by Mike Morris
Brendan removed a small piece of paper from its hiding place in the waistband of his trousers. A map was scrawled on it. After a quick turn or two, he had it matching the main street. He led Jack to the Eastern end. They took a sharp left between a bakers and a laundry into a quieter street, full of houses. What little bustle in Grayston's main street was non—existent here. The sun was struggling to make an appearance through the wisps of cloud and the air was thick with sleep. The two boys carried on walking, crossing more streets, as the houses got bigger and more spaced out. Patches of grass separated the road from the buildings and the occasional fence annexed the houses further.
Jack gaped at one they passed. "Hundreds of people could live in a house this big.”
"Most only have a small family in them — four or five people and maybe the same again in servants," replied his brother. There was no hiding the distaste on his face.
"What do they do with houses that big?"
"Who knows? Rich people aren't like us. They want to have the space just because they can. Show off how wealthy they are. Good job too otherwise we'd have nothing to steal." Brendan stopped suddenly. He gazed back down the street, counting the buildings. In front of them was a small stonewall, behind which stood a large house. To Jack, it looked like a castle. It had three floors, with so many windows that Jack couldn’t count them all.
"This is the one," Brendan said as he hopped over the wall. "Come on. She's left the window open around the side." He scurried across the grass, keeping low.
Jack swallowed his reservations and followed his brother. There was no turning back now. The two boys slipped down a small gap between the left hand side of the house and a large hedge that was so over-grown, leaves tickled Jack's face as they squeezed past it. Brendan stopped suddenly in front of an open window and Jack clattered into him, earning a stared rebuke.
“This is it,” said Brendan. "Once you're inside, go to the room to the left. That's where all the silver is. Fill up the sack and don't hang around while you do it. You with me?"
Jack nodded. "Room on the left. Silver. Got it." His gut rolled about with a mixture of fear and excitement, as he fought the urge to throw up.
"Ok. Let's do it." Brendan put his back to the wall and linked his hands in front of him. Jack placed his left foot into his brother's hands, stepped up as Brendan lifted and caught the windowsill with both hands. He pulled himself up, pausing on the ledge for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior before he dropped to the floor.
Jack found himself in what a walk-in cupboard, thick with the stink of dust and stale air. No one had used the room for a long time, probably forgotten by the owners with so many others to choose from. Rich people were strange.
"An easy job," Jack whispered as he turned the door handle. He caught his breath for a moment as the hinge creaked but then the door opened, revealing the rest of the house. Jack stepped into a narrow corridor, filled with a thick darkness. The curtained windows prevented the early morning light from sneaking into the house with him.
Again Jack had to wait for his eyes to adjust. It was five long paces to the door he was looking for. He walked on tiptoe, aware of the silence in the house. All it would take was a squeaky floorboard to bring the whole house down on him. He hoped he didn't have that kind of luck.
The next door didn't make a noise as he opened it. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. The room was even darker than the hallway but there was the odd glint of silver from the far wall to lure Jack in. "Easy job," he said once more and stepped inside.
"I wouldn't say that," said a man's voice from behind him as a match was struck.
Jack spun around as a lamp bathed the room in a soft light. The one-eyed man was sitting in a chair behind the open door.
Jack sprang for the door. He had to get out of there.
But the Black Dog wasn't some overweight rich man or an uninterested stallholder. He snatched Jack up by the collar before he’d made one step.
"Who's been a naughty boy?" said the Black Dog. A patch covered his eye.
"Let me go,” shouted Jack. "I haven't done anything."
The man laughed. "I think you have. Breaking into someone's home with the intent to steal. Definitely something you've done there. Something for the law."
"Let me go!" Jack kicked out with his right foot but the man stepped safely away.
An elderly couple entered the room. The man hobbled up to them, walking stick in hand whilst the lady kept to the safety of the doorway. "Is this one of the young lads?" asked the old man.
The Black Dog didn't loosen his grip on his prisoner. "One of them, sir. The other is being apprehended as we speak."
"No. I'm alone," protested Jack. "It's just me. I did it."
"Be quiet boy," said the Black Dog. "Here comes your brother now."
Scuffling came from down the hallway as two burly men dragged Brendan along with them. His brother's right eye was closed and bleeding.
"I don't believe it," said the woman with a hand over her mouth. "Is nothing sacred? These two boys were going to rob us? In our own home."
"And probably slit your throat while you slept, ma'am," said one of the men holding Brendan.
"Now then, Mr Jones. Let's not exaggerate," said the Black Dog. "These boys are in enough trouble as it is without making it worse. They are simply thieves, not murderers. If you would be so kind as to tie these young gentlemen up whilst Mr Smyth fetches the law for us."
The men didn’t need asking twice. The rope bit deeply into Jack's wrists but he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of crying out. Especially the one-eyed man who now sat smiling at the boys like a cat who'd cornered its dinner. Jack knew the law was going to be the least of his problems.
3
702 PN
It took four days to track down Jack's mother and another half day before she made it to the Grayston jail. Four and a half days of Jack hoping there was some way to slip through the rusted iron bars. Four and a half days of being stuck in a small cell in the basement of the jail with nothing but rancid straw for a bed and a bucket for a toilet and his brother for company.
