by Anna Jacobs
‘I want nothing to go wrong with this,’ Will said, the smile fading and grim determination taking its place. ‘Well, sit down, man! We can’t discuss this with you standing up like that.’
Thad sat down gingerly in one of the chairs, which looked to him as if it would scarce bear a man’s weight. In a similar chair, Ted Haplin was sprawling at ease, a glass of the late Squire’s port in his hand.
Will told Thad to help himself to cider or port and, then got down to business. ‘Are you still willing to help me put paid to Sewell once and for all?’
‘Aye.’ Ted gathered moisture in his mouth to spit out his scorn of their enemy, then looked down at the clean polished floor and thought better of it. ‘He’s like a mad bull of late, that one is. Needs penning up and a ring putting through his nose.’
‘Lord Tarnly is the only one who can pen him up, though, so we have two choices. Either we get proof that Sewell has been behind all the troubles and hand him over to the law - or we deal with him ourselves.’
‘‘Tis easy enough for accidents to happen,’ said Ted mildly. ‘Dreadful easy, it is, for a man to get hisself shot in them woods - even if Sewell takes them two bullies with him every time he goes out. They can’t see a bullet coming. No one can.’
‘Well, you’d better make sure no such accident happens,’ ordered Will, ‘because I intend to stick within the law - more or less, anyway.’
They smiled at that.
‘And if your way doesn’t work?’ Ted asked.
‘We’ll have to think again. I’m not giving up, that’s for sure.’ Will’s sole concession to Sarah had been a promise to do nothing against the law, if he could help it.
Ted shot a wolfish look at Thad, but the blacksmith’s eyes were fixed on the Squire.
‘Tell us what needs doin’,’ he said simply, anger simmering in his chest, as it always did when he thought of the fire that had damaged his smithy. ‘There’s me an’ our Michael just waitin’ for a chance to sauce that one’s goose for him, an’ Nate’s ready to carry back to his master any gossip we tell him to, because he’s afeared of what his neighbours will do to him if he doesn’t help us.’
He thought about that for a few seconds and added in all fairness, ‘And because what Sewell does to folk sticks in his gullet. Nate’s terrible feared of what Sewell will do to him if he finds out he’s thrown in his lot with us, but his neighbours live closer than Sewell does, an’ his wife’s a cousin of my wife.’
‘Ah, see, even a fool like Nate can’t stomach it,’ agreed Joe.
Ted nodded. ‘He’s not a bad fellow, just puny and nervous of trouble.’
Will cleared his throat to regain their attention. ‘It seems to me we need to do two things. Firstly, we need to catch Sewell’s men in some unlawful act, and secondly, we must connect what they’re doing with him.’
‘‘Tisn’t Hugh and Izzy as do things lately, though,’ objected Ted. ‘Thass why we couldn’t set them other attacks straight to Sewell’s door. Them two bully-boys is allus somewhere else when things happen, some place where folk can see ’em and swear they couldn’t ha’ done it. They fetch others in from Poole and beyond to do their mischief. They must be a lot of dangy scoundrels up that way.’
‘When we catch the hirelings, we’ll make them tell us who’s paying them,’ declared Will.
‘Ah, we might persuade ’em to do that, but Sewell will still deny it afterwards, won’t he? He’ll say as we forced ’em to bear false witness. An’ his lordship won’t hang him just on our say-so. They don’t hang the gentry all that easy, even when they deserve it. It’s the poor folks as gets hanged. Besides, Sewell’s got that lawyer in Sawbury eatin’ out of his hand, tame as a pigeon in a loft. That fellow has all sorts of tricks up his sleeve to trap honest folk.’
‘Suppose - just suppose Sewell heard that some of you had captured the men hired to make mischief and were making them speak, but that you hadn’t yet sent for Lord Tarnly,’ said Will, thinking aloud. ‘Suppose he thought he could rescue them and save himself a deal of trouble.’
Ted scratched his head, Joe frowned and Thad looked deep into the flames, mouth pursed in thought. There was silence for a while. Will sat and waited for them to think things through. He wanted no mistakes.
