Son of Heaven (34 page)

‘
Execute them
, you mean.’

But Waite wasn’t in the mood for word games. He was a pugnacious little man at the best of times, and right now he was incandescent.

‘Call it what you fuckin’ like, Jake, but it’s ’ow we deal with it. It’s why we’ve survived. You’ve killed enough yourself…’

‘When it was necessary. But why did my boy intercede?’

‘I don’t know. Felt sorry for the miserable bastard, I guess. But you need to ’ave a word, Jake. Put the boy in his place. Let him know he should respect his elders.’

Jake’s own anger flared a little at that, but he knew he’d have to resolve this. Waite was an old friend – a good man when it came down to it, reliable in a fight, even if his
views on life were sometimes questionable. Besides, it was right what he’d said. They hadn’t survived from being soft.

Jake changed tack.

‘Have you questioned them?’

‘They’re in my outhouse, under guard. One of ’em’s in a bad way. Don’t reckon we’ll have to bother with him, but the others… Well… we stripped
them down and searched them.’

‘And?’

Waite almost smiled. ‘Come and see for yourself.’

‘I will. But first I need to get Tom home and settled. He’s had a long day. He needs some proper rest.’

‘Okay. But come when you’ve finished there. We need to settle this. And Jake… I mean it… have a word with your boy. He means well, I’m sure, but he can’t go
interfering in our business like he did.’

It was inviting Jake to argue, but Jake wasn’t going to rise to it. He’d listen to what his son had to say before making any judgement. But as he walked back to the wagons, he found
himself wondering what could have made Peter stand between Waite and a man he didn’t know – someone who, he imagined, would as soon stab him in the back as grant him the same
consideration.

Back at the wagons, Jake called Peter across.

‘Peter… come and give me and your Aunt Mary a hand. We’re going to take Uncle Tom back in the cart and get him settled, then you can bring the cart back here.’

Peter met his eyes briefly. He nodded then came across, Boy yapping at his ankles.

‘We’ll have a word later, eh?’

Mary and the girls walked alongside as they pulled the cart along, Mary holding her husband’s hand tightly.

Glancing back, Jake saw just how concerned she was. Such concern that it made him think again about what Tom had told him. Whatever else was in that look, it wasn’t the look of a betrayed
woman. There was too much love in it, too little sign of damage. No. The sight of Tom in pain was too much for her.

So what then? Had Tom been lying about the girl? Maybe. Only it made no sense. Why would he tell such a story against himself?

It was almost dark. There, just past the castle mound, the great stone ruin high above them to their left, the lane narrowed and went between the trees. As they hauled the cart along, so the
darkness intensified, until it seemed they were moving inside a long tunnel, the quiet broken only by the rattle of the cart, the rumble of its wheels, the sound of Boy padding along, panting
quietly at Peter’s side.

Jake looked back, over his shoulder. It was so dark now he couldn’t even see the others, close as they were.

‘Mary…?’

Her voice came back to him out of the darkness. ‘What?’

‘Did Tom tell you about the craft?’

‘Yes… yes, he did.’

‘And the markings on it?’

‘Yes…’ She hesitated, then, ‘Look, Jake… do we have to talk about this now?’

‘No, I just…’ He let it drop. Only he had to speak. There was too much going on in his head to keep silent. ‘So what happened? With Charlie Waite? You were all there, I
take it?’

He had meant to leave this until later. Only he needed to know. Needed to deal with this as soon as possible.

It was Peter who answered.

‘He was going to kill him.’

‘And that was wrong?’

‘It
felt
wrong.’

They were both conscious of Mary and the girls listening.

‘So what did you say?’

Peter’s silence was a shrug. Jake didn’t have to see him to know.

‘Oh, come on… you must have said something. Charlie was very upset.’

‘The man’s an animal,’ Mary said, surprising Jake, because she rarely made comment on their neighbours.

Jake took a long breath, then asked again. ‘So what did you say?’

‘It wasn’t just what he said,’ Mary answered. ‘It was what he did.’

‘Which was?’

‘I knocked the gun out of his hand.’

‘You…’

Jake almost laughed, he was so shocked by the notion, only it wasn’t a laughing matter. Waite’s pride must have been severely dented.

Peter spoke again, trying to explain.