Jack was petrified at first. The fear turned into anger at being caught, anger at being tricked by the Black Dog. Acceptance followed. They were in jail and, at best, that's where they were going to stay. At worst, it was a short stop before the rope. Finally, all Jack felt was boredom. The cell was dark and dank, the food awful and there was nothing to do except sit and stare at the walls. Brendan was no help either. He’d shut down the moment the key turned in the lock. He just slumped in the corner, ignoring any attempt to talk. There were no other prisoners.
The single guard, a stick thin man with wild reddish hair brought the two boys food each day. Jack tried everything to get a response as the man slid the slop-filled wooden bowls through a gap in the bars. From saying hello to asking what day it was to pleading for help before finally pretending to be ill. The guard didn't even look at him. Every day, he just sat at a small table a few strides away from the cell, waited for the boys to finish eating and then took the empty bowls away with him.
Jack was relieved when his mother walked down the steps to the cells. He rushed to the bars and thrust his arms out towards her. His mother sobbed as she returned the embrace, holding Jack tightly despite the iron bars between them.
"Oh thank God," she said. "I didn't know where you were. I've been worried for days, looking everywhere for you. I thought you both had run off or were lying dead in a ditch somewhere." The bruising on her face was not as vivid as it once was but her recent beating was plain to see.
"I'm sorry, mum." It was hard for Jack to keep the tears from his own eyes. "Are you going to get us out of here?"
"I don't know, son. If it wasn't for this kind man, I wouldn't even know you were here."
"What man?" A cold feeling in his gut said Jack already knew who it was.
His mother stepped back from the bars. "This man."
The Blac
k Dog looked down from the top of the stairs. He smiled a greeting at Jack.
"I'm sorry it took so long to find you, Mrs Frey,” said the Black Dog as he walked towards them. "My colleagues had a dreadful time trying to track you down."
"Please call me Mary," she replied. "I appreciate the trouble, honest I do but I have to work nights so I'm not often around or I'm sleeping during the day."
"My name's Aidan. Brother Aidan." The Black Dog shook her hand and then motioned for her to take a seat with a clear view of her two boys behind bars. "Now, let's see if we can help each other."
"Thank you. God bless you." She smiled at Jack before joining Aidan.
Jack slumped back down inside his cell as his mother took the offered seat. Aidan sat on the opposite side of the table. He reached down and produced a small wine bottle and two cups. He filled both before offering one to Mary. She smiled awkwardly as she took it, hesitating before taking a sip.
Jack's heart sunk once more as she drank. Jack hoped his mother hadn't been drinking before, or at least not too much so she'd still have her wits about her. She'd need to be on her toes if she was to get her sons out of the mess they were in.
Aidan swirled the wine in his cup but Jack noticed he didn't drink from it. "Your boys are in a lot of trouble."
"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. They're good lads. They wouldn't do anything wrong." His mother took another sip of wine.
"I'm afraid it's no misunderstanding. I caught them myself, breaking into the home of a renowned citizen, a friend of the Queen's no less."
A little wine spilled from the cup as her hand shook. She glanced at the boys and Jack dropped his eyes in shame. "Is that what they were doing?" she said. "I thought they were doing odd jobs to help people out, earn a bit of pocket money. Their father and I raised them better than that, or so I thought."
"Their father's not around anymore?"
"He died. God bless his soul. Used to be a seaman. Just one trip too many I suppose. It's just me trying to bring them up now." Her eyes opened wide. "I do my best. It's just not easy. I can't be watching them all day and night, not if I'm to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies too. Does that make me a bad mother?"
Aidan looked at her for a long moment. Sighing as he rubbed the eye patch. He sat back in the chair with a creak as the frame adjusted to the shift in weight. "The way I see it, Mary, is that if we don't do something to help these boys now, today, one or both of them will end up losing a hand or hanging. No one likes thieves and we both know the road they are on only leads to the gallows."
A tear made it's lonely way down her cheek. More threatened to follow. She took a gulp of wine, the mask of restraint fallen. "I said I'm doing my best. Everyone knows it. Knows they're good boys too."
"I'm not saying they aren't. Its just hunger makes one do silly things, doesn't it? Makes one think laws aren't important when the opportunity to eat is at hand. Sometimes life just gets the better of you." Aidan lay his hand over hers, squeezing it. "Sometimes your best isn't good enough. But that's no fault of your own."
"What else am I going to do? I'm alone. I can't work any harder. Can't lock them up. They're just boys. It's a tough world out there." More tears rolled down her cheek. It broke Jack's heart to see her like this. He still remembered the woman that sang him to sleep every night while he cuddled in her arms. Unlike Brendan, he never doubted she loved them.
Aidan refilled her cup. His voice was soft when he spoke. "Do you know what I am?"
"Yes." Jack could hear the emotion in her voice. He wished there was something he could do to make her feel better, wished he hadn't caused her this pain.
"What am I, Mary?"
"A Black Dog."
"I'm a priest in the Order Of The First Knight. We fight the eternal battle against the Nostros," said Aidan.
