Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? (17 page)

As the applause subsided, Cheryl offered Jasper the other baby. ‘Your daughter, Your Lordship.’

Jasper waved the child away. Prince Nigel began crying again.

‘You’ll have to give Prince Nigel back to me now, Your Lordship,’ Cheryl said. ‘He’s hungry, he needs a feed.’

Gently, somewhat reluctantly, and with one last look inside the nappy, Jasper handed the baby back to Cheryl and sat down on his throne, his face radiant.

Damian coughed. ‘What about the sentence on Steven Grey?’

Jasper reached for the black silk handkerchief lying on the table, then hesitated. He stood again and drew himself up to his full height.

‘To celebrate the birth of my son,’ he announced, staring directly at Steven, ‘I am commuting your sentence to life imprisonment with hard labour. You will be responsible for all power generation along the lines of the proposal you outlined to me this afternoon.’

‘Thank you, Your Lordship.’

There was a spontaneous round of cheering and clapping. Susan tried desperately to curtail the celebration, aware it was far more enthusiastic than the ovation that had followed the naming of Prince Nigel.

‘Now go and join your family, before I change my mind,’ Jasper said to Steven as the noise subsided. ‘Susan and Jennifer, serve the pudding.’

Steven noticed Penny rise from the table, intent on coming to help him. Paul made her sit down again. Paul, like Steven, realised that having Steven hobble slowly down the hall was all part of Jasper’s power play.

As he shuffled towards Penny, Steven wondered what had changed Jasper’s mind. Was it his offer to take full responsibility for generation of power, and to increase output by fifty percent? Was it the offer of his trade skills? Or had a spark of fair play been ignited when he had told Jasper that it had been Damian’s attempt to drug and rape him that had led to him wounding Damian with his own gun? No, it couldn’t be that. Jasper had covered that escape route by adding the additional charges relating to the murder of Miles and the kidnapping of Allison.

Steven had nearly reached the end of the hall when Susan, carrying a large jug of custard, sidled up alongside him and whispered in his ear, ‘Well, young Steven, it looks as if your half-brother, Prince Nigel, has just saved your life.’

He looked at her in astonishment. Then all became clear — not only how Susan had hidden Allison’s baby, but also why Jasper had spared his life. He had hit the right button after all — Jasper’s loathing of his
brother Damian for what he was and what he had done. Jasper had needed to have a son of his own in order to understand why Steven had been so desperate to protect the young boys in the community.

Once Paul had untied the ropes binding Steven’s wrists and ankles, he sat down at the table between his uncle and Penny and opposite his cousins Cheryl and Bridget. Luke was also seated with them. The young man was unusually quiet. He had discovered during the afternoon that his only surviving close relatives were his sister Charlene’s two daughters, who were being cared for by Bridget and Cheryl. Charlene and Uncle Warren had been killed in the massacre following his escape from Haver. He had lost his father in Cape Town and his brother Robert had been murdered in Australia. His only other relative, his Aunt Allison, had just died in childbirth.

Everyone else was talking at once. Greetings were exchanged. All the children were introduced. Steven was surprised how much some of them had grown, particularly Cheryl’s three children, Mary-Claire, Ruben and Harry. He took Penny’s hand and smiled. ‘That was a close call.’

‘What was the offer you made His Lordship?’ Cheryl asked.

‘First things first,’ Paul interrupted. ‘There’s one thing we all need to be very careful about.’ His voice was a mere whisper. The adults leant forward. ‘The only people who know the truth about baby Nigel are we six and Susan. It’s imperative that baby’s true identity remains secret. You all know what will happen if Jasper discovers the truth.’

They sat in silence for a few seconds, digesting the significance of Paul’s words.

‘So what was your proposal to Jasper?’ Cheryl asked again.

‘Like he said, I’m taking responsibility for power generation.’

‘You volunteered!’ Bridget exclaimed. ‘Have you any idea what torture that equipment is?’

‘I can guess.’

‘Who’s going to be on the treadmills with you?’

Before he could answer the question Jasper thumped his fist on the table and the chatter in the hall died immediately.

‘Right,’ His Lordship announced, ‘to celebrate the arrival of my son, all power-usage restrictions have now been lifted.’

