“Art thou sure about this?” he whispered.
Nodding, I told him, “We hath come this far, we have to see it through.”
My own feelings of nervousness and anxiety mimicked Edward’s, but we needed to do what we set out to do. I had told him the truth; Mary and I would not survive another winter without the extra money or livestock to get by – we would not be able to feed ourselves, or our children. I would do whatever it took to be sure that they were provided for.
Moving in front of me, Edward bent forward to haul the front of the barrow up. Clever thinking; though an additional strain, it would make much less noise for the short amount of time it would take to get to the Turners’ barn doors.
I could not stop from looking around me, and on several occasions, almost tripped over loose stones and rubble. Nerves made my skin prickle and my palms sweat. The noises we made did not appear to rouse anyone, but seemed so much louder in the silence of the night.
Reaching the barn doors, I breathed an audible sigh of relief, wiping my hands down my breeches before using the back of my sleeve to mop my brow.
Edward slipped the bolt, with careful slowness, across the lock of the barn, opening the doors after and tiptoeing inside. Ensuring a clear way for us, he poked half of his body back out and picked up the barrow once again, helping me inside with it before we closed the doors behind us.
Darkness enveloped the space, and it took precious moments for my eyes to adjust enough to light a torch.
The dancing flames illuminated the barn, giving me a clear view of the faces of the animals inside, staring at us with eerie expressions. The atmosphere gave off a somewhat sombre feeling, mayhaps even a little disturbing.
Edward did not seem fazed, when he moved around the barrow and placed his gloved hands under the dead sheep. “Lucas, do not dally,” he urged me.
Putting on my own gloves, I stood opposite Edward and, between us, we heaved the sheep out of the barrow and toward the middle of the flock. Some moved out of our way, but others simply continued to stare as we struggled passed them.
When the weight, and the stench became too much, we dumped the sheep on the hay-strewn floor, making sure to smear some of the blood around the immediate area.
“How do you propose we grab ourselves another, and get it quietly back to Master Langley’s?” Clearly, we failed to think that far ahead, and Edward stared at me, unable to answer my question.
Faint noises nearby startled us.
“Damn,” Edward cursed, “methinks we hath been found out.”
“Worry not just yet,” I soothed. “Hide.” I grabbed for the barrow, wheeling it to a concealed space with Edward’s help. With it well hidden, we ducked down behind some bales of hay and doused our torches in a bucket of water, praying that the smell of the carcass would overpower the burnt out aroma of the flames.
Lights shone through the gaps under the barn doors, before they opened within seconds of us hiding out of sight. Angered voices broke the otherwise silent space.
“What in the Lord’s name is this?” Footsteps shuffled further into the barn. “Curse that blasted farm hand, I shall see him lashed for this.”
I recognized Turner’s voice, so obviously talking about the young boy who tended to his animals. Guilt lanced at my heart, alas I could do nothing. His life would be spared; mine would not.
“Lucas, we cannot condemn an innocent child to such savage beatings.” Edward moved to show himself.
Grabbing his arm, I pulled him back down with urgent, yet frightened, frustration. Placing a finger to my lips, I whispered, “They will hang us for this.”
His eyes said it all. Fear widened them, but guilt shadowed them; even in this dim light I could see it without mistake. We were torn, but the fear of death won the battle. Edward stilled, tearing his gaze away from me, shaking his head.
“Get the rotting stump of a body out of here,” Turner bellowed. “And I want to see the boy by first light.”
Grunts and more shuffling preceded the obvious sounds of struggle, and the retching at the smell of moving the dead animal, before the barn doors slammed shut, and the bolt slid into place.
My friend looked at me, his mouth agape. “How do we get out now?”
I could not give him an answer.
Chapter 4
Panic rising, my eyes readjusted to the dim light of the barn, searching for another torch to light, in the hopes we could find a way out of this conundrum. Before I could figure out anything further, however, voices made their way closer.
“… and make sure the damn thing that attacked is long gone.”
“They are coming in here again.” Edward grabbed my upper arm, squeezing tightly.
Brushing him off, I put my finger to my lips to silence him, then stalked toward the concealed barrow, taking the bloodied hessian sack and wrapping it up under my arm, stifling a gag from the stench.
I made my way back to Edward, just in time before the doors re-opened. Two men walked in, so I gripped Edward’s arm, pulling him behind me to follow. Looking back into his panicked face, I tried to reassure him by nodding my head in the direction of the half-open door. I ignored the fact that, should there have been anything else in here with us, it, too, would have the perfect opportunity of escape. Fools.
We edged our way around the wooden walls of the barn, while the two men chided each other to search the darker corners for anything lurking. They paid more attention to each other’s stumbles and fright, than they did to Edward and I tiptoeing our way outside.
The cool breeze chilled my sweaty skin and I took in a lungful of welcome air, before Edward pulled us around the side, out of sight.
“That was too close, Lucas.” He rolled his eyes, then made to leave.
Pulling him back, I asked, “Where art thou going?”
“Home, you fool. I am not willing to die for this.”
