"It is, indeed!" exclaimed Morris.
Falcon said, "So the League had their sticky fingers in the pie!"
His question still unanswered, Jonathan muttered, "Then Hibbard Green's part of it! I'll wring his filthy neck."
"Excellent notion," said Falcon. "When we're safe away."
Jonathan said, "Yes. Jennifer, I hate to ask it of you, but you know the area so well. Could you creep around a little outside and see if there are any torches on the moor?"
Morris started to speak, caught Jonathan's look of warning and said nothing. Glad to be of some use, Jennifer went out at once.
Low voiced, Jonathan said, "I'd not told you of it, but she is being forced into marriage with Hibbard Green."
"Good God!" cried Morris. "They ought to be shot!"
Falcon said, "If she has agreed—"
"She has," said Jonathan. "Under the pressure of blackmail. It seems that Green has the power to destroy her family, and she is prepared to sacrifice herself to save them."
"One trusts," drawled Falcon, "you mean to put a stop to such heroic nonsense."
"You may believe I do. They must fend for themselves.
I'm taking her away with me tonight. I'm far from a worthy suitor, but—"
"A blasted cockroach would be a better suitor than that overstuffed atrocity," said Morris.
Falcon said dryly, "You're never likely to receive a finer compliment than that, Captain!"
"Oh, he knows what I mean," said Morris. "Never fear, dear boy. Tummet is waiting for us, and we'll take you both in the coach, with us. Go straight to Breton Ridge. The poor lady will be safe there, for tonight, at least."
Falcon gave a derisive snort. "Safe, my aunt's corset!"
Aiding Taylor to stand, Morris was suddenly very still. In a voice seldom heard, he said, "I'll have an explanation of that remark, sir."
"Why? Are you blind? Your lordly cousin is in this up to his tonish eyebrows! And I'd not be surprised if that starchy wife of his—"
Morris hissed, "You—lie!"
Falcon said silkily, "We'll discuss that remark later."
Jennifer hurried back in to report that there was no sign of searchers on the moor. 'The rain has stopped," she said, "but 'tis a sea of mud, and the wind is coming up." She sensed a tension among them, and glanced curiously from the imperturbable Falcon to Morris's unwontedly grim expression.
Jonathan said, "Thank you, m'dear. Then we place ourselves in your capable hands once more. Let's get on!"
Two hours later, Falcon massaged his foot and groaned, "Where in the deuce is Tummet?"
Straining his eyes through the windy darkness, Jonathan answered, "The only lights I see are far off, near the mine."
"Aye," said Morris, yawning. "They're torches. The hunt's up."
They had reached this clump of small trees just south of Castle Triad, and had taken shelter while they waited for Tummet and the carriage. The journey across the moors had been tiring, the wind buffeting them as they'd trudged and slid through waterlogged turf and clinging hampering mud.
Once again, it had been Jennifer's knowledge of the area that had brought them safely through, for several times she'd warned of gullies or bogs hidden by the darkness. Even so, Falcon had drifted too far from the group, and found himself sinking inexorably. It had taken both Morris and Jonathan to drag him clear, and he'd sworn in frustration because both his shoes had been sucked off by the bog. He'd been limping noticeably by the time they reached this spot, but in response to Jennifer's sympathetic enquiry had declared blithely that he was ready to dance the quadrille did she feel so inclined. She had declined the offer and was now cradled in Jonathan's arms, half asleep.
Taylor also was asleep. Morris said, "At least he don't have a ball lodged in him. If we can get him out of this accursed wind, he'll go along well enough, I fancy."
"If Tummet ever comes for us, that is," qualified Falcon.
"We can't wait long," said Jonathan. "They'll surely hunt us down within an hour or so, and I'd not give much for our chances."
Falcon nodded. "Very true. They'll not dare let us live. You realise what they're about, Captain Jack?"
"Mercenaries, I'd guess. Brought here to be trained and equipped, then sent out to mingle with the populace."
Morris asked, "For what purpose? Robbery? Spying?"
"Probably," said Falcon. "But more, I'd guess. You've not been in Town of late, Armitage. There's unrest everywhere. Malcontents playing on the public mind, losing no opportunity to cast slurs on the aristocracy and those in power. I'd not be surprised was the League behind most of it."
