‘Gentlemen, your material.’
He grimaced to signal that any claim not to know what he was talking about would be an insult to all three of them. They started to empty their various hidden pockets onto the table: a knife, a shiv, an awl, a hammer, another knife, a razor, a small pick, a wimble, a gouge and finally a pair of pliers.
There was a pause.
‘And the rest,’ said Cadbury.
Yet another knife, a bolt, a punch (large), an axe (small), a mace (surprisingly not small) and finally a needle of the kind use to repair thick sails.
‘What’s the matter – nobody like you?’
‘No,’ said Kleist.
‘But we don’t care,’ added Vague Henri.
Cadbury knew that there must be more, even though he was surprised how much there already was. But he had covered himself and he could not bring himself to send the two boys naked into the chamber. It was not often that Cadbury felt dread, except on his own behalf, but he was feeling it now. His bad conscience called out to him, angry and mocking. You’ve no right to be having a conscience now, you hypocrite, after all the evil you’ve had a finger in. Kitty’s door opened and his steward emerged.
‘They must come in now,’ he said. Cadbury nodded to the two boys who were alarmed now, Vague Henri more than Kleist. They were gestured through by the steward, who closed the door after them. Usually, thought Cadbury, he would have entered with them but not this time. The steward looked at Cadbury, obviously uneasy. What did that mean? ‘My master says you can leave now.’
The steward turned and walked away, his disquiet contained within the set of his shoulders and even the way he walked. To work for Kitty meant you had a considerable capacity for looking the other way when it came to evil-doing; but almost everyone has their standards, the line beyond which they will not go. Even in prison the murderer looks down on the common thief, the thief looks down on the rapist and all of them are disgusted by the nonce. It was all very well the steward hinting that something nasty was about to take place. But what could he do about it? Cadbury had been told to leave and so that’s what he did.
Walking out into daylight felt like emerging into the sun after a year in the dark. But the dread at what was going to happen came with him too, and could be seen so plainly that on meeting Deidre Plunkett hurrying towards him, even she could see that he was in a state of intense anxiety.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘I’m not well. We need to go home.’
‘I’ve just come from home.’
‘Then we’ll go back,’ he shouted, and pulled her to the other side of the street and away from Kitty the Hare’s house.
Once the door closed behind them it would have made no difference if Kleist and Vague Henri had been carrying all of the weapons Cadbury had removed and twice as many like them besides. It took a few seconds to become accustomed to the gloom after the door was shut but anyway there was nothing to be done about the pair of small overstrungs pointed at them by one of the men Cadbury had been so disturbed by. The other man was holding two broom-handle-sized sticks with loops on the end of the kind used to catch wild dogs.
‘Turn around.’
They did as they were told and with great deftness the loops were dropped over their necks and shoulders and pulled tight around their midriffs, binding their arms. It was not the first time that Kitty had admired the finesse of such large men. Neither of the boys said anything or tried to escape, something that also impressed Kitty.
‘We’re going to sit you down on these two stools,’ said one of the men. They pushed lightly on the wooden shafts holding the loops and eased the boys forward and onto the stools. Then they set the wooden shafts into two small slots in the floor. There was a loud CLICK! and the ends of the shafts were secured.
‘Tug away, if you like,’ mocked one of the men.
‘Mr Mach,’ cooed Kitty the Hare. ‘You’ll not behave rudely. These two boys are going to die here. Show them the respect due to that fact or be quiet.’
Vague Henri and Kleist had been used to threats all their lives and they had seen them being carried out with great, even if pious, cruelty. They knew this wasn’t a threat. This thing was going to happen. Behind them the two men got on with their preparations, Mach with his nose somewhat out of joint at being corrected. It took them little effort. From their inside pockets both took out a length of strong wire, wrapped at either end around wooden handles about four inches long.
‘Why?’ cried out Vague Henri. The two men, more out of a sense of ritual than need, tested the robustness of the wood and the wire by pulling them apart twice. Satisfied, they moved to loop the twine around the boys’ necks.
‘Wait,’ Kitty murmured. ‘Since you’ve asked, you must want to make this last longer than it needs. I’ll tell you. Your stupid actions against the Redeemers have upset the balance of my peace. I have gone to trouble and expense to ensure that nothing happens – that this war is as drawn out and delayed as it suits me and my business for it to be drawn out and delayed. You’ve tried to begin a war that I do not want begun. Once a war starts all sorts of unpleasant things happen which means I don’t get paid. But a war that might or might not happen is utter bliss – 50,000 dollars a week in supplies. That’s why the great door opens for you. I cannot say it will be painless but it will be quick if you give in to it.’
The two men stepped forward and circled the wire around their necks. ‘For God’s sake,’ whispered Kleist.
‘I know when they’ll come – the Redeemers!’ shouted Vague Henri. ‘I know to the day.’
‘Wait a little,’ said Kitty.
‘All right, I admit,’ Vague Henri was still able to lie well under dreadful circumstances, all his years of practice at deceiving the Redeemers coming to his aid, ‘not to the day, but to the week.’
A pause. Kitty seemed convinced by the admission; after all, who wouldn’t exaggerate under such conditions?
‘Go on.’
‘Before we tried to get into the camp I watched the place for nearly twenty hours. In that time, fifty carts arrived. Each cart carries half a ton, give or take. Thirty of the carts were just food. A commissariat tent takes five tons. There were over two hundred of them. That’s a thousand tons. The camp only has around two thousand men all told. That’s half a ton of food for every man.’
‘So the camp is a distribution point.’
‘No. Nothing beyond a couple of carts went out and none of them took food. Commissariat carts are different.’
‘Storage for the winter, then?’
‘You don’t build up stores before the summer. Most of it would rot in a tent. You don’t need a mass of stores to keep a camp in the summer. At this time of year you can live off the countryside – buying and commandeering.’
‘And so?’
‘They must be fuelling an attack. If they were staying where they were, they wouldn’t need a twentieth of such stores.’
‘Two thousand men aren’t going to advance on Switzerland.’
‘It would only take two weeks to bring in another forty thousand – but then they have to attack. No choice. Forty-odd thousand men eat at a rate of around thirty to fifty tons a day. They can’t stay in one place together in such numbers. Santos can’t bring them up in less than ten to fourteen days. And he can’t keep them there just eating up the stores. He’ll have to move in a week, two at the most.’
‘I’ve heard, you know, a great many plausible lies.’
‘They’re not lies.’
‘How do you know so much about bacon and flour?’
‘I’m not like Cale or Kleist. They were trained for the militant; I’m commissariat. Nobody fights without supplies – wood and water and meat and flour.’