The Sacrifice

  The kids sat in absolute silence. He was pleased. He’d known teachers at school who could never get a class to shut up. Jordan had given them hell and now here he was, just a boy, able to control more than a hundred kids.

  Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the general. Jordan scared him. There was a stillness and a coldness about him. He was like a statue or a big old crocodile at the zoo. Sitting there without moving. Who knew what weird thoughts were going on behind that calm exterior?

  Sam could feel the tension in the room. As Ed had explained to them, nobody knew what this meeting was about, but by the look of Jordan it was something serious.

  At last the general spoke.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started.’

  Sam had been expecting something medieval, full of verilys and thees and thous and aye instead of yes. It was a surprise to hear Jordan talking so normally. But why not? They weren’t really in the Middle Ages, were they? They were in the middle of London in the twenty-first century.

  ‘This is a special meeting of the war council. In fact it’s a military tribunal. Which means it’s a trial.’

  The kids on the side table started writing furiously. A hum and murmur went round the room, but it was quickly silenced when Jordan raised his hand. Everyone was looking around, though, trying to work out who wasn’t there. Who might have been arrested.

  ‘A boy has been caught trying to steal food from the storerooms. As you know, when I took control, I wrote up a list of rules and stealing is one of the worst crimes on it, especially stealing food. You all know the rules. So there’s no excuse for breaking them. Having said that, I want this trial to be fair. So I will give the suspect a fair hearing. Bring him in.’

  All heads twisted round now towards the doors as a boy was shoved through them, his hands tied behind his back, an armed guard on either side of him. He was tall and fair-haired and had a bruise on one cheek. His shirt was slightly torn. He looked like he’d been crying, his eyes all red and swollen. Mixed emotions – fear, anger, defiance, hatred and embarrassment – flickered across his features.

  The boy was made to stand in front of the big table and his hands were untied. Everyone in the room was staring at him.

  ‘What is your name?’ Jordan asked.

  ‘You know my name, Jordan, you arsehole,’ said the boy and a couple of the kids giggled. Jordan didn’t react; his expression didn’t change; he didn’t even blink. He remained cold, blank, patient.

  ‘Tell us your full name.’

  ‘No.’

  Jordan raised his head now and stared at the boy. He so rarely looked directly at anyone that the effect was quite powerful. The boy dropped his own gaze.

  ‘Bren, Brendan, Eldridge.’

  ‘And what have you been charged with, Bren?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, this is stupid. This isn’t a proper court. We’re all just kids. I know I did wrong. So give me a slap and let’s get on with our lives.’

  ‘What have you been charged with, Bren?’

  ‘Stealing! You know it’s stealing, OK? I stole some tinned fruit. Big deal, boohoo. Naughty me.’

  Jordan looked over towards the side table.

  ‘The charge is stealing food.’

  ‘Big deal,’ said Bren.

  Jordan paused for a few seconds before going on. ‘Without food we die,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Brendan gave Jordan a dismissive look.

  Jordan ignored him. ‘Stealing from other kids is one of the worst things you can do,’ he said. ‘If we don’t look out for each other we’re all going to die. Therefore, Brendan, I reckon stealing food is as bad a crime as murder.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Jordan. It was just some tinned peaches.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Yes, it was. You know it was.’

  Again Jordan turned to the side table.

  ‘Make a note of that. The suspect has admitted to stealing the peaches.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Bren. ‘No, I didn’t. I was talking hypothetically.’

  ‘I’m going to call Captain Ford for evidence,’ said Jordan and he nodded to the boy sitting on his right, who had long straight black hair and Japanese features. The boy stood up.

  ‘For the record, can you state your full name and occupation, rank and regiment?’ said Jordan.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Just do it, Tomoki.’

  ‘My name is Tomoki Ford. Captain of the Tower Watch.’

  ‘Can you tell us how you caught the thief?’

  ‘Alleged thief,’ said Bren. ‘If we’re going to have a proper trial then I’m innocent until proven guilty, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’ve already made a confession,’ said Jordan.

  ‘I wasn’t under oath.’