‘Might turn the trick,’ allowed Ted at last, smacking his lips over the dregs of the port. ‘Yes, well, just a smidgen more, Squire. It d’warm you nicely on a cold night, port wine do.’
‘We’d need a bit of help to do it,’ warned Thad. ‘There’d hev to be enough of us to make sure none of ’em escaped.’ He waved aside the port bottle and reached for the jug of cider.
‘That’s your job, Thad. You know who in the village can be trusted to keep his mouth shut and who can’t. Will you find me some men?’
‘Ah. Dare say I can. I’ll ask around.’
‘Good. Then this is what we’ll do . ’
* * * *
In April, it became known that Will had purchased some new cows, and was to drive them home himself, with Robin Cox’s help. He would use the main roads and keep a sharp eye out for attackers, he told those who worried about his safety.
His foolhardiness in risking his life was loudly debated in The Golden Fleece, and though the men always stopped their discussions when anyone connected with Sewell came in. Hugh nonetheless managed to glean from Nate all the information his master needed.
Sewell’s smile became so smug and gloating that his wife took to her bed again, praying and weeping. Dorothy stayed upstairs, too, declaring it to be her duty to nurse her mama.
Poor Edward couldn’t escape his father. As Sewell’s temper became more unpredictable, his grown son even suffered the occasional thump or kick, for Sewell had decided he’d brought Edward up too soft and was determined to harden him.
Hugh and Izzy got their share of abuse, too, but unlike Edward, they thought nothing of a blow here and there.
The next Sunday, after church, Sewell made a point of stopping Will in the porch and warning him not to risk his life fetching the cows.
‘I reckon I’ll be safe enough now,’ Will said slowly, at his most phlegmatic. ‘His lordship reckons it was a band of thieves wintering in the district who attacked me last time. Nothing’s happened for three months or more, so I reckon they’ll have moved on by now. Besides, I’ll not forget to take my pistol this time.’
‘Better still, send one of your servants to fetch the cows.’
‘Nay, I can’t do that. Paid a precious lot for those beasts, I have, and I’ll not trust ’em to anyone else.’ He always spoke more broadly to Sewell than he did to others, because he could see that it irritated him.
Sarah came up to join him.
‘Your servant, Mistress Bedham,’ Sewell flourished a mocking bow.
Keeping her hands in her muff, she stared through him as if he were invisible, though she nodded briefly to his wife and daughter, hovering in the background. Of the son there was no sign that day.
As they drove home, Sarah said fiercely to Will, ‘I know you’re planning something to do with this trip!’
‘Nothing you wouldn’t approve of, my lass.’
‘Tell me!’
‘No. Best you know nothing. This is men’s work.’
And that was all she could get from him. He knew his Sarah now and didn’t want her joining in, for there would inevitably be some risk involved.
* * * *
The weather was kind to the plotters. It rained on the day they went to bring the cows home from market, a steady downpour that made everyone who attended muffle themselves in their cloaks, pull their hats down over their noses and hurry back to their homes as soon as they could.
Robin Cox plodded stolidly out of town behind the new cows, ignoring the rain, and Will followed him in the cart, so muffled against the sleeting rain that you wouldn’t have recognised him. The horse was used to the route and he’d fastened the reins to the rim of the cart, the better to shelter himself from the weather. Behind him
, in the back of the cart, lay a pile of bundles covered in sacking.
To the four men lying in wait in the woods, it was all ridiculously easy. They let Robin pass with the cows, then fired at the figure driving the cart. And as they were all professional thieves or highwaymen and had kept their powder dry, their guns didn’t misfire. They had the satisfaction of seeing two of their bullets strike home, then heard the figure grunt as it toppled slowly sideways on the seat.
The only thing that didn’t go as expected was the way Robin Cox behaved. Instead of running to his master’s help and setting himself up nicely as a second target, he fled into the woods.
‘Easy as pickin’ off crows,’ said one of the killers. ‘Don’t know why they were so worried about this fellow.’
‘Better check that Pursley’s dead, though.’
‘And what about the other one? Shouldn’t we go after him?’
