The Shattered Crown

TWENTY-EIGHT

The revelry had gone on for three days. Friedrik had laid on wine and ale to apologise to his guests. Something to do with the dogfight not turning out quite the way he’d planned.

Rag had no idea what had gone on down in that cellar and she was none too keen to find out. She’d spent the last two days keeping her head down while people fucked and fought in every corner of the tavern. She’d never seen anything quite like it before. Of course she knew what happened late at night on street corners. She’d lived long enough to see some dirty things, but this was very different.

People were going at it three or four at once, men and women sometimes not caring what was stuck where or in who. As everyone got drunker and drunker it just got worse and worse. Part of Rag wanted to run away, as far as she could. The other part, that curious little part she could never quite get rid of, wanted to stay and watch, no matter how sickening it got.

In the end people started to wander off and the crowd thinned out a bit. Rag had no idea who the people left were, but they must have been in Friedrik’s good books. Wasn’t often he extended a welcome like this. Wasn’t often he extended a welcome at all unless he saw something in it for himself.

When there were only around a dozen people left in the tavern, the rest of Friedrik’s lads turned up. No sooner had they arrived than Yarrick and Essen went about tidying the place like they were housemaids or something. Neither of them looked particularly happy about it but they didn’t complain. But then nobody ever complained when Friedrik told them to do something. Harkas just stood around looking scary and Shirl moped in a corner. He looked a lot better than when Rag had last seen him, but he still looked like someone had kicked the shit out of him and no mistake.

‘You all right?’ Rag asked as he limped in and sat himself in a chair all gentle like.

‘I’ll live,’ Shirl replied.

Before she could ask more, Friedrik walked out of the kitchens, chewing on something cook had made. The smell of food wafted out and Rag felt her stomach grumbling.

‘Right, I have things to do,’ said Friedrik. ‘You’ll keep the rest of my guests entertained until they’re ready to leave, won’t you, Rag?’

She nodded, though what he meant by ‘entertained’ she had no idea. Looked like they were making their own entertainment to her.

‘The rest of you make sure this place is cleaned up by the time I get back.’ Yarrick looked up from his sweeping and Essen mumbled his agreement as he grabbed a handful of tankards.

Friedrik walked out of the tavern. Where he was going at this time of night, and with no bodyguards, Rag had no idea, but then she weren’t going to ask.

She was more concerned about what they’d done to the bloke in the cellar.

Surely Nobul, or Lincon, or whatever his bloody name was, was dead by now. Still, there was a niggling little voice at the back of her head telling her he might not be. There was only one way to find out, she supposed.

When no one was looking at her she moved to the back of the tavern. The cellar door was open and it was black as the hells down there. A couple of candles were burning on a shelf, and Rag took one in each hand before taking the stairs down. The candlelight didn’t pierce very far into the dark, but it was enough for Rag to see by, and she remembered the layout well enough to not trip over anything. That was the last thing she wanted down here.

It didn’t take her long to find him, and when she did part of her wished she’d not come down here at all. He was still chained to that same post next to the pit. His head lolled forward, his clothes torn, his hair matted with blood.

Rag moved towards him, wary of what she’d find. She was half scared he’d be dead, half scared he was still alive. Maybe it would be a mercy if he weren’t breathing.

Gently she placed the candles down by his legs and crept forward, stooping low. His chest was moving in a shallow rhythm, breath coming all ragged.

‘Nobul?’ she said.

At first he didn’t move and she thought maybe he hadn’t heard, but then he slowly lifted his head. His face was a mess, blood crusted on his nose and lips, one eyeball all red where the other was white, and one of his ears had the bottom torn off.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do.

And then he smiled.

Blood was all stuck to his teeth and gums and it looked like someone had used his face to hammer in a nail, but still he smiled at her.

Rag shook her head, feeling the tears coming at what they’d done to the man who’d saved her life those weeks back.

‘Sorry,’ was all she could think to say. Not that it was her fault, but part of her still felt responsible. She should have tried to get him out of here when she had the chance. But then how could she have?

‘Ain’t your fault,’ he said.

‘I should have tried to help you.’

Nobul shook his head. ‘This is nothing to do with you, lass. Why would you risk yourself for me?’

She moved closer. ‘It’s me, Rag. Don’t you recognise me?’

He looked at her, his eyes tracing the features of her face. ‘Don’t reckon I do. Should I?’

‘Few weeks back you got me out of the shit. Bloke was gonna kill me and you came along with your Greencoat pals and did for him.’

As she spoke she saw recognition dawn on his face. His eyes widened, then he smiled again like they were old friends meeting up after a long time apart.

‘You’re the girl that disappeared. Took that fella’s head with you too, if there’s any truth to the rumour.’

Rag was hit with a sudden bite of shame. Yes, she’d taken that head — it was her ticket into the Guild. How different would things have been if she’d just left it there?

‘I … There were reasons for that. It weren’t as strange as it might have seemed.’

‘Well,’ said Nobul. ‘I reckon you did what you did because you had to. And it wasn’t like that bastard didn’t deserve it.’

‘Yeah, he did. But this has all turned to shit. I’m not one of them,’ she gestured back up the cellar door, hoping Nobul would get the gist of who she meant. ‘I don’t even want to be here.’

‘You and me both,’ said Nobul. ‘But we can’t always get what we want. Take my advice, lass, and run away. Far away. As far as you can get and don’t look back.’

That was always an option. But then, where would she run? She’d just be on the streets again, only in a city she didn’t know.

‘I can’t go. There’s things I have to do here first. People I have to see about. Responsibilities.’