  ‘We don’t bother with that. You already said you stole the cans of fruit.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘OK,’ said Tomoki. ‘About ten days ago Captain Reynolds of the Service Corps came to see me. He told me that he thought someone was stealing from the Tower stores. He’d noticed some small things had gone missing, and when he checked he found out that other stuff had gone as well.’

  He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to General Hordern.

  ‘I’ve written it all down. Do you want me to read it out?’

  ‘No, just give it to the clerks afterwards.’

  ‘OK, so anyway, Captain Reynolds got his team to check much more carefully every morning and evening. It was soon obvious that stuff was being nicked nearly every night. Just small amounts – the thief probably thought that it wouldn’t be noticeable. I told you about it a week ago.’ This was addressed to Jordan, who nodded. ‘And you told me to put a special watch on the stores. We built a hiding place and took it in turns to stake them out. We saw Bren come in just after midnight last night – he had his own key – and we saw him take three cans of peaches away in a backpack. We followed him back to his room in the Casemates and arrested him.’

  ‘All right, all right. This is boring,’ said Bren. ‘Three cans of peaches. I admit it.’

  ‘Once we’d locked Bren up we searched his room,’ Tomoki went on. ‘And we found all this.’

  Tomoki paused as three kids brought in boxes packed with food. The murmuring started up again. Someone whistled. Bren’s head drooped and he looked ashamed.

  ‘Do you admit that you stole all this as well?’ Jordan asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bren quietly.

  ‘Were you working alone?’

  Bren nodded and Jordan asked Tomoki if he agreed.

  ‘We don’t think there was anyone else in on it. That’s why we followed him, to make sure.’

  ‘Do you want to say anything else, Bren?’ asked Jordan. ‘I can’t really see the point, but if you want to.’

  ‘No. I don’t want to say anything. Just … I’m sorry, I suppose. It was stupid.’

  ‘Saying you’re sorry won’t change what you done,’ said Jordan. ‘You’re a coward, Brendan. Stealing off of other kids. You’re a traitor. You don’t care about anyone except yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ said Brendan. ‘I said I’m sorry.’

  ‘OK,’ said Jordan. ‘So if nobody has any objections then I reckon you’re guilty.’

  ‘Yeah, OK. I’m guilty.’

  Tomoki sat down. ‘So what’s the sentence then?’ he asked.

  ‘As I said.’ Jordan stared at Brendan. ‘I think stealing food from other kids is as bad as murder. So the sentence is death.’

  2

  ‘Nooooo!’ Brendan launched himself across the table at Jordan and the whole place went crazy. Kids were jumping up out of their seats, all shouting at once. This had taken them totally by surprise. Brendan, who was screaming a torrent of filthy abuse at Jordan, tried to wrestle him to the ground. He wasn’t getting anywhere. Jordan was immensely strong and managed to throw off his attacker, seemingly without any effort at all. He rolled Brendan on to his front an
d pinned him to the ground, pulling his arm up behind his back. He held him there, increasing the pressure on his arm until Brendan begged him to stop.

  Dusty and bedraggled, with dirt clinging to the tears on his cheeks, Brendan stood up. There was snot streaming from his nose and his eyes were so raw and swollen it looked like they’d been punched.

  ‘Take him outside,’ said Jordan, no hint of emotion in his voice.

  Jordan headed for the doors and the guards who had brought Brendan in retied his hands and dragged him along behind. The other kids were still in turmoil, milling around, talking excitedly to each other, eyes wide, waving their hands, not quite believing that this was happening.

  Sam sat there, a concerned expression on his face, too young to understand his feelings. He didn’t know the boy, Brendan, but he was shocked by what had happened.

  ‘Heavy-duty,’ said The Kid. ‘Nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll really do it?’ said Sam.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said The Kid. ‘I’m a stranger here myself. But strangers have left on longer trains before.’

  Ed came over to them; he had a boy with him who Sam recognized. He was called Kyle and rarely left Ed’s side. Kyle was big and loud, always telling dirty jokes, very different to Ed. He acted as a sort of bodyguard for Ed, who it seemed could do nothing to shake the big square-headed boy off.

