“What chills you?” Jak asked, displaying a ghoulish interest in the mechanics of how a crucifixion actually worked.
Nathan pointed. “See the way the head falls forward on the chest? Whole body leans out. Closes up the chest so you can’t breathe. You pull yourself up straight. Then the strain’s too much so you slump. Goes on until you choke.”
“Bastard hard,” Ryan said.
“Indeed, Master Thursby,” the tall young man agreed. “But the baron and his… his lady have less kind ways.”
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“Worse than that!” Krysty exclaimed, shaking her head in disgust.
“A man who spit at Lady Rachel Cawdor, for what she’d done to his family, was taken and stripped and his wrists bound tight with whipcord. Then he was placed on a large wooden spike that tapered, becoming wider and wider.”
Jak looked puzzled. “Placed? How d’you mean? How?”
“Point up his ass, Whitey,” Tom explained. “He gripped with his feet. But he got tired, didn’t he, mates? Slipped down a bit. Then there was all the blood and stuff on the spike. He went down farther. And in the end it came clean out through-”
“Enough!” Doc Tanner shouted. “By the three Ken-nedys! This is monstrous.” He turned to Ryan, whose heart sank at the suspicion that the old man, in his rage, was about to call him by his real name. And possibly de-stroy them all.
“Don’t glare at Floyd, Doc!” Lori shrieked, hanging onto his arm and nearly pulling him clear off-balance.
“Who? Don’t what, child? Who is…” The light of reason seeped back into the eyes. “I swear I was near the brink of… But let it pass. Master Thursby, I fear that I cannot, nay, will not, spend a night in the shadow of these poor curs.”
“Where can you go, Doc?” Ryan asked.
“Back to wag. I knew the trails,” Lori said. “I could have found it easy.”
“You said it was days off,” Tom interrupted, suspi-cious. “Didn’t yer?”
“There’s a cache of food,” Krysty said quickly. “Mebbe it’d be safer for them, Floyd.”
“If’n that’s what you want, Doc.”
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“I can lead you back,” Nathan Freeman offered. “Know these woods from a child. On the morrow I can trail and make sure all’s well.”
“No need, thanks,” J.B. said. “We know where the wag is.”
“Sure,” Ryan added, taking the old man by the arm and leading him out of earshot of the others, Lori fol lowing closely.
“We’ll be fine, Ryan,” the old man whispered. “Be good cover if’n there should be trouble. Don’t trust them.”
“The young man, Nathan, seems a straight. But I know what you mean. So much fear of the ville. We’ll stay there for the night and then leave early morning. Stay at the wag and we’ll pick you both up before noon. Is that okay?”
Doc gripped him by the hand. “Ryan…I mean, Floyd. I don’t have the power of a doomie to see the future. But I fear that this promises ill. Will you abandon the ven-ture, come back to the gateway and let us go elsewhere?”
Ryan sighed. “No, Doc. Thanks for the warning. But I’ve come too far, too far to turn back now. Take care. And you, Lori. See you tomorrow.”
The slim young girl led the way back along the trail, Doc Tanner walking more slowly, stumbling a little, after her. In a very short time they’d both disappeared into the darkness, leaving Ryan to wonder whether he should have let them go.
Or whether they should all have gone with them to the wag.
You could almost taste the fear when Nathan Free-man led the strangers into the hamlet. Many of the in-habitants were asleep, but most of those were quickly
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awakened by the noise that greeted Ryan and the other three.
Nathan brushed aside any discussion about whether the baron should be told, and Ryan did what he could to re-assure everyone that they would be leaving early in the morning. They were taken to a barn, clean and dry, with ample fresh straw for all four of them to sleep in com-fort.
A woman carried in a tray that held cups of warm goat’s milk and four wooden bowls containing thick veg-etable soup. Her hands trembled as she served them.