because he’s heard you talk of your compound enough—he would punish my mother for our crime. I couldn’t bear that.”
“She’ll just have to come with us. There’s plenty of room for her at the compound.”
“She would never agree to leave him.”
Jaysus! Was there no answer to this monstrous riddle? Was the bastard going to keep everyone in line because he knew love was their weakest link and could always be used again them? Gavin gritted his teeth and drove the horse in silence. Finally, he dropped a hand to Sophia’s knee.
“I don’t know the answer, luv,” he said. “Not yet. But I do know that staying isn’t an option for us.”
“Even if our leaving gets my mother killed?”
“It won’t be our leaving that does it,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Ye ken that, right? If your father hurts Bianca for whatever reason, the blame is his own.”
“I don’t think I’ll feel like the blame is his own when it was my leaving that made him do it.”
They travelled the morning in silence. It was crowding in on late December and they were already seeing patches of snow that didn’t burn off by noon. If he had to guess, Gavin figured they were just east of County Clare. It was easily another two or three days travel before they reached the coast. The caravan of wagons stopped on the road at midday and Gavin stood up to see if he could see why. A child riding a pony cantered down the side of parked wagons until he reached Gavin and Sophia. The boy was about eleven and although John was three years older than that now, the boy reminded Gavin of John when he was younger.
“Lunch!” the boy yelled. He tossed a package to Gavin. “Zio Antonio says we’ll make camp tonight.” Then he turned and trotted to the wagon in front of them and repeated the process. Gavin handed the package to Sophia. Inside was cold cooked sausages and roasted peppers wrapped in congealed fat. Sophia dug out a dishtowel from the back and spread it across her knees. She lay the opened package on it and they ate in silence. When they were finished, she put away the wrappings, turned to Gavin, and put her hand on his arm.
“I married you because I love you, amore mio. From the moment I see you, I know this.”
Gavin relaxed. It didn’t fix everything. But it fixed a lot.
“And whatever you decide to do…for us…” She nodded resolutely. “I say, si. It is what we will do.”
“Even leaving.”
“Si.” Her eyes were on his face and they glistened with tears, but also with determination. “Even leaving.”
That night, Antonio had the wagons park in a semicircle like wagons in the old west, Gavin couldn’t help but think. The wind blew stronger the closer they got to the sea and the wagons served as an effective windbreak. No one bothered putting up tents, though. It was still an interim camp, even with a couple of campfires to warm everyone up. Like everyone else, Gavin and Sophia would be sleeping in the back of their wagon again.
Normally, Antonio took Gavin with him when they went looking for small game for the evening meal. But tonight, there were three rabbits roasting on the spit and Antonio never approached Gavin. That was just as well. Gavin wasn’t sure how he would face the man after what happened the night before. He and Sophia took their places by the fire waiting for plates of meat to be passed down to them. Gavin took his boots off and perched them near the fire to dry. They’d been wet so long now that he feared foot rot. His feet were cold and his sox damp, so he straightened his legs to toast the bottoms.
From where they sat, Gavin could see Bianca as she carved meat and spoke to some of the children, but her face was turned away. Suddenly, Antonio clapped his hands and demanded silence. For the first time since Gavin had been traveling with the family, Antonio did not ask if everyone had enough to eat. When he didn’t, Gavin felt the tension in the air as everyone else must have noticed the omission too.
“I know we are all tired from our travels today,” Antonio said to the group. “But there is family business to attend to and it must be done.”
Gavin glanced at Sophia but her face was unreadable.
“My son, Benito, has shamed me to my new son-in-law and my daughter. Where are you, Benito?”
Gavin saw Bianca approach Antonio. When she did, he could clearly see her face was battered. Both eyes were black. Her lip was split and her nose broken. Gavin felt a wave of nausea. Antonio kept his hand raised, oblivious to the stark evidence of his handiwork behind him. The light had died at four in the afternoon and with it any natural warmth. A cold breeze sliced through the little camp.
“Stand, por favor,” Antonio said loudly to Benito. Gavin could see the young man’s face was set in a snarl of defiance but he obeyed.
“Apologize,” Antonio said. Gavin watched Bianca’s face flinch as if the word itself were a physical slap.
Benito stood with his fists clenched. “I regret my actions.”
“Louder! And speak to your sister not to the back of Zia Bella’s head.”
A weak titter of laughter moved through the group. Gavin’s face burned for Benito’s humiliation and for the glances both he and Sophia were enduring from the rest of the family. Why was Antonio doing this? To ensure Gavin never had a decent relationship with Benito?
“I regret my actions,” Benito said loudly to Gavin and Sophia. “And beg your forgiveness.”
Before Gavin could respond in any way, Antonio said, “A real apology is underscored with pain. To show you mean it.”
Gavin saw Bianca come forward. Her hand hovered over Antonio’s arm as though she was afraid to touch him. Her eyes were on Benito.
“You will strip naked before everyone,” Antonio said loudly. “All your clothes in the lap of your sister for as long as she deems necessary but not—” he said, turning to Sophia, “before one hour has passed.”
