Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? (21 page)

Steven was worried. He’d given Luke instructions on Thursday morning, but he hadn’t managed to talk to him since so had no idea whether the young man had been able to carry out his assignment. Luke’s part in the plan was crucial.

As usual Steven and the boys were the last to arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast. He’d let the boys beat him to the door, as he often did — but not by very much. He’d checked that Duncan was on sentry duty on the West Tower as was normal on a Sunday.

Sunday was when Jasper announced the schedules for the coming week and issued his proclamations. It was the time that there was most likely to be trouble from the peasants, which was why, on Sundays, Greg sat hidden behind the latticework in the Minstrel Gallery, manning the machine gun. Twice in the past few months there had been demonstrations when Jasper had made unpopular proclamations. On one occasion, Greg had fired a warning burst. The bullets were still embedded in the plasterwork above the great fireplace.

Steven glanced up at the Minstrel Gallery. Sometimes Greg would be lolling over the balustrade, but there was no sign of him today. He continued to worry. What if Luke had failed to execute his part of the plan?

He took his seat at the refectory table opposite Penny. She looked terrible. Her face was drawn and white, and her eyes were lowered as if she was frightened to look at him.

No one was allowed to speak until Jasper and his party arrived. He reached across and took her hand. She looked up momentarily. There were tears in her eyes.

He looked at Bridget. Her face was strained as well.

The door behind the dais opened and Luke walked in, dressed in his butler’s tails and waistcoat. ‘Be upstanding for His Lordship,’ he commanded. Jasper, in a smart business suit, strutted through the door with his entourage: Damian looking dapper in light blue jeans, a white silk shirt and wide red braces, and Virginia, Beatrice and Amy all resplendent in designer dresses.

Jasper walked to his throne. ‘Sit,’ he commanded the peasants.

There was confusion at the top table. Steven noticed the extra chair on the dais and his heart sank. Something had changed; where there were normally five chairs, now there were six. His plan relied on the Chatfields following their usual routine. Did the extra chair mean Greg would be sitting at the top table too?

The lectern Jasper used for his address was missing too. His sense of alarm intensified. Then he tried to reassure himself. Sometimes if Jasper had little to say, he would dispense with the lectern and simply address the hall from his throne. But Greg had not appeared. Who was the extra chair for?

Virginia and her daughters seemed to be as confused as Steven. Only Damian seemed assured. He moved one place over, leaving the seat to Jasper’s left empty. Beatrice and Amy took their usual places at opposite ends of the table. Jasper patted the seat on his right, indicating Virginia was to sit there.

‘What’s going on?’ Steven whispered to Bridget who said nothing. He looked at Penny, who was cradling Christopher. She was close to
tears. ‘Penny, what’s the matter?’ She just shook her head. ‘Please tell me what’s wrong,’ he pleaded.

‘Leave her,’ Bridget said gently. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

‘Find out what?’

‘Just let her be,’ Bridget implored.

Steven noticed the other members of his uncle’s family were staring at him too. Even Cheryl, sitting at the other end of the refectory table playing nanny to Prince Nigel and the other royal children, seemed to be gawking at him. Or was it just his imagination?

He realised this was not the time to confront Penny. She was in no state to handle his questions. He looked up anxiously at the Minstrel Gallery again. There was still no sign of Greg. He felt everything was unravelling.

He turned towards the dais hoping to attract Luke’s attention, but Luke was busy serving breakfast to Jasper and his family. He saw a huge domed silver serving dish on the dresser at the back of the hall and wondered what special treat the Chatfields would be enjoying today. The dish was large enough to hold a swan. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had a royal bird for breakfast. At least the sixth chair was still vacant. Greg had not appeared.

The hall seemed a little quieter than usual, but the mood was always subdued at Sunday breakfast as the peasants waited and wondered what orders Jasper would bark out during his end-of-breakfast address. The question uppermost on everyone’s mind was, ‘Will next week be as miserable and hard as the past week has been?’

