Embers of Avarice

Chapter One

16th March 1190

Angry voices and clashing steel hammered into Robert Wolf’s ears. Even before he was fully conscious, he knew he was in the midst of a battle. The smell of acrid smoke, horse dung and fresh blood assaulted his nose and he felt the press of warm bodies. As his vision cleared, he saw a fire raging through a nearby building and green-white smoke drifting across a courtyard in chaos. Dead bodies littered the ground, many of them women and children, and the hard-pounded earth glistened with pools of dark-red blood.

At the gate, a crowd of men tried desperately to hold back troops pushing their way in. The defenders fought with courage but little skill and they died in spite of their bravery, butchered by the more experienced soldiers. But the soldiers fell too, shot by arrows and hit by rocks thrown by men on the guard-walk around the wooden walls surrounding the courtyard.

A whimpering sound pulled Wolf’s attention back to where he crouched. Two children cowered in terror, held close by their mother. He watched the woman as if he were floating above her and yet, in a dreamlike way, he was the woman and saw through her eyes. Anna—he knew the woman’s name—and, even though he was Anna, somehow he remained himself at the same time. But her senses were his senses, the smells, the sights, the sounds, they all came from Anna as she cowered behind an empty hay wagon. Wolf could feel her panic and hear her terrified thoughts as if they were his own. He could smell the musky odour of her unwashed children. Anna was barely aware of the smell, or anything apart from her frantic need to protect her children and get them through the crowded gate to freedom.

Why have you brought me to this life? Come on girl, show me, Wolf thought as he watched the drama unfold, but Anna was unaware of his presence as she lifted her head to peek over the wagon into the courtyard. She spoke to herself in a language unknown to Wolf but he understood the meaning of the words because Anna did. She spoke in a shouted whisper, not wanting to be heard but desperate nevertheless, Why are you doing this papa? This is madness. I don’t want to die. I don’t want my babies to die. Anna pulled her children tighter at the thought, the girl two years old and the boy four. She was also afraid for the unborn child in her womb.

Wolf saw the man Anna was talking to, standing in the centre of the courtyard and, through Anna’s mind, Wolf recognised the stout, balding man as her father. There were memories associated with the man, nothing specific, just impressions that Anna had built up over the years. He was an important man of the community, the rabbi no less. There were feelings of deep affection for the man but Wolf also sensed Anna’s father had betrayed her in some vital way and she was afraid of him now.

Smoke billowed across the yard, hiding her father for a minute but Anna could still hear him shouting over the din. The rabbi’s words sounded strange to Wolf, but, through Anna, their meaning was clear, They will not take us alive, he screamed, The sheriff has betrayed us, but we will not betray our God. The smoke cleared again and her father turned to shout at the men setting fire to the buildings across the yard, spittle flecked from his mouth as he screamed at them, Burn it, burn everything. Leave nothing behind.

Turning her head, Anna saw a gaunt man emerge from a cloud of smoke, a fanatical look in his eyes. It was Josce, her husband and Anna cringed, pulling her children closer. He held a bloody knife and a flaming torch and slipped on some blood as he ran across the yard. Recovering his balance, he saw Anna hiding behind the wagon and shouted to her as he changed direction and ran towards her, There you are. Come wife, I will make it quick. Josce looked overjoyed, as if what was happening was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened. More than anything else, her husband’s joy terrified Anna.

In panic, Anna snatched up her daughter and pulled her son towards a nearby barn, screaming as she ran, No, you stay away from me. Stay away!

As Anna ran, Josce dropped the torch and snatched her son, pulling the child from her clutching hand, This is the only way Anna, he said, It will be quick, I promise. Anna turned to see Josce kiss his son on the head and then slit the child’s throat. Arterial blood spurted across Josce’s face and he dropped the child to the ground as if his dying son were nothing. Josce’s blood-covered face held a grimacing smile and his eyes were lit with madness. Anna screamed in terror and slipped as she tried to back away, but fear for her daughter drove her up again and she scrabbled back clutching her child. In two steps Josce caught up and pulled the girl from her arms. Anna reached out to take back her daughter but it was no use, her husband was too strong and he killed the child as if she were no more than a lamb at sacrifice.