‘No, he’ll be half way home by now. It’s not him as we’re being paid to kill and he’ll never recognise us.’
One rode across to hold the horse’s head, sitting easily on his own mount; another stayed by the side of the road; and the other two dismounted and clambered on to the cart to lean over the still figure lying hunched across the driver’s bench. As one of them stretched out a hand to roll the body over, the sacking behind the seat was tossed aside and Will stood up, holding a cocked pistol in each hand, pointed at them. The savage expression on his face made them freeze in shock, and before either of them could make a move, there was a warning shout from the man at the horse’s head.
Other figures had run out of the woods and were already snatching at his reins.
Heedless now of the pistols trained on them, the two unmounted men fought viciously to escape, for capture would result in certain death for them at the hands of the law. But they were greatly outnumbered and were soon pulled to the ground.
The fourth man saw his chance and managed to knock his two assailants aside and spur his frightened horse into rearing up and clearing a path for him to escape. His spine was itching as he pounded along the track, in case they shot at him, but although one bullet came whistling past his ears, no others followed it.
The men he’d left behind went down under a rain of blows and kicks from men who had so far had no chance to get back at those terrorising their village. The strangers were battered and bleeding by the time they were trussed up and stowed in the cart.
‘Dearie me, Squire,’ said Ted, ‘one of them got away.’ He winked at the other villagers. ‘Careless of you, lads, very careless!’
‘Keep your comments till later, Ted Haplin!’ said Will curtly. ‘We haven’t finished yet.’ He drove the trap along a circuitous route, ending at Joe’s cottage, and the others wiped out its tracks. When they stopped, the men were unceremoniously dragged out and locked in a sturdy shed, still bound hand and foot.
‘Don’t let them escape!’ warned Will.
‘Don’t you worry, Squire, me an’ Joe’ll make sure o’ that. They might get a bit hungry, though. I ent goin’ to waste good food on bastards like them!’
‘Are your wife and children well away, Joe?’ whispered Will, unable to take things as lightly as Ted.
‘Ah,’ replied Joe. ‘They’m over stayin’ with Poll. And young Ned Bell is all afire to keep watch for us. A real smart lad, that one.’
‘Then we’ll wait and see what happens, as we agreed. I want Hugh and Izzy involved - those devils aren’t going to get away scot-free if I have any say in the matter - and I need them to lay a clear trail back to Sewell. I’ll be back later. If they haven’t found our men by then, we’ll have to drop them a clue or two.’
Will walked away, feeling all his senses twice as alert as usual. He welcomed the icy wind in his face, the cold drops of rain on his skin, because they helped cool down his anger. He had been filled with rage against Sewell ever since Sarah had lost their child. Now, as the possibility of bringing his enemy to justice seemed within his grasp, he felt it like a great dam, ready to overflow.
It would take very little to make him lose control, whatever his promises to Sarah. Pursleys were slow to anger, but when their fury rose, nothing short of death could stop them giving vent to it.
* * * *
That evening, when Mr Sewell’s man Izzy slouched into The Golden Fleece and bought himself a pot of cider, he found a noisy group congregated by the fire, giving all the appearance of men celebrating something.
‘On your own tonight, are you?’ asked Prue, who was dying to find out what was going on and why Thad, who had drunk only one small pot of cider, was feigning drunkenness.
‘Aye.’ Izzy swivelled round as a roar of laughter erupted from the group by the fire. ‘Not like Thad to go on the tipple.’
‘Oh, he’s celebrating something. Went into Sawbury today and came back fair set up with himself. But you’re right. He don’t often get himself tipsy. His Meg’ll have something to say to him when he goes home, that she will!’
‘I heard tell Pursley were gettin’ some new cows today.’
‘If you mean Mr Bedham, yes he was. Nice beasts, too. Robin brought ’em through earlier.’
‘Thought Pursley were goin’ with him to get ’em.’
‘I wouldn’t know, I’m sure! Excuse me, I have a few things to do.’
Izzy sat down on one of the corner benches and looked casually round the room. So Pursley hadn’t come back yet. But the fellow couldn’t be seriously injured or those clods wouldn’t be celebrating. The man who’d escaped after the ambush said that at least a dozen men had come out of the woods. Sewell had been furious, but had refused to take any action till Hugh and Izzy had spied out the land.