  ‘You OK?’ Ed asked, squatting down so that he was at the same level as the younger kids.

  ‘Does this happen a lot?’ Sam asked and Ed shook his head.

  ‘Never before. A few kids have been punished for things, but never like this. We better go and see what’s happening.’

  ‘Will Jordan really do it?’

  ‘God knows. I have no idea how his brain works.’

  ‘I think it’s well cool,’ said Kyle, grinning like an idiot. ‘This is gonna be good.’

  ‘Kyle!’

  ‘What?’ Kyle gaped at Ed with an expression of wide-eyed innocence.

  ‘Nothing.’

  As Sam stood up, Kyle winked at him.

  ‘Baaaaaaa,’ he said, making little horns with his fingers.

  ‘Leave it out, Kyle,’ Ed snapped. Kyle just laughed.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Sam asked. ‘I heard someone else make a sheep noise yesterday.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Ed put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll tell you about it some other time.’

  Sam wanted to know now, but it was clear that Ed wasn’t going to talk about it. He and Kyle strode on ahead and Sam and The Kid followed them out to where everyone was assembling on Tower Green. Sam was familiar with this corner of the castle. He’d been sleeping in a room in one of the medieval timber-framed houses that lined the green on two sides. If it wasn’t for the fact that most of the grass had been dug up and replaced with vegetables it did very much resemble a traditional village green. As well as the houses, there was a small stone church and you could imagine you were deep in the English countryside rather than in the heart of London.

  Brendan had been dragged to a cobbled area in the centre of the green where a chopping block was set up. It was a replica, dragged out of an exhibition in one of the towers, but it was solid enough, and next to it was a large and very real axe. Jordan must have arranged for this to be done while everyone was inside.

  ‘This is where they used to chop people’s heads off in Henry the Eighth’s time,’ Sam told The Kid. ‘I read about it. Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard were both executed here.’

  Ed shook his head at the sight of the block and axe. ‘Jordan’s gone nuts,’ he said. ‘This isn’t right.’

  Brendan’s friends were crowding round Jordan, all talking at once, like footballers arguing about a penalty decision with a referee. Jordan ignored them and came over to say a few words to Kyle, who nodded. Then he stood on the block to address the crowd.

  ‘You may think this is harsh,’ he shouted. ‘But if we don’t take our laws seriously there’s no point in having them. Without laws we’d be just like animals. The punishment for murder is death, we all agreed on that –’

  ‘Only because we thought it would never happen,’ a girl shouted from the crowd.

  ‘That’s irrelevant,’ said Jordan.

  ‘Who said stealing food was as bad as murder anyway?’ asked another girl. It was clear that Jordan’s decision was not a popular one. The kids were scared and angry.

  ‘I did,’ said Jordan. ‘And I stick to it. Food is very precious now. As I said, if we don’t have food we die.’

  Ed pushed his way to the front of the crowd and walked right up to Jordan.

  ‘No one wants this,’ he said. ‘Stop it now.’

  ‘He has to be punished.’

  ‘Yeah? OK, so who the hell are you going to get to cut his bloody head off, huh? Or are you going to do it yourself?’

  ‘Me,’ said Kyle stepping forward. ‘I’m going to do it!’ He picked up the axe and took a couple of practice swings, kids jumping out of the way.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Kyle,’ Ed protested.

  Kyle shrugged. ‘It’s a difficult job, but someone’s got to do it.’

  Jordan instructed his guards to hold Brendan down on the block, but now even they were having second thoughts. They refused and backed off, hands up in surrender.

  Jordan took hold of Brendan himself, ripped the shirt from his back and forced him to kneel over the block, his bare neck on the rough wood.

  ‘Now be a man, Bren,’ he said, holding him firmly in place. ‘Don’t struggle. Accept your punishment.’

