A tall middle-aged man in greens and browns strode towards them, and as he neared the door of the carriage the dogs fell in line with him without a spoken command. He bowed and opened the door, no need for an introduction from John, apparently.
'Mrs Beauchamp, such an honour to receive a visit from you!'
Dennis could not see how Agnes accepted his greeting, but he quickly put away the rifle and jumped from the box, walking towards the little group of people. Dick of course had already made friends with one or two of the dogs, and Guy merely stood by attentively. He was very good at just being present, as butler that was his job, but Dennis was certain Guy was also keeping an eye on their surroundings.
'We've never met, ma'am, but I recognized the arms on your carriage, and I was more or less expecting you to come by this neighbourhood one of these days, with those nasty burglaries and all.
Excuse my rudeness, my name is Mark Winfield, I lease the hunting rights of a large part of this forest from you. What can I do for you?'
'Pleased to meet you Mr Winfield, I'm sure I've read your name in some official document or other, good to add a face to a name. We've come with one particular goal in mind, to try to persuade you to part with a couple of your young hounds to replace my late husband's pack. They're getting on a bit and John here says it's time to rejuvenate if I want to keep hunting.
But of course we've heard of the burglaries hereabouts and we thought we'd investigate a little. My own tenants may be the next victims. We've just visited one family that has been hit hard, and I cannot just return with any young dog you may want to let me buy. I need to help the families, they are in a bad way.'
The man bowed again, and spoke warmly.
'I have several promising young dogs I was going to keep, but are prepared to let you have, since you have the reputation of being such an excellent huntswoman. Well, and my liege lady, of course.
You know those families have no claim on you, don't you? They're not in your service, but rather obstinately independent.'
This man was downright eloquent, what was he doing in the middle of a forest, breeding hounds?
'I know they have no claim on me but you should have seen them. Neither of them is unscathed, without help every single one of them will end up crippled or dead. I cannot let that happen. I need a good doctor, one who can set bones that have healed in the wrong position, and who can convince a young farmer's son that concussion needs rest to be cured. There will be more broken bones to set and concussions to treat, for four other families were similarly hit.
The women have all been violated and the mother we saw was ill, she needs a female doctor or at least a midwife to check her insides, treat possible private diseases she may have caught, and especially help those women cope with the shame. If you know such a doctor and a midwife, please send for them, I will pay for their services.
But most of all, Mr Winfield, those families need protection. The perpetrators are not common burglars, they operate with such violence I'd call them brigands. I guess they may return to their former victims, they do not just want food or valuables, they want power, and they will target those women again and again until they are stopped. I want a messenger sent to the army base in town, to find out whether any soldiers are missing from the ranks.
And I want at least five strong men to guard those poor families, armed with rifles if at all possible. A few hounds would be very welcome, to give warning until the brigands are caught. Can you help me find any or all these essentials?'
Mr Winfield now smiled briefly, the matter was too serious for humour but he was obviously impressed with his liege lady.
'I do indeed know a doctor and a competent nurse, and since they are in town, half an hour's ride from here, I can send my youngest son on a fleet horse and have him ride by the army camp with a message for the colonel in charge as well. That will be three stones in one throw.
Now for protection I will volunteer. I can leave the missus here no problem, no man will pass my dogs, and she's right handy with a rifle herself. My eldest sons will accompany me, and believe me, the three of us are well-able to stand up to any fighters, even army deserters. There were three?'
'Eye-witnesses mentioned three, Mr Winfield, and believe me, three civilians,
no matter how well-armed and how fit, will not stand up to three trained soldiers. I suggest you find at least two more volunteers, preferably armed with rifles as well.'
Their host directed a very shrewd look at Dennis as he said this, but he did not question him.
'My fiancée, Mr Parker,' was all Agnes said. She couldn't very well add, a deserter himself, he knows what he's talking about. So she didn't.
Dennis shook hands with Mr Winfield, and managed not to look away from his stare, he must not show any sign of weakness, he was a noble, not a lowly soldier.
'In that case, I will take my three best dogs, and two men I hire whenever I need a little extra manpower. They can shoot, I can lend them a rifle each.
Shall we write those messages? I want my son to be back before dark, and I suppose you want to be on your way back before dark as well. Though you seem well-guarded, Mrs Beauchamp, I've never seen such a tall man in my life. My youngsters will proved a measure of safety as well, they're ten months old and almost grown. I think you'll like their accomplishments, too, they've come along quickly these last two months. Were you looking for dogs or bitches?'
'John advised one of each, I have a dog and two bitches already but the dog is getting frail. I was thinking of retiring him to the house until he dies. He was my late husband's, you see. I cannot bear the thought of putting him down.'
'Very well, we all have our favourites, Mrs Beauchamp. Shall I introduce your men to the available hounds to get acquainted while we write notes to doctors, nurses and officers?'
That was a magnificent idea, and proof this man stood behind his hounds one hundred percent.
Dick and John were delighted to be let into a large pen with at least ten young hounds, Mr Winfield pointing out five dogs that answered to their wishes.
Then he led the rest to a neat study with a large table and plenty of chairs.
