'Sacrifice' - Extract

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Extract

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the others

On Angel Mountain

house of angels

DARK ANGEL

rebecca and the angels

FLYING WITH ANGELS

Guardian Angel

 

 

An extract from Chapter 3 of “Sacrifice”

Martha and her family at Plas Ingli are having to come to terms with a series of brutal assaults on men who have links with her estate. These assaults come out of the blue, and those responsible appear to be highly efficient and very sadistic……..

Is there no end to this? Another night, another terrifying event. As I write, it is ten o‘clock in the evening, and I have not slept a wink since one o’clock this morning. I was fast asleep, and awoke with a start when I heard the dogs barking furiously. I wondered what was going on, and then I heard a clattering of hooves and a crunching of wheels on gravel. Somebody was shouting “Open up! Open up, for God’s sake!” and then I heard heavy footsteps and a frantic hammering on the back door. When I got downstairs in my dressing gown Mrs Owen had opened up, and Billy and Shemi had already rushed outside to see what the fuss was all about. One by one all the adults in the house appeared in the kitchen, rubbing their eyes. A minute later the men came back inside, carrying what looked like a corpse, with horror writ large on their faces. It was Will Owen, my shepherd and Mrs Owen’s son, covered in blood. They placed him on the kitchen table, and they were followed into the kitchen by Tomos Huws Plain Dealings, one of my labourers. “I found him on the Cilgwyn road at midnight,” he moaned, slurring his words. “I was coming home from town with the gambo. A bit of a night on the town. Oh God, I wish I hadn’t drunk all that bloody cider. I saw it was Will. Managed to get him on board, I did, and then I came hell for leather up the road. Couldn’t see nothing. It’s a bloody miracle we got here in one piece.........” Then the poor man collapsed into a chair, and Bessie had to take care of him.
Even before he had finished speaking Mrs Owen had taken control of the situation. If Will had been my son I should have been reduced to a snivelling heap on the floor in an instant; but with tears streaming down her face she issued orders like a general in the heat of battle. “He is alive. Billy, hot water from the fire place! Shemi, get clean rags from the cupboard under the stairs! Bessie, get the fire going properly! Mistress, don’t just stand there -- help me get the clothes off him! Grandpa, go and get Joseph from his room -- he is in no state to attend to the injuries, but he will know what we must do. Grandma, fetch the ointments from the medical chest!” and so on.
So we frantically unbuttoned his jacket and his breeches and pulled off his waistcoat, which was already unbuttoned. His shirt and undergarment were so covered in blood that we had to cut them off, and as we worked blood continued to pour from a multitude of wounds. He moaned, and we took that as a good sign. Within a minute or two, Mrs Owen and myself were also covered in blood.
Then I realized that there were five small children standing at the kitchen door which leads to the back passage. They had all been awoken by the shouting and banging, and as soon as they saw the bloody scene centred on the kitchen table, and saw the fear on all of our faces, they all burst into tears. “Mam!” wailed Betsi. “What’s happening?”