The Last Siege

  The voice indeed seemed very reasonable and soothing and Emily found that despite her fears about Marcus’s father she rather agreed with what it said. It would be so much easier if they could just explain everything. She glanced across at Marcus and Simon in turn and saw self-doubt on both their faces. But no one said anything.

  There was a sudden scuffle in the passageway below and Harris’s harsh, intemperate voice rang out. ‘Stop skulking up there and open this door! You’re on private property – you know that? You’re trespassing on the property of the heritage company, and if you’ve done the slightest bit of damage here you’ll be prosecuted!’

  The police officer began speaking to him hurriedly in undertones, but the damage had been done. The three listeners in the pillared room looked at one another, aghast. From where she sat, Emily could see the plastic covers that Marcus had torn from the murder-holes. Visions of courtrooms and judges swam hideously in her mind, and when the reasonable voice spoke again, its earlier inducements had been forgotten.

  ‘Please don’t be concerned, Marcus,’ it said. ‘I’m sure there won’t be any trouble like that. We just want you to come down and open the door.’ A pause. ‘You don’t want to get into any trouble, do you?’ Emily could detect a hint of impatience in the voice. She shivered, but she saw Simon’s face harden.

  Then came the unexpected. ‘Oh, your dad wants a word,’ the voice said. ‘Here he is.’

  To Emily he did not sound like a vicious child-beater – a rather dull, anxious voice drifted pleading through the floor. ‘Marcus, it’s me, your dad. I’ve been . . . I’ve been ever so worried about you. Come down and come home with me. We can sort this. I’m not angry with you, son, not angry at all. Not about the money or anything.’

  Emily watched Marcus’s expression in the ensuing silence. No change.

  ‘I know we’ve had some problems . . . and, and I’m willing to work them out with you. But you’ve got to talk to me; it’s no good running off . . .’ The voice petered out uncertainly, then began again. ‘We can go somewhere nice,’ it went on, ‘to talk about things. Somewhere better than this draughty old place, eh, Marcus? Bit warmer, eh? We could stay at a guesthouse, like we used to, by the sea. Come on, son, how about it? We both need a break. What do you say?’

  Marcus looked down through the hole unblinking. A murmur of voices could be heard, a quiet discussion. Then the dull voice spoke up again, more imploringly than ever.

  ‘Please, Marcus. I tell you, we can sort it out – you and me. We need to work at things, I know; but if we do that, we can get there, we can make it just like it was.’

  To Emily’s great shock, Marcus’s eyes flashed, his lips drew back in a snarl and, bending his head to the murder-hole, he let out a shout that was almost a scream. ‘Liar! It’ll never be like it was!’

  The cry echoed despairingly around the pillared room. In the passage below a stunned silence was followed by a roar of rage.

  ‘Stop being such a spoilt little fool! Get down here!’

  His face ashen, teeth bared, Marcus threw himself back and, scooping up a double-handful of stones, half-dropped, half-flung them down the murder-hole. There was a tremendous clattering and a cry of pain. He just had time to scoop another handful before Emily launched herself upon him. The impact knocked him away from the hole, scattering stones in all directions. Together they tumbled for an instant, Marcus on his back, Emily on top – then he had shoved her off him, crashing her hard against the base of a pillar. She gasped, let go her grip and felt Marcus wrench himself back towards the hole. Even as he did so, she saw Simon out of the corner of her eye, sweeping a pile of stones over the edge of his hole and conjuring another rattling cascade, another outburst of cries and oaths.

  Marcus caught up another large rock, but before hurling it he paused, squinting eagerly down his murder-hole.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ he panted. ‘We’ve driven them back.’

  Sure enough, there was no sound in the passage beneath, but from beyond the window came the sharp confusion of four men talking over one another excitedly. The words were unintelligible, but Emily had no difficulty interpreting their anger.

  Within the castle there was silence for a time. Marcus still crouched by the murder-hole, looking down into it, his breathing gradually slowing. Simon sat back on his haunches, idly tossing a small pebble between his hands. Emily remained sprawled against the pillar. Waves of disbelief crashed over her; her head was spinning with the horror of what had happened and with the deeper horror that she was fully, fatally implicated in it.

