‘Do you think I’m insane? There’s no fear of that. My comrades would have me doing all their washing and I don’t even do my own as you can probably tell.’
Lira nodded. ‘Yes, your clothes aren’t exactly neat and tidy are they.’ His leggings and knee length boots were smeared with cow turds, front and back.
‘What else were you doing besides spitting?’ asked Thomas.
‘Well, the truth of the matter is that my friends and I get together once a month and think of several activities that we can all participate in when we’re drunk, and boy were we were drunk. This month it was which one of us could spit the farthest. Then we all chased a big round chunk of cheese down the steepest hill imaginable, and then we had a competition to see who could piss the highest and whose cock was biggest. I won them all, but my clothes have paid the price.’ Ely leaned in close to Thomas and whispered the final two activities in his ear so that Lira couldn’t quite hear him.
‘I assume then that there were cow turds at the bottom of the hill you chose?’ said Thomas almost wetting himself laughing. The sound rang out rich and merry.
‘You assume correctly. The field was full of cow-dung. And I do mean full,’ said Ely.
Just at that moment, Dardo and Dody were staring out of an upstairs window watching Thomas and Lira talking to a newcomer. Thomas burst into laughter as the young man whispered something in his ear.
‘Don’t know who that is laughing with Thomas, but his leggings and boots are covered in mud. Must be one of the local farmers,’ said Dardo.
‘He must be a farmer. He’s covered in cow turds, not mud, I can stink it from up here,’ agreed Dody fanning the air in front of him. Both of them backed away from the open window, closing the wooden shutters and Dardo placed a bunch of crocuses and white lilies in front of the window to negate the stench. It didn’t work. The awful smell seemed to fill their room like a rancid seething mist.
And as the morning wore on and the sun grew warmer, Thomas and Ely chatted, eagerly swapping tales while Lira fed the children a hearty breakfast of oatmeal porridge, washed down with freshly squeezed orange juice. But by mid-afternoon, her calmness had turned to impatience and she wanted them to be on their way. The cart was loaded; the inn empty of their belongings and a new life waited. Dardo and Dody were going into partnership to run the old place in their stead.
Finally, Thomas and Ely had talked themselves dry and the latter went on his way. Lira swore colourfully at Thomas with an edge of anger in her voice and she stomped up and down, raising her arms in a gesture of despair. She even threw her treasured Bible at him, hitting him on the forehead, dizzying him. She was furious – but then life with Lira was never dull. Finally they set off. However, it was late and the sky was dark and ablaze with stars. Then it began to rain. Luckily, the wagon had an oilskin cover that kept them and their belongings dry as they rode on down the street to the noisy clip-clop of hooves and iron-shod wheels rattling over the cobbles.
Travelling down Bone Street, around Gallows Square and out past a parade of market stalls they went under an old iron bridge and carried on going until they reached ‘The Traveller and Merchant’ shop, where they turned left and kept on going, and both of them could feel their bones shaking as the old cart rattled onward.
It was quiet and there was hardly a soul on the streets, but then suddenly they came across a woman weeping over two corpses while her house burned. Children were crying and shrieking in terror, trapped in a second storey bedroom, and bright sparks were flying everywhere as huge flames licked at adjacent buildings, threatening to set them on fire too. Thomas pulled the cart over to the roadside, yanking back on the reins and he jumped down without a moment’s hesitation, giving a cautious glance towards the burning house, which by now was an inferno.
He closed his eyes briefly, seeing his glorious days as a youth when he thought himself immortal. ‘There’s nothing I can’t do,’ he had announced to a gathering crowd, and they had stared at him through disbelieving hooded eyes and laughed, but then he had proceeded to climb to the very top of the tallest tree and run along the branches just as nimbly as any squirrel would have.
Suddenly there was a loud scream and he opened his eyes. Lira pointed upward. Two children had climbed out of the bedroom window onto the windowsill and were coughing and gasping for air amid the trailers of thick black smoke swirling around them in the rain.
