The noise of a flint striking steel, and then the pungent smell of pipe smoke. I squeezed Kate’s hand. A familiar cough from just outside the door. God’s breath, Downall. And he was less than two yards away.
I felt Kate dip down to quieten the cat, but I guess she could not find it, because the next thing we knew there was an almighty crash, the sound of rolling wood and metal. A pail falling off the shelf. I dragged Kate behind the door just in time as it swung open, nearly flattening us to the wall.
All I could see was a bulk blocking the doorway with a red glow of a pipe in the middle of it.
The cat shot past Downall with a screech.
‘Bastard cat,’ he said. Then he pulled the door shut with a slam.
He hadn’t seen us. I sagged with relief. My heart was pounding like a hammer on an anvil. The wooden pail rolled back and forth, the iron bands making a metallic rhythm of their own.
The pail creaked to a standstill and the footsteps receded across the yard. Kate’s hand still gripped mine so tight her nails dug in my palm. When we were sure he’d gone, she said, ‘He doesn’t seem to sleep. He …’ I heard her sigh, search for words.
‘What?’
‘He bullies Thomas. He knows that Thomas was for the King and he threatens him — says he’s watching him, and he’ll report him if he contacts any other known Royalist sympathisers.’
‘Thomas is his employer for God’s sake! Why doesn’t he just sack him?’
‘Because Thomas made a pact with Mallinson. And to be honest, I think Mallinson’s afraid of Downall too. And there’s more. A highway thief shot at Mallinson on the London road, and Downall has convinced him it was you. Of course I tried to persuade them they were wrong, but Jacob’s broken it off with Abigail because of it.’
I shuffled uncomfortably. ‘The bastard. It’s not her fault.’
Now I knew why Abigail had been crying. The needle of guilt had become sharper now.
Kate touched my arm gently. ‘I must go, Ralph. They’ll be looking for me in the house. I only came out because I wanted to check the number of chickens in the hen huts. Abigail is convinced a few more disappear each day, and not to the fox, but to Downall’s table. Shall I tell her to come out to you?’
I changed my mind. I could not bear to see Abigail; not now. I felt too guilty. And besides, Kate had told me what I needed to know.
‘Shall I fetch her?’ Kate asked again.
‘No. It was you I wanted to see. And I’ll only add to her troubles if Downall catches us. Tell her not to worry. I’ll go and talk to Jacob, make it right with him somehow. Tell her to let Mother know how I am.’
I embraced her, and she clung tight to me, her head resting on my chest. When she withdrew, the unspoken question of when I might see her again hung on my lips. She read it in my face but stopped it my bringing her lips to mine.
Suddenly I was lost. I kissed her neck, her arms, any inch of bare skin I could find, nudging down the chemise where it curved over the swell of her breasts to kiss her there too. She kissed me back, urgently, brought her hand down the front of my shirt. We shouldn’t be doing this, every part of me knew it to be wrong, and dangerous and begging for trouble. But her hands roamed over my chest and the sensation made me shiver and tremble with longing. Within moments we were on the flagstone floor, our limbs tangled together. When I fumbled for the cords of my breeches, she rolled up her skirts. Her pale thighs gleamed in the moonlight, they opened to welcome me in.
When we had done we held each other close. ‘My Kate,’ I murmured, drunk on her touch. In the distance a door slammed.
Kate sat up, pulled down her skirts. ‘Downall. The stable door. He sleeps there now.’
‘Are you alright?’ I asked.
‘Don’t come here again,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion, ‘not until they catch the man who shot Mallinson. Folks are already saying …’
‘I know, I know.’ They would be saying it was me.
A flash of the image of the old man, up on the road, his breath stopped. Should I say anything? I bit my tongue. Life was complicated enough. Barely had I had time to think this, when I realised Kate was gone. The door was swinging, a pale stripe of moonlight widening and narrowing over my feet.
18 - THREE CROWS
‘You can’t be serious?’ Cutch put down the flagon he was drinking from. ‘It’ll be walking into the lion’s mouth!’
