Page 79 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)

A s night descended on the plantation, Kit and Thamsine sat with McPherson on the broad terrace that faced out to sea.

A soft, warm breeze brought with it the scent of jungle and sea.

Behind the house, angry men demanded to be set free.

Kit had set McPherson’s men to guard the compound.

It was a risk giving them weapons but he had no choice.

Thamsine had organised Clara and the other maids she had found cowering in the kitchens to clean John Pritchard’s room. The condition of the man shocked her. He had been lying in his own filth for days, if not weeks. It took a strong stomach to bathe him and treat the dreadful, suppurating sores.

One of the younger Scots had been dispatched to Holetown bearing a letter from Kit along with a copy of Daniel’s testimony. Nothing more could be done until Willoughby arrived, and now he had just one question to be answered. Where was his brother?

McPherson drew on a pipe he had liberated from Outhwaite’s room and expelled a satisfied grunt.

‘I’ve missed the tobacco,’ he said. ‘Now, I suppose you want to know what became of your brother?’

The stem of the clay pipe Kit held between his fingers snapped.

‘Is it true? Is he dead?’

McPherson removed the long stem of his pipe from his mouth and considered the question.

‘I dinna know,’ he said at last. ‘Daniel was in a bad position. He was still a prisoner, no better than I, so Outhwaite could do as he liked with him. While Pritchard was still in charge, Outhwaite couldn’t touch him, but when Pritchard was taken ill, it left Outhwaite in charge.

For a while there he let Daniel alone. He needed the lad.

I doubt Outhwaite can read or write, but when Daniel started to object to Outhwaite’s methods and the treatment of the labourers, Outhwaite became a wee bit nervous.

There’d been a boy, Brodie. Outhwaite beat the boy to death.

We all witnessed it, but Dan’l must have decided to go for help because Outhwaite moved on him.

He had the lad flogged and locked in the Hole. ’

Kit cleared his throat. ‘How long?’ he asked.

McPherson shook his head. ‘Best you dinna know. It were long enough that they took the boy for dead when they pulled him out.’

Thamsine grasped Kit’s hand.

Kit swallowed. ‘What did they do with him?’

‘Normal practice was to bury the dead in a burying ground behind the cabin, but there’d been a few too many deaths of late, so Outhwaite ordered his men to take the body into the jungle and dump it.’

Kit swore.

‘He said as it were a lesson that we were no better than animals and should be treated as such. Big on his lessons, Outhwaite.’

‘And was he dead?’ Thamsine asked the question that Kit could not find the words for.

McPherson sighed. ‘One of Outhwaite’s men took me out into the forest a few days later.

Said we were going huntin’, but he wanted to see the lad covered decent and say a few words of prayer.

He didn’t think it right leaving a Christian out there without even a prayer being said over him.

When we got to the place he’d been left, the body had gone. ’

Kit’s breath caught. ‘Did he go back to the right place?’

McPherson shrugged. ‘Aye. There were signs to tell me that someone had been there. Blood on’t grass, broken ferns.’

Kit jumped to his feet. ‘Which man? I must speak to him.’

McPherson shook his head. ‘Died of the fever two months ago. Dinna get your hopes up, lady. Animals could’ve moved the body.

Who knows? Even if he’d still been alive, he was sore hurt and his chance of surviving in the mountains …

’ McPherson broke off. ‘The man told Outhwaite and he sent out search parties. Not a trace of the lad was found. So, to answer your question, Lovell, I canna say for certain whether the lad lived or not.’