The first thing was to find out where they captives were being held. So Izzy went and sat in the corner with his brows knitted in thought, sipping at his ale and listening intently to what was going on around him. What had happened today? He had misliked this plan from the start, feeling they’d tempted providence too often, but his master had a bee in his bonnet and was absolutely set on killing Pursley. And it wasn’t wise to question Sewell’s orders, not when your master knew so much about your own past. Besides he paid well for the sort of services Izzy provided.
Another roar of laughter was followed by the blacksmith declaring loudly that he’d settle those gallow-cheats good an’ proper this time. His friends hastily shushed him, and one cast an anxious glance towards Izzy, who was looking in the other direction, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
‘. . won’t try to burn down my smithy again . . . ’ said that loud drunken voice and once more, Thad’s friends shushed him hastily and started speaking at the tops of their voices to cover any more indiscretions.
After sitting there for a while longer, Izzy decided there was nothing more to be found out here and drained his pot.
‘Good, that were, Mistress Poulter,’ he said, giving her a gap-toothed smile. ‘Squire Sewell don’t keep any half as good in his cellar.’
She nodded with professional politeness, but allowed her features to relax into a scowl once his back was turned.
As he walked towards the door, Izzy caught the words, ‘gone to fetch his lordship’ from another of the group and heard pots clink together merrily. He stiffened, but kept on walking. They could only mean Lord Tarnly and that didn’t bode well for his master - or for himself. And where in hell’s name were the other three men they’d hired to do the deed? He and Hugh had checked everywhere they could think of. They had to be found and got out of the way as the one who’d escaped the ambush had been - and quickly, too.
Just outside the village, Hugh was waiting for him, sheltering under a tree. ‘Took your bleedin’ time, didn’t you? I thought you was just nipping in for a quick pot to see if they’d heard anythin’?’
‘Worth stayin’ a while, Hugh my lad, well worth it. Thad Honeyfield is as drunk as a lord back there.’
‘Is he, now? And what’s that got to do with us? It’s Pursley as master wants settled.
And as soon as may be. Honeyfield can wait till later.’
‘That blacksmith’s celebrating something. In fact, there’s a whole group of ’em roaring with laughter an’ drinkin’ themselves under the table. I doubt you’d get any sense out of them, even if you could ask ’em straight out. But I did hear that someone had gone off to fetch Lord Tarnly.’
‘Ah.’ Hugh scowled at him. ‘That could be a mite nasty for us, that could, if anyone talks.’
‘Just what I thought.’
‘Better find out where our dear friends hev got to, then, eh, Izzy? Can’t have them tellin’ tales about us to his lordship, can we? And if we can’t rescue ’em, then we shall just have to make sure that they’re in no condition to talk.’
‘Aye, I suppose so. But I don’t like killin’ friends. I don’t think it’s safe to kill anyone in such a small village, come to that. Fair gives me the creeps at times, this bloody place, the way everyone knows everyone else. Give me a city like Bristol any day.’
‘Too late to worry about that now, not if you want to keep away from the hangman’s noose.’
‘Ah. I reckon Sewell were a bit hasty with Saul tonight. Who’d have thought a man’s neck could break so easily? And we’ve still to get rid of the body. That’s not as easy as master seems to think.’ Izzy shook his head.
‘Ah, he just got a bit angry, that’s all. A man’s entitled to get angry when he pays out good money to get a job done, and then it’s bungled twice. Hey, where are you goin’ now?’
‘To tell Mr Sewell what I heard.’
‘No time for that. I saw two men creeping off down East Lane while you were sitting guzzling that cider. I followed ’em a little way and they turned off into the woods. It’s plain as anything they were up to no good. I reckon they’ve got our men down there.’
‘But . . ’
‘Look, you fool, you know Sewell will want it all settled, an’ he won’t want to come with us to help do the job, so we might as well get on with it. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty these days, our precious master. When I think o’ what he done in the old days . . . ’