Was the man totally mad? Both Sophia and Gavin got to their feet.
“That will not be necessary, Squire,” Gavin said. “I accept your apology, Benito. We’re good.”
“But I do not accept it!” screamed Antonio.
“Antonio, please,” Bianca moaned, her hand finally touching her husband’s shoulder. Antonio’s reaction was fast and brutal. He turned and backhanded the woman, snapping her head at an unnatural angle. Sophia screamed as her mother staggered backwards. Bianca lost her footing and fell backward into the fire, knocking a roasted spit of rabbit into the dirt. Gavin dashed for her, reaching her before anyone else moved. He dragged her out of the fire, slapping the flames out of the sleeve of her shirt. She was limp in his arms.
He turned in time to see Sophia launch herself at Antonio, her fingernails out like talons to rake her father’s face. Antonio grabbed Sophia’s arms but the look on his face was one of bizarre joy. Gavin jumped to his feet. But before he took two steps, strong hands grabbed him and pressed him to his knees.
“Get off me, ye berk!” he shouted as he watched Sophia grapple with her crazy father.
“Take her! Take her!” Antonio shouted. Three men emerged from the seated family to pull Sophia away.
“You bastard!” Sophia screamed, spittle flying as she lunged again for her father, her face a mask of rage.
“Let me go!” Gavin yelled as Antonio turned to face him, his face flushed but his eyes alive with pleasure.
“If a husband cannot control his wife, it is the duty of the father to it for him.” Antonio spoke loudly to all present but his eyes were on Gavin and the message was clear: Cross me and pay the price.
Antonio strode to a nearby stack of firewood and grabbed a squat log which he carried back with both hands and slammed down in front of Gavin. The two men holding Sophia dragged her to the
stump and forced her to her knees.
“What are ye doing, ye crazy fecker?” Gavin screamed as he thrashed against the men who held him. One man snaked an arm around Gavin’s neck.
“Benito!” Antonio shouted.
Within seconds, Benito—still shirtless—appeared and sank to his knees in front of his sister. Gavin watched as Benito pried Sophia’s hand from her breast and pressed it flat on the stump.
“Noooooooo!” Sophia screamed, her head flung back as she fought the men who held her.
Antonio held Gavin’s eyes as he pulled the small hatchet from his belt.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It happened so quickly, Gavin didn’t believe it wasn’t a stunt. Yet his eyes had seen it. Seen the hatchet come up and slam down sharply onto the stump. Seen the finger fly off into the dirt. Sophia remained kneeling, her eyes large, staring at her hand, the blood running down her arm. The little finger was gone at the second joint.
“Sophia!” Breaking free of the men holding him, Gavin knocked the log out of the way and caught Sophia by the shoulders as she began to fall. Her face white with shock, she fainted in his arms. He grabbed her maimed hand and held it up while looking helplessly around. Bianca lay motionless by the fire—whether dead or alive, Gavin had no idea. He stared at Antonio.
“I did it from love!” Antonio shouted. “And trust me it’s been coming a long time.” He turned to the family members who were staring in horror at the blood on the log. “He should have been the one to correct her! I was wrong about him. He is not good for my Sophia.”
Gavin ripped the tail of his shirt in a long strip and bound it tightly around Sophia’s hand. She moaned and stirred in his arms. Benito stood in place, bare-chested and shivering, staring at the small finger on the ground as if transfixed. Gavin stood with Sophia in his arms. He watched the men who’d held him, the brother who’d held Sophia’s hand down, and the monster who stood raving before him.
The atmosphere around the campfire was one of terror and apprehension. Gavin’s need to protect Sophia—to get her away—warred with his need to attack the man who’d hurt her. His arms trembled as he held her.
Paco held a hand up in front of Gavin. “Let us have the girl. We will see to her wound.”
“Are ye daft? You’re the fecking bastard who held her while the mad bastard did it!”
“You do not know our ways,” Paco said.
“You’ll leave us tonight,” Antonio said.
Gavin knew immediately that there was no way Antonio was going to let him stay or leave alive. Sophia cried out, triggering Gavin to the decision that until then he had no idea he’d made. He turned to Paco and shoved Sophia into his arms.
“Hold this,” he said as he snatched the handgun from Paco’s front pocket and pointed it in Antonio’s face. Antonio stared at Gavin impassively as if he knew for a fact that the gun was not loaded. Or perhaps just that Gavin could never use it.
“Have you thought past this point, amico?” Antonio said, wagging a finger at Gavin. “You are thinking, perhaps, you will walk backwards out of the camp all the way to your compound?” His lip curled in satisfaction.
“Nay,” Gavin said in defeat. “You’re right. That won’t work.”
He shot him in the chest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
John loved the walk from Gilly’s townhouse to the university. There was bus service to the campus from the residential areas as well as the city center where the Heaton’s lived. The trains continued to run too although mostly just to London and back.
“When I first came here,” John said to Gilly as they walked, “I thought the place was deserted.”
“Hardly. You do know that Oxford is the oldest university in the English-speaking world?”
“I didn’t know that.”
