Page 118 of Confounding Oaths
The elder Mr. Caesar began loading and priming a pistol that his son had never realised he owned. “It seems like we have a plan. Where do we think they went in?”
On this, Barryson was surprisingly certain. “Traitor’s gate. Matches the symbolism, and they must’ve known we’d follow, and a water gate makes it a pisser to keep powder dry.”
“And so resolved,” I said, “our intrepid heroes set—”
“Sorry,” asked Captain James, “what do you think you’re doing?”
It was, I will confess, an embarrassing moment. “My apologies, I occasionally narrate mortal actions.”
A look of realisation crossed Barryson’s face. “Fuck, you’re one ofthose.”
“Excuse me, I object to the designationone of.I assure you I am quite unique. Having no time for such distractions,” I said as I slid into mists and shadows and out of mortal sight, “Captain James took charge of matters.”
“Right,” he said, “let’s go.”
Sal and Jackson, handing over their muskets and pistols, slipped away from the rest of the group, moving with as much stealth as was possible for people dressed in bright red jackets and gleaming white breeches. As they approached the water gate they slipped from the shadows to the cut in silence and vanished beneath the surface. The rest of the Irregulars, along with the Caesars, hugged the line of the wall and waited. I, having the virtue of invisibility, did not.
There had been two guards posted to watch the traitor’s gate. Each bore a rifle. Each had been charged with watching the waters to ensure nothing disturbed the sacrifice. And each was woefully unprepared for an attack from beneath by a seasoned murderer with a knife.
Two bodies vanished into the murk and a few minutes later Sal and Jackson reappeared with the message that the coast was clear.
So the Irregulars and the Misters Caesar slipped into the water, making certain to keep heads and powder and firearms above the surface. They emerged into the outer ward of the tower andprogressed as quickly and as quietly as they could manage to the inner courtyard.
And there was Boy William, bound and kneeling in the shadow of the White Tower. Lieutenant Reyne stood beside him, robed but unmasked, his hood down and a blade in his hand. A little way off was Major Bloodworth, who watched the whole affair with a mix of disdain and impatience. A scattering of masked men stood around the little vignette; most carried muskets, some carried pistols. One was holding a bear on a chain and didn’t look entirely like he knew what he was doing.
“Artemis,” Lieutenant Reyne was incanting to the sky, “daughter of Zeus, slayer of wild beasts, you that spin the silver light at night, receive this sacrifice which we offer to you.”
“Rush them?” suggested Callaghan. “Or one of us can probably put a bullet in his head.”
The lieutenant’s invocation continued. “We the British army and King George offer to you the pure blood that flows from a virgin’s throat.”
“Might miss,” the captain replied.
“Grant our ships an untroubled journey. Grant that our—”
With a low murmur offuck itCaptain James strode out into the courtyard. “Here for my man, Reyne.”
The lieutenant lowered his knife just a fraction. “It wouldn’t have come to this if you’d let me take the girl.”
“Letyou?” sputtered the major. “You’re an officer of the British army, you don’t need permission from the likes of him.”
Serene in the moonlight, Lieutenant Reyne turned his attention to the major. “You could have seized her yourself.”
“I’m here to give orders,” the major replied, “not to grab hold of silly chits.”
“Afraid to get your hands dirty?” asked the captain.
The major’s expression of contempt somehow managed to deepen, a process that took it from “utter” to “absolute.” “How typical of your sort to mistake dignity for fear.”
At the foot of the tower, the lieutenant’s hand tightened on his blade, and he twisted Boy William’s head back to expose his throat.
“I’ve men behind me,” Captain James warned. “Do this and you won’t walk away.”
Neither Lieutenant Reyne’s hand nor his voice wavered. “After everything I have done, do you really believe I am unfamiliar with sacrifice?”
I am scarcely a judge of these things, reader, for I am not—or at least was not at the time I made these observations—vulnerable to mortal weapons, but I could not help but feel that the advantage in this standoff lay all with the lieutenant. He had position, numbers, and a complete disregard for his own life and the lives of others. It was a winning combination.
But then even in so dire a circumstance, the unexpected can happen.
