Part 23 (1/2)
”Mayhap the man is mad,” Thomas said quietly from the corner. Silas frowned at him, but Thomas was too intent on his brother to notice. ”Pye's mother was a s.l.u.t, after all; perhaps he inherited her bad blood.”
Bennet looked pained. ”Tom-”
”Don't call me that!” Thomas said shrilly. ”I'm your elder. I'm the heir. Give me the respect I deserve. You're only a-”
”Shut up!” Silas roared.
Thomas shrank at the bellow. ”But, Father-”
”No more!” Silas glared until his elder son flushed blotchily; then he sat back in the chair and turned his attention back to Bennet. ”What would you have me do?”
Bennet shot an apologetic glance at Thomas, which the other ignored, before answering. ”I don't know.”
Ah, the first outward show of uncertainty. It was like balm to his soul. ”I am the magistrate for this county. I must uphold the law as I see fit.”
”At least let me see him.”
”No.” Silas shook his head. ”He's a dangerous criminal. It would not be responsible of me to let you near him.”
Not until his men got a confession. The way Pye took a beating-absorbing blow after blow until he could no longer stand, until he staggered and fell, but still refused to talk-it might be several more days before he was broken. But break he would. And then Silas would hang him by the neck until dead, and no one, not the king nor G.o.d, would be able to gainsay him.
Aye, he could wait.
”Oh, for pity's sake.” Bennet was pacing agitatedly now. ”I've known him since we were lads. He's my-” He broke off and dismissed the sentence with a wave. ”Just let me talk to him. Please.”
It had been a long, long while since the boy had begged. He should know by now that begging only gave the opponent ammunition.
”No.” Silas shook his head regretfully.
”He is still alive?”
Silas smiled. ”Yes. Alive, but not particularly well.”
Bennet's face paled. He stared at his father as if he would hit him, and Silas actually braced himself for a blow.
”G.o.dd.a.m.n you,” Bennet whispered.
”He might indeed.”
Bennet swung to the study door and pulled it open. A small, scrawny boy tumbled in.
”What's this?” Silas frowned.
”He's with me. Come on, Will.”
”You ought to teach your servants not to listen at doors,” Silas drawled after his son.
For some reason his words caused Bennet to stop and swing around. His son looked between Silas and the boy. ”You really don't know who he is, do you?”
”Should I?” Silas studied the lad. Something about his brown eyes did look familiar. He waved away the question. It didn't matter. ”The boy is n.o.body.”
”Jesus, I don't believe you.” Bennet stared at him. ”We're all just p.a.w.ns to you, aren't we?”
Silas shook his head. ”You know I'm not fond of puzzles.”
But Bennet had taken the boy's shoulder and was guiding him from the room. The door shut behind them.
”He's ungrateful,” Thomas whispered from the corner. ”After all you did for him, after all I suffered, he's ungrateful.”
”What's your point, boy?” Silas growled.
Thomas blinked, then he stood, looking oddly dignified. ”I've always loved you, Father, always. I would do anything for you.” Then he, too, left the room.
Silas stared after his son for a moment, then shook his head again. He swiveled to a small door set in the wood paneling behind his desk and rapped on it. For unknown reasons, an earlier Granville had made a pa.s.sage from the library to the cellars. After a small wait, the door opened. A burly man emerged, ducking his head. He was bare-chested. Heavy, muscled arms hung by his sides. The brown body hair covering his upper torso was gruesomely flecked with blood.
”Well?” Silas demanded.
”He still won't talk.” The big man held out swollen hands. ”My knuckles are fair bloodied, and Bud has had a go as well today.”
Silas scowled. ”Do I have to bring in someone else? He's only one man and not nearly your size. He should've been whistling any tune you asked by now.”
”Aye, well, he's a tough b.u.g.g.e.r, that one. I've seen blokes crying like a baby after what we've been giving him.”
”So you say,” Silas taunted. ”Wrap your hands and keep at it. He's bound to break soon, and when he does, there'll be a bonus in it for you. And if you can't do it in the next day, I'll find someone who can and replace you and your mate.”
”Aye, my lord.” The big man stared at Silas, suppressed anger firing behind his eyes before he turned away. Good, he'd take it out on Pye.
The door closed behind him and Silas smiled. Soon, very soon now.
SOMEWHERE WATER WAS dripping.
Slowly.Steadily.
Endlessly.
It had dripped when he had first woken in this room, it had dripped every day since then, and it dripped now. The dripping might very well break him before the beatings did.
Harry hunched a shoulder and dragged himself painfully upright against the wall. They held him in a tiny room. He thought it must have been at least a week since they'd taken him, but time was hard to judge here. And there were hours, maybe days, that he'd lost to insensibility. There was a window the size of a child's head high on one wall, covered by a rusted iron grill. Outside, a few weeds poked through, so he knew the window was at ground level. It gave enough light to illuminate his cell when the sun was at a certain height. The walls were of damp stone, the floor of dirt. There was nothing else in the room save himself.
Well, usually, that is.
At night he could hear the scratching of tiny feet, scurrying here and there. Squeaks and rustlings would suddenly still and then begin again. Mice. Or perhaps rats.
Harry hated rats.
When he'd gone to the poorhouse in the city, he'd quickly figured out that he and Da would starve if he couldn't fight off the others to keep their ration of food. So he'd learned to fight back, fast and ruthless. The other boys and men stayed away after that.