'Now look here…' Speight rose to protest.
There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being shouldered ready for firing. He turned and saw Rowles taking aim.
'Permission to shoot, sir?' asked the junior boy.
Speight froze as I made a play of considering the request.
'Escort these men from the grounds, Rowles. If any of them resist you have permission to shoot.'
Nobody moved. The officers looked confused and scared.
'But where will we go?' said Pugh.
'Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just not here,' I replied.
'You're not going to fire that gun are you, Rowles?' said Patel. He rose to his feet and started walking towards the boy, his hand outstretched. Rowles smiled one of the scariest smiles I've ever seen. I wondered what had happened to the quiet, scared little boy who'd hung on Bates' every word.
'Try me,' he said.
Patel, wisely, thought again.
'Enough,' I barked. 'I want you all out of here immediately. You are expelled.'
I was relieved when they made to leave. I hadn't wanted any more violence today.
'Green, stay behind a minute,' I said, as he reached the door. The other officers made their way outside. I gestured for Green to sit down. He looked petrified as he did so. I regarded him for a moment before asking: 'Why do they call you Limpdick, Green?'
'I don't know, sir,' he mumbled.
'Please don't waste my time. I'm tired and I want to have a cup of tea and go to bed. The sooner I can finish here the sooner I can relax. So, I ask you again, why do they call you Limpdick?'
He stared at his feet and mumbled a reply.
''Cause of Matron.'
'You were there when she was attacked?'
He nodded.
I swallowed hard. I didn't want to know the details, but I had to ask.
'Did they all take a turn?'
He nodded.
'But you couldn't, yes?'
He nodded again.
'Are you gay, Green, or just a fucking wimp?'
That got a reaction.
'Fuck you!' he shouted, suddenly defiant. 'Just 'cause I don't get off on raping somebody doesn't make me gay, all right?! I liked Matron. What happened in that room wasn't right. It just… wasn't right. I told Mac I wouldn't do it, I argued with him, but they teased me and… they had guns. They made me take off my trousers and lie on top of her. And she was just staring at the ceiling. I kept apologising to her but she wouldn't look at me. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.'
Tears welled in his eyes.
'And the man you killed?'
He broke down.
'Mac said he'd shoot me,' he sobbed.
I sighed heavily. Good.
'Okay. That's what I thought. I just needed to be sure.'
I got up and went to sit next to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off resentfully and stared back down at his shoes.
'Will you stay here, with us?' I asked.
He looked up at me, confused, and wiped away the tears.
'But I thought…'
'We're going to get Matron tomorrow. If she corroborates your story, and I'm sure she will, then we'd be glad to have you. We need people like you here. Petts is dead, so you'll have to recast, but God knows we could use some entertainment to take our minds off everything. So stay, put on your play. Yeah?'
I held out my hand. He took it and we shook.
When he was gone Mrs Atkins smiled at me.
'Not a bad start,' said Norton. 'Not bad at all. Now can I please go and sort out this fucking bullet wound before my arm falls off.'
While Norton got himself patched up I went to my room and changed out of my wet clothes. Peeling off the muddy, half-dried uniform was like uncovering a map of my recent escapades.
I had a scar on my left calf where Jonah had bitten me; a puckered red hole in my right thigh where I'd been shot; a bandage around my waist where I'd stabbed myself; a deep purple welt across my throat where the rope had cut into me; my torso and arms were covered in bruises; my right eye was blackened, my left cheekbone was blue and I had long scab on my cheek from Baker's signet ring, which would probably scar as well.
I was a complete mess.
I collapsed onto my bed. I was so tired I felt like I could sleep for a week, but my mind was racing. I had done it. Mac was gone, our enemies were defeated. Before Cheshire (his name, it turned out, was Bob) had gone back to Hildenborough he'd assured me that the two communities would be allies from now on. My job now was to find a way to mend the school. Tomorrow I'd go to the farm where Matron and the girls had sought refuge and see about bringing them back to Castle. Mrs Atkins had told me that there were twenty girls there now, under Matron's protection. We could use the fresh blood; this place was altogether too male.
Not that I wanted to do away with everything Mac had achieved. The school had withstood an attack from a force that had been well prepared for our defences, and in all the time he'd been in charge there'd been very little dissent or division. I had to try and use community building and reconstruction to maintain the unity that he had achieved through fear and force.
I would need my own officers, but I wasn't going to keep the military structure. There would have to be guard patrols and so forth, and they'd have to wear combats and carry guns, but for everyone else we'd go back to normal clothes and activities. We'd start lessons again, organise some round robin sports tournaments, foster a sense of structure and order that didn't come from a strict military outlook. St Mark's should start to feel like a school again, not an army camp.
Norton would be my right hand man, and Rowles would be the spokesman for the junior boys. I'd divvy up jobs to those boys that wanted them, delegate responsibilities. The deaths of Petts and Williams had left the garden and livestock with only Heathcote to tend them; he would need help. Riding was going to be our main form of transport now, so we needed to try and round up some more horses for Haycox to look after. We should try and find some glass to re-glaze the windows broken in the attack, too. Couldn't have the rain getting into the building.
And there was the Blood Hunter we'd taken prisoner. By the time I'd finished washing him he was gibbering and hysterical. He was still locked in a store cupboard, raving about the Second Coming.
There was so much to do.
Maybe, if I kept myself busy enough, I could prevent myself dwelling on the things I'd seen and done. Maybe I'd go to bed so tired each night that I'd be able to sleep without nightmares.
Maybe.
The next morning I put on a pair of old Levis and a t-shirt. It felt odd to be back in normal clothes. Comforting, though. I ignored my tough leather boots and put on a battered old pair of trainers. Luxury.
I went downstairs to the refectory and helped myself to some water and a slice of fresh bread. We hadn't got any yeast, so it was flat bread, but it was still warm and delicious. I walked across the courtyard to the old kitchen, where Mrs Atkins was already baking the second batch of the day.
'Mrs Atkins that smells wonderful and you are a marvel,' I said. I cleared away a pile of cookbooks and perched on the work surface.
'You sound chipper,' she said.
'I can't remember the last time I woke up feeling good about the day,' I replied. 'But the sun's shining, we've
