The Highwayman

by Eleanor Musgrove

  “I'll keep us fed, father. I had to spend a lot on my disguise, but it will keep me safe while I support us.”

  “Robbing for a living?”

  “I'll try not to harm anyone who doesn't harm me. And I'll target the rich, the ones who can spare it. Pa, I can't see you and Ma and the little ones starve, and we both know what Mother and I can bring in as seamstresses won't do.”

  “...Happen it won't,” her father admitted, “so you do what you feel is best, Annie, and I'll thank you for every crumb.”

  The following morning, Anne set out to collect the work she should have picked up yesterday, with profuse apologies for the sudden – mercifully brief – sickness that had gripped her family. It was as she was delivering a finished dress to the butcher's wife that she heard the news.

  “My Arthur didn't come home again last night,” the woman told her, “sleeping off the drink in a ditch, he says. He tells me the inn up the road – you know, by the moor – was raided last night, redcoats turfed everyone out. Well, Arthur's had a few too many, so he can't exactly walk home, and the ostler's nowhere to be seen. So he just goes a way up the road and passes out drunk.”

  “Really? I'm sorry, it must be a great worry to you when he doesn't come home.”

  “Oh, yes, but I'm used to that. There's worse things a man can do than drink. Arthur reckons the landlord's daughter's been having some sort of love affair with a highwayman – you know, the one that's been doing over all them toffs around here? Redcoats seemed to be watching for something in particular, all up at the windows they was, and then Art wakes up close by midnight because he can hear hoofbeats coming. And it's only the bloody highwayman himself, ain't it? And Art thinks oh, look out, he's about to watch a man die in the street. But then this shot rings out, and the highwayman looks like he's going to keep on, for a minute. But he turns round and rides off, just a few hundred yards before he would have passed Art. And from the inn, all Art hears is people shouting. 'She shot herself, the foolish wench!' and 'all to warn that villain-' and then 'oh, he's getting away!'.”

  “Shot herself?” Anne could feel her face going grey with anguish, blood draining from her features. “How... how horrible.”

  “Yeah. Art can see through the window, and she's just standing there, head bowed over this musket, blood streaming everywhere. That's when he decided he'd better crawl off home after all.”

  “Well, thank God he got home safe,” Anne told her, mind already racing. “Excuse me, please, I have to be somewhere else.”

  “But your payment-”

  “I'll come back for it another day!” She was already running back to her horse, who was waiting patiently in the stable with no idea of the speed required of her.

  Her horse kicked up the dust as she galloped towards the inn, screaming terrible oaths into the morning sky. She was a harpy bent on destruction, blind Justice emerging from a plume of smoke to smite wrongdoers. She was a lover out for revenge. She was almost at the gates of the inn, all grief and fear and rage, when a small, familiar figure stepped in front of her horse and she nearly ran him down.

  “Tim?” She swung down from the saddle and clutched at his arms, the strength suddenly draining from her. “Is it true? They said Bess- they told me, in the town, they said Bess shot herself. They said she's dead, Tim, she can't be dead.”

  “She's not, but she did. I mean, she- they tied her up and she pulled the trigger, but-” He opened his palm to reveal a musket-ball. Anne stared at it, bewildered.

  “I don't understand-”

  “They had me load the gun. So they could stop her warning him – they were going to shoot her, Anne, I never wanted them to shoot her. I only wanted her safe from him.” Anne stared at him, uncomprehending, then her eyes darted back to the musket-ball in his hand.

  “You made them think it was loaded, and you kept the bullet.” Tim had been a pickpocket before he'd been an ostler, she remembered Bess telling her once – she'd even seen him make things disappear, seemingly into thin air, usually to delight small children. She could certainly believe he'd done the same to save his beloved Bess.

  “I made them all think it was loaded. Even Bess didn't see. She tried to kill herself to warn him, and I don't know how to help her. They won't let her go 'til he comes.”

  “Well, then, what were they doing hanging a red coat up in full view?”

  “You saw that? That was me. I thought- if he means that much to Bess- I had to help her.”

  “Well, thank you, Tim.” She took a deep breath, trying to think their way out of this mess.

  “You saved a life tonight. Now let's see if we can save Bess, too.” She threw herself forwards, clutching at him, her shoulders rising and falling as if she was sobbing, words pitched low enough for Tim alone to hear.

  “Listen, Tim, I need you to tell them I've just escaped the highwayman. He's got my cousins, my aunt, my uncle – they're all still trapped in the carriage, out beyond the forest. Do you understand?”

  “Not really, but I'll tell them. Attacked by the highwayman, beyond the forest, family trapped. Right?”

  “Right. Go now. Go!” She raised her voice and wailed. “Please, somebody help my family – my cousins are barely more than little girls!”

  Fortunately, the redcoats were not immune to the lure of glory, especially when it came with the opportunity to complete their original objective. No sooner had Tim relayed her story than Anne found herself surrounded by concerned-looking men, and no sooner had she confirmed it than the whole company marched off en masse to hunt the villain down and save her imaginary family. Tim turned to her with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Now what are we going to do? They'll realise you lied, and they'll come back, and they'll hurt Bess-”

  “No, they won't. Take me to her.”

