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“Thank you, Flash,” Rafael said quietly. “Would you please see to our young friend on the table? Untie her and see that she’s breathing all right.”
Flash moved to the young girl and efficiently unbound her. “She’s all right, Cap’n. In fact, she should be awake very soon.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” said Rafael, turning back to the Ram. He said contemptuously, “You want her to be somewhat awake when all your obedient little lads rape her.”
The Ram rose slowly to his feet. His voice trembled as he spoke. “You have desecrated this place. You have sneered and threatened. I am the leader here. This is All Hallows’ Eve. This is my night of triumph.” His eyes shifted, and in that instant, Rafael knew. He whirled about but he wasn’t quite fast enough.
“Cap’n!”
The pistol butt came down, not on the base of his skull, but on his right shoulder, and he reeled with the force of it and the blinding pain. His own gun went flying across the old wool rug, and he lurched toward it.
“No, Captain, don’t try it or Deever will kill you.”
Rafael, panting, straightened and looked at the bulbous-nosed individual who was pointing a pistol at his chest. He stilled, cursing himself silently, closing his mind to the pain, regaining control.
“This, my dear Rafael, is Deevers. You, Flash, come here by your captain. Yes, that’s better. Now, gentlemen, let us tie up these two interlopers.”
Rafael looked Johnny Tregonnt in the face. “I, an interloper?” he said very softly. “Because it revolts me that you have somehow convinced these men to perform acts that normally they would find equally repulsive?”
“Shut up, Captain. Sit down, now.”
Rafael sat willingly, motioning Flash beside him.
“Tie him, Johnny, Vincent.”
“Yes, do,” Rafael said easily. “Then you can draw lots to see who rapes that child first. An exciting prospect. I should hurry if I were you.”
“Deever, if he says another word, put a bullet in his brain.”
“Look here, Ram,” Johnny Tregonnet said, stepping back rather than forward, “you’ll not kill him. I shan’t allow it.”
“You’ll not allow it, Johnny? You young ass, you have no say in anything I choose to do.”
Johnny turned pugnacious, a sight that surprised Rafael and made a surge of relief wash through him. Johnny and the others were his only hope now.
“I think the others agree with me, Ram. Vinnie? Linc? Charlie?”
“But what are we to do?” Vinnie said, his voice a bewildered low whine.
“Lookee here,” said Flash, “you ’eard the cap’n. He said not’ing would ’appen to you.”
“Kill him.” The Ram screamed at Deever.
Deever whipped the pistol around toward Flash. In that instant Johnny Tregonnet and Charlie St. Clement rushed forward, Rafael with them. Soon all the others were piled on top of Deever. The pistol was wrested from his meaty hand. He was pummeled and kicked until Rafael called a halt.
“No,” Rafael said, “the Ram is the important one, not this pathetic bastard.” He rose a bit unsteadily, aware of the pain numbing his shoulder. “Now, Ram, take off your hood. All of us want a good look at you.”
The Ram backed away slowly, his body curiously still even as he walked.
“Now,” Rafael said, “or I shall remove it for you.”
The Ram cursed, and even Flash, who had heard the most lurid of speech on his mother’s knee, was shocked.
“Who are you?” Rafael said. “David, is it you? Joan Newdowns recognized your voice, at least she thought it was you. Is it you, you miserable little bully?”
The Ram drew up straight as a rod. Slowly he raised his hands. The hood slid upward, then back and off.
There was complete silence. Everyone stared in disbelief at Squire Gilbert Esterbridge.
