breath caught in my throat. The pistol. I drew my sword and prayed to God he didn’t look down.
‘Who the devil are you?’ he slurred.
‘Nobody. I heard shouts.’
‘Well, Sir Nobody . That whimpering bitch belongs to me.’ Mrs Howard gave a low sob and he leered at her. ‘What – did you think you were free of me, slut? Did you think you were safe? ’ He laughed. I could smell the liquor on his breath from ten paces.
Mrs Howard gripped my arm. She was shaking with fear. ‘Please, sir, I beg you. Don’t let him take me.’
I pushed her behind me.
In a flash he was on me, knocking me down and dashing the blade from my hand. He was fearsome strong, despite his age and the drink – and he knew how to fight. I kicked out in panic, but he swung his fist hard, catching my jaw. My head smacked against the ground and my vision blurred. I slumped back, stunned, as the world spun about me.
In an instant he had pounced on me, fingers tearing at my throat. I grabbed his wrists and tried to struggle free, but he was too strong. I thought of the guard lying a few feet away, knocked senseless but alive. I might not be so lucky.
The man let go of my throat, raising his fist for another blow. This was my chance. I pushed up with all my strength, twisting and kicking at him in a fury. There was no grace or strategy to my blows, but I was bigger than him, half his age, and sober. As we rolled in the mud, my hand hit something hard. The pistol. I snatched it and aimed the muzzle at his head, pinning him to the ground with my free arm.
He fell still, staring at the barrel pointed an inch above his face. Then smiled. ‘There’s no powder.’
He was right – there’d been no time to reload it. I turned it around in my palm, felt the heft of it. Then I raised it high and slammed it against his temple. He gave a grunt of pain, and lay still.
I staggered to my feet, reeling. My jaw throbbed and I could feel blood seeping from my throat where his nails had torn into my skin. ‘Mrs Howard,’ I called out into the night. ‘My lady?’
But she’d vanished.
Chapter Five
The house was dark and empty when I returned home. I heated a pan of mulled wine over the fire in my chamber, breathing in the warm, soothing scent of cloves and nutmeg.
I had been in a shocked stupor on my walk home, lurching through the streets in a daze. Now, as I collapsed into a chair by the fire, I realised how close I’d come to losing my life. I pulled off my wig and loosened my cravat. My left cheek was badly swollen and my jaw was throbbing so hard that I could only take tiny sips of wine. It did not seem broken, but I could tell it would take days to heal. So much for the thrill of adventure, Hawkins – you damned fool.
What the devil had happened? The ferocity and speed of the attack had left me reeling. I had seen men strip to the waist in the street to fight over some imagined slight. I’d been beaten and chained to a wall in gaol. I’d survived a riot, for heaven’s sake. But I had never seen a man rage so far out of control and so fast. He was like a fighting dog, driven into a frenzy by a lust for blood. Could Mrs Howard have inspired such madness? Or was he cursed with an endless fury, always ready to leap into battle? Considering the way he’d spat and sworn at me from his sedan I guessed it was the latter. Either way, I prayed to God I never encountered the brute again.
As for Mrs Howard, who would blame her for running back to the safety of the palace? Whatever her present troubles, her lover could protect her far better than I. He was the king , damn it! I was glad to have saved her tonight, but I wanted no more part in such a dark intrigue. Court politics, James Fleet, and a raving mad man with a pistol? No, thank you, indeed.
I closed my eyes, exhausted now the danger had passed and my blood had cooled. I drifted into a fitful sleep, still sitting in the chair . . . and woke in darkness. The fire had burned out.
‘Who the devil are you?’ he slurred.
‘Nobody. I heard shouts.’
‘Well, Sir Nobody . That whimpering bitch belongs to me.’ Mrs Howard gave a low sob and he leered at her. ‘What – did you think you were free of me, slut? Did you think you were safe? ’ He laughed. I could smell the liquor on his breath from ten paces.
Mrs Howard gripped my arm. She was shaking with fear. ‘Please, sir, I beg you. Don’t let him take me.’
I pushed her behind me.
In a flash he was on me, knocking me down and dashing the blade from my hand. He was fearsome strong, despite his age and the drink – and he knew how to fight. I kicked out in panic, but he swung his fist hard, catching my jaw. My head smacked against the ground and my vision blurred. I slumped back, stunned, as the world spun about me.
In an instant he had pounced on me, fingers tearing at my throat. I grabbed his wrists and tried to struggle free, but he was too strong. I thought of the guard lying a few feet away, knocked senseless but alive. I might not be so lucky.
The man let go of my throat, raising his fist for another blow. This was my chance. I pushed up with all my strength, twisting and kicking at him in a fury. There was no grace or strategy to my blows, but I was bigger than him, half his age, and sober. As we rolled in the mud, my hand hit something hard. The pistol. I snatched it and aimed the muzzle at his head, pinning him to the ground with my free arm.
He fell still, staring at the barrel pointed an inch above his face. Then smiled. ‘There’s no powder.’
He was right – there’d been no time to reload it. I turned it around in my palm, felt the heft of it. Then I raised it high and slammed it against his temple. He gave a grunt of pain, and lay still.
I staggered to my feet, reeling. My jaw throbbed and I could feel blood seeping from my throat where his nails had torn into my skin. ‘Mrs Howard,’ I called out into the night. ‘My lady?’
But she’d vanished.
Chapter Five
The house was dark and empty when I returned home. I heated a pan of mulled wine over the fire in my chamber, breathing in the warm, soothing scent of cloves and nutmeg.
I had been in a shocked stupor on my walk home, lurching through the streets in a daze. Now, as I collapsed into a chair by the fire, I realised how close I’d come to losing my life. I pulled off my wig and loosened my cravat. My left cheek was badly swollen and my jaw was throbbing so hard that I could only take tiny sips of wine. It did not seem broken, but I could tell it would take days to heal. So much for the thrill of adventure, Hawkins – you damned fool.
What the devil had happened? The ferocity and speed of the attack had left me reeling. I had seen men strip to the waist in the street to fight over some imagined slight. I’d been beaten and chained to a wall in gaol. I’d survived a riot, for heaven’s sake. But I had never seen a man rage so far out of control and so fast. He was like a fighting dog, driven into a frenzy by a lust for blood. Could Mrs Howard have inspired such madness? Or was he cursed with an endless fury, always ready to leap into battle? Considering the way he’d spat and sworn at me from his sedan I guessed it was the latter. Either way, I prayed to God I never encountered the brute again.
As for Mrs Howard, who would blame her for running back to the safety of the palace? Whatever her present troubles, her lover could protect her far better than I. He was the king , damn it! I was glad to have saved her tonight, but I wanted no more part in such a dark intrigue. Court politics, James Fleet, and a raving mad man with a pistol? No, thank you, indeed.
I closed my eyes, exhausted now the danger had passed and my blood had cooled. I drifted into a fitful sleep, still sitting in the chair . . . and woke in darkness. The fire had burned out.
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