  Tim led her in through a back door, sparing her the necessity of speaking to the landlord for a moment. As he pushed open the doorway to Bess' bedroom, Anne's heart stuttered at the sight of blood. Had this all been for nothing? Had Bess shot herself, after all? But then that bloodied head rose from its position bowed over the musket, and Bess managed a shaky smile as Anne pulled the gag away from her mouth.

  “Anne. You're alive. You should probably run.”

  “Bess- oh, Bess, what happened?”

  “Tried to fire the gun. Didn't work. They didn't like it much.” She spoke as if she had a bad cold, and Anne realised that all the blood was coming from her face.

  “They hurt you?”

  “Just my nose. It was a decent punch,” Bess admitted, “are they gone?”

  “For now.” Anne hadn't stopped to think about the long-term consequences of her lie, and now she needed to start planning, fast. “Oh, Bess. You shot yourself, to warn him?” She was working at the knots as she spoke, keen to separate the woman from the musket as much as from the ropes themselves. “No man is worth your life.”

  “You are,” Bess argued softly as the knots gave way, “my life would be nothing without you.”

  “And I'd rather die a thousand deaths than live a day without you. If they'd shot me down as I rode here, thinking you were dead, I'd have let them. I'd have let them, Bess, because without you-”

  “You're the highwayman.”

  Anne turned to find Tim staring at her in horror. They'd forgotten he was there, and now their secret was out. Anne only hoped that Tim would remember the way the redcoats had treated his Bess.

  “Yes. Yes, Tim, I am, but I try not to hurt anyone-”

  “She loves you. And you came to save her.”

  “I did. I love her too, Tim, please don’t-”

  “I’ll help you.” Anne was so astonished, she fell silent, and Tim turned to Bess. There were tears in his eyes, catching the sun as it streamed in through the casement. “I love you too, Bess, but I’ve done a rotten job showing it. It was me brought the redcoats - but I didn’t mean for them to hurt you. I never wanted that, honest. And I didn’t-”

  “Tim, it’s all rig
ht.” Bess was glancing around anxiously, no doubt as keenly aware of time passing as Anne was. Tim reached out as if to grab her hands, but caught himself before he could.

  “It’s not all right, it’s not, but I promise I didn’t know you loved him - er, her - that much. I didn’t know the highwayman loved you.”

  “Well, I do,” Anne told him, “and now I have to work out how we get out of this.”

  Bess hesitated, then put an arm around Tim’s shoulders and drew him over to the other side of the room, talking quietly. Anne didn’t bother to listen; she had a plan to make, and fast. Once the redcoats realised that there had been no robbery, she and Bess were both in trouble. They might both be carted off to prison for conspiring with the highwayman, or kept until he rode to their rescue, which of course he couldn’t. They needed to get away, and they didn’t have a lot of time to do it. Anne was the highwayman; she’d got them into this trouble, and she’d get them out of it. She just had to think of something. Anything. But no ideas came.

  “Anne. Annie, love of my life, listen to me. We need to leave.” She blinked; Bess was before her, brow furrowed in concern, and Anne didn’t remember her getting there. She shook her head.

  “I don’t know how we’ll get away without being followed.”

  “Don’t overthink it, dear heart. Tim’s letting my father out, so we can say goodbye. He’ll look after your parents, and your brother, and your little sisters - I know he will, Anne, he’ll understand. He’s a good man, my father.”

  “Not like me,” Anne agreed quietly. “I could run, try to convince them they’ve got the wrong woman. You could stay-”

  “I don’t want to. And it’s not going to be a problem. We’ll put it about that you’ve gone as my chaperone to my aunt’s. Well, Father will do it. Getting me out of the way of a bad influence, and all that.”

  “I- will your aunt-?”

  “I should think so. If not, we’ll just carry on to somewhere else. Father won’t be moving away, nor your family, I’d wager, so we’ll know where to find them.”

  “But- without the gold- we haven’t any money to go somewhere else.”

  “Annie, my darling, we’ll get some. You can teach me your trade.”

  “You want to be a seamstress?”

  “No, I’d rather serve at whichever tavern we end up nearest - but your other trade, if we find we need a little help to get ourselves settled. Two highwaymen are better than one, don’t you think?”

  “I- but I-”

  “Unless you don’t want to go. You’d probably be safe enough here, if you want-”

  “Of course I’ll go with you. I just- I thought I’d have to come up with a plan.”

  “You’re not the only one who can think on her feet, you know. I need to go down and say goodbye to my father, I don’t know when it will next be safe to come home.”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll come with you. I suppose there’s no time to see my parents-”

  “We’ll visit when the fuss dies down. It’s far enough away to be safe, I’m sure.”

  Bess’ father was understandably distraught, but he understood that his daughter couldn’t be safe while she stayed under his roof, not now the redcoats had her scent. Bess didn’t say anything about Anne’s double identity, nor the nature of their relationship, but perhaps the innkeeper understood the urgency of his daughter’s request that he look after Anne’s family for her. Whether he did or not, when Bess ran upstairs to pack what few possessions she would take with her, he drew Anne aside.

