Curse of the Kingsmans 3: Escape of Absolon

By Ethan Somerville

Servant boy at the Kingsley household Absolon couldn’t believe his good fortune when his handsome and charismatic father rescued him and his mother from a lifetime of drudgery. No longer required to slave for a living, Absolon was able to realise his life-long dream of becoming a scholar. Then he discovered his father was really a notorious pirate captain – Aidan Thomas, the Prince of Darkness.

At his Aidan’s execution Absolon is recognised by one of his father’s old crewmates. Snake and a small group of pirates have managed to escape the authorities and hide out in a safe-house. Snake wants to find out the truth behind Aidan’s betrayal and believes Absolon can help him.

Absolon thinks Sarah Kingsley, one of Aidan’s former lovers, might have more information. Unfortunately Sarah knows Absolon from he used to work in her kitchens. She treated him abominably, calling him names and pulling his hair. Absolon does not believe he has the confidence or wisdom to deal with her, so Aidan’s former crewmates decide he needs a little more education in the ways of the world before he can see her.

Soon Absolon is running back and forth between a murderous band of wanted cutthroats and one notorious but fiercely intelligent nymphomaniac. Can the naïve young man even manage to survive long enough to discover who really betrayed Aidan Thomas on the 6th of August, 1705?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Storm Publishing
• Release date: Jan 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310447372

Ethan Somerville

Ethan Somerville is a prolific Australian author with over 20 books published, and many more to come. These novels cover many different genres, including romance, historical, children's and young adult fiction. However Ethan's favourite genres have always been science fiction and fantasy. Ethan has also collaborated with other Australian authors and artists, including Max Kenny, Emma Daniels, Anthony Newton, Colin Forest, Tanya Nicholls and Carter Rydyr.

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Curse of the Kingsmans 3

Escape of Absolon

By

Ethan Somerville

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Storm Publishing on Smashwords

Curse of the Kingsmans 3 – Escape of Absolon

Copyright © 2012/2017 by Ethan Somerville

www.stormpublishing.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Chapter 1

Absolon Aubrey couldn’t believe that he was about to watch his own father die.

Somehow he had managed to haul himself out of bed early on the 31st of August 1705 and make his way down to Newgate Prison. Even though the sun was only just peeping over the horizon, a significant crowd had already collected at the steps of the goal to wait for the procession to start. An atmosphere of gaiety pervaded and hawkers had wasted no time in setting up their stalls of fresh buns, fruit, pies and trinkets. Absolon felt sick. How could people be so jolly? His own father was about to go to the Tyburn tree!

Of course he couldn’t tell anyone that he was the Prince’s son. He had to keep his secret bottled up deep inside. He couldn’t even let his tears show. He had to be a part of this gay crowd.

Oh why did I come here? he wondered miserably. I should have just stayed home, tucked my head under my pillow and pretended the whole thing wasn’t happening...

Absolon had always cursed his slender build, his lack of height, so unlike his larger-than-life father. But now he was glad that bigger, burlier men were jostling him back out of the way. He didn’t want to be up the front when Aidan appeared to take his last journey.

Even so, Absolon had taken the time with his appearance. He mightn’t have towered over his countrymen like his father, but he was wiry and strong, firmly muscled despite his slimness. Neither did he possess Aidan’s tan, acquired from years of sun and sea air. He was milky-skinned and without blemish, delicately featured with large green eyes like his mother’s and long dark lashes like his father’s. He wore a thick black wig with voluminous curls that tumbled over the shoulders of his red velvet coat, and a broad-brimmed hat to keep off the summer sun. The lacy cuffs of his shirt flopped over his knuckles as he hung onto his cane. He didn’t need the walking stick - like so many things these days it was just an article of fashion.

He may have appeared a dandy, but compared to some of the frills and ruffles on display his outfit was rather tame. At least he didn’t overdo the ribbons, feathers and lace like some of the other fops in the audience.

Everyone in London knew the story now. It was the talk of the town. The pirate captain Aidan Thomas, also known as the Prince of Darkness, had been betrayed to the authorities by none other than his own paramour, Catriona Neville. He had been forced to watch her accept the money for his reward before he was hauled away to Newgate.

Aidan was tried on the 28th of August in the Old Bailey and found guilty of all the charges pressed against him. He was sentenced to be hung by the neck until dead. Although Execution Dock was where by tradition most pirates were hung, the sheriffs doubted there would be enough room at the site for all of the crowds they anticipated would turn up for the death of a such a infamous criminal. They realised his hanging would be a spectacular event indeed and arranged for it to take place at the Tyburn Tree instead.

A great cheer erupted and Absolon’s stomach flip-flopped. He strained to see through the press of bodies and fancied he could see the doors to the old prison swing open. Was that tall figure his own father standing on top of the stairs? Suddenly he wanted to be closer to the front, better able to see. This was Aidan’s last day on Earth!