But was there? Yes, she’d made a pact with that woman Kaira, saying she’d bring Friedrik to her. Then again, she didn’t owe that woman nothing.

There was other people, though — Chirpy, Migs, Tidge — people she cared about, people she was liable for. They had to be looked after and she’d promised herself she would.

‘Nothing wrong with responsibility,’ Nobul said. ‘You just got to pick the right people to be responsible for. Those people worth it?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘They are.’

‘You gotta think about yourself as well though, lass. You’re a survivor and no mistake, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to look out for yourself.’

She nodded at that. He was right: she did have to look out for herself. And she might have to do some more pretty shameful things to survive. But she had to live with herself too, and that would always be the hardest part.

Rag had done some things she struggled to live with. From now on she was gonna try to make sure she made it easy for herself.

She moved to the post Nobul was leaning up against and checked the chains that bound him. His wrists were manacled. There had to be a key somewhere.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ she said, standing up and heading back to the stairs, leaving the candles beside him.

She climbed out, squinting in the light. In the tavern the fire was burning bright, one of the lads must have chucked a load of logs on it while she was down in the cellar.

There were still a dozen of Friedrik’s ‘guests’ lounging around, and Yarrick and Essen were busy tidying, with Shirl and Harkas looking on.

Rag walked up and grabbed the broom from Essen’s hand. ‘You lads might as well get off,’ she said. ‘I’ll finish up here, no point us all hanging round, is there?’

Yarrick looked at Essen, then back at Rag. ‘But Friedrik said-’

‘Friedrik told me to look after this lot, not you. It’s all right. Not much left to do round here.’ The lads looked at each other like they wanted to go, but thought they might take a beating like Shirl had got. ‘What? You lot not got places to be?’

Again Yarrick looked to Essen and this time they both shrugged at one another.

‘Cheers, Rag,’ said Essen. ‘Owe you one.’

With a wink they set off for the door. Seeing them leave, Shirl struggled to his feet and followed. Only Harkas remained.

Rag tried to ignore him, carrying on with the sweeping like he wasn’t there, but she could see he was staring at her while she worked. Did he know that she was up to no good?

She stopped and looked up at him. Despite his grim expression, she smiled. ‘You can go as well you know. Not gonna be any trouble now is there? Look at them.’ She gestured around at the bodies heaped around the tavern in various states of undress.

Harkas kept staring at her, and for all her fear she stared back, that smile still on her face. For a moment, it looked like Harkas was going to speak, but then, without a word, he walked out of the tavern.

Rag let out a sigh as the door closed behind him, then she propped the broom up against the bar.

Now where’s this bloody key?

If Friedrik had it on him, and there was every chance he did, she’d have no chance of getting Nobul out. But maybe he’d left it with one of this lot.

Rag padded quietly around the room. Most of the bodies lying in the shadows she didn’t recognise. Men and women were tangled together in a mass of flesh, the stink of sex and booze wafting off them. Some of the searching was easy, since there was clothes discarded all over the place, but no matter how many pairs of britches she rifled though, there was still no key. Just when she was starting to think she’d have to search through every slumbering body she saw a face she recognised.

He was lying in the corner, a wine bottle in his hand. She remembered him from when they’d first brought Nobul into the tavern. His mouth was shut, but Rag knew inside that snoring gob of his the front teeth were missing. It was this one that had chained Nobul up in the first place. Her heart started to beat a bit faster.

She knelt beside him, taking a quick look around the room to make sure no one was watching, then reached for his belt. He was breathing even enough, snoring heavily, and from the look of the half empty bottle of wine beside him he wasn’t gonna wake any time soon. There was a knife at his belt and beside it a pouch for coins. Deftly Rag unbuckled the pouch and fished inside. She let the few coppers in there slip through her fingers until she found what she was looking for. When she pulled the key out she almost shouted with glee.

As she stood, the bloke snorted in his sleep, the bottle slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floorboards. It rolled along, spilling its load as it went, and Rag froze where she stood, waiting for everyone to leap up and catch her in the act.

No one moved.

Rag made her way back to the cellar as quiet as she could, her heart cracking along at a gallop. Something was telling her this was madness. That she’d given her loyalty to the Guild. That this was betrayal, plain and simple, and she’d suffer for it in the end. But Rag had already betrayed Friedrik. What difference would this make?

When she made her way down into the cellar, one of the candles had gone out. By the light of the remaining one she moved behind Nobul and slid the key into the lock of his manacles. There was a satisfying click as they opened up.

The chains fell to the floor and Rag moved round to the front. Nobul was still sitting there, head lolling.

‘You need to run now,’ he whispered, before she could give him a shake to see if he was conscious.

‘I need to run?’ she said. ‘Think you’re the one should be doing the running, mate.’

‘No,’ Nobul said, using the post to pull himself to his feet, lifting his big bulk from the ground like a mountain rising up from the earth. ‘You need to run. Because when I get myself together, I’m gonna go up those stairs and kill every fucker in this building.’ He turned to her then, and fixed her with a look she’d remember till her last breath. ‘If you’re still here, you’ll probably end up dead with them.’

Rag looked at him and saw that he didn’t look half dead no more. There was an evil light in his eyes, the nastiest twinkle she’d ever seen. She knew he meant what he said.

Without another word she turned and ran for the stairs. She didn’t care about making noise now, just about running. When she got up the top it crossed her mind to warn the people left inside — to tell them there was a madman on his way and they should get themselves out.

But they’d made their own beds. They’d come along at Friedrik’s say-so and they’d drunk his wine, watched his fights and fucked his whores.

Now they’d just have to take what was coming.