"Be dashed if you ain't in the right of it," agreed Morris, forgetting he was not speaking to Falcon. "Only a week or two since, I was set upon by a mob of varmints, who nigh—"
Jonathan interrupted, "Your pardon, Jamie. But we cannot wait any longer. I've got to get Miss Britewell away."
"If you mean to appropriate some of her father's ponies, I'm with you, dear boy."
Falcon said dryly, "And you'd be with him when they rode you down. You're not in Kent now. It's a hell of a ride before you'd reach anyone willing to help. Chances are they'd come up with you miles from anywhere. I doubt you'd ever be seen again."
"I agree. Our best escape route is by sea." The idea had been hovering on the fringes of Jonathan's mind since they'd left the mine. But even now, the thought of venturing on the ocean again brought a chilling fear, and he was grateful that his voice hadn't betrayed him.
Morris said dubiously, "Could we find a boat?"
"There's one ready and waiting, can we but get to it."
Falcon gave a sudden snort of laughter. "You villain! You mean to steal Green's schooner!"
Jonathan smiled grimly and touched Jennifer's cold cheek. "Wake up, brave one. We've to be on our way again."
She blinked up at him, then sat straight and said apologetically, "Oh! I have delayed you!"
"No such thing. But we need our infallible guide to tell us how we may get down to the beach without being stopped."
"There is no other way than those you know of. But—why the beach? If you need horses, I will get you mounts."
"Horses won't serve, I'm afraid. And you go with us."
Distressed, she said, "But I must go home first! I cannot leave my family without a word of farewell!"
"Hibbard Green has put out the word that I've abducted you. We believe that the men he's gathered at the Blue Rose are trained to go about London promoting uprisings and sedition. He very likely thinks that you are aware of what is going on. And—I'm sorry, my love, but I think your father is also aware."
Horrified, she exclaimed, "No, no! Papa would never act 'gainst England! Howland might have sold passage to some unfortunate Jacobite gentlemen, but he wouldn't—"
"Howland was in the mine with Green tonight," he interposed. "If you go home, Jennifer, you'll be trapped and never know another free moment for so long as you live. I won't have that. If you've relations you can stay with, we'll take you there. If not, I've Mends and family who will care for you." She gave a muffled sob, and he hugged her briefly as he assisted her to her feet. "It's hard, I know, but you must leave with me. Now."
Morris helped Taylor up. "Off we go! From treason to piracy on the high seas! Faith, but 'tis a busy life we lead!"
It was very late now, and there was no one about. As they approached the cliffs, they could discern the running lights of a vessel far out across the sands, and the loom of the new dock, dim seen when the moon threw occasional shafts of silver through the scurrying clouds.
Morris said sharply, "Someone's creeping about! See there!"
A faint London voice called, "That you… Guv?"
"Tummet!" Falcon hobbled to bend over the kneeling figure of his unorthodox valet, and say anxiously, "If you mean to expire, pray do not. Rossiter is sure to blame me!"
"I ain't meaning to… turn up me toes," gasped Tummet. "Just run… coupla 'undred miles… is all. Don't think as I can g
et on me stampers fer a bit, mate."
Reassured, Falcon grumbled, "I collect you've lost the coach."
"Not the way you think. When you didn't come, I left the team in the bushes, and—and I crept round the stables wiv me ear 'oles on the stretch. Two coves rid in… all of a garden-gate—Er, I mean—"
"Yes, I know what you mean, and we don't need your rhyming cant just now so try to speak plain English. What were they in a state about?"
"They said as the gent wiv the evil eyes"—there was a breathy laugh—"meaning you, guv—and Crazy Jack, 'ad stole Miss Britewell, and that 'is lordship Green 'ad yer trapped in the mine. Proper uproar there was. So I gets the coach and drives 'ell fer leather to that there new mine road. Only in the dark I lost me bearings a bit, and finished up by that big fella's 'ouse."
"Holsworth?" asked Jonathan.
"Ar, one arm 'e got. Some of the cliff's fallen dahn where that little stream goes over the edge. I didn't see it till the nags starts rearing up. I got throwed out, and the team bolted, and there I was—wallering in mud like any 'og!"
Falcon said, "So you ran all the way back to tell me you lost the team, did you?"
