The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [57]

As the boat pushed off I cautioned myself to remain calm. Howard had invited us as his guests. He had no memory of our fight and no reason to believe our meeting had been anything but pure chance. I had my sword at my side and was more sober than I’d been in years. And still… it wouldn’t be wise to trust him. While he headed to the stern in search of more wine, I slipped a coin into the head oarsman’s pocket. ‘If I tap your shoulder, row us to the nearest steps,’ I murmured.

The Thames was quiet, with only a handful of boats upon the water. And no surprise – it was late, and the air was biting. A gang of revellers called out cheerfully as we passed, and Kitty waved at them. A hard wind blew across the water and she shivered. ‘Let’s go inside. I think there’s supper laid out.’

I touched her hand. ‘Stay close to me.’

Howard emerged from the cabin with a fur blanket under his arm. ‘Here you are, my dear,’ he said, draping the blanket over Kitty’s shoulders. She smiled and wrapped it tighter against the wind. A touching moment, if he had not spent the evening counseling me to beat her into obedience. He balanced his way over to his son, who was slumped at the edge of the boat, heaving bile into the water.

Howard knelt down next to him. ‘You drink like a woman, Henry. It’s a damned disgrace. Your mother has ruined you.’

‘My mother is a whore,’ Henry slurred into his father’s face. They were the only words he’d spoken all evening.

Howard patted his shoulder. ‘Good lad.’

Henry swivelled around and vomited into the river.

‘Shall we go inside, Mr Howard?’ Kitty said.

He smiled.

The world seemed to slow. Howard, smiling. The oars slicing the water. And Kitty, heading for the cabin. Out of my reach. I knew we were in danger, knew with that one smile that the evening had turned upside down. I touched the oarsman’s shoulder. He kept on rowing. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he said, from the corner of his mouth.

‘They’re in my pay, not yours,’ Howard said, pulling his pistol from his coat. He laughed, and tapped the cut on his brow as I stumbled back. ‘Did you think I’d forgotten you, Sir Nobody? My wife’s champion?’

He had known all along. Lured me here to the river with Kitty.

‘Mr Howard,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘Turn this boat to shore.’

‘Did you plan to kill me? Did she pay you?’

‘Mr Howard-’

I heard a scuffle and a soft cry behind me. Howard’s chairmen were dragging Kitty into the cabin, a blade at her throat. One of them whispered something in her ear and her eyes widened in fright. No, no, no. I ran after them, reaching for my sword.

A sharp crack on the back of my skull. Then nothing.

Chapter Fourteen

I came to in an empty cabin, lying on the floor. My hands were bound roughly with rope and my sword was gone. I lay in the dark, half-senseless. Then I remembered. Kitty. I staggered to my feet, shaking my head to clear it. Pain stabbed my skull.

I’d been thrown in the small cabin at the bow. I lurched to the door, but it was barred from the outside. I threw my weight against it, but it wouldn’t give. I pounded with my fists, screaming for help. She was alone with Howard. I’d let him take her. That monster. I kicked and yelled, but the door stood firm.

Then suddenly there was a heavy thud as the bar was raised and dropped to the ground. I pushed open the door and almost fell into Henry.

‘What the deuce…?’ he slurred, with a lopsided grin. ‘A game?’

I held up my wrists. ‘Aye, aye, a game. Untie me, Henry.’

But he was too foolish with drink, giggling and stumbling over the knots. I cursed and pushed him away, wheeling around to the head oarsman.

‘For pity’s sake help me.’

He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder, doubt in his eyes.

‘On your conscience, sir. Say the boy freed me. Please.’

He leaned across and untied the knot. ‘Stern. Hurry. I’ll row closer to shore.’

They had taken my sword, but my dagger was still tucked somewhere in my coat. I searched for it in a panic until my hands caught the hilt. I seized Henry by the scruff of his neck and pushed him towards the stern.

He flailed in a panic. ‘What’s this? What’s happening?’

I pressed the blade against his throat and he held still, sober enough at last to realise that this was no game. I kicked open the door to the larger cabin.

Kitty was crouched on a bench at the far end of the room, a broken bottle in her hand. There were scratches on her face and her sleeves were torn. How long had I been unconscious – a few minutes? She had fought off three men in the meantime – three men staggering with drink perhaps, but still, it was a miracle. One of the chairmen lay unmoving under the table, and the other was holding a handkerchief to a deep cut on his forehead.

Howard dragged the table to one side to reach Kitty, his hat and wig knocked free in the fight.

‘Let her go!’ I cried.

Howard turned and cursed. His soldier’s training held him still while he assessed the odds. ‘You are not a killer,’ he decided.

‘I am for her.’ I pressed the point deeper into his son’s neck. A trickle of blood spilled over the blade.

Howard reached into his jacket and took out his pistol. He aimed it at Kitty, who shrank back. ‘Why, did you think you were winning this little scrape?’ He laughed at her. ‘It was a game, no more.’