There was a rumble of satisfaction around the hall.

‘That’s great news,’ Cheryl whispered, turning to the stocky, cheeky-faced Mary-Claire. ‘You can have your hair blow-waved tonight.’

‘So Steven Grey,’ Jasper continued, ‘had better get across to the Punishment Room and start pedalling. And take the crew you volunteered to help with you.’

Steven stood up. ‘Yes, Your Lordship.’ He turned back towards the table and nodded at Ruben, Harry and Lee. ‘You three boys,’ he said simply.

‘You volunteered my sons for that torture?’ Cheryl shrieked.

‘And poor Lee?’ Penny demanded.

‘It’s for their own good, I promise you.’

He truly believed it. He had tried to get Luke as part of the crew too, but Jasper had baulked at that. Luke would have to take care of himself.

‘Don’t stand there all day arguing,’ Jasper bellowed. ‘Get across to the Punishment Room and get on with your work before I change my mind about your sentence.’

Steven and the three young boys hurried from the room.

‘I’m having a blow-wave tonight,’ Mary-Claire boasted to her younger cousins further down the table.

‘No you’re not,’ corrected her mother.

‘But …’

‘You’re not and that’s the end of it.’

‘I’ll have a chat with the Morgans and Steeds,’ Paul said glumly. ‘See if we can reach an agreement to keep the power usage down.’

‘How much difference will that make?’ Cheryl asked bitterly. ‘It’s going to be that lot at the top table using all the electricity. They’re not going to be careful, are they?’

At the completion of the meal, Jasper and his entourage stood up, prompting everyone else to stand too.

‘Duncan,’ Jasper commanded, ‘relieve Greg on sentry duty and
tell him to come to the Crimson Gallery to join Damian and me.’ With that he hurried from the room, followed by Damian. There was a look of thunder on Virginia’s face as she in turn led her daughters away. As soon as they had left, the hall erupted with excited chatter.

Jasper led Damian off to the Crimson Gallery where he planned to celebrate the birth of his son in style, watched over by the portraits of the British nobility. He realised he was going to have to justify his actions to Virginia later. Not that it really mattered, he told himself. She, like the rest of the community, was there to serve him. If she didn’t like it, she knew what to do, and she could take those two daughters of hers with her.

It was a pity Cheryl had all those scars on her body: she had a good figure and she certainly knew how to produce boys. His son Nigel was her third. It was as well for Virginia that she was by far the best looking woman at Haver; maybe she would give him a son one day, or at least one of her daughters might.

Virginia, meanwhile, had stormed through the ballroom and into the Turner Gallery, Amy and Beatrice hard on her heels.

‘I’ll kill that little whore, Cheryl,’ she spat when she finally came to a halt.

‘She probably didn’t have any choice,’ Beatrice said. ‘What choice does anyone have when the Chatfield boys want something? It’s not Cheryl you should be blaming, it’s that so-called husband of yours.’

‘Would that be wise?’ Amy asked sharply. They both looked at her. ‘Think about it — if you upset Jasper he might turf you out. He might turf us all out. I think you should congratulate him.’

‘Congratulate him!’ Virginia spat. ‘I’ll cut his balls off!’

‘I think you should congratulate him — tell him that you want to adopt little Nigel as your own son,’ Amy persisted.

‘What!’

‘Think about it. I bet the Grey girls are already planning to take our place at the top table. Isn’t that what we’d be doing if the boot was on the other foot?’

Virginia thought for a moment, then nodded.

‘Exactly,’ Amy said. ‘We’ve got to shut them out, keep them in their place. If we’re not careful it’ll be us eating on the refectory table, cleaning the toilets, doing the laundry and sleeping in those poky little attic rooms — and them in our staterooms.’

The thought was appalling to even the good and generous-natured Beatrice. ‘Of course, Mother, if you could give him a son …’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried? I think it’s too late for me. I think that’s why Jasper’s eyes are wandering. If I can’t give him a son, one of you …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I’m sorry, I never thought I’d hear myself say that, but we have to give him a son, one of us.’