There’s never a tall tree around when I need one, he thought. His mind was racing trying to think of a solution to the children’s plight, for they were going to die just as surely as day turns to night if he didn’t act quickly.
One of them screamed. ‘Please help us. Please, we can’t breathe and we don’t want to die,’ she begged pitifully, crying fitfully.
‘Child – what's your name?’ Thomas shouted to the screaming girl.
‘Bethany,’ she answered softly, a tone of terror in her voice.
‘Well, Bethany, I need you to trust me. I want you to stand up, and then jump down here into my arms. I promise to catch you,’ he announced.
The child looked horrified, fear shining in her innocent eyes. ‘But it’s so far to fall,’ she said with a whimper, staring grimly at the stone pavement below.
‘Bethany, there isn’t much time left. The wall of this building is going to crumble and fall very soon.’ Even as he spoke, huge cracks began to appear in the side of the house and some of the brickwork began to crumble and give way. A shower of bright sparks rained down upon him and he covered his face with his forearms. ‘Please Bethany, if I’m to save you both, I need you to jump first,’ he pleaded.
Both children were no more than age five, and Thomas couldn’t think of a more terrifying ordeal for an adult to experience, never mind a small child. Even as he spoke, part of the wall gave way just to the side of him and came crashing down in another shower of sparks. The falling debris missed him by inches as he dived for cover behind the cart and both girls screamed as the flames licked at them. They sprang to their feet on the window ledge, trembling uncontrollably, scared out of their wits.
‘Bethany, if I could climb up and get you, I would – but I can’t, so you must jump, or you’ll die,' snapped Thomas trying to shock her into action. Suddenly, the hand of fate took control as a sickening groan sounded from above him. Debris and sparks tumbled down from the widening cracks, striking the street like hailstones. Then there was a thunderous crack and the lintel that both girls were standing on sheared away and they began to fall. The passage of time ceased for Thomas as he watched the lintel break clear and he knew the girls were doomed.
Chapter 21
Thomas stood for a moment, frozen in time; unable to move but he never took his eyes off the falling girls. ‘Come on,’ he said to himself trying to will his limbs to stir. A strong wind was blowing, fanning the flames, turning the house fire into a raging inferno that hissed and crackled noisily. Suddenly, the words of Master Gallus, his dead mentor appeared in his mind. Let go of your fear and act now. You can catch them both if you try.
He sprang from behind the cart, diving forward with the speed of a god. And in that single moment he caught Bethany. A single second later he caught the other child. I did it. I caught them both, he thought as the cracked lintel crashed down a split-second later, no more than a foot away, gouging a hole in the street. And just as he was carrying them to the safety of the cart, the whole blazing building collapsed in a shower of sparks and rubble tumbled into the cobbled street with a loud crash.
The children’s mother stood up and ran to them. He lowered them down gently onto the pavement with his heart hammering and his mouth dry. ‘You’re safe now,’ he said softly, patting their heads. They hugged him affectionately and he smiled down at them, all weariness and worry vanishing. It was like a shock-wave being lifted and once again he felt like the hero he had once been.
‘There will be a story one day about you and your great bravery,’ said the mother kissing his cheek. ‘You could have been kil
led by the falling wall, but you saved my babies in spite of it. You're a very brave and courageous man and will go to heaven one day and God will bless you as I do now.’
His cheeks coloured red. ‘I have children of my own, and God willing there will be a guardian angel looking after them all of their lives.’
‘You are that Guardian Angel,’ said the mother smiling kindly, ‘for they will need no other.’
He smiled back at the woman, resting his hand upon her arm, looking pleased. ‘I’m happy that I was your guardian angel today, and theirs, for no child deserves to die in such a way as this.’ He pointed to the smouldering pile of ashes and rubble that was partially blocking the street and then kissed her hand softly. ‘Mother, if you ever have need of me, you can find me through my friends at the Dog and Duck inn. Just ask and they'll seek me out, okay?’
She nodded and he climbed back aboard the old cart by the side of Lira, shaking the reins, beginning their short journey again. He waved goodbye as they rolled slowly down the street and round a corner out of sight.
