“Is he involved in all this?” Simeon asked.
“You know him, father?”
“I know of him. There is little that escapes the gossips of London. A shamed diplomat living as a hermit, claimed foreign agents were trying to kill him. He used to take shots at any poor soul that happened onto his land by mistake. Apparently, there are rumours that he spent his last few years in the company of a single house keeper, and that she was with child.”
“Now that is interesting,” Isaac began, “Thom left the world with no named heirs. However, I have seen documents saying that there was a claim placed against his estate. However, some of the documents have disappeared and I could find no identity of the person who had made the claim.”
William suddenly sat up straight. “Well, Sir Rufus Thom will have to wait, get ready.”
The attackers had obviously decided the household had fallen to slumber. As they had reached the open ground they had decided that pace was their best tactic. They had covered half the distance to the house, when the window to the sitting room exploded, quickly followed by a small volley from the upper reaches of Cloveney Hall. Three men were thrown backward with the momentum of being hit by bullets. others screamed and grasped at wounds. Chaos engulfed them, some racing for the hall, and some turning on their heels to run for the shadows. As a military manoeuvre, it was a complete disaster.
*
William fired again. An attacker running for cover suddenly clasped a hand to his neck and then collapsed on to the ground. His plan had been executed to perfection but the battle was not yet won. Some of the attackers had managed to reach the Hall and those that ran from the gunfire were now safe in the shadows. He was also unaware that a small group had decided that the rewards were worth another attack but would skirt around the Hall and find another way in. William’s focus, however, was on the front of the hall, as for the first-time, gunfire was coming in his direction. The return fire was sporadic suggesting that few of the enemy were in possession of a firearm. Suddenly, shards of glass exploded as a statue from the courtyard was hurled through the sitting room window. William and his fellow defenders were forced to dive out of the way; no easy matter for those that were injured. Two of the enemy immediately climbed through the debris. Unfortunately for the attackers they found William’s father and his favourite shotgun waiting for them. One man died instantly and fell taking Simeon down with him. His comrade was injured but as he attempted to rise from the floor, a barrel was placed at his head. Obadiah looked at the man, smiled, then pulled the trigger. A third man rushed through the window, but John grasped the man by the arm and snapped his neck with no more difficulty than chicken being prepared for a Sunday roast.
“That’s for Tom, you murderous bastard.” John had little time to celebrate his kill as a bullet smashed into his right shoulder. He swung around and then toppled to the floor. Isaac dropped to the floor and applied pressure to the wound, but as he did so the shooter appeared in the window. Without hesitation, Isaac lifted one of William’s pepperboxes and pulled the trigger. When the blinding light and acrid smoke cleared, the attacker was gone, but the remnants of the window were covered in a ghoulish red paste.
The front of the house had suddenly gone quiet, but a gunshot sounded to the rear. Sir Simeon Harkness had regained his feet, brushing the dust from his suit. Calmly, he spoke,
“Obadiah, would you care to join me at the rear of the house?”
“It would be a pleasure, Sir Harkness.” William heard the exchange and couldn’t help feeling both men were enjoying themselves.
∞∞∞
At the rear of the house, Tomkins fired his shotgun through the rear door. For a moment, the gun shot had put a stop to the men that were trying to force entry. However, the lull in violence directed at the entrance did not last. Then the sound became a regular, heavy thudding; the attackers had obviously found something substantial to aid their admittance. Tomkins looked at the door with growing concern; it was at that moment that Sir Simeon Harkness and Obadiah arrived.
“They will be through there any moment,” Tomkins announced.
Simeon quickly assessed the situation. “Here give me a hand,” he called out. He started to drag the large heavy kitchen table towards the centre of the room. The two men immediately responded to his order. When the table was finally in position, it was tipped, with some difficulty, on to its side. The three men then took shelter behind the makeshift barricade.
At that exact moment the door frame splintered, and the obstacle to the attacker’s prize had finally yielded to their onslaught. Seven men attempted to storm the doorway at the same time; their eagerness provided the defenders with an easy target. A volley of fire erupted from beyond the barricade, all of its deadly missiles concentrated on the narrow doorway packed with bodies. Three men fell, and then a fourth, as Obadiah fired. Of the rest, one turned and fled into the night. One charged the barricade only to be swatted like a fly as Simeon reversed his shotgun and used the makeshift club with skill. The third, and final attacker, dropped his knife and raised his hands. Obadiah strode over to him and delivered a brutal kick to the groin. He then grasped a handful of hair and lifted the man’s head. For the first time, the old man realised that the attacker was no more than a boy.
“Do you want to die?” he growled.
“No...no,” the boy stammered.
“Then run away, and don’t look back, because I might change my mind and come after you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then go.”