‘The man… the prisoner, I mean… he had a bit of a stutter. I guess that’s what did it. He was afraid, you see, and… well… I could understand that. He
didn’t
want
to be here. He…’

Peter fell silent.

They were rounding the bend now, the darkness suddenly less intense. Up ahead the trees thinned out and they could glimpse the church, ahead and to their right, the moonlight shining on the
tower and on its steeply sloping roof.

‘Mary? What do
you
think?’

‘D’you know what?’ she said. ‘I think Peter showed real courage, defyin’ Waite. It was Peter who found them, see. They were ’
is
prisoners and ’e
was right to insist that we wait till you got back. I mean, they weren’t armed, nor dangerous, come to that. They were just frightened.’

Jake looked to his son. ‘Then you did the right thing.’

Only it made things difficult. Very difficult indeed, because hard times were coming, and it didn’t do to be at odds with one’s neighbours at such times.

He glanced back again. ‘You okay, Tom? We’ve not shaken you about too much?’

‘I’m fine,’ Tom answered weakly.

‘Good. Because it’s not far now. Not far at all…’

Pulling the cart back through the darkness, Boy at his heels, Peter had time to reflect on what had been said.

He had known, even before Jake had uttered a single word, just what his father would say. He also knew that he would have to apologize to Waite at some point, to keep the peace, if nothing else.
But he had not been wrong. Not in the least. Because to go along with what Waite had wanted to do would have been evil; would have been tantamount to negating his own existence.

Jake had told him the story countless times, but its impact on him had never been so strong as last night.

When Jake had first come here, he too had been a stranger, he too might simply have been shot and disposed of, had the likes of Waite had their way. Only they hadn’t. That choice had been
left to Tom Hubbard, and Tom had given his father a chance. A chance to prove himself, to become his friend.

Without which I would not be here…

The thought made him smile. But the smile was tinged with sadness, for Tom, who’d saved his father, was looking bad. The wound itself looked good, looked clean and uninfected, but Tom
himself looked wasted.

‘Peter?’

He slowed, then stopped. It was Meg. She came out of the darkness like a shadow; a warm, all too real shadow that was suddenly in his arms and kissing him.

Boy barked excitedly.

Peter moved back a little. He couldn’t see her, but then he didn’t need to. He could picture her perfectly.

‘What was that for?’

‘For being you. And for doin’ the right thing. I didn’t say last night but… I’m just so proud of you. I’d ’ave never ’ad the balls...’

He shrugged. ‘Waite’s okay. He’s not really a cruel man. Just pragmatic. He sees the world in simple terms, that’s all.’

‘But so do you.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah… but that’s okay.’ She squeezed him again, gave him another small, soft kiss.

He chuckled. ‘Stop it… I’ve got to get this cart back…’

‘Then get going. I’ll ’elp you.’

He turned and began to push the cart again, feeling at once her presence there to his right, helping him.

‘Meg?’

‘Yes, my love?’

‘D’you think your dad’s all right?’

She was silent a moment. ‘I don’t know. I was lookin’ at Mum, earlier on, before Dad got back. It’s just… I dunno… somethin’ in her face. She’s
seemed so sad these last few weeks.’

Peter took a long breath. ‘If I tell you something… will you promise not to say anything?’

They had slowed almost to a standstill.

‘Maybe. Depends what it is.’

‘No, seriously. You’ve got to promise me.’

‘Okay. I promise.’

‘The other day, when you three went into Corfe and I stayed behind… I was in the garden and I heard something, and when I went over, I could see your mum standing at the
sink…’

‘Yeah?’

‘And she was crying.’

They had stopped, there in the darkness.

‘Cryin’?’

‘Sobbing her heart out.’

He heard her sigh, sensed rather than saw her turn away.

‘Meg? What is it?’

‘I think somethin’s wrong. A few weeks back – remember? – when Dad was away for a couple of days...’

‘Seeing his cousin, over in Lulworth…’

‘Yeah…’ Only she didn’t
mean
yeah.

‘You mean, he
wasn’t
?’

‘I don’t know.’ Meg took his hands. She was trembling now. ‘It’s just… ’e’s not been well. Not for a long while. He keeps up a front, but…
well, I’ve seen it. Seen ’ow tired he gets.’

‘So you think he might have gone to see someone?’

