Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Twenty Nine: Part Nine

17

Burt was unshackled from the stocks by the jailer and immediately crumpled to the floor in agony.

“Burt!” Mavis ran to him, clutching his arms and shoulders, trying to avoid the open wounds on his back from the lash. Tears were running down her cheeks.

“Get back girl!” cried the Earl, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her clear, hurling her onto her back in the dirt. A gasp went up from the crowd; the tension in the square cranking up another notch. Mavis stared in alarm at the Earl. His face was like a gravestone.

The jailer chuckled to himself as he reshackled Burt’s wrists and the Earl’s attention went back to him, but Mavis got to her feet. With a defiant glare at the Earl, she went back to Burt, dabbing again at his back with her damp cloth.

The Earl saw this and opened his mouth to speak but said nothing.

Whispers went through the crowd. Everyone was watching.

Burt could barely get his thoughts together. The impact of what had happened had wiped out any chance of coherence in his mind. There was only room in there for pure white shock. He could feel the jailer’s hands on him but couldn’t make any sense of the sensations. No word-thoughts crossed his mind; the sensory flood had overwhelmed all of that.

The jailer stood upright and looked to the Earl for instructions.

“Take him away!” cried the Earl. “Lock him up!” He looked out across the crowd of onlookers. “And let every one of you watching remember this: the punishment that I will mete out to any criminal!” He pointed at Burt. “This man is a thief! And he will be punished as a thief!”

The jailer yanked on the chain between Burt’s shackles, pulling at his arms. The stable hand didn’t move. The jailer pulled again, almost jerking Burt onto his side.

“Well help him then girl!” cried the Earl and Mavis jerked from fright, putting her shoulder under Burt’s armpit, trying to help him up.

“You!” shouted the Earl, “and you!” He pointed. “Get over here and get this thief to the village jail!”

The two men he pointed at loitered, unsure of themselves.

“Hurry up you idiots or you’ll bloody well be joining him!”

They rushed over and got Burt upright then helped him along as the jailer pulled at his chain.  

Almost too late to allow passage, the crowd pulled back, parting to allow the miserable entourage to pass along the front of the pub and down the street.

No one spoke but they went on watching. The Earl stood proudly, his fists on his belt, sneering at the retreating figures. When they passed out of sight he let his eyes wander across the sullen faces of the villagers who looked now back at him.

The Earl didn’t like it. He felt uncomfortable, almost guilty, and that didn’t sit well with him. It didn’t sit well at all. It was his right to punish criminals on his land. What did he care about the feelings of a few commoners? That was inconsequential compared to the need for discipline. But the tension was palpable, the faces dark and troubled. He couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Get back to your business!” he cried. “Go on! There’s nothing more to see here! A criminal has been justly punished! There’s nothing more to say on the matter!”

He turned his back on them and strode back to his horse, climbed astride and rode away without a backward glance.

18

The pain was awful but as he was dragged through the streets of Griply, Burt started to regain his sense of what was going on.

The agony across his back was something that had, once upon a time, been inconceivable to him. Less than four weeks ago he had been Lady Ann Neville – a beautiful and cultured heiress. The worst punishment he might have expected at that time was a mild scolding from his mother. This was entirely different from that. And it was far from over.

The jailer kept jerking on the chain binding his wrists. The two men helping had his arms and shoulders. The only thing that made it better was the glimpses he got of Mavis, following on with them, her eyes full of the most endearing concern Burt had ever seen. In his anguish he clung onto that. It was the only thing he had left to cling to.

The jailer led them through a narrow gap between two buildings and onto the back road. Burt’s eyes were bleary but he saw the squat building lying ahead and his horror deepened.

The jailhouse.

He jerked back, pulling on his shackle chain, digging his feet into the ground. “No! I ain’t goin in there! Please!”

The men supporting him almost lost their grip as Burt struggled, trying to break free, strength suddenly returning to his limbs in his utter desperation. The jailer yanked hard on the chain but Burt pulled back, ignoring the bite on his wrists.

They couldn’t put him in there; they just couldn’t!