  Simon stood upright and headed for the window. His movement roused Emily a little. ‘What – what have you done?’ Her voice was tiny, cracked; a child’s voice.

  ‘Shut up. I want to hear what they’re saying.’ Stepping over her, Simon approached the window, leant on the deep, sloping sill and cautiously peered out into the brightness of the day. He leant a little further, then ducked down suddenly.

  ‘No good,’ he said. ‘They’re not stupid – they’ve walked a little way off to talk. He’s on his radio – that’s a bad sign. Hold on . . . one’s set off . . . yeah, he’s heading round the keep, checking it out. He’s rubbing his arm; must be the one I got. Your dad looks rough, Marcus . . . head’s bleeding; not much but it’s a direct hit. Well done. He’s going off with Harris. For first aid probably – Good, so they’re out of action for the moment. Didn’t get Harris. Other rozzer’s staying here, still on the radio.

  ‘And that’s the story,’ he concluded, turning back into the room. ‘We’re surrounded. Reinforcements will be on their way.’ He stepped back over Emily’s feet. ‘Marcus, wake up!’

  There was a glazed expression on Marcus’s face; far from being overjoyed, the success of his trap seemed of little interest to him beside the terrible immensity of what he had just done. With white knuckles he still clutched the final rock, still gazed into the hole as if he expected to see his father there.

  ‘You did it,’ Simon said, nudging him gently with his boot. ‘You struck a blow back. You should feel proud.’

  ‘You idiots!’ Emily cried. ‘We’re for it now. What did you go and do that for? They’ll kill us when they get in.’

  ‘If they get in.’ Simon seemed unable to keep still, pacing to and fro between the pillars. ‘But it was worth it for Marcus to get a chance at his dad – did you hear him screaming up at Marcus then? Like a bloody wild animal. Savage, he was, you could hear it. Too right Marcus should want to get a blow back.’

  ‘Whatever. How are we going to get out?’

  ‘We can’t – now. They’ll keep watch on all sides, keep the place surrounded. No chance of escape for the moment. Eh, Marcus – what do you think?’ Another nudge with the toecap and this time Marcus blinked and looked up. He seemed disorientated.

  ‘I don’t know . . . what should we do?’

  ‘Easy,’ Simon said. ‘We have to hold the keep. I thought you of all people would know that, Marcus; it’s what Baron Hugh would have done. We add another piece of wood to the door. We man the walkways . . . How are they going to climb up anyway? Shin up like we did? I don’t think so, and there’s ice all over the walls today, worse than that first time. We’ve got a bit of food, a bit of water, even got some heat, which is more than they have. Come on, where’s the fight in you? We won the first round.’

  As he spoke, a little light came back into Marcus’s eyes, but Emily shook her head.

  ‘You’re mad,’ she said. ‘You think we can hold them off? Half the police in Norfolk are probably on their way right now!’

  ‘So what if they catch us?’ Simon shrugged. ‘What can they do?’

  ‘Only lock us up!’

  Simon shrugged again. ‘Then let’s make it count. Let’s do more than just ponce about and get done for trespassing. Let’s really give Harris something to remember us by.’

  ‘Simon, our only chance is to get out now, before the reinforcements come.’

  ‘Are you kidding? Th
e visibility’s fine now that the snow’s stopping. They’ll catch us before we make it to the wood.’

  ‘Yeah, but if we stay, they’ll smash the door down and catch us anyway. Running gives us a chance.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Marcus said suddenly.

  ‘Twenty-five to twelve.’

  ‘When’s it get dark?’

  ‘About four. Might be earlier today. Yes – that’s it! Marcus has got it, Em! We have to hold out for another four hours, or less if it snows again. When the light goes, we’ll slip out down the rope and away over the fields. You and me can circle round into the village from another direction, in case they watch the lane. Marcus has his torch – he can pick his way across country till he hits another road.’