Steven picked at his breakfast in silence. He didn’t feel hungry. He looked across at Lee and David sitting beside Penny, concern for their mother clear on their faces. They appeared to be as much in the dark as he was.

Penny wasn’t eating either — she was cuddling baby Christopher close as if she was frightened to let him go. He wondered if she was pregnant again. They had not made love for weeks. Was the fact she was pregnant the reason she always claimed to be too tired? But her being pregnant had never stopped them before. Was she ill? Unanswered questions swirled in his head.

His thoughts were shattered by the rat-tat-tatting of a gavel. ‘Pray silence for His Lordship, Lord Jasper of Haver,’ Luke’s voice boomed.

Jasper stood up and glowered down at the hall. ‘Duties for the coming week,’ he announced, ‘will be the same as last week.’

There were either sighs or groans from those sitting at the refectory table. Steven relaxed a little; at least that explained why there was no lectern today.

‘Bring me Prince Nigel,’ Jasper continued, beckoning to Cheryl. She scrambled to her feet, lifted the baby from his highchair and hurried up to the dais, where Jasper took the baby from her and waved her away. He looked down on his son, dressed in a richly embroidered suit, and smiled. He was the image of a doting, proud father. With the exception of Cheryl, those at the refectory table were surprised by his tenderness. They had never seen him display so much affection before.

Cheryl was not surprised because he had often seen Jasper playing with Nigel in the nursery. There was a crack in the wall of her adjoining bedroom. Jasper would creep into the nursery when he thought there was no one about and stare down at Prince Nigel and talk to him. He would tell his son how, when he grew up, he would reign at Haver. He would tell the prince many other things too. He would complain that Virginia was barren and that Beatrice and Amy had both produced him daughters yet again. And he would promise the prince a brother. In return Prince Nigel would lie on his back chuckling, giggling, kicking his feet in the air and saying ‘Dada’.

Eventually Jasper looked up. ‘Prince Nigel,’ he announced, ‘needs a brother. Unfortunately, Lady Virginia has been unable to provide me with another son.’

A look of thunder spread across Virginia’s face. Jasper looked at Beatrice and Amy, opened his mouth to speak to them but appeared to change his mind.

‘Lady Virginia and I,’ he continued, ‘have therefore decided that I will take a second wife.’

It was clear from the look on Virginia’s face that she had agreed
to no such thing. It was equally apparent that her daughters knew nothing of the idea either. The gasps that came from the refectory table confirmed that Jasper’s plans were a well-kept secret.

‘My second wife has already produced three sons, and she will now produce a son for me. Come up here, Penny.’

Penny burst into tears. Steven was dumbfounded. He tried to stand but his knees felt weak. He couldn’t have stood up anyway; Bridget and Susan were standing behind him, pressing down on his shoulders.

Then suddenly, above the tears and babble of agitated voices, came a strange sound: one which had never been heard in Haver before.

Steven was one of the few in the Great Hall who recognised both the voice and the wailing chant that echoed off the high ceiling.

The tall figure of Nicole emerged from behind the latticework of the Minstrel Gallery. Penny stopped crying and looked incredulously at Steven.

‘What’s going on?’ she hissed.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Jasper yelled. Everyone else on the top
table was equally dumbfounded. They sat with their mouths wide open.

‘Stop that noise!’ Jasper bawled.

The chant continued and a second wailing voice joined in.

It was Steven’s turn to be dumbfounded as his sister Jane appeared from behind the latticework. Emotion got the better of him and he began to sob uncontrollably.

‘Stop that noise!’ Jasper roared again, pointing up to the gallery. ‘Greg, where are you?’

But still the chanting continued.

Jasper thrust Prince Nigel towards Virginia, but she refused to take the child so he dumped the baby in Damian’s lap instead. As Jasper and everyone else turned their attention back to the Minstrel Gallery, Luke collected the silver serving dish and put it on the top table. Jasper took his pistol from its holster and pointed it towards Nicole. ‘Stop now or else!’ he yelled at the top of his voice.