‘I need to talk to Jacob, tell him to make it up Abigail.’
‘You realise you’re risking my neck too? Will you tell him it was me who shot at his father?’
‘No. I’ll tell him it was me, but that I’ll keep away from here from now on. That they need not see me again.’ I had not told Cutch I’d seen Kate. The memory was too precious to speak of. But I had resolved to go away. However much it pained me, it seemed the best I could do for Abigail and the family. And now I feared that the temptation to see Kate would be even stronger.
Cutch whistled softly. ‘You can’t do that. Will you really go away?’
I nodded. It would do Kate no good to be associated with a known felon, and I could not risk someone finding us together.
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Cutch said. ‘I’m coming with you to Jacob’s then. I don’t trust you not to blurt it all out, tell him it was me.’
‘Oh, thanks for your confidence. I won’t grass on you. But I was thinking about that highway robbery I told you about. Abigail was right; as long as I’m anywhere near here, I’ll get blamed for every hold-up on that road. I want to tell Jacob what I saw. That highwayman shouldn’t get away with it. The victim was only an old man, doing nobody any harm. And I want to make it right between Jacob and Abigail before I go — want to know she’s being looked after, that someone will keep an eye on Mother when I’m gone.’
‘What about —?’
‘Don’t,’ I snapped, held my hand up to ward off more questions.
‘That bad is it? Remind me never to get involved with a woman. Cause no end of trouble.’
*
Jacob’s cottage was on the edge of the village on the far side of the village green. We went early, before first light. The only person we passed was a milkmaid slouching along, her yoke heavy with milk. When we saw her coming we took our horses into the shadow of the church. When she’d gone, we tied them in Jacob’s orchard. We went in the back way, past the neatly kept vegetable plot. The sight of it made me angry, when mine was lying fallow. I rapped at the door. Nobody answered so I tried the latch and found it open.
We were barely over the threshold when a white shape leapt from the sleeping loft, wild eyed, dressed only in a nightshirt and breeches. Within an instant, a short sword was wrapped round my neck.
‘S’truth, Ralph!’ Jacob released my neck and pushed me away. ‘I thought you were —’
‘Sorry to wake you so early,’ I said, relieved to still have my head intact.
‘What in hellfire do you think you’re doing?’ Jacob’s face was beet red, his hair loose and wild.
‘We’ve come to talk to you.’ I put off my sword, and Cutch laid his beside it.
Jacob looked us over, but kept his sword out in front of him. ‘I was asleep! What time do —’
‘Don’t make a fuss, I just need to talk, that’s all. And we haven’t eaten for days. A bit of breakfast wouldn’t go amiss.’ I smiled, watched his expression become less guarded.
‘You can’t stay. My father’s got men stripping the woods looking for you.’
‘I know. People keep telling me that. I’ve been to the Manor.’
‘Oh.’ Jacob had the grace to look guilty.
‘It’s not her fault, Jacob. Not Abigail’s fault she’s got a rotten brother that keeps getting himself into trouble. Come on, let’s sit down. I only want a few moments of your time.’
I pulled out a chair and sat down. Cutch stayed standing, I guess he didn’t trust my mouth.
‘He shot my father.’ Jacob pointed to Cutch. So they’d worked it out.
‘They recognised your horses.’
‘It was an accident,’ Cutch said. ‘I was aiming for the horse’s leg, but your father got in the way somehow.’
‘You expect me to believe that? It’s a long way from a horse’s fetlock to a shoulder.’
‘It’s the truth,’ I said. ‘He’s a bad shot.’
Cutch was about to protest but thought better of it. ‘Sorry. It was a pig’s ear of a shot. How is he, your father?’
‘How do you think? He’s got a shot-hole in his shoulder the size of a plum. You were holding up his carriage, for God’s sake!’
‘So would you,’ I said, ‘if you’d got nothing to eat and no other way of survival. We didn’t know it was your father, and we didn’t mean —’
‘Get out.’ Jacob’s voice held a warning. He threw his sword down on the table in front of me. ‘I can’t have you here. What happened to all your ideals of non-violence, Ralph? You’re not the man I knew. I don’t want you in my house.’
