The never less aptly named Roland stuttered for a moment as
he was subjected to the wrathful glare of his mentor. With an exasperated sigh
Gabriel turned back to the subdued prisoner. Wrenching at the buckle he
unfastened the belt from the man’s waist, divested it of the neatly concealed blade
and looped it about the man’s wrists, binding him tightly.
After the heady rush of a hard-won fight Gabriel felt the
fatigue creeping into his aging body. Shepherding the remainder of his strength
he pulled both himself and his captive to their feet. He was displeased to find
himself slightly unsteady and his manner became curt to offset any sign of
weakness.
“Here.” He said, brusquely thrusting the prisoner towards
the younger man. Roland fumbled for a moment before eventually catching hold of
one elbow, so that between them they were able to manoeuvre the Frenchman off
the street. “We need to get him away from here and quickly.” Gabriel felt
uneasy at their conspicuous apprehension of the spy in broad daylight. He was
far more used to working under the cover of darkness or at least with some attempt
at secrecy. Here, however, they had left themselves open to all sorts of
speculation and the likelihood of discovery by the other two criminals.
Clumsily they weaved towards the wharf where a boat would
take them across the city to their employer. As they reached the edge of the
river Gabriel began to feel pinpricks of unease as the unnatural quiet of the
place seeped into his consciousness. He could hear only the squawk of the gulls
as they swooped and skimmed over the grey water and there was no sign of the
promised transport. Their prisoner had woken up from the slap of cold wind that
brushed across the water. He mumbled incoherently, his wits still reeling from
the blow Gabriel had rendered him.
The crossbow bolt came from nowhere. The only warning was
the stirring of the air as it propelled past them. Too late Gabriel yelled at
the stricken Roland who still clung to the Frenchman. The force of the impact
had pushed them both to the ground and blood oozed from the wound that punched
through the prisoner’s chest. Gabriel’s gaze swept the perimeter swiftly but there
was no obvious trace of the shooter. Desperation brought him to the side of the
Frenchman and he shook the stiffening body.
“Where is he?” He demanded forcefully. “Where will you bring
him tonight?” Silenced by his compatriots the Frenchman was unable to provide
any answers. “Damn it.” Gabriel punched his fist on his thigh. “Now we have no
way of stopping the French getting hold of those plans.”
Roland was paying scant attention to his mentor’s words as
he scrubbed anxiously at the blood which stained the expensive Flemish wool of
his tunic. As he looked up from his efforts he blinked against the sudden glare
from one of the buildings. He acted with spontaneous recklessness, knocking his
mentor aside.
Gabriel hit the floor awkwardly, his knee wrenching from his
sudden topple. Cursing as he realised what had happened he grabbed hold of
Roland’s tunic at the neck and dragged them both behind the protection of
several sturdy barrels. If he had not been so desperate to obtain information
from a corpse he would have commanded that they seek cover immediately. The boy
was still alive but from the position of the bolt Gabriel knew that death was already
waiting.
“Thank you.” His voice was uneven as the weight of
responsibility settled over him. “You saved my life.” The boy’s smile was
tremulous.
“At least I did something right for a change.” Gabriel had
not the heart to deny him a gallant ending. Roland had acted like a bloody fool,
wasting his life and believing it made him a hero. Yet Gabriel was experienced
enough to know that there was nothing heroic in death.
No comments:
Post a Comment