"In—in a manner o' speaking, Guv. They've all gorn daft in that there village. Some men come outta the mine yelling that you and Crazy Jack 'ad turned yerselves into birds, and flew orf wiv Miss Jennifer!"
"Idiots!" snorted Falcon.
'True," said Morris. "They're part of 'the herd of such, who think too little and talk too much.'"
Falcon groaned.
Tummet said, "That's as may be, Lieutenant. But 'is lordship's got 'em proper stirred up, and says as that nice little widder lady's in league wiv you, and that you're all in league wiv Old Nick!"
"Good heavens!" cried Jennifer. "Look there! Someone's house must be on fire!"
"It ain't no 'ouse, miss," said Tummet. "It's why I run. I knowed as you'd want it stopped. They've got the little widder, Guv. They're set on burning 'er for a witch!"
Jonathan ran steadily, spurred on by the ever brightening leap of flames against the night sky and by the terrible howling voice of a mindless mob. His weariness was forgotten now, blotted out by the fear that he might already be too late. He'd left Tummet to guard Jennifer and Taylor, having first extracted a promise from his lady that she would not go to the castle, and that if he was unable to return, she would seek out his father in London. He wondered if Falcon and Morris were still following. If he was alone, so be it. The responsibility was his. He owed his life to the good-hearted little widow, who was no more a witch than his own dear mother had been. His prayer was that Noah would protect her. If he was able…
Thanks to Tummet, he was on the lookout for the landslide, and when he came near to Holsworth's cottage, he was able to jump the wider gap above Devil's Ladder. His boots were caked with mud however, and skidded out from under him, so that he fell and then slid for several yards. He could see the crowd now, and gave a gasp of relief because the flames were from the burning brands they flourished, and not from the pile of wood that had been gathered about a pole in front of the tavern.
He picked himself up, panting, and clutching at his side, and heard someone call his name. Holsworth was fast bound to the signpost outside Gundred's shop. Hauling out his pocket knife, Jonathan went to him and started to slash feverishly at the ropes.
Holsworth half-sobbed, "I prayed as ye'd come, Jack! I knew you'd feel ye owed the poor soul. I tried… I tried to stop 'em, but they're too many, and gone blood mad, besides! They took my hook off, and—and they said I'd be lucky if I didn't burn with her! Folks I've known all my life, Jack! Friends, I thought! Can ye not get it, man?"
"This damned knife is blunt, but I'll cut through. Is the widow harmed?"
"Not bad, I think. They stoned her when she tried to run away. You—you know what that's like, eh?"
Jonathan's lips tightened. He did indeed know. He said, "You warned me it might come to this."
"Aye, but I don't think I believed it me own self. And likely it'd have been no more'n a few rocks throwed, but Lord Green come and opened the tavern and there was free ale and rum fer every man. And him and that shifty-eyed Silas of his and a crowd of ugly customers I never saw before starts whipping folks up! And now they mean to—"
Jonathan cut through the ropes at last, and Noah gasped a fervent, "Thank the good Lord! My feet, Jack! Make haste! They're bringing her, poor little soul! She looks half dead already!"
Jonathan jerked his head around and caught a glimpse of Mrs. Newlyn. Her cap was gone, her wild hair wilder yet, and there was blood on her white terrified face. Hibbard Green's manservant, and Wally Pughill, his face flushed with drink, were dragging her along. All about her were shouting, angry men, and excited wide-eyed boys, caught up in the unthinking, inhuman lusting that is mob violence.
Jonathan groaned a curse and tore at the knotted ropes about Holsworth's ankles.
"They're binding her to the stake," groaned Holsworth. "And 'tis my wood they've stole! Using my own wood to murder that—that dear, good woman! My God in heaven, listen to them howl! What use a thousand years of civilisation?"
'Very little,' thought Jonathan. 'At best a paper-thin veneer over savagery!' And he said, "There! Can you walk?"
Holsworth took a step, then reeled and clung to him, but said, "How can we make 'em see reason?"
"They're far past reasoning with. We must fight fire with fire. Do you get in the tavern. Set it alight. That'll cause more confusion and I'll try to get her free."
