When the Heavens Fall (12 page)

For the next two weeks Caleb gave short shift to his own duties, and he had the surgeon come and treat Brandon's wounds at an inn where he had secured a room for him. He was relieved to see Brandon's skin finally begin to heal, but it was as the surgeon had said. Something had gone out of Brandon Winslow, and it was a dismal thing to see

Caleb made his way to the inn early one morning two weeks
later wearily rubbing his eyes. He had been up the night before, thinking through Brandon's situation, trying to see what might make him whole again.
Brandon must put this behind him. I'll have to get him back to his family.

When he entered Brandon's room, with one look, he knew his friend was gone. Even his few belongings had disappeared. Stepping outside, he hailed the innkeeper below. “Have you seen anything of Mr. Winslow?”

“No, sir. I've been up since dawn. Nobody came out since then.”

Caleb asked around, and finally the truth sank in

Brandon Winslow had left under cover of darkness because he did not wish to be found

Caleb Carter stood before Stuart and Heather Winslow. He had given them his report and softened it as much as he could, but he saw that they were heartbroken. “I'm very sorry, sir, and you, madam. I tried to help Brandon all that I could.”

“I thank you very much for helping our son and telling us what you know. You'll stay with us tonight before you go back.”

“No, sir, I must go back at once. I really would be in trouble if I stayed.” Caleb shook his head. “He has so many gifts. So many talents. And he's thrown them all away.”

He immediately regretted his words. Heather slumped, and Stuart narrowly caught her. She wept, broken, as lost for a moment as her son, it seemed

“It's all right, Heather,” Stuart murmured. “Somehow, God will see it right again.”

 

Lupa Valerik watched as the skinny man took the glass. Her eyes gleamed when she saw his hand trembling so violently that some of the liquor sloshed out onto his wrist. She took his hand and guided the glass up. “Drink deep,” she said, and forced the man to drink, but after a while he turned his head away. “Can't . . . drink any more.” Lupa took the glass from him, and watched him, holding a glass in each hand.
I've given him enough to drug three men. I hope he doesn't die. That would be trouble.

The man slumped slowly forward. Lupa shoved him to the bed. He fell back on it, mumbling incoherently, and she laughed. Putting the two glasses on the table, she came back and noted with satisfaction that the drug had done its work well. The man's eyes were rolled half upward in his head, and his lips moved, but no sound came out. Working efficiently, she removed the rings from his fingers and put them into a hidden pocket in her dress. She found a bag containing his gold and silver under his coat. It had a good heavy weight to it, and her broad lips curled upward in a smile. She found another bag with a silver hairbrush, a comb, and a small silver flask. “Easy to pluck as a dead chicken, aren't you?” After wrapping her findings in a shawl, she came to stand over the man. For a moment
she fingered the knife hidden under the folds of her dress and thought of ending his life, just in case he remembered her, but she put the notion away

Leaving the room, she made her way down the unlit staircase. When she stepped outside, she saw that the dark sky was filled with scattered clouds drifting toward a silver moon. The fall of 1553 had been harsh, and the moon looked pockmarked and weary. She shivered and drew her shawl closer about her, then paused and waited. It was very still, and she thought about the man that she had just robbed. She felt no regret, only disgust for him and all men like him. He had approached her at the inn, as she had known he would, and she had led him on. Now he would wake up without a farthing in his pocket—or anything of worth at all. Lupa smiled. It pleased her to think of him begging the innkeeper for help

“Did he give you any trouble, Lupa?”

Lupa started as a man suddenly appeared from the shadows. Rez Fabin could do that sort of thing, appearing and disappearing like a ghost, but even after two years of knowing him, it still frightened Lupa. She lifted her chin. “No more than your average drunken sot.”

Fabin was a lean man with a sharp face and pair of deep-set hazel eyes. He was, Lupa knew, a totally immoral man with a vicious streak that appeared from time to time, but he had never treated Lupa badly. In fact, he had once rescued her from the gypsy camp, fighting off Duke Largo, the leader of the band, to win her freedom. It had been a bloody affair, and while Largo had survived, he was in no condition to come after them when Rez took her away. After a time she had broken off their affair, but Rez didn't care, for he could always get a woman. He was different from Duke that way. Duke had wanted to own her

“Did he have much on him?”

“Yes. He had some rings and some gold and silver.”

“Good. Give me my share.”

“No, you'll just lose it gambling.”

“That's my business. You give it to me now. Or next time you'll see how well you can find that potion that can put a man out so handily.”

Lupa sighed and pulled out the bag of coins and rings. She kept the bag with the silver brush, comb, and flask hidden in the folds of her skirts. Wearily she counted out the coins, handing Rez his share. He slipped them into a bag at his waist, grinning in the moonlight. “Well done, lovely. Well done. Now, come on. I want to show you something.” He led her from the side door of the inn to the stables, where a wagon was already hitched to two horses. “How do you like those horses?” Fabin said

Lupa frowned in confusion. “Why, they're brown. What happened to the white ones?”

