Page 73 of By Marsh and By Moor
Solomon made a small, wounded noise.Jed glanced at him.He looked like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.
Jed swallowed over the sickness in his throat.
Solomon shut his eyes.“Please, Vaughan, let Jed go.Wallace would want that.”
“Youwant that, Dyer.And I don’t feel very kindly disposed towards you.You’ve been poisoning his mind against me.He loved me.Helovesme.We were happy until you came between us.”
“What do you want from me?I’ll do anything.Only let Jed go.”
“Stop that!”Jed said, afraid to see Solomon make some sort of guilt-driven wild sacrifice.
“I want you out of my way, Dyer,” Vaughan snapped.“As far away as possible.The high seas will do nicely, I think.”He went to the door and opened it, calling down the corridor, “Bothwell!”
The ganger reappeared.
“Take these two men away.And don’t put them together.I’ll not have them conspiring against me.Put one in the cellar and one in the old icehouse.”
As a prison, the disused icehouse was even worse than the cellar: there was no window to help mark the passage of time.Jed was locked up there with the day labourers who had been passengers on the waggon from Barnstaple, and two other men whom he could barely even distinguish in the dark.Jed tried to talk to them—he was planning to run as soon as he saw his chance, and he thought he should take these poor sods along with him if he could.But they all seemed to be sunk in despair, and no one spoke or moved except to try and find a better position on the cold flagstones.
Their guards came by twice to bring them food and water.Jed couldn’t tell how long he’d been there in the dark, but he thought at least an entire day had passed.Then, he was hauled out of the icehouse, tired and grimy, and marched upstairs to the room Lieutenant Vaughan was using as an office.
Vaughan stood by his desk, perusing a letter, while a scrawny child—he looked like some kind of messenger or boot boy—waited for an answer.There was no sign of Solomon.
Vaughan sat down, dashed off a quick note, and handed it to the waiting boy.
“Give that to your mistress with my compliments and tell her that her generosity is much appreciated.The invalided seamen will be most grateful.”
The boy went out, and Vaughan waved Jed and his guards in.
“Minehead is such a pleasant town,” he said in greeting to Jed.“Full of charming and charitable townsfolk.”He indicated the chair in front of his desk.“Sit down, Jed.You’ll forgive me if I have you restrained again.The conversation will flow more freely, I daresay, if we can both be at ease.”
Silently, Jed submitted to being tied to the chair.Then Vaughan dismissed the guards and propped himself on the edge of his desk, looking down at Jed.
“The surgeon will be here shortly,” he said in a conversational tone.
Jed knew what that meant: one step closer to being transferred to a ship, the point after which it would be impossible to run.His stomach lurched.
The room seemed very warm after the bone-deep chill of the icehouse.It should have been a relief, but instead it made Jed’s head swim.Nausea rose into his throat, and he stared fixedly at the buttons of Vaughan’s uniform coat.He could feel Vaughan’s eyes on him.
“My men told me that Solomon set them onto you.To give Wallace time to get away, I presume?”
Jed tried not to react, but some expression must have crossed his face, for Vaughan gave a sympathetic wince.
“That must sting like the devil.”
It did.Jed didn’t admit it out loud.
“I’ve known Solomon a long time,” Vaughan continued.“He’s a decent enough fellow, you know.But not an easy man to be around.He hasn’t had an easy life.”He paused, as though to let Jed respond, but Jed said nothing.“He cares deeply for Wallace, of course.Why, he’s known Wallace as long as I have.”
“Longer, en’t it?”Jed couldn’t help but point out.
Vaughan smiled.Pleased to have got a reaction, was he?“Longer, indeed.But he’s taken against me, Lord knows why.Got it into his head that I am an injurious presence in Wallace’s life, and that he should have seen it.And so he tries to keep Wallace away from me now to assuage what he sees as his own guilty conscience.It does seem a pity that you should have been caught in the crossfire.”
It was so close to what Jed had been thinking that it made him jump and stare.
A burst of guilt of his own made him fierce.“Nothing you’ve done is Solomon’s fault.”
Vaughan waved a hand.“Oh, Solomon thinks everything that happens to everyone is his fault.It’s how he was raised, I suspect.”The expression that crossed his face was thoughtful, almost fond—or a counterfeit of those emotions.“I understand him very well.He has told me so much.”