‘In the meantime,’ Amy said, ‘for God’s sake adopt that little bastard Nigel Grey.’

‘He’ll always be Jasper’s favourite — the first born and all that,’ Beatrice observed.

‘I’ve a feeling,’ Virginia said, ‘that when Jasper’s got one of our sons, poor little Nigel might just become sickly or have an accident.’

Alarm spread across Beatrice’s face. ‘You wouldn’t?’

Her mother didn’t answer the question. Instead she said, ‘You two are going to have to make eyes at him, try to entice him to sleep with you.’

‘He won’t need any enticing,’ Beatrice muttered.

Virginia looked at her and then at Amy. They both lowered their heads.

‘The bastard, I knew it. I’ll cut his bloody balls off.’

She stormed off down the Turner Gallery. Reality, self-preservation and self-interest set in before she reached the end of the thirty yard long room. She turned and walked back past her daughters without speaking to them, and through into the King’s Room.

It was the most splendid bedroom in the house. Apart from the huge four-poster bed with its sumptuous hangings of gold and silver fabric, the room boasted many silver artefacts, including a huge silver mirror. It had once hosted Henry the Eighth. Now it hosted Lord Jasper and Lady Virginia of Haver.

Virginia took off her clothes and stood in front of the mirror. She might be forty-four, but she still had a great figure. Her long, rich red
hair hung about her shoulders. She went to the ornately carved solid silver table where she kept her make-up and touched up her face. Amy was right. She had to protect the family’s position.

Alarm spread across the faces of Harry and Ruben as they led Steven and Lee into the Punishment Room.

‘The levels are down,’ Harry shouted.

He and Ruben raced across the room, jumped on the cycles and began to pedal furiously. Steven jumped onto the third cycle and followed suit. The needles on the wall-mounted dials began to rise. As he pedalled, Steven studied the instruments. They displayed the ampere-hours remaining in the battery banks, the power being consumed by the community and how much each individual treadmill was inputting to the system. Other dials showed the equivalent distance each cycle had pedalled. Only once the ampere-hour needle had moved out of the red zone did the two boys ease off a little. Steven was as out of breath as they were.

‘Can I have a ride?’ Lee asked. Harry was only too pleased to oblige. He jumped off his cycle, lowered the saddle and helped Lee on.

‘This is fun,’ the little boy said as he started pedalling.

Steven sucked more air into his lungs. ‘So tell me Harry, how does the system work?’

Harry explained the operation of the power plant which his grandfather had designed and built during the period Diana had been the leader at Haver.

‘Apart from a half-hour break at each meal, the cycles operate non-stop from six in the morning till eleven every night,’ Harry concluded.

‘Sometimes,’ Ruben added, ‘if the ampere-hours are low, you only get a few minutes to eat your meal. And the levels are always down on laundry days because of the washing machines.’

‘How long have you volunteered us for?’ Harry asked thoughtfully.

Steven did not answer.

‘How long?’

‘I’m afraid … it’s permanent.’

‘What!’ Even Lee, who no longer considered cycling fun, joined the chorus.

‘I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good.’

‘How can it be for our own good?’ Harry challenged.

‘You’ll understand one day.’

‘Being stuck in here every day will be like being in prison,’ Ruben complained. ‘The only good thing about it is we’ll be out of Damian’s way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He just gives us the creeps,’ Harry explained, ‘but Ruben’s right, being in here every day’s going to be like being in prison.’

‘It won’t be like prison,’ Steven said firmly. ‘Prison’s a state of mind. We’re not going to allow ourselves to be prisoners. We’re going to be the Four Musketeers and we’re going to have a great adventure.’

Harry and Ruben looked at him as if he was mad. Lee believed him. The man he now called Dad always delivered on his promises.

‘First thing,’ Steven said, ‘is to set up a routine whereby we share the load and don’t get too tired. Then, as soon as I can, I’ll have a
word with your Granddad — see if there’s not some way we can’t improve the efficiency of the system.’

He spent the rest of the evening telling them about
Archangel
’s journey to England. Despite the gruelling work, there was much laughter. He took the opportunity afforded by his only break from cycling to inspect the racks of batteries and inverters that filled much of the room.