They all sat down, and Agnes and their host dictated notes with Guy writing.
Then Mr Winfield left the room for a moment, apparently ringing a large bell outside. A large boy and three young men filed in, curious why they were summoned outside dinner hours.
'Greg, please saddle the red and ride to town with all speed. I have three notes that need to be delivered, all three are very important. Wait for a reply, send them to this address, your mother will give them further directions. Do not let
the guard dismiss you at the camp, you need to see the colonel himself, use Mrs Beauchamp's name if needed. Take care, there are brigands on the loose and a horse is valuable. Come get a handgun from me before you leave.'
The boy turned on his heels and ran off to saddle the horse, while his father took a handgun from a cupboard, loaded it carefully and put it in a belt pouch together with the letters.
'George, Stuart, Josh, you're coming with me to guard the farms that were attacked, and I want Victor as well. Bring your dogs and Blackear for me, and a rifle and a handgun each. I'll take the buggy for the dogs, you saddle a horse each. And have your mother load the buggy with some supplies, we'll order new foodstuffs.'
These three flew off as well. Mr Winfield had his sons well-trained, if the dogs were as obedient they'd have a good buy. But why would such an independent man go through such lengths for his liege lady? He owed her no obedience, he just leased hunting rights from Agnes.
'Mrs Beauchamp, Mr Parker, before we go pick out your hounds I have something to tell you. I have a suspicion where the brigands are hiding. We can let you choose your dogs and send you on your way, let the army handle their own problems, guarding those farms until they arrive. But other farms may be hit in the meantime, your tenants most likely, for there are no small-holders left to attack.
Or
we can leave my boys at the farms with their hounds, four boys and as many hounds, all well-trained, boys armed to the teeth, and drive on to a certain little hut in the woods ourselves, taking my Blackear and your young fry, I assure you, they're impressive and very obedient.
With your giant servant, your own marksmanship, myself and three large hounds I guess we'll have every chance to surprise these low-lifes. What do you say?'
'Yes. I want them taken out now, Agnes,' Dennis heard himself growl.
'The army moves slowly, they will take at least two days to decide what to do. Lives may be lost. Those women may never get over what happened.'
'Don't worry, Dennis, I'm not going to try and stop you. I'm in. Let's meet the dogs Dick and John have chosen for us, and set things to rights.'
Chapter 22
Half an hour later they were on their way, Mr Winfield and his hounds in his buggy, his sons and young helpers on horseback. Dennis was on the box with John, who was starting to get really fidgety, not surprisingly since John had no means to defend himself at all. His own mood surprised him more, ever since seeing the beaten-down shape of the mother at the table in that tiny, leaky house, Dennis had felt an anger build in him as he had rarely experienced before. He had never hated the enemy, he knew they were forced to fight as much as he had been.
But now, he hated those brigands, hated how they abused their superior training to hurt others. And for pleasure, for the defenceless farmers would have given up their resources without use of violence. But his hatred did not boil or steam, it was icy cold instead. Dennis knew he must seem very confident, and in fact he was deadly calm. It was a sensation he recognized from the past, it was the calm before battle, and he hadn't felt it in his last year of active service. The state he was in now was the ideal mood for a soldier, his senses open to the slightest noise or tiniest blink of the sun on metal. Nothing to take his energy before it was needed in action. Trauma had taken this feeling away, he had been fidgety before battle, fearful, as John was now, and he had often frozen in fear. But no more. Agnes had cured him, love had cured him, Dennis was back to stability.
Mr Winfield left his boys and their hounds at the edge of the first farm, it was early afternoon and they were eager to explore the territory they were going to protect. Dennis knew they'd be hurt if they really met up with the brigands, though the dogs would probably bear the brunt of an attack, but he was not going to draw Mr Winfields attention to himself again by protesting this excellent chance for the brigands to arm themselves and gain strong horses.
The brigands would not strike again, their own little crew would find them and take them out. Dennis didn't feel fear for himself and his loved ones, nor did he feel his usual distaste of violence. The idea of hurting these men, of possibly killing them, did not upset him. These weren't innocents, these were
rabid wolves out for the blood of others, and they needed to be put down as quickly as possible.
John and Guy would be safe enough behind the new hounds John and Dick had picked from the five available to them. The dog was a large brindle, self-assured but very obedient. The bitch was as black as the night, with yellow eyes, quite a frightening-looking creature, but John and Dick were both infatuated with her, and the look in Mr Winfield's eyes as they presented their pick to him spoke volumes: this was one of his best, and he did not like to let her go.
'That is my best youngster, Mrs Beauchamp,' he said, 'and I'll let you have her, because I trust she will live a happy, useful life with you. But I beg you to have a litter of those two, and send for me when the pups are eight weeks old, so I can choose the best bitch to replace her with.'
Agnes had readily agreed with this, they'd had puppies before and she loved taking care of the litters. She was inside the carriage now, with Dick, Guy and the two hounds, gun ready no doubt, probably nervous about what was to come.