Concerned faces glanced alternately up to the Minstrel Gallery and back at Jasper. Still the chanting continued. Jasper took aim at Nicole and pulled the trigger. There was a click. He pulled the trigger again and again. Each time there was another click.

Damian thrust Prince Nigel into Beatrice’s arms and pulled his own pistol from its holster, as Luke lifted the silver dome from the serving dish and grabbed what had been hidden there. Rick’s assault rifle pressed into Damian’s temple.

The chanting ceased.

‘Put your pistol on the table,’ Luke said. ‘Now!’

The terrified Damian did as he was told, and Luke picked up the pistol up and backed away.

Duncan walked into the room. Jasper instinctively opened his mouth, intent on castigating him for leaving his sentry position, then apparently realised he was powerless, and slumped down onto his throne.

To the sound of many feet clattering down the wooden staircase from the Minstrel Gallery, Cheryl hurried up to the dais and took baby Nigel from Beatrice. Luke, meanwhile, dragged the silver serving dish to the corner of the table, laid the assault rifle on the dish and covered it again with the silver dome.

Astonished faces watched as five pregnant women, unknown to many in the Great Hall, emerged from the stairwell and took up position beside the fireplace.

Zach appeared next, stripped to the waist and carrying a wooden staff, his face bearing a Maori tattoo. He was followed by Mark, Fergus and Tommy, who were also stripped to the waist and sporting tattoos. Finally Rick and Roger entered with Greg between them, stooped forward, his arms forced up behind his back.

Steven, guessing what was about to happen, scrambled to his feet. ‘Come on lads,’ he called to Lee, Ruben and Harry, ‘we can do this too.’ They followed him down the hall, all four ripping off their shirts as they went.

The party jumped up onto the dais. Greg was thrust to stand beside his brothers. Startled and frightened, Virginia and her daughters cowered.

With his party in a semi-circle behind him Zach faced the Chatfield brothers and addressed his warriors in Maori. Then with a great slapping of thighs and stamping of feet resonating from the wooden dais, the challenge began.

The sound was deafening. Frightened children cuddled their mothers, babies cried. A few of the adults recognised the challenge, but none of the children had seen a haka executed before and were amazed to see tongues being stuck out at the people that they had been forced to bow to and who they had lived in fear of for so long. It was as if the indignities and suffering of the last few years were being expunged by the vigour of the warriors’ voices and the stamping of their feet. There was a look of fear in the faces of all the deposed nobility.

As the haka finished, Damian lunged for the end of the table and threw the silver dome from the serving dish onto the floor. There was a great ringing as it hit the stone floor. As he lifted the assault rifle and aimed it at the haka group, a single pistol shot rang out.

Damian toppled forward, dead before he hit the table. Luke lowered the pistol and retrieved the assault rifle.

For a moment there was a shocked silence, then everyone talked at once.

Jasper and Greg muttered in agitated tones as they strove to cover their brother’s body with the tablecloth. Virginia and her daughters looked on, holding their hands to their mouths in a combination of fear and shock.

Steven hugged his father. ‘I didn’t expect all those theatrics.’

Mark shrugged. ‘Zach’s idea. He was determined to make an entrance his Pommy cousins would never forget.’

‘Well, he certainly achieved that! What about Greg and Jasper?’ he continued, motioning towards the brothers.

‘We’ll lock them in the Punishment Room for now.’

‘I’ll take them over myself.’ Steven’s steely voice matched his narrowed eyes.

‘No,’ his father said softly. ‘Duncan and Luke can take them. Penny needs you ….’

Steven felt ashamed. He handed his father the key to the Punishment Room and rushed to the refectory table, where Penny was being comforted by Bridget.

Penny stood as he arrived. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted.