‘I don’t know. Only looking at him just now…’

‘He’s just tired, that’s all. The journey… the stress of it… it can’t have been easy.’

‘No… no, I guess not.’

‘And if there was something wrong, well… he’d have told us, wouldn’t he? Dad would certainly have known. You know what those two are like. They’re like brothers.
They don’t keep
anything
from each other.’

Jake was waiting for them near the church, his torch held high, as Peter and Megan emerged from the blackness of the lane.

‘Are you ready?’

Peter looked to Meg, then looked back at his father and nodded.

‘Good. Then let’s go and sort this out.’

The New Inn was just across the way. They went down the little alleyway at the side and out onto the patio. There, on the far side of the long, descending lawn, partway down the slope, was the
outhouse. Normally Waite kept various bits and pieces there, fold-up chairs and empty barrels, crates of glasses and the like. For the moment, however, it was being used as a cell.

‘Jake…’ Waite said, coming across, his two sons shadowing him. ‘Peter…’

All three, like Jake, were armed.

Peter bowed his head. Jake was about to say something, but Peter got in first.

‘I’m sorry, Mister Waite. Last night… I didn’t mean to be disrespectful…’

Waite blinked, then slowly began to smile. ‘S’okay, boy. But we gotta sort this. Can’t afford to let it drag.’

‘No, sir.’

Jake looked to his son, proud of him at that moment. ‘Well?’ he said, turning his attention to Waite. ‘What’ve you found?’

They went across, following the stout little man, who produced a key to the padlock and handed it to his son, then stood back a bit, gun raised, as he unlocked it.

As the door swung open they were struck by the stench of urine and faeces.

Jake grimaced. ‘Christ!’

In the light of the torch he could see two of them huddled in the far corner, off to his left. They had been stripped to their underwear, their ankles and wrists bound with electrician’s
tape. They looked bruised and beaten, and fearful. But they were much better off than their fellow. He lay unmoving on the straw to Jake’s right. From the look of him he was dead.

‘I thought—’

Jake stopped, choking off his words, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot. He didn’t want to be arguing with Waite right from the start. For once he ignored the fact that Waite had
done nothing to help the man – that he’d just left him there to die. Maybe he’d have died anyway. Only it spoke volumes of Waite’s attitude. He just wanted to kill the men
and have done with it.

He turned and looked at Waite, noting, as he did, the way Waite looked past him at the prisoners; the set look of hatred on his face.

‘Will!’ At Waite’s shout, his younger son stepped forward and handed Jake what looked like a lady’s make-up bag.

‘What’s this?’

Waite gestured with his head towards one of the cowering figures. ‘It was on that one… S-s-stammerin’ S-s-stan. ’Is little goody bag. Things he stole…’

Handing the torch to Waite’s boy, Jake unzipped the small velvet bag and looked inside. There were jewels and coins and…

Jake looked up sharply, looked to the one Waite had indicated, then back at Waite. His whole countenance had changed.

‘Give me half an hour.’

‘Jake?’

He thrust the bag into Waite’s hands, then turned to Peter.

‘Peter… get your gun… and spare ammunition. Then meet me by the well.’

As Peter and Boy ran off, Jake checked his gun, then looked to Waite again.

‘What is it?’ Waite asked. ‘He taken some’at of yours there, Jake?’

‘Not mine,’ Jake answered, but he said no more, just set off, down the slope and through the gate in the fence, heading for the well.

Jake ran across the empty space before the cottage, keeping low. At the back door he paused, then, lifting his head, took a quick glance inside.

He looked back, to where Peter waited in the shadows with Boy, and gave him the signal. At once both boy and dog raced across, scuttling round the side of the building.

Jake heard the faint click as Peter took off the safety.

East Orchard was silent. Not a light shone anywhere. The cottage itself was enveloped in darkness, the moonlight on its ancient tiled roof revealing the only part of it to jut out above the
surrounding vegetation.

Jake took a long breath, steeling himself, then pulled the door open and went through, into the darkness of the kitchen. There he stopped, alert to the least noise, letting his pulse slow.

He remembered sitting here, only a few days before, as Old Ma Brogan made him tea and chatted with him. Then this had seemed a fine place to spend an hour or two, but now the darkness seemed
ominous.