  ‘What happens then?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘That’s your problem. We’ll get you out of here. After that, mate, you’re on your own.’

  Simon made another sortie to the window. ‘Policeman’s still there. He’s looking chilly. So, are we agreed then?’

  Emily made a face. ‘Don’t see that I’ve got much choice.’

  ‘Nope,’ Simon said, grinning. ‘Not unless you want to go out and give yourself up to that chilly policeman. Marcus?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Till dusk it is then. We’d better get to work.’

  {14}

  The enemy circled the keep. From windows, arrow slits, latrine holes and other vantage points on all four sides the defenders cautiously observed their movements. To begin with only one policeman negotiated the thick snow at the base of the walls. He went slowly, studying the stonework as he went, doubtless searching for an alternative entrance. His companion remained stationed by the main door, standing well back out of the range of potential missiles. Occasionally he spoke into his radio. After fifteen minutes another car pulled up in the car park and disgorged two other officers, a man and a woman. They joined the man with the radio, who seemed to be the one in charge, and after a brief consultation set off singly around the perimeter of the castle. Four police officers meant four sides of the keep watched at all times: if the defenders had sought to escape now, they would quickly have been captured. But no such attempt was made.

  Inside the castle there was much activity. Before doing anything else Marcus, who was recovering some of his energy and determination, climbed to his base in the restored room and scoured his supplies. He reappeared with three cans of drink and several chocolate bars, two of which he thrust in Emily’s lap.

  ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘It’s high-energy, good for warmth.’

  After glum contemplation, Emily ate one of the bars. The chocolate tasted like cardboard in her dry mouth, even when she washed it down with Coke.

  Marcus then disappeared to reinforce his defences. Before joining him Simon tried to rouse Emily from her depression. She was still sitting in the pillared room, head resting back on one column, staring at the cracks in the wall.

  ‘At least guard the entrance for us,’ he said. ‘Our trouble is going to be keeping a watch on every side. I think it’s most likely they’ll try this way again. OK? Give us a shout if anything happens.’

  Without enthusiasm, Emily did as she was told, lurking in the shadows as far away from the window as possible without losing her view of the policeman. Every couple of minutes she looked at her watch, willing the hands to move at lightning speed towards the magic time of dusk. Instead they dawdled – twelve o’clock came and went with agonizing slowness and Emily found herself gazing at the skies imploringly, praying for a resumption of the snowstorm.

  Outside, the policeman loitered, rocking back and forwards on his feet, clapping his hands before him and walking in ornate loops and circles in a vain attempt to get warm. Periodically one of his colleagues came past to make contact. Emily strained to catch their words but could not do so. Whether by accident or design, they spoke just low enough to frustrate her. Once the senior officer looked up directly at her window, and Emily ducked away, sure that he must have seen her. But if he did so he gave no sign. The window was high up, narrow and deep-set. Perhaps it was OK. After a moment’s consideration, she pulled her hat down as far as it would go and rewound her scarf about the lower half of her face. This was better than nothing, but she wished she had a balaclava; it was no good escaping the castle if she was going to be recognized in the village the very next day.

  Marcus passed by, clutching an empty bottle. ‘All quiet?’ he asked.

  Emily nodded.

  ‘Yeah, it’s the same on the other sides; they’re just patrolling. We’ve taken another plank off and fixed it behind the door: had to ram it to get it to stick, but that makes it all the stronger. I’ve just been doing the icing. Watch your feet on the walkways from now on.’

  At that moment the police radio emitted a large crackling burst of static. Emily looked out to see the officer talking into the radio and staring towards the car park.

  ‘Something might be up,’ she said.

  ‘Eh?’

  Emily pulled her scarf down. ‘Something might be up.’

  ‘Let’s go and see.’ Together they returned to the entrance lobby, where they met Simon descending from the tower.

  ‘Another car,’ he said shortly. ‘And a van. A group’s coming this way.’

  Emily watched several people appear through the gatehouse: they included Marcus’s father, now sporting a square white dressing taped to his forehead; Harris, who looked as crabbed as ever; another uniformed officer; and a short woman in a puffed coat and black trousers carrying a loudhailer.