Horrified grief tore from Anna’s throat in a strangled cry, No, no, no. She pushed Josce away, one arm clutching her belly to protect the child within. Her feet slipped on the bloody ground but she managed to find purchase and pulled her skirts from Josce’s hand as she made her escape. Terrified beyond reason, she ran for the barn, wailing in grief for her dead children. She snatched the barn door open with no thought in her head but to get away from her mad husband. She swung the door wide and ran inside. In her panic, she had no idea where to go and ran to the back where she realised she had trapped herself. Not able to go any further, she turned and crawled into the hay to hide. Pulling herself into a ball, she cowered in fear, trying to quiet her laboured breathing.

Now that Anna had a moment’s refuge, Wolf became aware of himself again. Swept along by Anna’s wrenching emotions, he had lost himself in the drama. He could still feel her fear and her grief but now he managed to distance himself. Unlike Anna in her terror, Wolf was aware of everything, the warm heat, the smell of hay as it prickled against Anna’s skin, the dusty motes that sparkled in the bright sunlight shafting into the barn.

Wolf maintained his own separate awareness and held Anna’s traumatic emotions at bay as she poked a careful hole through the hay, looking to see if Josce had followed her inside. She was relieved to see that he had stopped at the barn door. The strong sunlight cast his face into deep shadow but she knew it was her husband, the clothes, the way he stood, it could be no one else and she backed into the hay in case he saw her. She could still see him through the hole she had made but he didn’t follow her inside, as she expected. Instead, he shook his head in disgust, If you refuse the quick way, then so be it wife. Have it the hard way instead. You deserve no less for your betrayal.

Josce turned and walked off and Anna’s hope surged, but he only stooped to pick up his torch, still guttering where it had fallen. Anna’s brief hope fled as her husband walked back to the barn and lobbed the burning torch into the hay before closing the door sliding the bolt home on the outside of the door. She was now trapped in the barn as the dry fodder burst into flames. Her panic flared again, No, no, she screamed, Please Josce, I don’t want to die. She swam through the hay and scrabbled to her feet, but the fire was already raging through the barn. She tried to get to the door, but the flames now blocked her way. She cowered back, looking around for a way out, but saw none. Her panic mounted higher and all rational thought left her. In desperation, she clutched her belly and threw herself through the flames to the door. Her feet slipped on the loose hay and she fell to the floor. Her hair caught fire and she swatted at it as she scrambled back to her feet. In blind, animal terror she threw herself at the doors and they bowed out a little but snapped back and she almost fell again.

The heat scorched her back and desperately she poked her fingers through a gap in the door planks, reaching for the bolt, but she couldn’t get purchase. Her throat was raw with screaming as she banged on the door with a blistered hand, the other hand holding her unborn child, Help me. Help my baby. I don’t want to die. Somebody. Please....

The haystack behind her fell over, pushing her into the door as choking smoke surrounded her like a blanket. Flames engulfed the screaming woman and pain seared her body. Smoke clouded her face and she coughed, she couldn’t breathe and, as the end came for the helpless girl, Wolf’s consciousness faded into darkness.

26th June 2007

The day had started out so well. Enjoying a rare day off, Wolf breathed out a contented sigh as he gazed across the picturesque landscape. It was the perfect spot for an afternoon’s painting. The sun shone from a bright summer sky and a few idle clouds made vague threats of rain as they cast shadows over the rolling hills. The light was just right and, with a painter’s eye, he gauged the brightly coloured narrowboats tied to the jetty, already composing the picture in his mind. Admittedly, the panoramic view was spoilt by a few encroachments from the city, but he would ignore those and paint only blue sky, rolling hills, and boats drifting gently down a lazy canal.

He fumbled with his easel, an antique inherited from his grandfather and harder to set up than a seaside deck chair, but the cantankerous contraption held fond memories and he could never part with it. Shortening the easel’s legs, Wolf set it on the grass next to the table and taking a thick sheet of paper from the pad, he fastened it to the easel.

He had a picnic bench all to himself outside the Wharf Inn, an old-fashioned pub that sold hand-pulled, real ale – another reason why this was the perfect spot. He was not the only one who thought so either, the canal boats were moored three deep at the jetty and the owners crowded the nearby tables, enjoying an al-fresco lunch in the summer sunshine. Wolf had his own lunch on the table beside him and he took a sip of beer before breathing out another contented sigh. For the first time in months, he felt at peace.

