Family Secrets Read Online Free Page A

He could not fail them now.
     
                Though he longed to be anywhere else that August dawn, his choice was irrefutable. The noble family murders had left him as the village of Calverley’s highest-ranking citizen, and he bore a duty to witness the conclusion of its history’s most tragic chapter. It was his sacred charge to stand present for those innocent lives cruelly dispatched by the very man that should have loved them most.
                He lingered in the stark main corridor of Clifford’s Tower, waiting to accompany the killer on his final procession. There seemed to be a delay. From what Leventhorpe could gather, the entourage was incomplete. He glanced about the small, silent group and caught the eye of the anxious man standing at his side-- the only other soul afflicted with first-hand knowledge of the horrors that had led them to the Tower. Leventhorpe ventured an encouraging smile at the murderer’s former servant, but John's pale, scarred face was stony. Sir Thomas touched the younger man on the shoulder and felt him quivering like a nervous beast, his arms tightly wrapped about himself in a desperate embrace. The brutal April morning at Calverley Hall had shattered John. Withdrawing his hand, Leventhorpe wondered why the lad had come to this dread place to be reunited with his nemesis. Perhaps in his own way John had no choice but to see the tragedy through to its conclusion. Leventhorpe could offer him no real solace but to share the burden of bearing witness.      
    In the Tower’s stairwell door, a grizzled magistrate stood lost in thought, tugging gently at his beard. The elderly head gaoler, Master Key, waited outside the prisoner’s cell door. A younger, assistant gaoler tapped his foot loudly against the flagstones and glowered toward the doorway at the opposite end of the corridor, a sneer playing on his lean face. Turning to his superior, he grumbled in a low voice:         
    “That idiot boy is late again-- and today of all days! I say we have tarried long enough.”
    Master Key held up his hand. “Be thou patient, Jack. The magistrate is not yet concerned with the time. Hugh must be present to learn the proper order of how matters proceed.”            
    Leventhorpe’s skin prickled at the thought. He dreaded having to witness the ‘matter’ in question, and felt pity for the unseen boy who would today be taught the finer details of his trade.          
    Footsteps pounded up the outside stairs and-- as if overhearing his cue-- a scrawny lad of no more than twelve skidded into sight. White-faced and out of breath, Hugh blanched still further as the men turned as one and fixed him with expectant looks. Giving an awkward bow of his head by way of apology, he staggered as he took a halberd down from the wall hooks. Jack strode over to collect the apprentice and hauled him into place by the ear. Leventhorpe was close enough to hear the gaoler’s hissed threats.        
    “Yer in luck, boy. The magistrate himself was late to rise, else ye’d be wishin’ ye could trade places with our esteemed prisoner.”            
    Master Key shot his underlings a sharp glance from beneath his heavy grey brows and they ceased their disruption. Key unlocked the door, and he and Jack entered the cell. Leventhorpe heard the muted clanking of chains and after a moment, Sir Walter Calverley was led out between the two men. Leventhorpe’s stomach twisted at the sight of his former friend and neighbour. He caught John by the arm, steadying him as the lad’s knees buckled. Neither had seen Calverley for months-- not since his hellish rampage. Although Calverley was thin and drawn, he held himself with dignity. He wore a fine black doublet, and his lace cuffs and collar gleamed in contrast to the gloom of the corridor. Leventhorpe couldn’t help but think that Calverley was very well dressed for a dead man: he must have set this