But then the figure on the stairs started to descend and disappeared from Absolon’s view. The young man cursed and started to push his way forward, now using his small size and build to take advantage of gaps in the crowd. He had always been nimble and good at hiding. Since his early youth he’d had to become adept at running and making himself scarce, or suffer horrible beatings. And now he was studying at university he had to be even more agile to avoid the bullies.

Absolon managed to push forward enough to catch a glimpse of the death-cart. The pirate captain stood on the back, bareheaded in the early morning sun. His long black hair tumbled down his back, the thick curls shifting gently in the breeze. He was smiling and waving cheerfully. He was impeccably dressed in a new black velvet coat bought especially for the occasion, a crisp white cravat tied expertly around his neck. He was even wearing new bucket boots. He looked as though he had taken great pains with his appearance on his last day. As always his great height and impressive bearing brought a tightness to Absolon’s throat as the young man realised that now, at the age of twenty, he would never cut such a formidable and imposing figure. He had never liked looking up to people, always feeling like he was on the back foot despite his great intelligence - the phenomenal acuity he’d always had to hide under a bushel.

Unlike the rest of the prisoners in the other carts following his, Aidan Thomas was sober and steady. Those that could sat on their own coffins, bleary eyed and haunted; afraid of death. But Aidan Thomas stood straight and tall, accepting flowers and tankards of ale from people at the front. A pretty maid darted up and presented him a nosegay of brightly coloured flowers, which he cheerfully stuck through the top buttonhole of coat. He didn’t look at all like a man about to die.

Oh, how can he be so calm? Absolon thought and gulped back tears. If I was up there I’d be pissing my britches! I wouldn’t be nearly so brave!

The marshal carrying his silver oar over one shoulder rode to the head of the procession and it set off for Tyburn. Aidan’s open carriage followed the marshal, and the other carts came after. The crowds started to move along, Absolon included.

As the procession passed St. Sepulchre’s, the clerk appeared, ringing his bell. He shouted;

"You that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears; ask mercy of the Lord for the salvation of your souls..."

To the crowds following the death-carts, the clerk said;

"All good people pray heartily unto God for these poor sinners who are now going to their death, for whom the great bell tolls."

The procession wended its way along Snow Hill, Holborn Hill and then into Holborn itself. By the time it passed through Oxford Street and onto Tyburn road, the crowds had grown to a size never before witnessed. They caused the entire journey to take considerably longer than usual. One drunken prisoner proclaimed in a very loud, sarcastic tone that travelling through such crowds was a fate worse than death.

The procession arrived at the Fatal Tree at ten o’clock. A great cheer arose as Aidan appeared. People threw all manner of things into the air in celebration. Strangely enough Aidan Thomas seemed to have acquired more friends upon this day than he had ever had before. No one dared throw rotten eggs or fruit at him. No one booed or hissed, or slung insults or curses. Absolon, trapped in the press of bodies and starting to feel a little faint from the crowds and heat, couldn’t believe his senses. Had his father, the so-called Prince of Darkness, actually been more loved than hated?

Aidan blew kisses at women and they returned them. Somme even had tears in their eyes.

Only one man dared to yell out; be damned Thomas! Men next to him immediately turned on him and beat him to a pulp on the grass.

When his cart pulled up beneath the gallows Aidan raised his hands up in the air for silence. A great hush descended on the crowd as Aidan spoke, his voice loud and resonant and flowing over the crowds assembled below him. Everyone, including Absolon, hung onto his every word.

Ere I depart this Earth, Aidan began, I would like to thank those who made it possible for me to be with you today.

Sniggers greeted this statement, as well as some boos and hisses. Aidan waited for them to die down before he continued.

Watch this performance closely, my friends, for I doubt I will be in much of a condition to give you an encore. He paused to allow for more laughter. Looking at your faces I see that a great many of ye knew me by one name or another during the course of your lives. Aye, I have been many people: Thomas Aubrey, Dr Thomas Jones, George Shore ... and Aidan Thomas. He smiled thinly. Aye, even Aidan Thomas is not my real name.

What is it? someone screamed.

Yes! Tell us!

But Aidan shook his head. That is one secret I am taking to my grave with me.

Still people cried out for him to reveal his true name before he died. Please! Reveal your real name, Aidan!

But the pirate captain shook his head, a thin smile lifting his lips. I have always said … leave them hanging.

More laughter and gasps of shock followed.

Absolon lifted a slender hand to his mouth, realising that he was probably the only one here who knew Aidan Thomas’s real identity. He was actually Aidan Kingsman, the Fifth Earl of Berwick, thought to have starved to death in 1684 on the streets of London. The young man’s heart started to race as he wondered how all the people around him would react if he revealed that interesting titbit.

But he never would. After all such monumental news would jeopardise his entire family. His mother would never inherit the entire Kingsman fortune, and he would be most certainly booted out of Oxford.

When Absolon directed his attention back to the gibbet, he realised the clergyman was already murmuring Aidan’s last rites. An icy shiver raced down Absolon’s spine to make itself a nest of knives in his stomach. His heart continued to pound. Soon it would all be over.

