Free Hearts of Darkness by Paul Lawrence

you may not have heard, for the story was suppressed, are the lengths to which General Fairfax went to try to persuade the Royalists to surrender. Every man knows they persevered for three months before they starved. But the full story of the barbarity has never properly been told.’
    Withypoll fidgeted. ‘Tell it quick.’
    The accountant turned to me, in search of a more appreciativeaudience. ‘Before the siege was over Fairfax killed and tortured prisoners. He cut off their hands and fingers to obtain confessions, and distributed their rings to his men.’ He paused for effect. ‘He broke into the house of Sir John Lucas, whose house lay outside the city wall, and plundered the family vault, smashing coffins and scattering bones. His soldiers tore hair from the corpses of women and wore it in their hats as trophies, including the hair of Sir John’s poor dead wife.’
    He paused again, but I offered him no encouragement, for I had heard this tale before and loathed it.
    The accountant shook his head, as if in sadness. ‘The citizens of Colchester were not even Royalist, most of them. Yet when the Royalists invited the women to leave, Fairfax stripped them of their clothes and chased them back to the closed gates, where his men brutalised them.’ He shook his head again, though I saw no tears. ‘Then he starved us. First we ate the horses’ fodder, then the thatch from the houses. When that ran out we ate the horses. When we ate all the horses we ate the cats and the dogs.’
    ‘You were there?’ I asked.
    ‘Not in body,’ he replied. ‘Though yes, in spirit, for I am a loyal subject of this nation, and several of the villagers
were
there. What Fairfax did to the people of Colchester, Cromwell inflicted upon us all.’
    God save us. ‘All of this is well known.’ I swallowed my irritation. ‘What of Josselin?’
    The accountant frowned. ‘You cannot hope to understand Josselin’s bravery without appreciating Fairfax’s barbarity. Norwich needed reinforcement quickly if he was to survive Fairfax’s siege. So he determined to send a message to Marmaduke Langdale. But Fairfax guarded every exit, and lit up the walls at night so none couldescape. James Josselin went to the Moot Hall, evaded the guard, and ran up to Norwich to offer his services.’
    Withypoll snorted. ‘To a nine-year-old boy it would have seemed a great adventure.’
    ‘A boy, true,’ said the accountant. ‘But everyone within the walls knew what Fairfax did. The sight of his men parading the bones of the dead would terrify a nine-year-old more than a full-grown man. Of course, Norwich sent him back to his family.’
    Withypoll sighed. ‘Then he leapt the wall of his own accord and set off to find Langdale I suppose?’
    ‘Yes,’ the accountant answered. ‘He did.’
    Withypoll curled his lip. ‘So he tried to escape, they caught him, and Fairfax’s men treated him rough.’
    ‘They held his hand and burnt his fingers with matches.’ The accountant’s voice rose an octave. ‘When he refused to talk they sliced off his nails. If you look at his hands you may still see the scars. He screamed and he cried, but he told them nothing of Norwich’s plans.’
    ‘Unlikely,’ Withypoll muttered.
    ‘I will not argue with
you
.’ The accountant lifted his chin and wrinkled his nose. ‘For I know James Josselin, and when you look in his eyes, you see it to be true. For not only may you see courage in those eyes, but also strangeness. He grew up a strange man, and I credit that to Fairfax.’
    In my mind I saw a small boy, surrounded by brute soldiers. I saw one of them grasp his small hand and hold a flame to it, a cruel smile upon his lips. I felt my own hair prickle at the thought of it, and could scarce imagine how it must have appeared to a child. Like the worst vision of Hell, I supposed, a terrifying shattering of young assumptions.
    Dowling bowed his head.
    ‘He is headed for Colchester,’ said the accountant. ‘He didn’t