'Ohhhhh, no.' A half-smile slipped across Green's mouth. 'No, sirrah. I ain't givin' up my sword. You must think me a proper fool, if you'd believe I'd let it out of my hand.'
'Well, someone has got to go in there and pull her out! It seems to me it should be the man with the sword!' By now Matthew was a human sweatpond. Still Green hesitated. Matthew said, with an exasperated air, 'Shall I go to the magistrate and tell him the execution will be postponed because the law of confessiato cannot be applied?'
'She doesn't care to confess!' Green said. 'The magistrate can't force her to!'
'That's not the point. The law says...' Think, think! '... the accused must be afforded an opportunity, in the presence of a magistrate, whether they want to confess or not. Go on, please! We're wasting time!'
'That's a damn ridiculous law, ' Green muttered. 'Sounds just like somethin' from a bunch of highwigs.' He aimed his sword at Rachel. 'All right, witch! If you won't move on your own will, you'll move at a prick on your arse!' Sweat glistening on his face, he entered the cell.
'Look how she steps back!' Quickly, Matthew set his lantern on the floor and entered directly behind him. 'Look how she hugs the wall! Defiant to a fault!'
'Come on!' Green stopped, motioning with the sword. 'Out with you, damn it!'
'Don't let her make a fool of you!' Matthew insisted. He looked down at the buckets and made the choice of the one that was about half-full of water. 'Go on!'
'Don't rush me, boy!' Green snapped. Rachel had slid away from him along the wall toward the bars of the cell Matthew had occupied during his incarceration. Green went after her, but cautiously, the lantern in his left hand and the sword in his right.
Matthew picked up the water bucket. Oh God, he thought. Now or never!
'I don't want to draw blood, ' Green warned Rachel as he neared her, 'but if I have to I'll—'
Matthew said sharply, 'Look here, Mr. Green!'
The giant gaol-keeper whipped his head around. Matthew was already moving. He took two steps and flung the water into Green's face.
It hit the behemoth directly, blinding him for an instant but an instant of blindness was all Matthew had wanted. He followed the water by swinging the empty bucket at Green's head. Wham! went the sound of the blow, wood against skull, and skull won. The sturdy bucket fairly burst to pieces on impact, leaving Matthew gripping the length of rope that had served as its handle.
Green staggered backward, past Rachel as she scrambled aside. He dropped the lantern and collided with the bars with a force that made the breath whoosh from his lungs. His eyes had rolled back in his head. The sword slipped from his fingers.
Then Green toppled to his knees in the straw, the floor trembling as he hit.
'Have you... have you gone mad?' was all Rachel could think to say.
'I'm getting you out of here.' Matthew bent, picked up the sword—a heavy beast—and pushed it between the bars into the next cell.
'Getting me... out? What're you—?'
'I'm not going to let you burn, ' he said, turning to face her. 'I have clothes for you, and supplies. I'm taking you to the Florida country.'
'The... Florida...' She stepped back, and Matthew thought she might fall as Green had. 'You... must be mad!'
'The Spanish will give you sanctuary there, if you pass yourself as a runaway slave or English captive. Now, I really don't think we have time to debate this, as I have crossed my own personal point of no return.'
'But... why are you—'
She was interrupted by a groan from the awakening gaol-keeper, who was still on his knees. Matthew looked at Green in alarm and saw his eyes fluttering. Then, suddenly, Green's bloodshot eyes opened wide. They darted from Matthew to Rachel and back again—and then Green's mouth opened to deliver a yell that would awaken not only Fount Royal but the sleepers in Charles Town.
In a heartbeat, Matthew grabbed up a double-handful of straw and jammed it deeply into Green's mouth even as the yell began its exit. Perhaps a syllable escaped before the straw did its work. Green began to gag and choke, and Matthew followed the act with a blow to the gaol-keeper's face that seemed to do not a whit of damage except to Matthew's knuckles. Then, still dazed and his voice unavailable, Green grasped the front of Matthew's shirt and his left forearm, lifted him off the floor like one of the demonic poppets, and flung him against the wall.
Now it was Matthew's turn to lose his breath as he crashed against the timbers. He slid down to the floor, his ribs near caved in, and saw through a haze of pain that Green was reaching through the bars to grasp the sword's handle, bits of straw flying around his face as he tried to cough the stuff out. Green's fingers closed on the weapon, and he began drawing it toward himself.
Matthew looked at Rachel, who was still too stunned at this turn of events to react. Then he saw the wooden bench beside her, and he hauled himself up.
Green almost had the sword pulled through. His large hand, clasping the sword's grip, had lodged between the bars. He gave a mighty heave, near tearing the flesh from his paw, and suddenly the sword was again his protector.
But not for long, if Matthew had his way. Matthew had picked up the bench, and now he slammed it down across Green's head and shoulders with all his strength. The bench went the way of the bucket, exploding upon impact. Green shuddered and made a muffled groan, his throat still clogged, and again the sword fell from his spasming fingers.
Matthew reached down to get that damned blade and do away with it once more—and Green's hands, the right one bruised and blackening from its contest with the bars, seized his throat.
Green's face was mottled crimson, the eyes wild with rage and terror, a stream of blood running from the top of his head down to his eyebrows and straw clenched between his teeth. He stood up to his full height, lifting Matthew by the throat, and began to strangle him as surely as if Matthew had been dangling from a gallows-tree. Matthew's legs kicked and he pushed against Green's bearded chin with both hands, but the giant's grasp was killing him.
Rachel now saw that she must act or Matthew would die. She saw the sword, but her wish was not to kill to save. Instead she launched herself at Green's back like a wildcat, scratching and pummelling at his face. He turned and with a motion that was almost casual flung her off, after which he continued his single-minded execution as Matthew thrashed ineffectually.
A shimmering red haze was starting to envelope Matthew's head. He cocked back his right fist, judging where he should strike to inflict the most pain. It hardly mattered. Green gave the threatening fist a quick glance and a straw-lipped sneer and his crushing hands tightened even more.
The blow was delivered, with a sound like an axe striking hardwood. Green's head snapped back, his mouth opened, and a tooth flew out, followed by a spatter of blood.
Instantly the giant's hands loosened. Matthew dropped to the floor. He clutched at his throat, his lungs heaving.
Green turned in a dazed circle, as if he were dancing a reel with an invisible partner. He coughed once, then again, and straw burst from his throat. His eyes showing only red-tinged whites, he fell like a hammer-knocked steer and lay stretched out on the floor.
It had been one hell of a blow.
However, it had been delivered before Matthew's own puny offering. Mrs. Nettles spat on her knuckles and wrung her hand. 'Ow, ' she said. 'I've nae hit a harder head!'
Matthew croaked, 'You?'
'Me, ' she answered. 'I heard you up 'n' about in Mr. Bidwell's study. I thought I'd tag along, keep a watch o'er ye. Near saw my lantern, 'fore I dowsed it.' She looked at Rachel, and then cast a disapproving eye around the cell. 'Lord, what a filth-pot!'
Rachel was so amazed at all this, when she'd been preparing herself for the final morn, that she felt she must be in some strange dream even though she'd not slept since early afternoon.
'Here, c'mon.' Mrs. Nettles reached down, grasped Matthew's hand, and hauled him up. 'You'd best be off. I'll make sure Mr. Green keeps his silence.'
'You're not going to hurt him, are you? I mean... any more than you already have?'