Chapter 29
The fighting to the rear of the house was at an end. The attackers who’d been attempting to gain access at the front of the building had fared no better than those at the back. The dead and wounded lay strewn around the courtyard, the survivors, in full blown retreat to the woods and beyond. The hooded figure ran after them shouting, but they ignored his cries, panic deafening their ears, perhaps. The moment of glory he’d held in his hands, slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. Within minutes he found himself deserted by his men, left all alone with thoughts of what might have been.
The crack of a branch sounded to his rear. “At least one of you is not a coward.” He turned, but as he did so, a burning agony sliced through his thigh. He stumbled backwards and pulled out his own blade. Just as the knife felt the cold night air, it was kicked from his grasp. He pulled the hood free from his head, feeling hot, as though he teetered on the very edge of the fires of hell. He looked at his assailant. “Please,” he sobbed. A blow to the chest sent him sprawling into the dirt. He tried to rise, but his enemy dropped down on top of his chest. He felt knees pin his arms to the damp, filthy ground.
The assailant’s tone was filled with malice. “William wants you taken prisoner, he wants you to give up your secrets. Personally, I don’t believe in talking to the killers of my friends. You took the heads of my friends, it’s only fair I take one in return.”
The trapped man began to scream as the blade was pushed deliberately and slowly into his flesh. Moments later the screaming turned to anguished gurgles… and then silence…
Gossup rose from his victim clutching his grotesque prize in his hands.
“That is justice in my world.”
***
William carefully stepped from Cloveney Hall. Despite the possibility of danger, his mind was awash with thoughts of the Ripper. As he surveyed the dead and injured, William began to feel that he had been manipulated. These were no professional fighters. They were no more than thugs, amateurs who’d had no appropriate military training. The Ripper had sent these men here knowing that they would be cannon fodder, meaning that amongst them, were men who he wanted out of the way. Men who challenged his rule. The devious bastard had William and his men to do his dirty work, by disposing of his enemies for him.
“For a battle, it was a prompt affair,” Simeon announced, as he and Obadiah joined William.
“Hired thugs rarely have a battle plan. I su
ppose we should offer assistance to the wounded. I doubt any will be able to offer a name for their employer.” William replied.
“Obadiah had a captive, but he let him go, didn’t you Obe?” Simeon said, his tone, teasing.
“He was just a boy,” Obadiah grumbled.
“Boys kill as well as men when their mind is set to the task...” William’s words trailed away as another thought raced through his mind. “Boys kill as well as men,” he repeated. In his mind, he tried to fix all the pieces of the puzzle into place. Kostya, Stand, Simms, and Holbrook – all murdered. The crimes were committed without witnesses, apart from Alfie who’d been witness the killing of Mr Stand. The killers did not know about Alfie; they had no idea that Stand did not live alone. Why didn’t they know? The Ripper followers don’t just turn up, they learn about their prey before they strike. Each crime planned to perfection; potential witnesses poisoned to keep them out of the way; a mother and her son murdered to keep their mouths shut. William was suddenly concerned. He had placed the boy in his home, given him a pistol to guard over the woman he loved. He looked to the upper levels of Cloveney Hall and concern became panic. “Come on, quickly.”
William and his companions rushed into Cloveney Hall and immediately took to the stairs. As they reached the upper landing it dawned on each of them that they had no idea which room held the boy. There was little choice but to split up as Emily’s life could depend on finding the boy. Each of them moved to a different room, and carefully peering around a door before moving inside.
As William entered a third room, he spied a figure on the bed. He silently paced across timber and rug, determined not to wake the figure. Finally, he was within touching distance. He pulled back the covers, ready to strike out should it be a trap. It was Alfie. The boy lay on the bed, a gash across the top of his head, giving ample reason for not waking. William moved in closer and to his amazement the boy was still breathing. Perhaps he had been wrong about the boy? That meant one of the attackers had managed to enter Cloveney and had taken Emily. A creak on the floor timbers made William turn around. His father entered the room.
“Father, look after Alfie, I must find Emily.”
Further down the landing, Obadiah entered another room. All seemed normal, but as he made to leave, a decorated screen crashed to the floor. The old man drew his pistol, but could not fire. Emily was stood perfectly still. A hand held her hair, and a pistol was pointed at her temple.
“Drop your weapon.”
“I don’t think so, girlie,” Obadiah replied.
“I will kill her,” Bessie threatened.
“And then I will kill you, very, very slowly,” he growled.
“Then I will kill you.”
“I am not the only one searching these rooms. You shoot me, and they will be upon you. You are out of options, girlie.” Obadiah lowered his pistol to show that he did not fear her.
“My brother will come, and he will burn down this house.”
“Who is your brother, Bessie?” The question came from the doorway. William slowly walked into the centre of the room to stand alongside Obadiah. “Is he the one that attacked Cloveney?”
“He will tear this building down,” she repeated.
“Bessie, the attack is over. Nobody is coming to rescue you.”
“Liar! My brother will come, we shall have our inheritance and we shall lead our people to the golden era. He found me when I thought I was lowly born. He gave me life and plucked me from the gutter. We will have our beautiful home.”
