Rapscallion

'He was drunk, Tom.'

'He's always bloody drunk,' Gadd muttered.

'And if Morgan decided that Seth bothering you wasn't a risk to his business, what then?' Hawkwood asked.

'I'd spend my days worrying about Annie and her boy.'

'Annie?' Hawkwood said. 'Your sister?'

Jess Flynn nodded. 'Seth threatened to hurt them if I didn't give myself to him. I don't know whether he really would, but if I went to Morgan and he didn't do anything, and Seth found out, he could take it out on them to spite me.'

Lasseur turned to Hawkwood. 'You should have let me kill him.'

Hawkwood did not respond to that. He studied Jess for a moment. 'So you've no idea whether Morgan will take your side or Seth's?'

'No. But Seth can't be sure either. He's one of Morgan's bat men, but he knows that won't save him if Morgan decides he's stepped out of line.'

'And you're hoping that the mere threat of going to Morgan will be enough to keep Seth at bay?'

'That's a dangerous game you're playing, Jess,' Gadd said.

'I know, Tom. You don't have to tell me.'

'Bloody Morgan,' Gadd said.

Outside, the dog let out a single bark.

'Shite!' Gadd spat, swinging round in alarm.

'Stay here,' Jess Flynn said. She stood up quickly and walked out into the yard, closing the door behind her.

They should have stayed in the barn, Hawkwood knew, close to the hiding space behind the bales. They had grown careless.

'There's a cellar,' Gadd said urgently. 'Entrance is in the pantry, under the mat.' He nodded towards a door in the corner.

Hawkwood and Lasseur were already moving as the latch lifted on the back door.

Too bloody late, Hawkwood thought.

The door opened.

'It's Asa,' Jess Flynn said. 'He's come to pick up the tubs.'

'God save us,' Tom Gadd said, relief flooding across his seamed face.

Hawkwood and Lasseur helped with the loading. There were six tubs in total. It didn't take long to remove them from the hiding place behind the bales.

The gravedigger had brought two empty coffins with him on the back of the cart. Hawkwood wondered if they were new or the same ones as before. They placed three tubs in each coffin. Laid on their sides, end to end, they were a snug fit. Once the tubs had been secured, Higgs used thin nails to keep the lids in place.

'What if you're stopped?' Hawkwood asked, stepping back. 'Won't it seem an odd time of day to be transporting coffins?'

The gravedigger shook his head. 'Dead don't know what time it is. It ain't as though they keep regular hours. Leastways, not round here. Besides we'll be stickin' to the back lanes.'

'But what if you're stopped and someone wants to take a look?'

'I'll tell 'em I'm carryin' a couple of pox victims. See if they want to take a look then. God's sakes, you ask a lot of bleedin' questions for a Frenchie.' Higgs's eyes narrowed. 'But then, you ain't a Frenchie, are you?'

'You were misinformed,' Hawkwood said.

Tom Gadd rolled his eyes.

'Aye, well, it wouldn't be the first time,' Higgs said morbidly. 'Not that it makes any bleedin' difference. I just does what I'm told. Now, you ready or not?'

'For what?' Hawkwood said.

'Tubs ain't the only things I came for,' Higgs said. 'You got any belongings you want to take with you, best grab them now. We've a ways to go.'

'Go?' Lasseur said.

'You didn't think you'd be stayin' here permanent, did you? Time you was movin' on.'

'Where to?' Hawkwood asked.

'A little place in the country; nice and secluded, no pryin' eyes.'

'I thought this was the country,' Hawkwood said, thinking, If this isn't secluded, what is?

'There's other parts.'

'Asa?' Jess Flynn said.

'Come on, Jess, you know you're not supposed to ask. I deliver 'em and I take 'em off your hands when I'm told. You don't need to know the rest.'

'Bollocks, Asa,' Gadd said. 'Don't give me that. Where are you taking them?'

Higgs sighed, bit the inside of his lip, and said, 'All right, I'm takin' them to the Haunt. Satisfied?'

Gadd frowned. 'Why there?'

'God's sake, Tom, I'd have thought that was bleedin' obvious.'

'What's at the Haunt?' Hawkwood asked.

'It ain't what,' Gadd said, an edge to his voice. 'It's who.'

Hawkwood waited.

It was the gravedigger who finally answered: 'Mr Morgan wants to meet you.'

Well, this should be interesting, Hawkwood thought.

The sun was hanging low over the end of the valley as the gravedigger steered the coffin-laden cart up the track towards the trees. It was a strange feeling, leaving the place that had been their home for the past three days. Hawkwood had never been one for looking back over his shoulder but, on this occasion, even though he was impatient to move on, he couldn't help himself. Sunset was probably less than an hour away; at the edge of the woods, shadows were already lengthening and the house and barn were suffused in a warm russet glow. Hawkwood glanced to his side. Lasseur was staring back too, but there was a distant look in his eye that suggested he was seeing something far beyond his immediate view.

There had been no protracted farewells.

Shaking their hands in turn, Tom Gadd had wished them a fair wind and then looked vaguely embarrassed by his verbosity.

Jess Flynn had hung back, only stepping forward to press a folded napkin into Lasseur's hands. 'Some food for the journey. It's not much; just some bread and cheese.'

As she stepped away, Hawkwood saw her fingers make contact with the back of Lasseur's wrist. The gesture had been so subtle, he wondered if he might have imagined it; yet he knew instinctively he had not and that more had been said in that fleeting touch and in the look on Jess Flynn's face than could have been expressed in a thousand words.

She had turned to Hawkwood then. 'Safe passage, Captain Hooper.'

'Madame,' Hawkwood said.

With a brief nod and a final glance towards Lasseur, she turned and, straight-backed, head held high, made her way back to the house, a shaggy, four-legged shape padding obediently in her wake.

Lasseur had watched her walk away, his face still.

'Time to go, Captain,' Tom Gadd murmured beside him.

Lasseur nodded.

The seaman lingered as Hawkwood and Lasseur climbed on to the cart. At the last minute, Lasseur turned to him. 'Watch over her, Thomas,' he said quietly. 'Try and keep her safe.'

Gadd nodded. 'I'll do my best, Captain.' He watched as Lasseur settled himself down and waited until Asa Higgs had set the horse in motion before turning to follow the woman and dog towards the house.

'So, if you ain't a Frenchie, what the hell are you?'

Asa Higgs winkled a clot of ash from his pipe and tapped the bowl against the side of his boot.

'American,' Hawkwood said.