The old Ralph would have fought back, but I was worn out with war. The war outside me, and the war inside me. I’d done nothing but fight since I was two years old. First my father, then the aristocracy, now my family and friends.
I picked up Jacob’s sword and lay it down at my feet. ‘I’m the same man, Jake. Same person who used to watch out for someone coming while you scrumped for apples. No, I tell a lie. I’m not the same man. Nobody could watch grown Englishmen tear each other’s throats out, and stay the same.’ I tried and failed, to keep the quaver from my voice. I looked up at his frowning expression, shrugged. ‘I’ll go then. I can see I have no friend here.’
Jacob’s expression shifted, softened. He shook his head. ‘You’re a fool, Ralph Chaplin. Your own worst enemy. A few minutes then.’ He glanced towards Cutch. ‘But he can wait outside, keep watch in case someone comes.’
Cutch raised his eyebrows at me.
‘Would you mind?’ I asked.
‘Guess someone had better do it,’ Cutch grumbled. He grabbed his sword and sheathing it, headed for the door. I watched his short squat figure go. A hat was lying on the side table. It looked familiar. I stared at its green velvet ribbon, its trimming of green and scarlet feathers. Scarlet — a mite ostentatious for an apothecary’s girl, I had thought.
‘That’s Elizabeth’s hat,’ I pointed. ‘What’s it doing here?’
‘Oh. She must have left it behind.’
‘But why?’ I was immediately suspicious. ‘What was she doing here?’
‘She came to ask after you.’
‘A likely story.’ Any excuse to get her conniving smile over his threshold.
‘No, someone came to the apothecary’s looking for you. She thought I might know him, an old friend of yours.’
‘Who? One of Downall’s men no doubt, after my hide.’
‘Not that I know of. A stranger.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Elizabeth said he was “an arrogant dog who thought he was better than her”. She didn’t tell him anything. She pretended not to know you. But he must be pretty keen to find you, because he’d asked at the blacksmith’s too. He told him you’d … how shall I say? Moved on. Said if anyone knew where you’d gone it would likely be your mother.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I called in to the smith’s to get some nails. My thatch needs fixing. The man had been there just before me to get his horse shod. A big black beast by all accounts.’
I was silent. There was only one horse I knew that matched that description. The one I’d seen last night. The murdering bastard who’d killed that old man. But why was he looking for me? I was about to tell Jacob about him, but then I thought better of it. If they thought he was a friend of mine, it might get me into more trouble.
‘Look, Elizabeth only came to see if I knew where you were, and I didn’t, so she went away.’
I’ll bet, I thought. And I bet she was wearing her best Sunday frock and a simpering smile to match.
‘I’m sorry about Abigail,’ Jacob said. ‘It’s a mess. I never meant to hurt her. It’s just … my father won’t have it, and it’s not fair to keep her dangling.’
‘Don’t you care about her?’
‘What do you think? Of course I do. I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s worse now. I keep seeing her face when I told her it was over. She looked … resigned. It made me feel such a toad.’
‘Then talk to your father again. I’m going away. I won’t come back, not for years. You can all stop looking for me, because I’ll be gone.’
He looked crestfallen, now the reality of my leaving hung between us. ‘Where will you go?’
‘Don’t know. London maybe. Join a ship. Get as far away from Markyate Manor as possible.’
‘What about Kate?’
‘Will you stop asking me about Kate! What is it with everyone? She’s married isn’t she! To bloody Thomas Fanshawe.’
Jacob held up his hands in surrender.
‘And that’s another thing,’ I said. ‘Downall’s bullying the Fanshawes, I don’t like the sound of it. He’s up to something.’
‘What do you expect me to do about it? I’m not Downall’s keeper.’
‘I don’t know, warn your father. Tell him he’s not to be trusted. By the way, Kate thinks he’s bullying him too.’
‘Who? My father? Can’t see anyone browbeating him.’
‘I don’t know; he ran pretty fast when Cutch pointed a pistol at him.’