“We will hang all the more if George realizes one of his sheep is missing. We cannot turn back,” I told him, “we need to get one of those animals to take back.” I poked my head around the corner of the barn, surveying the farmland, waiting for the two men inside to leave. “’Twill be easy from here; they will not suspect any foul play once they find the barn empty.”
I could see the fury behind Edward’s glare, but he said nothing, which only made the awkward silence between us all the more palpable while we waited.
The men left, taunting one another for their unfounded fright, though both their voices still quivered.
Long moments passed; neither one of us wanted to move lest someone else emerge from the house and see us. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. “Let us hurry and be done with this.”
Peering around the side of the barn, I let out a breath upon seeing the house in darkness once again. I motioned for Edward to follow, as I drew back the bolt on the barn doors and slipped inside.
With an anxious atmosphere circling us, we secured one of the sheep; removing the bell from around its neck, dumping it in the blood and under some hay, out of immediate sight. I walked it to the doors, while Edward grabbed the barrow from its hiding place, lifting it with much more ease to wheel it safely away from the Turners’ farm.
The journey back to George’s estate proved easier – the sheep did not make a sound as it followed, obediently by my side while Edward trailed behind us.
When we neared our destination, my heartbeat began to slow.
With the sheep safely inside George’s barn, Edward took one more look at me and then walked away. “Where art thou going? We have work still to do.” I felt anger rise in me, mayhaps even a little panic.
Edward turned on me. “We have condemned a boy to a beating he does not deserve.” Even under the moonlight, I could see his cheeks redden. “I cannot bear to look at myself, much less thee, Lucas. I am going home.”
My mouth fell open to say something, but what use would it do? Edward made a point, and the guilt would eat at me, too. But surely part of him understood
why… our family’s lives depended on us being able to provide for them. My wife would not be able to raise our two children on her own, and tend to the farm to provide food and a means to survive.
No! We did what we needed to do. Yes, an innocent boy would suffer, but he would still live.
Turning back to the barn, I hung my head, but for what reason? Because of Edward? Because of tonight? Or because I hated that part of myself that cowered in a corner though fear and irresponsibility?
∽∽∽
Dawn broke almost the moment I crawled into bed beside Mary. I stared out of the window, watching each ray of light penetrate the clouds, ignoring the ache settling in the small of my back.
Turning to my wife, I smiled at the beauty of her slender face; the way the sun highlighted the auburn in her brown hair, the way she parted her lips when she breathed.
She stirred, turning toward me, placing an arm across my bare chest. Her nose wrinkled before her eyes slowly opened. “Oh, Lucas,” she breathed, “hath thou not washed yet? Thou art still soiled.” She removed the bedcovers from her thin body. “Come, up with thee; we shall get ye bathed, lest you give the children and I some unspeakable disease.”
I smiled at her, unmoving, as she tiptoed around our home to heat a pail of scented water for me to wash with.
She would wash, herself, of course, and then she would wake the children to make sure they were cleansed and in clean undergarments, before she served breakfast.
We would be going into town this morn, Mary would take the children to a playlet in the town’s square, while I traded crops for other food and clothing.
I also hoped that I would see Edward, apologize for last night and make amends with him. After working hours on my own the previous eve, I did not want to have to do the same again the night – I would not survive more than a week on such little rest.
∽∽∽
Mary dressed the children after breakfast before we walked to town, hand in hand, watching Margery and Thomas skip ahead of us, laughing, picking flowers, throwing stones. It reminded me of why last night could not have gone any different.
Many people were lining the streets of the town when we arrived. Some looked pale, whispering among themselves. Others looked ready for a carnival, laughing, joking, setting up stalls to sell pies and ale as though we were expecting an execution.
Across the crowd, I spied Edward, standing with another couple of the local villagers. They were talking among themselves, but Edward remained quiet, staring ahead, his face still a mixture of the same sadness and guilt he looked at me with, before he walked away last night.
I followed his gaze and gasped.
In the middle of the square, beside the well and tied to a hay cart, stood a young boy, his face streaked with filthy tears. Next to him, Henry Turner stood, chest puffed out, hands behind his back. A grin spread across his face when the town’s executioner emerged, carrying a sturdy-looking whip in his thick hands.
I grimaced when they moved the boy, kicking and screaming, to the flogging post, then stripped him down to his bare chest. His pale, unblemished skin puckered under the sunlight and I could look no longer when the executioner unravelled the whip and raised his arm.
Turning away, my eyes closed, I tensed with every lash I heard, followed by the ungodly cries of the child. My wife grabbed my arm, but I shook her off, apologizing before walking away.
Chapter 5
I loved my wife dearly, but even her words of comfort after we returned home did little to soothe my overwhelming guilt. We had eaten our meal in silence – an unusual occurrence for our ordinarily loud and happy home.
With the image of that poor boy still in my mind, I walked to Edward’s home, intent on giving him the apology I did not in town, but realising – after today – it may not be something he would want from me.
Nevertheless, I made my way to the field in front of his house, where we would usually meet. I could see no sign of him. The lights in his house were dimmed, so I made my way to his door, knocking lightly.