He took her in his arms. She was hugging him as she hadn’t hugged him for weeks, the tears streaming down her face. ‘He forced me.’ Her body was wracked with her sobbing. Steven looked deep into her eyes, not sure what she was sorry for. ‘In the afternoons — he made me go to his quarters. He told me if I didn’t go he’d let Damian have Lee.’

Steven’s emotions were in turmoil. His anger demanded revenge; his love for Penny required he comfort her, tell her he understood, and that it didn’t matter. He pulled her close and kissed her. She was all that mattered just now. Revenge could wait.

Mark hurried over to Luke who was guarding Jasper and Greg, holding Damian’s pistol in one hand and Rick’s assault rifle in the other.

‘I need you and Duncan to lock the Chatfields in the Punishment Room,’ Mark said, holding out the key. Luke exchanged it for the assault rifle.

As Duncan and Luke marched the brothers away, Mark turned to Roger. ‘Would you mind collecting Paul? He’ll need food and drink by now.’

Cheryl was standing close by, holding Nigel.

‘My dad’s alive!’ she exclaimed.

‘Your father’s had a stroke,’ Roger’s American drawl explained. ‘I’m a doctor. I think he’ll be all right.’

Cheryl called excitedly to Bridget and they followed Roger to the garden shed beyond the West Tower where their father had been left earlier. Roger lifted Paul’s frail frame and carried him back to the Great Hall to be mobbed by his excited grandchildren.

Paul tried his best to answer their questions, but his speech was slurred.

‘Why do you keep dribbling, Granddad?’ Mary-Claire asked as she wiped his chin.

‘What about them?’ Jennifer asked Mark, pointing to Virginia and her two daughters.

Mark turned to the three women. ‘I suggest for your own safety you get out of those clothes and move out of the staterooms.’

‘They should be locked up with Jasper and Greg. Have you any idea what a bitch she’s been?’ Jennifer said.

‘Has she done anything criminal?’

‘She’s been a bitch, that’s enough.’ Theresa agreed.

Mark turned to Theresa and shook his head. ‘From what I’ve been told, she did no more than take advantage of a privileged position in the same manner as you did when your mother was leader. Things have got to change. We can’t continue a cycle of revenge and counter-revenge forever.’

Susan and Cheryl arrived, ending the debate.

‘Well,’ Susan said to Cheryl, ‘aren’t you going to give Mark his new son?’

Everyone clustered around as Mark took the baby and cradled him in his arms. ‘Anyone can see he doesn’t look like Jasper,’ he said. ‘He’s good-looking like his father.’

‘Prince Nigel,’ Steven said, screwing up his face. ‘Does that make me a prince too?’

‘I hope not,’ Harry said. ‘If Penny keeps kissing you the way she is, you’ll probably turn into a frog.’

‘I think we’d better change his name right away,’ Mark said. ‘I name him Claude, after his great-grandfather.’

There was a round of clapping after which the community dispersed into small groups, continuing their excited chatter. Steven, with one arm protectively around Penny and the other around Jane, listened as his sister told him what had happened when the tsunami struck. Tommy boasted to Lee about all his adventures and Lee tried to outdo him with accounts of his own exploits. Paul hugged Mary-Claire and tried to make her and his other grandchildren understand his slurred speech.

Roger, with his arm around Louise, and Rick, with his arm around Julie, watched the excited throng. Tiny children stared at the two men and whispered to one another. They had never seen a black man before.

Then Mark noticed Anne standing in the corner of the Great Hall, all by herself and looking sad and lonely. He walked across and passed Claude to her. ‘Will you help me bring him up?’

‘Of course,’ she said.

Then she kissed him long and full on the lips. The room went quiet. She stroked her belly. ‘He’ll have a brother or sister in a few weeks’ time.’ Mark kissed her, endorsing the declaration.

Duncan and Luke’s return to the Great Hall ended the awkward silence.

‘Jasper and Greg are refusing to pedal the cycles,’ Duncan announced.

‘Why didn’t you shoot them?’ Rick challenged.