*
That night the sky above Nottingham was heavy with storm clouds and there was a cold cutting wind blowing in from the west as the masked man walked the streets searching for his next victim. He slipped through the shadows ghostlike as thunder rumbled overhead. His hands and feet were freezing, but that wasn’t going to stop him from satisfying himself. Now his thoughts took him back to the dark, foreboding time in his life when he had slit his mistress’s throat to stop her tormenting him, and in his warped mind that had been a good day and the beginning of his campaign of terror against all women.
It began to pour with rain as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and he peered out of the shadows at a young woman making her way towards him. Superstitiously he rubbed the scar on his forearm and drew a dagger from his belt, waiting for her to get closer. In the narrow alley he waited silently, slinking further back into the shadows, and once again the shiny glint of his razor sharp blade was the only tell-tale sign he was there. Then as the woman approached, getting within range, whistling merrily he pitched forward and dragged her into the shadows out of sight.
She screamed hysterically. He quickly gagged her by clamping his hand over her mouth, pricking the blade of his knife into the skin of her neck, drawing blood. ‘Quiet bitch,’ he whispered, ‘or you’ll wake the dead before you join them. Do as I say and you might live.’ The woman nodded. He pushed her to her knees, unbuttoning the fly of his leggings exposing his manhood. ‘Suck on that bitch.’ he whispered with a snarl, forcing it into her mouth. She gagged and choked, but did as commanded in fear of her life. However, it didn’t matter because he was going to kill her anyway. He wasn’t stupid enough to leave witnesses alive.
*
The next morning at the inn, Dardo and Dody were up early. They sat together at Thomas’ favourite table with their backs to the wall discussing business tactics for the coming months. The inn had not been profitable for Thomas and Lira, so things would have to change, particularly the aristocratic clientèle. It had been much more profitable when slavers, smugglers and privateers had ruled the roost so to speak, because they came to spend their ill-gotten gains and it had been a very lucrative time, even though very violent.
Both men had talked it over with Thomas, who had voiced his displeasure at their idea and objected to their decision, but he knew it made sense in the long-term so he agreed to be their doorman and eject any rowdy trouble-makers. They also decided to re-hire the harpist and flute player, have an opening night of free ale and wine and put on good piping-hot food. This was sure to bring in the crowd they needed to make the old inn a thriving business and going concern again.
‘We’ll do well enough,’ said Dardo, pride in his voice.
‘It’ll take a while to get the old place back on track, but it'll be worth it in the end,’ agreed Dody, joyously rubbing his hands together at the thought of coining in the revenue.
Finally Dardo rose, pouring himself a goblet of wine to celebrate.
Dody stared at him sourly. ‘You’re drinking the profits again,’ he snapped.
A loud voice and a heavy knock on the front doors suddenly startled both men and they nearly fell off their stools. Thomas pushed open the doors, striding inside and behind him angry black clouds loomed in the distance threatening rain again. He glanced at his two friends oddly, looking worn and weary and his eyes seemed to blaze red-hot. Then unexpectedly he had a strange feeling, and one that he had never felt before. It was as if an unseen force – an energy he couldn’t understand – was probing him.
‘You... you made me jump. What’s the matter, you look worried?’ said Dardo.
‘My heart nearly stopped,’ Dody frowned.
Thomas grew pale. ‘The murderer struck again last night, somewhere close by,’ he announced grimly as the far horizon behind him lit up in a huge web of lightning. And for that split second his friends would have sworn there was something dreadful standing behind him, towering over him like a dark shadow. Both men blinked hard and it was gone. Had they really seen what they thought they had, they wondered, a shudder running down their spines like so many spiders?
Thomas seemed delirious. He babbled on about the killer and victim, and about the murder scene. Then he turned quickly, closing the main doors as the wind got up and rain sheeted down. Once again the weather had changed for the worst and the air had become unbearably cold. It was now sun-up, but it was very dark and hazy outside, especially way off to the west. Rain rattled the windows, the wind howled under the doors and there was a clap of thunder that echoed across the land, startling them all.
