At the same time Jordan had been seeking his pleasures wherever he might. He’d always enjoyed dipping his wick in another man’s tallow. It might have been amusing when they were younger, but for boys like Jordan and Reg the pleasures they should have enjoyed as lads had been lost in the grim reality of starvation. They grew up quickly in those days, missing out on much of the fun of youth, and instead took what amusement they could from the same ribald entertainments at an older age. Jordan had never grown out of them.
Perhaps there was more to it than the mere lustful fascination with another man’s wife, though, because when Jordan took his new woman, Reg couldn’t believe his ears. And Jordan’s long-suffering wife was similarly astonished.
The cruelty of laughing about his latest woman in front of his wife was lost on Jordan, of course. Reg once thought to comment on his behaviour, but wouldn’t ever try that again. No, Jordan was incapable of understanding how his actions might affect his poor wife. A man who tried to tell Jordan how to behave could rouse him to extreme anger, and that would invariably mean pain. No man should give Jordan cause to lose his temper.
That was the mistake on Friday. If only Mick hadn’t lied about his theft.
There were few things more certain to goad Jordan to rage than an employee who stole from him, no matter what it might be. Whether it was money, property or a woman — for he looked on the wenches as his own. Mick had been one of Jordan’s small band of paid men who behaved towards him like the servants of a lord, vowing to serve him honestly and honourably no matter what, in return for which they were well rewarded. The only requirement Jordan laid upon them was that they must be loyal and never lie to him.
Reg would remember that night for a long, long time. He had walked in with Jordan to see Mick and Anne, and as he stood by the door he had sensed that this wasn’t going to be a normal meeting. If he had had any idea of what Jordan was planning, he would have stayed away.
There were times when Jordan could show sympathy, and this was one. He motioned to Anne to join him, and spoke kindly to her, as a father might to a daughter. ‘Tell me, Anne, is this true? Your mother is dying?’
She could scarcely speak. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes raw and swollen, while her cheeks were blotched with red. It looked worse because Jordan insisted that his strumpets should be kept from the sun. ‘Men want to see a pretty girl with milky flesh,’ he would say with a laugh. If the girls went in the sun and browned, they were worth less money, and he would beat them. Now, it meant that Anne looked almost feverish, with harsh red cheeks and brow and a yellowish tinge to her throat. She looked terrified, Reg thought.
‘Speak, Anne,’ Jordan said gently. ‘You have heard from your home?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she has a disease of some kind?’
‘Yes.’
‘It must be terrible. You have no sisters at home to look after her, do you?’
‘No. I was the only surviving daughter. My brother left home too, so Mother’s all alone, you see.’
‘Yes. Mick explained that to me,’ Jordan said. His voice was still soothing and soft, as though he was an uncle listening to a child speak of falling and hurting her knees. ‘He told me all about you and how your mother was unwell. Didn’t you, Mick?’ Now a little harshness entered his voice. ‘Didn’t you?’
Mick was a powerful-looking fellow, all brawn, with a large, square face that was too pale from sitting indoors for too many hours in gambling dens and brothels. He glanced at Anne as though to give her a little encouragement. ‘Yes, I told you.’
‘And you thought I’d take your word?’
Mick’s face grew faintly troubled. He was surprised, yes, but also aware that the discussion was not going the way he had expected. ‘I’ve never lied to you.’
‘Haven’t you? Not even when you’ve been taking my girls’ money and putting it in your own purse?’
‘I wouldn’t do a thing like that! You know you can trust me,’ Mick said, and now there was anxiety in his tone.
Reg watched as Jordan moved towards the lad. ‘You came to me when you were hard up, didn’t you? I remember it was a friend of yours brought you to me. He said you’d be a good fellow with your fists, and he said you’d be bold. Well, he was right, wasn’t he? You are bold, certainly. You even dare to rob me, as though I was some gull from the street.’
‘I wouldn’t-’
‘Don’t lie to me! I know you!’
Mick’s face stiffened. He knew what Jordan could do when he lost his temper completely, and although he stood his ground he lowered his head, as though understanding that he must suffer pain for what he had done.
‘You were happy enough to take my money while you thought you could get away with it, weren’t you?’
‘I didn’t-’
Jordan’s hand moved so quickly Reg didn’t see it. All at once there were a pair of loud slaps, and Mick’s face was slammed first left then right as Jordan hit his cheeks, one after the other. ‘Don’t lie to me again.’
Behind them both, Anne’s face was a crumpled mess. She wiped her running nose on her sleeve and her gaze moved from Jordan to Reg, filled with terror. She had a better idea even than Mick what her master was like. All the whores knew about Jordan.
Jordan turned to her now. ‘You know what I did when Mick told me your mother in Barnstaple was unwell, Anne? I sent a boy to ride there and find out whether you had a mother. Because whores don’t have them normally, do they? And even if they do, they’re better off enjoying their trade than worrying themselves about their parents. Anyway, you’re all right. There’s no need for you to go home. Your mother is already dead. But then you knew that, didn’t you?’
He was standing before her now, and he bent his head to peer into her face. ‘You did, didn’t you? Since you were an orphan when you left home five years ago, I suppose you guessed your mother was dead?’
She was blubbing, and she picked up her apron to cover her face. He wrenched it from her hands, then held both her wrists and stared into her eyes. ‘I hate people who lie to me, wench. I hate them more than anything, because once trust is gone between a master and his servants, there’s nothing left. Nothing except an example.’
He moved her two wrists to his left hand and gripped them tightly, so tightly, and then, as Anne’s breath came in rapid pants, he pulled out his knife. ‘You know this knife? It’s seen to many girls. Girls like you, Anne. And now I’m going to leave an example for other girls to remember. Mick, come here. Hold her.’
‘I can’t, Jordan, I-’
‘You were going to take her away from here and use her yourself. You might even have married her, mightn’t you? But you won’t want to, Mick. Not when I’ve finished with her tonight.’
He was matter-of-fact about it. While she thrashed about, he made Mick grip her wrists, and then he lashed her legs together, neatly, like a man hobbling a calf before cutting its throat. He sat abreast her thighs while she gave a high, keening squeal, and then gripped her chin and began to saw slowly at her nose. When he had removed that, he took off her ear lobes too, and then carefully cut a cross into each cheek, before opening her bodice and starting on her breasts.
There was nothing brutal in his manner as he did so, torturing an attractive young girl into a figure of disgust. He did not treat this as a diversion, but saw it as a task he must perform. This girl would never dare to accuse him, she would be too scared. And yet all the other girls who plied their trade on Jordan’s behalf would hear of this retribution and beware.