In the middle of a rather gloomy forest Mr Winfield stopped his team and tied it to a tree off the road. John followed suit and offered to stay with the horses. Dennis could see he was desperately afraid to be alone in a forest where brigands were hiding, but in fact it was safer for him to stay than to come along.
'Will you stay here, too, Guy?' Agnes asked her butler and friend.
'I'll leave one rifle with you, it'll be safer than coming with us. Dick can take the hounds.'
Guy did not like the idea but he saw the sense in it. He could fight, but not good enough to tackle a deserter, and John could not stay all by himself, he was truly helpless against attack. At close quarters Guy could not handle a rifle, the chances of hitting one of his own were too great, he was no more than an average marksman. But at long range things were different, a rifle would give any brigand second thoughts about an attack, and the noise of a shot would bring the others right away.
'I'll stay with John. I don't think they move by daylight anyway, we'll be perfectly safe. I do prefer to have the rifle, though.'
So now the three of them followed their guide, who was obviously very capable of finding his way in the woods. Blackear ranged ahead, unleashed, and when he froze over a trail Mr Winfield observed, 'This was not made by
a deer, this is a man's trail. Look at the damage.'
Dennis was an expert tracker, there hadn't been any moors in France but plenty of forests, and he agreed with the hunter. They had struck the brigands'
track.
'The hut is that way, I propose we approach it with caution and from the back.
Will you take the rear, Dick, with those hounds, and keep a close eye on them? They'll warn you well before you can see someone approaching.'
Dick nodded, he seemed alert but not unduly afraid. He had the confidence of a very tall, strong man, he just couldn't imagine someone posing a serious threat to him. He did walk through the forest a lot quieter than Dennis would have expected for such a tall man. Of course the others never made a sound.
Right behind Dennis, Agnes showed only the slightest bit of fear, and Dennis guessed it was mainly fear for him, she knew he'd be in the thick of the fray and she couldn't know Dennis did not feel his usual qualms about killing. She expected him to aim to take those brigands out, which he would, but not at the cost of someone he loved.
A hut came into view, and Mr Winfield signaled them to stay put. He approached it cautiously, circled around, then came back.
'There's no-one home, no fire in the hearth, they're out plundering. Give Blackears one moment to catch their scent, and we'll pursue.'
He went into the hut in total disregard of his own safety and came out with a piece of clothing. Grinning, he held it in front of Blackears and let the hound get the scent.
'You may want to let yours get the scent, too, Dick, it'll let them practise their skills.'
Incredible! Did this man take those brigands at all seriously? Training dogs on a mission?
Dick checked with Agnes, who nodded briefly, then let his leashed duo sniff the garment. But not for long because Blackears, who had been systematically searching the bushes around the site, had found a fresh trail.
'This leads towards the farm I'd expect them to target next. It's relatively out of the way, like the freeholds. This is one of yours, though, ma'am. It's half an hour, but they're breaking a trail through the undergrowth, we can follow their tracks. I hope you're in good shape, if we want to save your people we're going to have to hurry.'
And he would have plunged headlong into the trail, Blackears far ahead of the four of them, had Dennis not intervened. This was all too clear-cut, too
easy. An enemy never left such a perfect trail to find, these fellows might be stupid or overconfident, but this could also be a trap. The brigands might have heard the carriages coming, they had left them within earshot, it was not unthinkable the three men were hidden in the bracken pretty close-by.
Following them heedlessly in single file would make their firearms useless, enabling the brigands to pick them off one by one. Time for some strategy in enemy territory.
> 'Please wait, Mr Winfield, and if you love that hound of yours, put it on a leash. This is not a game, these men are probably professional killers, and they most likely have a sentry posted at all times. They may have heard us coming, they could be lying in wait for us anywhere between here and their intended target. Following their trail in single file will leave us exposed to ambushes.'
The hunter turned towards Dennis and looked at him incredulously.
'Damn, but you're paranoid! Though I guess men are not deer, they may know they're being hunted. All right, what do you propose we do? You seem to know exactly how the army operates.'
Dennis ignored that slightly suspicious remark, he had to prevent the lot of them from being maimed or killed, it couldn't be helped.
'You say there is but one farm they can target from here?'
The hunter nodded and Dennis proposed, 'Then we can make our own way towards that farm, circumvening their trail, spread out slightly so we can all use our guns without risking friendly fire. We'll go in two pairs, ten feet apart, each including a hound, they are our best chance to spring a trap, with their superior noses and ears they can find what we cannot. If we spy the brigands we use a call to alert the other group. Then we reconvene to plan a strategy to subdue them.'
'And if they see us and attack before we can make a plan?'
'Then we fight, Mr Winfield.'
'Why leash Blackears?'
'A club swung from a patch of bracken downwind can kill him instantly, sir.'
'Damn, Mr Parker, you're right again. Let's march quickly then, will you go with your lady?'
'I was going to suggest I go with Dick, let's spread the hounds among us. I know Dick and I are probably the best hand-to-hand fighters, but you both have a handgun, you would do well to prevent physical contact with these men; you, sir, cannot win any more than Mrs Beauchamp can. Truly! And
Mistress Agnes Page 33