‘I think we need to build an ark,’ said Dody watching the rain pour down.
Again the windows lit up with a huge web of lightning, followed by another tremendous clap of thunder that shook the inn right down to its foundations. Dardo hauled himself up from his seat and strode over to the window just in time to see another searing bolt of lightning flash across the sky. It illuminated him like a Christmas tree, making his blond curly hair even wilder looking than usual, because the static electricity in the air made it stand on end and his head looked like a porcupine. Dody laughed at the sight. However, the storm was getting worse by the second.
Strangely, it felt good to Thomas. Nature’s raw power was a much-needed distraction from his dreadful thoughts, but just as quickly his thoughts returned to the murder victims. Even a raging storm would seem like a good thing if you knew it was going to be your last day of life on earth, he thought. You would appreciate all the good things in life and even the bad things if it were going to be your last day ever. He took a breath to steady himself and the pain of his thoughts seemed to recede – but then they came rushing back like an incoming tide. How am I to stop this maniac, he thought?
‘You say the murderer struck again last night,’ said Dody bringing him back from his thoughts.
Thomas took several deep breaths to regain his composure. It didn’t work. The muscles in his face seemed to jump and twitch. He took several more deep breaths. Then his head jerked back violently and he let out a loud shrill roar. ‘Oh God,’ he said suddenly, ‘why is this happening to me?’ Once again dreadful laughter drifted into his mind, the murderer’s thoughts rearing up within him, flaring like a flaming torch in his skull and he dropped to his knees clutching his head, finding himself trapped at the centre of another hellish vision.
Again he was stalking a young woman, watching her from the shadows…
He listened to her whistling merrily as he waited…
When in range he pitched forward grabbing her, his hand about her throat…
A knife glinted in the dim light…
He forced her to her knees, beasting her, making her suck his manhood and masturbate him…
Then he raped her, slit her throat and stabbed her to death…
Finally, he drank blood from the cut to her neck and everything went black…
Each new killing was worse than
the last, each dreadful murder far more vicious and depraved. More laughter drifted into his mind – dreadful laughter. Then the words: I win and you lose, echoed in his head and for an instant he felt nettled by the irony. He snapped. ‘I'll drink to your death very soon, count on it!’ In his mind’s eye there was a blinding flash of white light, an ear-splitting crack and the telepathic doorway slammed shut immediately.
Dazed and only half-conscious he raised himself on to one knee, but as he did so the telepathic doorway reopened and a ghastly rain of flesh and blood-soaked clothing fell around him in glittering shreds. He felt himself begin to vomit and his friends jumped from their seats. Dardo got to him first but couldn't see what he could see, and he had no idea what was going on. Thomas seemed stupefied but unharmed. Suddenly, the Abbey bell tolled in the distance heralding the arrival of breakfast and the bloody vision disappeared from his mind and the doorway closed again. He stood up screaming and kicked the back of Dardo’s chair, hurling it through the stained-glass window shattering it into a thousand pieces, and after the tinkling of glass ended there was silence. Then tankards slowly toppled off the shelves behind them, startling them even more.
‘What the hell is going on?’ asked Dody staring at Dardo through disbelieving eyes.
‘The visions are getting stronger and more dreadful by the day,’ announced Thomas, ‘and they’re driving me insane.’ He stood clutching his head, lost in thought when Lira came bursting through the front doors screaming like a banshee. All eyes turned to look at her.
‘Horrid! Wicked! Dreadful!’ she was saying. ‘They’ve found another murder victim and there was a note left on her naked body.' She looked as if she was about to faint on the spot.
Another voice from outside the inn broke the ensuing silence and a small, bald, fat man came rushing through the open doors with a piece of parchment in his hand. He stared grimly at the small gathering and then turned to face Thomas, handing him the parchment. Thomas stared down at the scrawled message and began to read it aloud.
A Violent Man ( the story of Thomas Flynn ) Page 29