Read Online A Bouquet of Thorns by Tania Crosse - Free Book Online

spectator’s position. And then he shuddered as he saw the governor give the nod to begin.
    He had known great, swarthy bullies to holler like babies from the very first stroke, but this unfortunate lad scarcely flinched, his firm jaw set like granite and his narrowed eyes locked on to some point of focus on the far wall and merely twitching as the whipped ends of the cat raked like barbs into his exposed back. Dr Power’s own sickened heart pounded inside his chest, sweat prickling beneath his shirt just as it poured from the prisoner’s face and ran down his bare chest in rivulets. By the count of five, nothing had escaped his lips but a whimper, and the physician clenched his fists into tight balls. Dear God Almighty, give me something, lad! And then the pitiless warder, irritated beyond measure by his victim’s silence, seemed to add extra force to the sweep of his arm as he slammed the cat through the air. The shock of the redoubled agony was so powerful, the convict could not cry out. Instead, his chest rasped with a sharp and massive intake of breath that caused his inflamed lungs to react with a spluttering cough.
    Dr Power almost rejoiced. It was what he had prayed for. At a repeat of the warder’s sadistic action, the bound man almost choked on the prolonged coughing it drew from his strained insides. Again and again, until it exploded into one continuous, violent spasm. The surgeon observed carefully the tortured criminal. With his arms spread above his head, his already concave stomach was so taut with suffering, there seemed little between it and his spine. The gag in his mouth had turned scarlet, and in his already weakened state, his head had drooped forward and his shoulders were hanging from his stretched arms.
    Dr Power held up his hand. ‘That’s it, sir. He’s had enough,’ he pronounced, turning to the governor.
    â€˜What?’ The warder’s eyes bulged in his face, the veins standing out like ropes in his thick neck. His good friend, who had been on duty when the prisoner had made his escape, had immediately been dismissed, he and his family being thrown out of their home in Princetown and out on to the street without a by-your-leave. The fact that he had been taking a swig from his hip flask at the time and so was guilty of gross negligence of duty didn’t make any difference to his colleague, who was gunning to take his revenge on the escapee. ‘He’s only had ten, the bastard!’ he spat viciously.
    â€˜Eleven, actually. And if he coughs like that any more, he’ll rupture his diaphragm. Sir?’ he questioned, again addressing the governor.
    â€˜I thought you had pronounced him fit?’ was the reply.
    Dr Power frowned darkly. He must be careful what he said. ‘Yes, I had. He seemed much recovered, but the weakness in his lungs must be deep-rooted and so can flare up very easily. His constitution must be considerably worse than it appears.’
    The governor seemed to consider for a moment, but then to the doctor’s utter relief, he nodded his agreement.
    â€˜Take him down carefully,’ Dr Power instructed at once, ‘or we’ll have a corpse on our hands.’
    The warder shot a disgruntled glare at the surgeon and then gave a reluctant shrug. What would one more dead convict matter? As far as he was concerned, he’d be pleased if the devil died. And as the felon was released from his restraints, he collapsed almost senseless into the doctor’s arms. Raymond Power ground his teeth. He had instructed his surprised medical assistant to have a morphine injection at the ready. He would treat this poor wretch’s mutilated back with the greatest care, binding down the swollen flesh and mending it where possible with the neatest stitches and the finest thread. He would be scarred, yes, but the doctor would make sure it was kept to the minimum, and nowhere near as badly as if he had taken the full thirty-six