Page 49 of King's Man

“Eaten by fishes?”

A grunt of grim laughter quickly cut off as the gamekeeper noticed his dog’s posture. “Oh aye,” he said warily. “What’ve you got there, Bess?”

“Probably a rabbit.” The younger man shifted nervously, and Sam noticed he held a hefty club in his hand.

“Let’s see, shall we?” The gamekeeper gave a short whistle and the dog launched herself forward, heading straight for Sam. He couldn’t run. Even if he’d been able to outpace the beast, he’d only end up leading her straight to Nate. Instead, he stood up. He’d at least meet his fate on his feet.

The dog jumped up at him, paws landing on his chest, barking, and Sam fell back, arms flung up to shield his face. But he felt no scratch of claws or teeth and at another sharp whistle the dog sank onto her haunches, watching him. Distantly, over the frantic pounding of his heart, he noticed that her tail was wagging furiously.

“Come out,” the gamekeeper called, “or I’ll have her pull you out by the balls.”

Carefully, eyeing the dog, who eyed him back enthusiastically, Sam edged towards the tree line. Keeping his hands lifted, he stepped out into the lane.

The man with the club watched him warily, the weapon held loose at his side. Seeing him more closely, Sam realized he was a youth. Not even twenty, perhaps. Thin as a beanpole. And nervous.

“I don’t mean anyone any harm,” Sam said carefully, reaching up to tug the scarf from his face.

The gamekeeper said, “You’re trespassing on Lord Marlborough’s land.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Are you now?”

“If you’ll let me.”

The gamekeeper didn’t answer, his gaze darting past Sam’s shoulder. After a moment he sighed and said, “You can come out an’ all.”

Sam closed his eyes. Naturally, Nate couldn’t damn well stay put.

The dog yapped, jumping to her feet, tail whipping backward and forward as she watched Nate emerge from the woods. He looked even worse than before. Bedraggled from the river, his face ashy and his eyes deep pits, he clutched his bound arm, cradling it against his chest. Sam’s neckcloth was black with blood.

Instinctively, Sam went to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “For God’s sake, sit down.”

Nate shook his head, eyes fixed on the dog.

The gamekeeper let out a heavy sigh, muttered an unintelligible curse beneath his breath, and called the dog to heel. To Nate, he said, “He winged you, then.”

“Yes.” Nate spoke through clenched teeth.

“Ah, bollocks,” said the younger man. “I hoped you were poachers.”

“We’re leaving,” Sam said. “We’ve done no harm to anyone, I swear it. And we won’t be back. If you let us go —”

“If we let you go?” said the gamekeeper. “Lord Marlborough would have our balls for breakfast.”

“Only if he finds out, which he won’t.”

Silence. The young man swung his club anxiously. He had a thoughtful, unhappy look about him. A boy who felt too much, perhaps. Who thought too much. Sam knew the type. “He’s injured.” The boy’s eyes locked with the gamekeeper’s and something passed between them. “If we take them back…”

The gamekeeper’s jaw clenched. “I know.”

“We could kip in the woods?” the younger man suggested. “And tell Marlborough we were out looking all night. He’ll be none the wiser. He’s got Rowsley and his lot to keep sweet after what he done to Taylor.” Another silent communication. “He won’t have time to bother with us.”

“So you hope. But he’ll be looking for someone to blame and I couldn’t stand if he took that out on —”

“I know. Me neither. But if we take them inknowingwhat he’ll do? That’ll be on our heads, won’t it?”

“Better that than —”

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