He had difficulty squeezing through the narrow passageways between the racks. So much equipment had been crammed in that he couldn’t see the boys cycling from the back of the room.

‘I hope you’re not sleeping back there, Uncle Steven,’ Harry quipped.

‘There’s hardly room enough to lie down, let alone sleep,’ Steven muttered as he reappeared.

They finished work at eleven o’clock. Steven, feeling guilty for having committed the boys to the treadmills indefinitely, had done more than his fair share of cycling. Every muscle in his body ached, particularly his legs.

The Grey family were waiting for the treadmill party when they arrived at their quarters. Cheryl and Bridget took the children and themselves off to bed.

Despite Paul’s weariness, he was aware Steven and Penny were anxious to discover what had happened at Haver in their absence. He slumped down in an old leather armchair and beckoned them to take the sofa opposite him.

‘So, given that Damian is still strutting round, Jasper didn’t swing the axe,’ Steven said, picking up from the point in the story his uncle had reached the night before.

‘No, worse luck,’ Paul muttered.

They listened intently as he explained how Diana had spared the brothers’ lives because she needed their sperm to increase Haver’s population.

‘I’m surprised any of the women agreed to sleep with those monsters,’ Penny said.

Paul chuckled. ‘The brothers didn’t get to sleep with them. Diana
milked their sperm and artificially inseminated the women.’

‘Heavens!’

‘In some ways,’ Paul sighed, ‘Diana was as tyrannical as Nigel had been, and as despotic as Jasper is now. But on balance she did a good job.’

He explained how Diana had ordered him to design and to build the power plant and how, once the project had been completed, she had put the Chatfield brothers to work on it. She had treated them even more harshly than Steven, Harry, Ruben and Lee were being treated now.

Under Diana’s regime the power plant had been operated twenty-four hours a day, each brother working a sixteen-hour shift. While two brothers pedalled, the third slept locked in his cell, his leg fastened to a ball and chain.

‘The increase in electricity made a big difference to our lives,’ Paul enthused. ‘It still does in a way, though the plant’s not as efficient as it was under Diana’s rule. It needs regular maintenance. I just can’t get the fact through to Jasper.’

‘So how did the brothers seize control back from Diana?’ Penny asked.

Paul sighed again. ‘That’s a mystery. About ten months after Diana took over, Susan went to the Punishment Room at six o’clock in the morning to collect Greg at the end of his shift and take him back to his cell. She found the Punishment Room unlocked. Damian and Greg were gone. We checked Jasper’s cell and found he had disappeared too.’

‘They’d escaped?’

‘Yes, and they’d taken Virginia and her daughter Hazel with them.’

‘Not Amy and Beatrice?’

‘No. Probably because the girls were pregnant.’

‘Pregnant! How old were they then?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Fourteen!’ Penny shrieked.

Paul yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Diana had them artificially
inseminated too. She said we needed to increase the population as quickly as we could.’

‘So given all Diana’s precautions, how exactly did the Chatfield brothers manage to escape?’ Steven pressed.

‘Jasper learned a trick from you. He made keys. Heaven knows how he did it. Virginia swears blind she didn’t help him.’

‘Why did the Chatfield boys escape rather than simply seize power back straight away?’

‘They didn’t have any firearms. Diana had locked them all away. They simply legged it out of the park. Diana was terrified. We all were. She turned Haver into a fort — armed us and drilled us.

‘But there was no sign of the Chatfields for months. We began to wonder whether they had gone somewhere else in the country. Then, just as we had all relaxed, we noticed cattle were missing. A few weeks later our crops were poisoned and we had to move the gardens inside the walls.

‘Then things got really scary. The brothers had obviously found a cache of weapons and ammunition somewhere. They started taking pot shots at us.’ Paul yawned for the umpteenth time. ‘Look I’m sorry. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’ll have to tell you the rest of the story tomorrow night.’

‘We understand,’ Penny said. ‘We’re all tired.’

Steven sighed. ‘I guess there’s no rush. Looks like we’re going to be at Haver for a while yet.’

‘You are,’ Paul confirmed. ‘There’s no escape from this place now.’

The despair in his voice depressed them both.