After dipping his brush in a glass of water scrounged from the barmaid, Wolf wiggled the brush in his paint box and mixed a pale-blue wash for the sky. He brushed the paper with confident strokes, leaving patches of unpainted, white paper to represent the clouds and then mixed a lime-green wash for the grass and a darker green for the trees. It never ceased to amaze him how a few quick strokes would set the scene, you could turn out a passable watercolour in a couple of hours. The fine details took longer but you could fill those in later, indoors when it was raining.

Nothing quieted Wolf’s troubled soul more than an afternoon’s painting. Painting didn’t need the focused concentration that surgery demanded. It was more like going with the flow, a calm surrendering rather than rigid discipline. Whenever he explained the feeling to a female friend, she would always say the same thing, You’re getting in touch with your feminine side. Even if she didn’t say it out loud, the melting looks told him she was thinking it. Maybe they’re right, he thought, and then he smiled to himself, dismissing the idea, women always have to romanticise everything.

Idle thoughts flickered through his mind as he painted, the film he’d pick up on the way home, the Chianti he had in the fridge, the toppings he’d have on his pizza. He pictured himself watching a good film as he ate the food and sipped his wine, it would make a perfect end to a perfect day.

Wolf checked the distant tree line again and noticed a couple of female backpackers at a table over by the jetty. How did I miss those two beauties? The young women laughed together, glancing him as they ate their lunch. It was probably his big floppy hat that amused them—also inherited from his grandfather—but he played it casual and carried on painting. An artist at work was like honey to a bee where women were concerned. The girls would make an excuse to come over for a look and maybe a little flirting. Yes sir, he thought, this really is turning into a perfect day.

His phone rang.

Damn it! Wolf exploded, he always left his phone on for emergencies, Why do people always call at the worst possible time. He answered the phone, Whoever you are, you’re ruining a perfect day for Doctor Wolf.

Hello Bobby, it was Jeff, Look, I’m sorry to spoil your fun but I have an urgent contract and you’re all I have.

Wolf saw one of the girls wave at him and he smiled back at her as he disabused Jeff, No, sorry Jeff. I’m busy. With an eye on the girls, he added, And, I’m hoping to get even busier. You’ll have to find someone else.

But Jeff wasn’t giving in so easily, You have to come Bobby, please.

Wolf hated being called Bobby, but Jeff never listened, No, I’ve told you, I haven’t had a day off in months and I need a rest. He smiled at the girls and waved them over. They giggled together in that delightful way that young women have and tried to pretend they were shocked at the idea. But they came over anyway.

On the phone, Jeff sounded hurt. He always did when he didn’t get what he wanted, You can rest when you’re dead, he said, This is important. You’re subbing for Doctor James at Leeds General, the burns unit. And they need you right away.

That’s a teaching hospital for Christ’s sake. Get an intern out of bed, they’ve got plenty. Wolf watched the girls as they ambled over, all smiling eyes and swaying hips. A blonde and a redhead, he thought, and they look Swedish too, this is definitely my lucky day.

But Jeff was insistent, Sorry darling, it’s an outbreak. Half the staff are down with the flu or something. It’s all hands to the pumps, I’m afraid.

Wolf saw his perfect day slipping away, Come on Jeff, you would not believe the audience I’ve got, an edge of pleading slipped into his voice, Please, don’t do this to me.

I’m sorry dear, they’re desperate and I can’t let them down. Customers have long memories you know.

The girls arrived, Wolf pointed to the phone and shrugged. The redhead leaned over to look at the painting. Wolf dragged his eyes up from her ample cleavage to see a pair of big, blue eyes perfectly framed by long lashes and a dusting of freckles. He found it difficult to concentrate on what Jeff was saying for some reason but he pulled his attention back to the conversation, So business is more important than my sanity is it?

Jeff sulked, That’s not what I meant, sulking was another of his specialities, Why are you always so mean to me? Look, I’m up against two other agencies at this hospital and if I help them out when the others can’t, I’ll be top of the list. It’ll mean lots more business so I really need this one Bobby. Pretty please ... with sugar on?

Wolf was beaten and he knew it, If you only knew what you were asking, he sighed, I’ll be there in an hour. Just don’t get all mushy on me.

Now that he had what he wanted, Jeff was all sweetness and light again, Darling Bobby, you’re my sweet prince and I love you, kiss-kiss.

Jeff hung up as the blonde leaned over in a cloud of flowery perfume, Oh, you have only started, yes? A Swedish accent.

Wolf groaned.