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ Brendan sobbed. ‘You can’t do this.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Ed stood between Kyle and Brendan. ‘You’re not going to do this, Jordan. You go on about what would happen if the law breaks down, but as far as I can see, if we start killing each other then law already has broken down. For God’s sake, the world’s dangerous enough as it is without you making it worse. I won’t let this happen. And I reckon most people here will back me up.’

  ‘So what do we do with him?’ asked Jordan calmly. ‘How do we punish him?’

  ‘There’s another punishment. We talked about it when we drew up the rules. It’s still pretty heavy, but if you insist on making a point … ’

  ‘What punishment is that, Ed?’

  ‘You know what it is. You made it up. If it’s the only way then do it. But it’s still your decision, not mine. I’m just reminding you of the option. Personally I think Bren’s been punished enough.’

  ‘What is it?’ said one of the girls who had shouted out before. ‘What are you going to do to him?’

  Jordan thought for a while, his strong hands gripping Brendan. ‘OK,’ he said at last and let Brendan go. ‘Ed’s asked me to be soft and this time I will be. But I want you all to remember this. The law’s the law. We didn’t make the rules for a joke. If you break them it’s serious.’

  ‘What’s the other punishment?’ the girl repeated. ‘Tell us.’

  ‘Exile.’

  3

  Sam, Ed and The Kid were standing on top of Byward Tower, the inner gatehouse at the castle. They were leaning on the battlements, looking down as Brendan was led out of the gates and along the walkway towards the outer gatehouse, Middle Tower, which had been the main visitors’ entrance to the castle. The walkway passed over the flooded moat and, once again, with the traffic of London stilled, the crowds gone and the kids in their shining armour, Sam felt like he had slipped back in time to the Middle Ages.

  There was a gang of kids working in the moat, standing up to their thighs in water the colour of coffee. They were covered in mud and were working with shovels and buckets, slopping muck everywhere. They looked up and stared as Brendan went past, then returned to their work.

  Brendan walked with his head and shoulders slumped. He’d been given a pack with some food in it – some of the same food he’d stolen – a sleeping-bag, a bottle of water, a sword and a knife. Four boy
s with halberds marched beside him. Kyle, Tomoki and Jordan Hordern walked at the head of the little procession; a small group of Brendan’s friends brought up the rear. Nobody else had come to see him leave. It was too unsettling. This was nearly as bad as cutting his head off. Everyone in the Tower feared being alone in the outside world.

  ‘What’ll happen to him, d’you think?’ Sam asked.

  Ed sighed. ‘I hope he finds some other kids, another settlement. There must be some out there.’

  ‘Like at Buckingham Palace,’ said Sam.

  ‘What’s at Buckingham Palace?’ Ed asked.

  ‘My sister, Ella. She went there with all my friends. Another boy told them it was safe.’

  ‘I hope he was right, for her sake.’ Ed smiled at Sam, the scar making it look like a snarl.

  ‘She’s still alive,’ said Sam. ‘I know she is.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure she is. But it’s hard to get there from here. He’d have to go through the no-go zone.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘OK.’ Ed pointed westwards, towards St Paul’s Cathedral, then swung his arm slowly round to the north.

  ‘We don’t ever go that way,’ he said. ‘It’s the old City of London, the business district. Not many houses or shops, so not much food to be found. Plus, it’s weird in there. The sickos are dangerous and unpredictable. How you two ever made it through alive I will never know.’

  ‘We was half stupid, a third lucky and three-quarters ferocious,’ said The Kid. Ed nodded his head, frowning slightly. Sam hardly noticed The Kid’s weird way of speaking any more, but Ed was obviously still getting used to it.

  ‘Well, that’s the no-go zone. From Aldgate in the north, down past the Bank of England to London Bridge. It cuts us off from central London. So, whatever you do, don’t go back into the no-go zone, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Roger wilco Johnson.’

  Ed carried on, sweeping his arm round, like the hand of a clock making a full circle.

  ‘To the east is fine,’ he said. ‘And it’s safe to cross over Tower Bridge. It’s quiet that way.’

  Sam looked at the bridge. It was the famous one that could be raised up and down to let ships through, and had tall spiky towers at either end.