"Demons," said Mary in a whisper.
"Yes. Demons. Witches. Devil Worshippers. Any creature that threatens our world. The things we pretend only exist in our worst nightmares.
For three hundred years, we have kept Abios safe. For three hundred years, we have bled and died keeping the Nostros away from our shores. Keeping you and your children safe.
"But we need more people to join us, more souls to commit to the war. We need boys like your two."
"My boys? You don't mean..."
"I want them to join the Order. Become novices. They will be well fed, given warm beds, taught to read and write, raised in all the ways of God and our Order."
"To fight monsters?"
"Perhaps. All are trained but not all answer the call. Only the best are ordained as warriors. It is a hard road but one with hope. The alternative..." Aidan gestured at their surroundings.
Jack didn't understand all of what was said. Aidan wanted Brendan and him to fight monsters? He didn't want to do that even if he got three meals a day. His mother didn't seem too happy either. She gulped her wine, emptying the cup as her tears turned into bone—shaking sobs.
"I can't do that. What you ask. Give up my boys," his mother said.
"You're not giving them up," replied Aidan. "You're setting them free from this path to the gallows. You're giving them to God." Aidan poured more wine before reaching into a pouch on his belt. He rummaged for a moment before placing his hand back on the table next to his mother's wine cup. There was no mistaking the clink of coin. Her eyes darted to the sound as she raised her cup to drink with an unsteady hand.
"You'll be compensated." He removed his hand, revealing two silver coins on the battered tabletop.
"Two silvers for my boys?"
Aidan smiled. "Not for your boys. For your sacrifice."
Don't do it. Jack watched his mother's hand fight its battle against the temptation of the silver. They were her children. If she loved them, for once she would do the right thing, not the easy thing.
"It's too much, what you ask," Mary said but her hand did not move from the table.
"Too much to ask that they serve the greater good? To protect not just yourself but your neighbors, your countrymen? To ask you to think of others and not just yourself? How can that be too much?" replied Aidan. He passed Mary a small white cloth to dab her tears with. "I simply ask you to be strong and do what's best for your boys."
"What sort of mother would I be to put them in harm's way?"
Aidan smiled. "I could argue that you’re taking them from harm's way. Of course, I can leave you and hopefully the judge will find mercy for them on the morrow when they are brought before him." He reached for the coins but his mother's hand was there before him.
"I want to do the right thing. I want to give them a chance in life."
"You are. They’ll have the opportunity to do great things. They won't have the life you’ve been forced into. Now, shall I leave you alone for a few minutes to say goodbye to your sons?"
Mary looked over at the cells but Jack averted his head away from her gaze. He couldn't bear to look at her, let her see the tears running down his own cheeks. Their mother was giving them up. Giving them away. Jack couldn't believe it. At least she was letting him down for the last time.
"No," was all she said "No goodbyes." She stood up and slipped the coins out of sight.
Jack's bravery crumbled. He looked up beseechingly but it was his mother's turn to avoid his gaze. "Mom!" he screamed.
The word had no effect.
He watched her walk to the stairs without a backward glance. His head dropped with every step. His heart broke as he listened to her feet take her out of the jail. Only when there was silence did he look up again. Aidan stood by the bars.
"You may think me cruel but one day you will thank me. You will remember this day as the point in which your life changed."
"You tricked us," said Jack. "I'll never thank you. I hate you!"
"You're not the first to say that but know this — there were no tricks. I did not make you do something you did not want to do. I simply stopped you from succeeding. And now I offer you b
oth an opportunity for ever—lasting glory. I take you both to fight a holy war. That is a gift very few are offered."
"I'll never fight for you! I'd rather be hung first!"
Again Aidan smiled and kissed the circle hanging from his neck. "We shall see, boy. We shall see. What ever is God's will. Now get some sleep. We leave at dawn and have a long journey ahead of us."
He left the boys were alone.
Jack turned on his brother. "This is all your fault. I told you we shouldn't do that job. Told you it was wrong. I hate you as much as I hate Mum and that man. I hate you all!"
For the first time, Brendan looked up. There was no mistaking the tears on his deathly pale face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've let you down. What’re we going to do? What’re we going to do?"
The look on Brendan's face was enough to calm Jack down. He couldn't be angry with his brother. He was all he had left. He sat down next to Brendan and hugged him. "We'll find away out of this. We always do."
"Do you really hate me?" asked Brendan.
"How can I hate you? You're an idiot but you're my brother."
Brendan looked confused for a moment before laughter burst from him. Jack joined in. It felt good after so long. They laughed long and hard, until their sides hurt, laughed their worries and concerns away. Let the Black Dog take them. They would find a way out.
The next morning, the red haired guard led them from their cells, heavy chains securing their wrists. Up the stairs and through the door, chains clanking with every step, past a small room that housed the guards and the policemen. Then one last door and they were in the street.
It was strange being outside again after five days in jail. The air had a freshness to it that was sweeter than anything Jack had known before. Even the chill was welcome. The sharp morning light hurt his eyes, causing him to squint. He blinked away the water from them lest anyone thought he cried from fear. His stomach squirmed and he fought the rising bile in his throat.