Aidan removed his coat, waistcoat and cravat and neatly hung the articles of clothing over the side of the cart. He waited patiently for the hangman to climb into the cart. The executioner pulled the pirate’s arms down behind his back and bound them securely together. But when he offered Aidan the hood he declined it. The hangman gave a nod and pulled down the noose he had tied to the frame earlier on that morning. He tightened it around Aidan’s neck and positioned the end of the long knot so that it touched the left side of his neck. It was a brand new rope he had specially chosen to bear the weight of Aidan Thomas. Later on in the day it would be cut into one-inch segments and sold in the streets in as the rope that hung the Prince of Darkness. The hangman hoped to net a veritable fortune.

One more thing ere I leave your company, Aidan called. To all you men out there, I would like to extend this warning. Never, ever trust a woman. He took a deep breath. ‘And I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands; whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her... Which yet my soul seeketh, but I find not; one man among a thousand have I found; but a woman among those have I not found.’ Ecclesiastes chapter seven, verses twenty six and twenty eight. Never let a woman get beneath your skin for your judgement will be clouded, and your wits dulled. Stay aloof from her! Never let her inside your soul for you will never, ever be able to get her out - until ‘tis too late and she betrays you. ‘Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned’! A sudden tear gleamed in the corner of his eye. "I would like to extend special thanks to the one who made my public appearance possible. Catriona Neville!"

Absolon drew in his breath and held it amidst curses and howls of hang the bitch!

But before the hangman could draw the cart out from beneath him, Aidan Thomas took a mighty leap from the back of the cart and catapulted himself into space.

A man in the middle of the crowd, attempting to struggle his way to the front, suddenly screamed, Aidan - wait! But his call came just a little too late.

The hangman jumped from the moving cart and grabbed for the swinging rope. But as he caught hold of it and yanked it back, the whiplash snapped Aidan’s head to the right, breaking his neck. The hangman swore and released of the rope, dropping to the ground. Along with the rest of the crowds he stared at the dangling body.

Utter silence descended.

Then a dark-haired woman at the front of the crowd promptly lost control of her guts and heaved up everything in her stomach. The sickening gurgle was almost deafening in the tangible quiet. She remained, doubled over and retching until there was absolutely nothing left inside her to throw up. People began to back away from her, green-faced. Absolon couldn’t believe they actually found the sight of her steaming vomit more sickening than the limp body of the dead man. He had been feeling ill for a while already and had to gulp repeatedly to keep his own bile down. He couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down his face, tears he couldn’t even feel. A tumult of conflicting emotions tore through him as he realised his father was gone. He was upset that he would never see him again, never communicate with him or receive his advice or comfort. But he was also furious that in all those years he’d never really known the man and his numerous alter-egos. Even before learning that his father was also Aidan Thomas the Pirate Prince he’d realised that he had probably not been faithful to his mother. However he never thought he would react so badly to the confirmation that Aidan had not only had a mistress, but one that had betrayed him so wickedly.

The man who had screamed earlier finally managed to push himself to the front of the crowd. He was wrapped in a long woollen cloak that reached the ground and he fought to keep it closed around his body. He seemed to be having trouble keeping himself upright as though he was drunk or disabled in some way. Miserably he stared up at the body.

The hangman brought the cart back around and scrambled up into it. He cut the dead pirate captain down and he flopped into the cart. Next! he shouted.

The cloaked man spat on the ground and spun around to leave. He pushed roughly through the press of bodies, his path taking him towards Absolon. The young man tried to get out of the robed fellow’s way, but tripped and fell into someone beside him.

Watch it, tiny! a burly workman in a filthy leather vest growled at him as he pushed him away - directly into the other man’s path.

Absolon stumbled right into the robed man. S-sorry- he began.

The man grabbed him. Absolon found himself staring into a haunted visage almost hidden in the shadows of a deep woollen cowl. A pair of piercing blue eyes shone like beacons, still glittering with tears. God’s Blood! the man cursed. A wiry hand reached out, grabbing Absolon by the chin, and roughly tilted his head back so his face slipped out of the shadow his hat. Who are you? Yer his spittin’ image!

Oh dear God, Absolon thought. He recognises me! But how? No-one had ever said he resembled his father before! Um ... I’m Absolon Aubrey, sir, he managed in a mousy squeak.

Absolon Aubrey? Shit! the man swore. You are his son, aren’t you?

Absolon managed a mute nod, glad no-one was paying them too much attention. The hangings were continuing, with other men trying to follow Aidan’s bravery by jumping off the cart before it was drawn out from under them. The loud cheering and clapping effectively concealed their conversation.

Come with me. The man’s tone did not invite invitation, and Absolon decided not to protest as he was pulled away through the crowds. No-one impeded their progress, happy to let them leave the area. Absolon was still in a state of shock; he’d had no idea what he would be doing after watching his father die. Following this mysterious