His wife, Jane, answered. “Lucas.” She smiled at me, though it appeared to be quite the effort. “Edward is sick; he won’t be going with you tonight.”
She left me little time to respond to her obvious lie, before she closed the door in my face.
I stood for a few moments, first wondering why Edward would jeopardize earning for his family, and secondly, questioning whether or not I could bear another long, sleepless night of back-breaking work by myself.
But what choice did I have?
Lost in thought, I arrived at George’s farm sooner than I imagined. Outside the barn, I would first ensure there were no further mishaps from last night’s unknown visitor, then I would inform George of Edward’s unfortunate ‘illness’.
The moment I opened the doors, the smell told me I did not have luck on my side. I didn’t need to see another dead animal to confirm my suspicions. Instead, I closed the doors, then made my way to George’s house, panicking over what to tell him, and whether or not I would still have a job after.
George’s door stood ajar. Funny; I did not remember seeing any carriages of women pull up. Then again, so lost in my own thoughts was I, that I doubted I would have paid them much heed either way.
Stepping inside, for a moment, I thought the smell of decaying animals had followed me, until I saw the pools of red seeping through a white linen cloth on the floor.
Curiosity got the better of me as I pushed the door to George’s parlour further.
Fear froze me in that instant, mingled with disgust and panic. All three paralysed me until George’s eyes met mine.
He lifted his balding head from the neck of the courtesan in his arms, his rigid, unshaven face coated with her blood, chest heaving, sharp teeth protruding from his gums when he smiled. His crimson eyes locked with mine and he threw the strumpet to the ground with very little care.
I ran.
I ran so hard and so fast, I could not breathe.
I found myself outside Edward’s, pounding on his door, not caring any about the din I caused.
Jane answered and I barged my way past. “Lucas,” she yelled, “I told ye, Edward is sick.”
“I need to see him, Jane. I need to see him now.” I could not look at her, could not see her staring at me like I had been plagued with insanity. Instead, I paced the room, mumbling for her to wake him.
She did so, but I could feel her glare on me, eyeing me with fearful suspicion while she edged her way passed me.
My feet reluctantly dragging me forward, I leaned on the stone fireplace with both hands, head bowed, eyes closed.
A hand grazed my shoulder, causing me to jump. “Lucas.” Edward stared at me, his brow furrowed. “What is troubling thee? Thou have gone as white as a ghost.”
“I-I saw, I… I don’t… .”
“Come, sit.” Edward led me to a wooden chair, sitting me down with careful ease. “Pray tell, friend, what hath you so spooked?”
“George… he… blood… I-I… by Christ, I can’t even make sense of what I saw.” I buried my head in my hands, shaking from top to toe. Gathering some composure, I took a breath and looked at Edward. “He killed one of his lady visitors, Eddie. He was… he was drinking her blood, by God, I swear it.” It even sounded absurd. And had it not been for mine very eyes witnessing it, I would not have believed it myself.
“Lucas, have ye been on the dagger ale?” He smiled, but I noted a slight wariness in his question. “This is bizarre, even for thou.”
“I speak the truth, Eddie. I know what mine eyes did see.” I grabbed his shoulders. “He was covered in it; around his mouth, down his neck. It was everywhere, and she was dead.”
He looked at me, into my eyes, with pity and sadness. “I think this morning hath affected you more than you wish to believe. You need rest.” He stood, trying to help me to my feet. “I am sorry I abandoned you last eve. Come, let’s get ye sobered up.”
“I am not drunk.” I shook m
yself out of his grasp and stood straight and tall. “No double double beer hath touched my lips. I know what I saw.” The images still frightened me, but I didn’t doubt mine own eyes.
“Then you are sick, Lucas.” Edward didn’t touch me, instead he moved to his door. “You must leave, now. I will not risk my family catching whatever has driven ye mad with fevered delusions. Go.”
With little choice, I left Edward’s home. But I could not go back to mine; too much still haunted me.
I traipsed around the surrounding woods for hours, jumping, scared at every branch that cracked or owl that hooted. Scared in case George came looking for me. Then again, if my own friend did not believe me, who would I convince?
I would be condemned, labelled insane and taken from my family to protect their safety. I would be made a laughing stock; tied to the flogging post and whipped for my accusations. I couldn’t possibly… I remembered the sounds as the executioner lashed that poor child for my crimes. I would not let anyone else pay for my indiscretions.
I would return home, to protect my family the only way I could. I would not return to George’s farm, and I would never mention what happened again.
Perhaps they were figments of my imagination – a product of a tired mind.
I would entertain them no more attention… but I would still not return to that farm.
Chapter 6
Fatigue weighed down my body, as though someone were sitting on my chest. I could not sleep. I lay in bed beside Mary, staring at her alluring face, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, feeling the same love for her then as I did the day we married, and the day she gave me two beautiful children, and every day since.
My love for her kept me alive. And because of that, I would do whatever I could to keep my family above water.
With heavy eyes, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, placing them on the wooden floor. The sun would not rise for another hour or so, but I would to begin work before then, and for every day from now on, if I wanted to provide for my family.
Lucas - A Faction Series Prequel Book 1 Page 2