“That's them.” Fabin laughed. “At least until the first rain. Whoever buys them will get a shock.”

“Why did you go to all that trouble?”

“Because I want to sell them, and as soon as your jilted lover in there wakes up, he'll have the law out looking for white horses. By that time we'll have sold them and have the money. Come on, now.”

“Where are we going?”

“London, I guess.”

“No, let's go to Bath.”

They argued, and Fabin finally said, “I suppose there are plenty of pickings in Bath for a woman with your looks. And I like the gambling there.”

“If we get any money, you'll lose it all gambling. You're no gambler, Rez. When will you realize that?”

“Shut your mouth, Lupa! We split down the middle. I don't ask you what you do with your money, so keep your mouth shut about my cards.” Fabin grinned at her in the moonlight. “I've got to have one fault, lovely. What if I was to die? I've got to have at least one sin to repent or Saint Peter will find my arrival a bore.”

She laughed at that. “You've got more than one sin to repent, Fabin.”

He merely laughed at her and said, “Here. Put that stuff inside. You can ride in there if you want to. The team is rested.”

Lupa agreed. She climbed into the back of the wagon and arranged some of her clothes and blankets into a makeshift bed. She was tired, for she had missed all of one night's sleep and part of another. She waited until she felt the wagon sway as Fabin mounted to the seat and listened as he spoke to the horses. They moved forward at a slow walk. One of the wagon's wheels had a squeak, but it had a rhythm about it, and the sound of the horses' hooves made a counterpoint. Closing her eyes, she thought about the haul that they had made and what might be ahead for them in Bath, but then she put it out of her mind. Rez would figure it out. He always did

Rez Fabin was good for her. He was protection, for one thing. And a lone woman needed that. As she grew more sleepy, she thought of how they had made their way across the south coast. They made a good team. She drew men by her exotic looks, and if any of them tried to hurt her, Rez Fabin was there to prevent that. It was a hard life and a dangerous one, but Lupa dropped off to sleep thinking that at least for tonight all was well

Lupa slept deeply, even though the road was rough. But when she heard Rez calling out to the horses, she pulled herself up and looked around. “What's the matter? Why are you stopping?”

“Man down beside the road. He looks dead, but maybe he's got something worth taking.”

At once Lupa rose and swung over the side. She waited until Fabin came near with a lantern in his hand. The moon had grown brighter, it seemed, and she could clearly see the man in the pearlescent light. After a nod from Rez, she carefully approached

She leaned over and waited for the man to move. Was he even breathing? “What's wrong with you?” she asked, but no answer came. She drew her knife and with her free hand she rolled the man over. He was limp, and the only sound he made was a painful groan. Lupa leaned forward and studied his face. She had become an expert in reading the expressions of men, for she had seen the most vile and evil things in them since she had come of age. This man looked different. His face, she saw, was not harsh, and it was hardly the face of a working man

“Is he dead?”

“No, he's not dead.” Lupa sheathed her knife and picked up the man's hand. His palms were softer than the hands of a working man, and yet he had calluses, as if he were a fighting man. A soldier? Fabin drew alongside Lupa and stared down. “What's the matter with him? Is he drunk?”

“I don't think so. I think he's hurt.”

“Get his goods, Lupa, and let's get on with it.”

Lupa leaned forward and smelled the man's breath. “He's not drunk.” She put her hand behind him to move him, and he groaned again. She felt something damp and rolled him to one side. His back was bleeding. She let him roll back again with another groan and searched through his jerkin pulling out a packet containing a letter along with a small bag of money

Fabin reached forward and took the ring from the man's finger. “Any coinage?”

“Yes. But hold the lantern close. There's a letter here.” She scanned the old, worn letter and then said, “It says here this man's name is Brandon Winslow. His father is a nobleman.” She had been taught to read as a child, but Rez had not

“Oh, this one's a lord, is he?”

“Well, his father is.”

“Let's get away from here, Lupa. If someone found us with 'im, it'd be prison for us and maybe the noose.”

But Lupa continued to study the letter. “We're taking him with us,” she said abruptly

“Not bloody likely!” Fabin stared at her. “What do you want to do that for? Get his bag of money and let's go.”

“No, not without him.”

Rez hesitated. “He's a pretty fellow, but that don't mean nothing to you.”

“I'll find a way to use him.” Lupa smiled, and there was cruelty in her expression. “I'll use him, Rez, like I do all men.”

“He's a son of a rich man. He could be trouble.”

“No. You'll see. He'll be a benefit to us both. Now, come on. Help me get him into the coach.”