  ‘Negotiations?’ Emily said.

  ‘The more the better,’ Simon muttered. ‘We should draw it out; gain time.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Only twelve fifteen.’

  ‘Hell.’

  ‘Look, they’re all staying put except that woman. Come on. She’s going round the front again.’

  Back at the pillared room they crowded together in the shadows, eyes fixed on the small area of snow visible from the window. The policeman stationed there had gone. A few moments later the head of the woman came into sight, the loudhailer already at her lips. With a buzz and a whine she switched it on and called out Marcus’s name.

  ‘Don’t speak to her,’ Emily cautioned. ‘Not yet.’

  The woman waited a moment, then, as if the silence were exactly what she had expected, began to talk slowly and carefully into the loudhailer.

  ‘Hi, Marcus,’ she said. ‘I hope you and your friends are listening. My name is Janet and I’m from Norfolk Area Social Services. I’ve come to talk to you to see if we can’t sort things out. First of all, I should say that I am in no way bound to the police – they do not tell me what to do or say, although they have asked me to come here to see you this morning. Nor am I representing your father. I hope that’s clear to you. If anything, I am here to act on your behalf – to help you with the issues that concern you. But I need to understand things a bit more, and to do that I need you to talk to me. I am sure that you are acting for a good reason and I would very much like to hear from you what that reason is. Do you think you could talk to me, Marcus?’

  She lowered the loudhailer and cocked her head, eyes sweeping back and forth along the silent walls.

  ‘What do you think?’ Emily hissed.

  Marcus shook his head and shivered. ‘I don’t want to talk to her.’

  After a little, the woman spoke again.

  ‘I’m sure it is difficult for you, Marcus,’ she said. ‘But you have to trust me. I’m not asking you to come out, just come to a window.’ A pause. ‘I should tell you that I’ve been given fifteen minutes to make contact with you. If I don’t manage to do so, the police will call me away and take matters back into their own hands.’

  With that she waited. Marcus, Simon and Emily looked at each other.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to her,’ Marcus said again.

  ‘Better say something,’ Simon said at last. ‘We’ve got hours to get through
before dusk. We don’t want an attack yet if we can help it.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Emily.

  Marcus groaned. ‘But I don’t like her. She’ll twist my words.’

  ‘Just tell it how it is. This is a golden opportunity to let them know about your dad. It’ll give them something to chew on; maybe take their minds off getting in for a while longer.’

  Simon nodded. ‘Time’s precious.’

  ‘Oh . . . all right. From here?’

  ‘It’s as good a place as any.’

  Marcus gave a heavy sigh and crawled along the deep sill of the window. At its end it narrowed to the same width as the tall, tapering window arch. Marcus squeezed along as far as he could, then craned forwards and set his face to the gap, blocking the view of Simon and Emily. The woman spotted him instantly.

  ‘Marcus?’ She did not use the loudhailer now.

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was small and could barely be heard.

  ‘Thank you for coming to talk.’

  Defiance flared: ‘We can talk all you want. I’m not coming down.’

  ‘Well, talking’s good. But to be honest I don’t understand quite why you are up there. Can you help me with it, tell me why you’re there?’

  ‘Go on,’ Emily whispered from behind, as Marcus hesitated.

  ‘You ask my dad,’ he called. ‘You ask him.’

  ‘I will ask him, but I’d rather hear it from you.’

  ‘I’m not going back with him. I hate him for what he’s done.’

  ‘And what has he done, Marcus?’

  Again the hesitation. ‘He’s . . . he’s . . . look at my face.’

  ‘I can’t see your face from here, I’m sorry. You’re in the shadow. What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s . . . I’m not going back with him, that’s all.’

  Behind Marcus, Emily squirmed with frustration. If only he would just get on with it instead of rambling like this! His normal articulacy seemed to have deserted him – he spluttered and coughed and avoided the issue. Perhaps it was difficult to denounce your father to the world. But Marcus had told her and Simon easily enough.