As they approached the intersection of St Giles, Magdalen Street and Beaumont Street, John looked toward the Martyrs’ Memorial as he always tended to do. He’d already read the plaque several times and knew all the ghoulish details of the events of 1517 burnings but he was drawn to the plaque every time they passed.
To the Glory of God and in grateful commemoration of His servants, Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, Prelates of the Church of England who near this spot yielded their bodies to be burned, bearing witness to the sacred truths which they had affirmed and maintained against the errors of the Church of Rome and rejoicing that to them it was given not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for his sake; this monument was erected by public subscription in the year of our Lord God, MDCCCXLI.
Today Dr. White was seated on the steps of the memorial smoking furiously, his eyes darting everywhere. When he saw John looking at him, his lip curled and he tossed his cigarette down in disgust before reaching for a new one from the pack in his jacket pocket.
“Jeez,” John said to Gilly as they hurried down the side street toward their classroom. “What is his problem?”
“I know, right? But most people would excuse him for how he behaves because of his wife and son.”
John gave her a sickened look. “What happened to them?”
“They both died of the disease last year. Worse than that, they were out of the country visiting relatives at the time in Germany so Dr. White didn’t even get to see them in time.”
“That’s terrible,” John murmured. “Explains why he’s always in a bad mood.”
“He and Dad used to be great mates.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. They had a falling out. I have no idea why. Here we are.”
They hurried through the massive stone archway into Balliol College. Because of her father, Gilly and several other children her age were allowed to finish their secondary education in classrooms situated at the college. Later, when the infrastructure was fully back, she would go on to sixth form at Oxford College to earn her A-levels. The class was far beyond the elementary school level John had been at before he left Jacksonville in 2011, but he surprised himself, and the teacher, by managing to keep up with everyone in the class.
He was in fact was amazed to realize he understood as much as he did. When he was in the class grappling to catch up or to understand, he found he didn’t feel frustrated at all but like a fire was being lit under him. Listening to the lectures made him feel like he wanted to take off like a Saturn V rocket straight up into the stratosphere.
After school, Gilly usually went to the homes of a few girlfriends in the class and John went to Dr. Heaton’s lab. The routine worked well on every level for everyone. Today, John shouldered his bookbag and was about to make the sharp turn that led him through an internal courtyard and the wing of the college that housed Heaton’s laboratory when he spotted someone he thought he knew.
Instantly he recognized the reason he knew the boy sitting at the base of the Martyrs statue feeding stale chips to a scrappy terrier was because he was the delivery boy at the Heaton’s house. John had seen the boy on and off for five weeks now deliver milk, collect empties and peddle away to the next house in the street. Seeing him sitting there playing with his dog, his bike and basket full of empties to signal the end of his work day, John felt a twinge of longing for Gavin. In the compound, his world was largely taken up with hanging out with Gavin. Seeing the boy now made John realize how much he missed company of his own kind.
Impulsively, he hurried over to him.
“Hello,” John said, holding out his hand. “My name’s John. Cute dog.”
The boy dropped the chips he’d been feeding to the dog and jumped to his feet, startled.
“Cor, you about gave me a heart attack!” he said, but he laughed when he said it. “I’m Geordie. This here’s Ginger. You American or is that a fake accent?”
John laughed. “It’s not fake. You live around here? I’ve seen you make deliveries on Canal Street.”
Geordie wrinkled his pug nose and bent to pick up the chips he’d dropped on the stone steps. Ginger had already cleaned up most of them.
&n
bsp; “Everybody knows me. I live at Rosemont. About two kilometers south of here.”
“Rosemont? Sounds like a retirement village.”
“Ha! You’re not wrong. But brace yourself, it’s a commune. Not the one where we’re all naked,” he said hurriedly.
“Oh? Where is that one?”
They both laughed.
“I like you, John. What the hell are you doing here? I thought the American tourists were the first ones to take a hike.”
“Only the smart ones. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time. But can you tell it and walk? My granny will hand my head to me if I’m late. D’ye want to see Rosemont?”
John hesitated. He knew Dr. Heaton was expecting him at the lab. That is, if he looked up from his work and noticed. But it was a rare sunny day in December and after a day of school, John longed to be outdoor.
“That’d be cool,” he said.
*****
That evening after his visit to Geordie’s commune, John walked home in the dark. It had started to rain halfway back and he was drenched by the time he got back to the townhouse.
Gilly had not been happy about it.
“I was worried sick about you,” she said when he came into the foyer shaking the rain off his bookbag and jacket. “And so was Dad. He had no idea where you were when you didn’t show up at the lab.”
“Really? He noticed I didn’t come?”
“Of course, he noticed!”
Dr. Heaton entered the room, patting the pockets of his cardigan as if looking for something. “Hello, there, John,” he said amiably. “Good day at school, was it?”
John gave Gilly a smug smile which he instantly regretted. It was true Dr. Heaton hadn’t been worried, but Gilly clearly was. She turned on her heel and stomped into the kitchen.
“Hello?” Dr. Heaton said, looking after her as she left. “Everything all right, petal?” But he settled himself in his chair by the fireplace and began humming as he opened the book he’d been reading.
Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 37