  “You take care of my Bess, you hear? You take good care of her.”

  “I promise, sir. It’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

  “Hm. Well, you see to that. And be safe, the pair of you.”

  “Wait - what about Tim?”

  “Oh, he’ll be all right. I’ll lock him in with me and claim the highwayman overpowered him and carried you off. The redcoats won’t hurt him, don’t worry. I may have been caught off-guard when they came for Bess, but I’ll not let them near my boy.”

  “You know, don’t you, that he-?”

  “That it was Tim as tipped the soldiers off? Yes, I know - and I know he never expected them to use my Bess so cruelly. Reckon he’s learned some hard lessons today.”

  “So you’ll look after him?”

  “Of course. Haven’t I looked after him until now? Poor boy’s tried so hard to obey the law of late, he started thinking it could do no wrong. He’ll do no more harm, he’s promised me that. And his first job once the redcoats have gone is to tell your parents you’re safe and away with Bess.”

  Bess returned at that very moment, carrying a hastily-packed bag, and kissed her father’s cheek.

  “Papa, we must go. They’re coming over the hill, already, and we mustn’t be here when they reach us. Tim! Tim, where are you?” The boy scurried in and Bess enveloped him in a tight hug. “Look after Papa for me. I’ll see you both again one day, I’ll make sure of that.”

  “I’m really sorry-”

  “I know.” She kissed his forehead and the poor boy looked as if he might melt into nothing on the spot. Anne knew the feeling; Bess had that effect on her, too.

  When Bess let Tim go and stepped outside to load her possessions onto the horse he’d brought around for her, Anne lingered.

  “I really am sorry-” Tim began again, this time addressing Anne, and she shook her head.

  “I know you are, and I forgive your mistake. But I’m afraid I need to make sure they don’t suspect you. For your own safety. Do you understand?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a black eye from a friend,” Tim told her with a shrug, “grew up on the streets, didn’t I? Besides, I’ve earned one.” Anne couldn’t find it in her heart to argue with that. Still, she tried to pull her punch as much as she dared.

  Tim and his freshly-blacked eye - already beginning to swell up - stumbled into the room where the innkeeper had been locked away, and tripped into a shelf.

  “I’m fine - more bruised is good anyway, right?”

  “Don’t demolish my shelves,” Bess’ father groused as he shuffled in behind him. “Lock us in, then, Anne, and God speed you.”

  “I’m sorry about all this. Do you have an extra key, in case they don’t come back? You could hide it in here somewhere-”

  “The ring behind the bar.” Anne found it and tossed it to him, then shut the door and turned the key she’d found in the lock. Taking it out and tossing it atop the bar, she fled into the dark courtyard and mounted her horse, who’d been waiting patiently all the while. Bess, beside her, took one last look at the inn and then nodded.

  “Time to go.” They took off into the night as if all the hounds of Hell itself were on their heels - and not a moment too soon, for no sooner had they made it out of sight than the redcoats hammered on the door of the inn once more.

  When, some miles away, the two women finally dared to slow down and catch their breath, Bess turned to Anne.

  “I’m sorry - I suppose you’ve lost the prize you worked so hard for.”

  “My parents know where it’s hidden and what to do with it; that’s the most important thing. And I’ve come away with a prize much more valuable than gold.”

  “Perhaps they’d share a little of it, when we visit them?”

  “Oh, we can always get more gold,” Anne told her airily, “but we are definitely going back for Tristan’s clothes.”

  “I’ll say.” Bess swooned dramatically in her saddle, and they both burst out laughing. Then a horn blared in the distance, and the time for mirth was over. They urged their horses on through the darkness.

  ~*~

  One year later

  “And still, on a winter’s night, they say-”

  The innkeeper stopped short, ears straining in the darkness. Tim didn’t protest the abrupt ending of the tale; he, too, had heard the hoofbeats on the road. Tlot-tlot. Tlot-tlot. It was very late, almost morning, and surely nobody could have business at the inn - except, pe
rhaps…

  “Bess!” Tim leapt up and ran to the window that had once been hers, peering out into the night. The wind tugged at his hair and clothes, but he paid no attention to the cold, focusing instead on the winding road and the hoofbeats echoing through the frosty night. The innkeeper came to stand behind him, and they watched as two highwaymen came riding up to the old inn door.

  Over the cobbles they clattered, the inn-yard ringing with the metallic clang of horseshoes on stone. As Tim watched, one tapped with his whip on the shutters, before the other pointed up at the open window and leapt down from the saddle.

  “Father! Tim!” And he ran inside.

  The highwayman still seated removed the mask from his eyes and took off his hat, revealing Anne’s familiar face. By the time she’d dismounted, there was no sign of the innkeeper or his ostler, who had no doubt rushed to meet their visitor halfway up the stairs. Uncertain of her place in the reunion, she lingered in the courtyard, and for want of a better occupation, began to whistle. She’d only got a few bars into her favourite tune when a sweet voice from above reached her ears.

  “-And I'll never prove false to the girl I love