William could tell that Bessie was beginning to lose her grip on reality. “If your brother led that attack then he is most likely dead, and if you have failed the Ripper, then you know your time is coming to an end.”
“No!” She screamed and turned her pistol towards William. Obadiah, instinctively raised his weapon, but Bessie had seen the movement. She turned her pistol back to the old man and fired. William leapt across attempting to push Obadiah from harm’s way. For a moment, the world stood still. Then William rolled over, the front of his jacket smeared with blood.
Emily observed the crimson stain on William’s jacket and screamed her anger. She threw her head back making contact with the bridge of Bessie’s nose. Her fury was not yet quenched; she wanted to tear Bessie apart. She charged forward picking Bessie from her feet. A moment later, breaking glass and splintering wood sounded as the window gave way. Bessie’s scream filled the air. The terror-filled cry continued until a faint thud brought it to an end. Bessie was gone from the room, broken apart on the courtyard below. Emily raced to William’s side.
“It’s not me Emily.”
“But the blood?”
“It’s Obadiah – they have killed my Obadiah.”
Emily glanced at the old man. His eyes stared toward the ceiling without the slightest of a flicker. William crawled to the old man and raised him into his arms and wailed his grief. So powerful was his cry the entire house was made aware of his endless woe. Sir Simeon Harkness had heard the cry and raced to be at his son’s side. On seeing his oldest friend dead upon the floor, he sank to his knees and joined Emily and his son in their grief.
∞∞∞
Two days later Cloveney Hall was as if haunted. The vibrancy usually associated with the country home of Sir Simeon Harkness had undergone a metamorphosis. The building and the people within it, had been stripped of their energy since the death of Obadiah Godspeed. The dead and injured amongst the ranks of the attackers had been removed from the hall, but they had left behind an unseen stain. Emily knew It weighed heavily on Simeon, who like his son, had loved Obadiah and known him for so long.
Sir Simeon had decided that his dearest friend would be buried at the Hall. The household had prepared solemnly for the funeral. One man however, was conspicuous by his absence. Simeon Harkness pulled Emily to one side. “Forgive me, Emily, but William needs to be here.”
“I have no idea where he is, Sir Simeon, he did not spend the night in our bed.” She looked at him, feeling the sadness in her own eyes. The elder Harkness, as always, was impeccably dressed. His moustache was trimmed to perfect symmetry and not one hair on his head was out of place. Emily however, looked closer and observed a man who had not found sleep easy to come by. The visible redness around his eyes showed that even the rich and influenced could feel heartbreak. “I have an idea where he could be,” she told him, raising a hand to his cheek. “I will find him Simeon.”
Minutes later she stepped out into the light of the day. Despite the brightness, the chill stung the flesh of her cheeks. She wondered if she could keep her commitment to the elder Harkness. Nonetheless, she pushed across the courtyard. She tried to ignore the signs of violence that had erupted two days previously. Statues showed the signs of errant bullets and the gravel beneath her feet kept the sporadic patches of crimson, which resiliently remained, despite the previous day’s light drizzle. She left the courtyard and turned down a small track that ran in front of the woods. She entered a meadow, which in turn gave way to a large orchard.
William was sat on a tree stump; a small pony nestled his shoulder in attempt at gaining attention. She approached silently, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.
“You would never make a hunter.” William announced without turning.
“I have no need to hunt, my prey likes to be caught.” She moved to his side and was relieved when he reached around her waist and pulled her close. “What are you thinking?”
“Oh, many things. I sometimes think my head will explode.”
“One problem at a time and we can resolve them together.”
He turned and looked at her and then gave a brief smile. “I have been trying to get the whole Ripper, Bessie, Obadiah mess in some sort of order.”
“And how far have you progressed?” She was surprised that he seemed so calm. She had expected her lover to be filled with sadness.
“I believe the Ripper did not want the attack against my men. I also believe, he knew that his rivals
would be destroyed. Bessie is far more difficult to understand. She seemed to believe that an unknown brother would come to her rescue and they would both inherit a fortune. I’m guessing that the inheritance is the estate of Sir Rufus Thom.”
“Was there no sign of the brother?”
William grimaced. “There was a man in the woods that was clearly in charge of the attack.”
“Did he escape?”
“Not exactly, he met with Gossup. He is in no fit state to answer questions. Not that I think he would have been forthcoming with answers.”
“You must have a theory?”
“Only, that the Ripper has ways of learning secrets. I’m guessing that Thom denied his children, refusing them their birth right. He most likely split brother and sister up and then sent them away. If Bessie believed her father to be the man she had lived with as a child, then it was most likely at an early age that she was sent from Thom’s home. She probably couldn’t even remember Rufus Thom. I expect the Ripper united brother and sister and he, or they, killed Thom. Somehow Bessie and her brother broke free of the Ripper’s spell and then challenged for the leadership over the followers of Cronos. But it’s just a theory.”
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