Mark spoke quietly. ‘Give them a few hours to digest their meal and then ascertain from Steven what power we’ll need tomorrow. When they ask for food and drink, tell them they can have it when they’ve provided the necessary ampere hours.’

‘Shoot them,’ Rick repeated.

‘I’d rather have the electricity.

‘So what’s going to happen next, Mark?’ Susan asked.

All eyes were upon him, and he realised he was being handed power. He knew he was the senior member of the community, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility.

‘Well, it’s Sunday. So I suggest a day of rest for everyone.’ There was a spontaneous cheer. ‘And we need to find lodgings for us new arrivals.’

‘You can have the Morgan rooms if you like,’ Theresa said. ‘We’ll move back to the staterooms.’

‘Why?’ Duncan demanded angrily.

‘Because that’s where we were before Jasper turned us out.’

‘Exactly, you’ve had your turn in the staterooms. It’s the Steeds’ turn now.’

‘We’ll leave the staterooms empty for now,’ Mark said resolutely. ‘Tomorrow after lunch we’ll have a meeting and decide on a plan of action.’

There was a chorus of approval. Both Duncan and Theresa were
more interested in each other’s families not getting the staterooms than they were in taking possession of the accommodation themselves.

Mark turned to Susan. ‘Would you mind organising meals in the meantime?’

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been requested, rather than ordered to do something. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘We’ll give you a hand,’ chimed half a dozen voices. Susan and the volunteer chefs hurried off, a babble of excited conversation accompanying their footsteps.

Mark supervised the allocation of quarters for
AWOL
’s crew. He was determined his American cousins integrate fully into the Haver community and not form a clique of their own.

He also saved for himself a task he felt he couldn’t ask anyone else to perform. He waited till dark before retrieving Diana’s head from the pike on the parapet above Flag Court.

At first light, Steven and Fergus helped him locate Diana and Allison’s remains in the rubbish pit. It was gruesome and disturbing work. They placed the remains in simple coffins Steven had fashioned from old floorboards during the night. Duncan and Luke dug two graves in the middle of Lawn Court beside the statue of Venus and next to Aunt Margaret’s grave.

At eleven o’clock the community, with the exception of Jasper and Greg, assembled there to hear Theresa conducting a funeral service. It was a moving ceremony, accompanied by many tears.

When she had finished, she asked softly, ‘Mark, would you like to recite the names of our relatives who have perished since the pandemic broke, so that we can remember them today too?’

He was unprepared for the request. ‘I’ll start … and then others can add names too.

‘I’d like to remember my first wife Helen, who died on a plane at Auckland airport, and who I believe was the first person in New Zealand to die of super-SARS. And others who died in New Zealand of the disease — including my son-in-law Bruce.

‘Those who perished in the tsunami at Gulf Harbour — Christopher
and his daughters Katie and Sarah, and those who passed away during
Archangel
’s voyage to New Zealand — Adam, who was killed by a lion in Cape Town, and his son Robert who was murdered by my cousin Corky in Brisbane.

‘Those taken by typhoid — my little nieces Holly and Zoë and the Aborigine women from Brisbane, Sophia, Lilly and little Harriet.

‘Dear Aunt Margaret and Mathew, executed by Nigel. Warren, Charlene, Melanie and Cameron, who were killed during the massacre following our escape …’

He had not acknowledged the death of Nigel, who had been murdered by Diana, or Nigel’s son Miles, who had been shot by Adam, and the recently deceased Damian. And he hadn’t mentioned Fergus’s sister Andrea, who had been murdered following her betrayal of their escape.

It was an omission that her father Duncan quickly corrected. He then went on to recall his wife and the other relatives he had lost. He was followed by other members of the community, each reciting the names of family and friends who had perished, either from the super-SARS pandemic or the anarchy that followed it.

The roll call took longer than the service for Allison and Diana had taken.

There was one final act.

After dark, with Mark, Roger, Duncan and Fergus standing guard, Greg and Jasper buried Damian beside Nigel and Miles. Only Greg cried.