Jeffrey Hollander could tell Bobby was upset as he put the phone down. Being a sensitive kind of person, he picked up on that kind of thing. I’ll bet it’s a woman, he thought, it always is with that boy. He chuckled to himself. I must have interrupted one of his little schemes to get some girl into bed and serve him right, he sighed wistfully, such a waste. Ah well, better if I’m not around when he gets here, he’s bound to make a scene.

His office at Medihelp was immaculate and plush—Jeff was a flamboyant man—but it was business-like too. An expensive office showed that business was good, clients expected it. No one would sign up with an agency that looked like it was on its knees. Not that he met many clients himself, even in today’s enlightened society, most men felt uncomfortable dealing with you if you were gay, even in the medical profession – especially in the medical profession!

Women were okay, but men just couldn’t handle it so he hired a couple of pretty executive assistants to deal with clients and another one to handle the staff – men didn’t like to work for a gay boss either. They say it doesn’t bother them, he thought, but they always keep their backs to the wall as if they think I’ll goose them or something. Bobby was the only man he knew who genuinely didn’t seem to care. Such a sweet boy.

Jeff had had a crush on Bobby since they first met in medical school. They hit it off right away and became good friends and he didn’t even take offence when Jeff hinted their relationship could be something more, you still had to be careful back then, No thanks Jeff, I’m straight, was all Bobby said and carried on as if nothing had happened. He’s far too good looking to be wasted on women, but straight is straight and that’s that, but we can always live in hope.

He picked up the contract on his desk and handed it to Martha—one of his execs—on the way out, Give this to Bobby when he gets here, I have an urgent meeting with a client. Oh, and this is new business, so make sure he gets the contract signed before he starts work. We don’t want any misunderstandings with this client. It took me nine months to get us in the door.

Martha was a pretty girl—a job requirement working for Jeff—and she sighed to herself. She was the one who had got them in the door by carefully cultivating a friendship with one of the girls in administration. Jeff knew it full well too—he’d signed off on the expenses—he was a glory hound and took the credit for everything. But he took the blame too, if things went wrong, so she didn’t complain, I thought Doctor Wolf was taking a few days off, she said, as she took the folder.

Jeff waved a limp hand, "He was, but you know what he’s like, bless him. The boy’s a workaholic. I keep telling him to slow down but he’s just so dedicated. It’s really quite sweet. I’ll be back at four, toodle pip." He’ll be gone by then.

Wolf climbed into the battered old motor home and dumped his gear in the back. The girls were disappointed when he told them he was a doctor and had to go. They said they understood of course, but the mischievous look in their eyes hinted at what he had missed. Jeff, I am going to kill you, he thought to himself angrily as he climbed into the driver’s seat, very, very painfully.

Thirty minutes of heavy traffic on the ring road didn’t improve his temper and Wolf felt like murder as he pulled into the office car park. For six months now, Jeff had lumbered him with one contract after another without a break. He always had a good reason for it, but the man was a slave driver and Wolf was beginning to regret taking a job at his friend’s agency.

He locked the van—which was not really necessary as no one in their right mind would steal such a wreck—and marched through the front entrance and took the lift up to Medihelp’s offices on the second floor. He pushed open the glass doors and paused at the fish tank for a minute to calm down, he took a few deep breaths as he watched a clown fish darting in and out of a sea anemone’s waving fronds. It was an impressive display but, at the moment, Wolf wished that Jeff had spent the money recruiting more doctors for his agency, that way he might be able to get a day off.

The receptionist was at lunch and Martha gave him a doe-eyed smile as she handed over the file, Jeff asked me to give you this, he had to go out. She always felt a warm glow when she spoke to Wolf, his dark hair—too long for a doctor—set off his blue eyes perfectly. He hadn’t shaved today either, and the scruff gave him a rakish look that really appealed to her.

Wolf looked daggers at her, In a hurry was he?

Martha bit back a retort at the sharp words. Never upset the doctors, Jeff had told her, Like a scalded cat, she said, trying to look sympathetic.

I’ll bet. Wolf took the folder and opened it. It was paperwork for the job.

Martha continued, tongue in cheek, He suddenly remembered an urgent meeting. Just after phoning you, actually, I’m sure it was just a coincidence. He said to make sure you get the contract signed before you start, blue copy for them, bring the rest back to us.

Wolf snapped back, I know, I know, signature before treatment. Never mind if some poor bugger dies, we must keep the paperwork straight.

Martha pouted,