He wasn’t a common criminal! It was all just a horrible mistake! He’d only been trying to get back what was his! This wasn’t meant to be happening! He was supposed to be Lady Ann!

He knew he wasn’t her no more; he knew he was only Burt and he always would be; but that made it worse. He was a good honest working man! He didn’t deserve to be imprisoned! He didn’t care about the pendant anymore or even getting his old life back. He just wanted to take back what he’d done that day. He wanted to go back to his job as a labourer – that was all he wanted. He didn’t need to be one of the gentry. He just wanted his freedom.

But the jailer wrenched hard, putting all his weight into it and Burt toppled forward, almost losing his footing. “Cam on ye thieving cur!” snarled the jailer. “The Earl’s given ‘is orders and you’re gonna be locked up!”

“No! Please! Let me go!”

Mavis cried out, “Burt!”

He fought to break free but the men held him fast, tightening their grip on him, forcing him forward, closer and closer to the jailhouse.

He couldn’t be locked up! He couldn’t! But there was nothing he could do to stop it!

“Please!” he shouted. “Please!”

But it was no good. The jailer laughed at his desperation, yanking harder on his shackles, pushing ahead faster. He couldn’t get away!

His life was over. Every shred of goodness had gone from it. He’d lost his position. He’d been branded a thief. He was going to be thrown in jail with no way to get out. He might rot there for years!

And even if he was released in months of years it would be far too late. He would have no job and no money. He’d be vilified for his criminal past. He’d either starve to death or end up scraping a living in the worst and most dangerous jobs imaginable.

And worse: he had ruined the original Burt’s life beyond all measure or hope. For all he knew, Lady Ann was still planning on coming back to reclaim her body – to live up to their original agreement, even though there had been a delay.

Now that would never – could never come to pass. He had ruined her old life. What would ever motivate her to take it back? She wouldn’t!

Even if she came back planning to switch he had ruined all chance of that forever!

They reached the front steps of the jailhouse and Burt fought one last time with all his fury to get free, but the jailer and men were ready for it. They held him fast, pulling his squirming form through the door and inside.

“This way!” cried the Jailer, leading them into the back of the building were two cells stood side by side.

Burt saw where they were leading and gaped in terror, fighting all the more to get free, but it was impossible.

They reached the open cell and hurled him inside. He fell to the floor in the centre of the narrow space, cracking his knees on the floor painfully and sending a fresh jolt of agony though his back.

He scrabbled round and up, trying to get out while there was still chance but he was far too slow.

The jailer slammed the cell door shut with a sneer and a chuckle and Burt grabbed hold of the bars as the key clicked round in the lock.

“Please,” he moaned, “I’m beggin ye. Let me out of ere. I’ll do anythin!”

“Not likely,” laughed the jailer. “You’re in their for keeps ‘Arper! For months at least – depending on what the Earl says – maybe longer. You better start getting used to it.” He leered cruelly. “You’re nothing but a common criminal now and this is the punishment you deserve.”

19

Hundreds of miles to the south, Lady Ann lay awake within the soft covers of her bed, Grandmamma sleeping nearby in a chair with a blanket over her legs.

She stared out the window at the night sky, into the endless blackness of space, reliving the imprisonment she had suffered through: the feel of the gag in her mouth, the binding round her wrists; the clothes torn from her; the rough hands of the tall man; the suggestive gleam in his eye as he closed in to take advantage of her.

She shuddered and pressed her eyes closed, pulling the covers up around her face.

It had been awful. Simply awful!

In the darkness under the blankets the memories returned but now they were glaring – the feelings associated with them more potent. Ann curled into a tighter ball within her blanket cocoon, wishing this had never happened to her: this violation.

But hidden there, weeping into her hands, the knowledge still burned bright of her intentions. It had not faltered once since she’d been freed from that terrible bondage.

She was going to go back to Griply as soon as she could and she was going to become a man again – there was no doubt in her mind about that.

It didn’t matter how bad it would be to go back to being Burt, she wouldn’t let anything deter her. She was going to be a man again and she was prepared to sacrifice anything to achieve that!