‘Hang on, I thought you said Cutch was aiming for the horse?’
I heard the rise in Jacob’s voice, tried to placate him. ‘He was, he was. Don’t get riled on me again.’
‘He’s a flaming liability, your friend. What on earth made you take up with him?’
I stared. Jacob couldn’t be jealous, could he?
‘These mercenaries. I’ve seen his type. He’ll have no loyalty at all, just go on the side that’s paying.’
‘I know he’s a bit rough round the gills, but —’
A noise behind me alerted me to Cutch’s figure just disappearing from out of the doorway. He must have heard us.
‘Cutch!’
But by the time I got outside he’d leapt onto his horse. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he kicked his horse into a gallop straight at me.
‘What the —!’ I hurled myself sideways, into the hedge. I scrambled up, but he was off away down the lane, hooves flying. He did not look back.
Jacob appeared beside me.
‘Oh Lord,’ I said. ‘He heard us. I’ll have to go after him.’
‘Let him go. Look to yourself,’ Jacob said. ‘There’s still men searching for you out there.’
But there was an unease in my belly. Cutch had done nothing but support me all these weeks and now it felt like I’d pissed on him.
‘Sorry Jacob, but he’s my friend.’
*
Still keeping to untrodden byways and the little known tracks through the forest, I returned to where Cutch and I had spent the previous night. Our branch and bracken shelter was empty. Wind had blown the remainder of the leaves from the trees, so the branches were bare. There was no sign of Cutch. Horseflies buzzed around where we’d slept, and over the rotting remains of the meat we’d kicked into the brush. I went to look at the spot where we’d tethered the horses. Nothing but dung. So he hadn’t been back here.
He’d really gone. I couldn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live wild without him. What would happen if he got caught? They’d torture the truth out of him; that was the way of the Assizes. They’d have the truth they wanted, or something masquerading as it, because everyone loved a hanging.
What was it with men and death? They’d spend half their lives trying to avoid it; with physicians and herbs and God knows what all else, and then half their lives courting it; with their leaping to war or a duel on the slightest provocation.
I sat down a moment to think. That man who’d been look
ing for me — could someone have seen me, hiding in that tree? Was that why he was looking for me, because I’d witnessed him killing that old man?
The blacksmith had sent him on to my mother’s house. The hairs on my neck bristled, I could not contain a shiver. I stood and paced up and down. It was probably all right. But then again, I did not like the sound of it. Something wasn’t right. Was it some sort of trap?
Would Jacob lie to me so that his father could find me? I dismissed that thought. Jacob was far too law-abiding to try any tricks.
I untethered the horse, slapped its neck. ‘Sorry, old boy, but we’ve got to go back to Markyate.’
When we got nearer to the village I thought I would be less obtrusive on foot, so I left Titan tethered in the woods. To be safe, I had armed myself with my pistol and powder, and with my backsword and the trusty knife. As I came to the edge of the woods, my eye was caught by a flapping white paper pinned to a large oak.
WANTED
Ralph Chaplin, Highwayman.
For the murders of John Silverskin, Cheesemaker, William Gawston, Tinker,
and the attempted murder of Constable John Mallinson.
For the speedy apprehending of this malicious Traitor to the Peace of this Commonwealth,
the Parliament doth straitly charge and command all Officers, Civil and Military,
and all other the good people of this Nation,
That they make diligent enquiry for the said felon and his Abettors, and Adherents
and being apprehended, to bring before the Parliament, or Council of State,
to be proceeded with and ordered, as Justice shall require.
More of Mallinson’s ridiculous wordiness followed, but I’d seen enough. But who was this other man, Gawston? If the highway thief had killed someone else as well … I speeded my step.
In the back of my mind the thought of Edward Copthorne ran round like a rat in a trap. It could have been him on the road, but then again, I couldn’t be sure. He was tall enough to be the highway thief, but I couldn’t tell with that standing collar covering half his face. I wished I could be certain. I’d forgotten him, but now someone was looking for me … a trickle ran down my spine, as if I’d been drenched with cold water.
Spirit of the Highway Page 13