Holsworth went weaving off. The crowd was gathered about the stake. Praying that the little woman would not die of fright, Jonathan circled around to the back of Gundred's shop, coming up along the far side. The shop was empty. He ran in, snatched a dagger from a rack of weapons, and raced out again as a new outcry went up.
Hibbard Green stood before the stake holding a burning brand high. "Confess your sins, witch," he boomed. "Admit that you and the evil man we called Crazy Jack were sent by your master, the devil, to capture Miss Britewell, and drag her into hell with you!"
The widow's reddened frantic eyes were fixed on the brand he held. "It's not true," she sobbed. "I'm no witch, I swear it!"
Howls and catcalls greeted her words, stones flew, and the poor woman shrank and begged piteously for mercy.
"Confess!" roared Green. "Do you wish to die with the weight of guilt on your immortal soul? Name your conspirator before we send you to meet your master!"
"I've done—nothing wrong," she wailed. "Nor has Jack, and—" Her words ended in a shrill scream as Green thrust the torch into the wood pile.
There was a sudden silence.
Jonathan edged nearer, rage in his heart. "Hurry, Noah!" he breathed. "For the love of—"
"Fire! Fire! The tavern's ablaze!"
That dread howl knifed through the hush, and the attention of the crowd shifted. Perhaps many were glad not to have to watch the widow's agony. Perhaps their consciences shrank from what they had done. Whatever the cause, there was a renewed hubbub as some raced for water barrels and buckets, and others ran inside the burning tavern to salvage what they might.
Jonathan ran up behind the stake. The flames were higher at the front, and he was able to slash the ropes quickly with the razor-sharp dagger he'd appropriated. "Courage, ma'am," he said softly. "It's Jack, and Noah's here to help you."
He couldn't tell if she answered, but her frenzied struggles ceased. Seizing her by the arm, he whipped her back to him. Holsworth raced up and beat at the smouldering hem of her gown.
Hibbard Green had not left the pyre however, and his great voice howled, "The looby's here! Get him! Get him!"
"Run!" shouted Jonathan.
Noah and the widow fled into the night. Jonathan saw Green bearing down on him, his fleshy face contorted into a mask of hatred. This was one of the men whose schemes had destroyed a fine ship and many lives; who had ruined him, and doomed him to a long hell of shame and suffering that had almost cost him his reaso
n. And this beast had dared—had dared to lust after the peerless Jennifer! The urge for self-preservation was swept away by a primitive fury. With an inarticulate growl, he sprang forward.
Expecting Jonathan to run for his life, his lordship was startled, and drew back instinctively, then flailed the brand he held. Jonathan smashed it aside and drove his right fist savagely at the flabby jaw. Green yelled and reeled back, but he was no coward, and his ham-like left shot out. Ducking it, Jonathan bored in again, aiming one powerful blow after another so effectively that Green fell back and strove to cover his face. Exultant, Jonathan sent a right jab at the bloated midriff with all his strength behind it. Green gulped and his eyes started from his head. Leaping for the throat, Jonathan heard enraged shouts behind him. A cudgel was whipping at his head, with Silas's grinning face behind it. He flung up his arm and diverted the blow that would certainly have brained him, but the shock sent splinters of pain from wrist to shoulder, and his arm fell helplessly.
He thought, 'Blast! It's broken!' then was gasping in anguish as ruthless hands seized him, forcing him to his knees.
Blurrily, he saw Green tottering towards him, supported by Silas and another bully. Almost incoherent with rage, his lips bloodied, one eye blackened, and a tooth conspicuous by its absence, Green choked out, "You—damnable—spy! Rossiter sent you here—own it!"
Jonathan looked up at Death, and smiled. "Yes," he lied. 'They know about your traitorous conniv—"
Green uttered a gobbling snort of fury, and kicked out. Jonathan doubled up and hung on the hands of his captors, blinded, deaf, sobbing for breath. They were hauling him up. Flames were very near, but he was conscious of little but pain, and voices came to him echoingly.
"Burn him!"
"Where's the witch?"
"She can burn later! We'll get her! Onto the fire with him!"
Heat, and rough hands. His left arm was most assuredly broken… Jennifer, my love, my own… God keep—
"Stop! Stop! I am here—do you not see? Nobody kidnapped me!"
A Shadow's Bliss Page 25
