Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery

by John Pilkington

  ***

  Despite everything it was rather a good supper, and I saw no reason to refuse it. It bought me time, to find means to get Francis Mountford to reveal the names of his fellow Concord Men, if that were possible. Legally, I had no powers save that of any gentleman who chose to swear out a warrant for another man’s arrest. More, I was alone, and it crossed my mind more than once that Mountford could decide to take desperate measures - as he had done with his uncle, who soon featured as the chief topic of our discussion.

  I had been at pains to eat no more than my fill, and to drink sparingly; tempting as Mountford’s fine wines were to the palate, I had no desire to let them cloud my judgement.

  ‘So, this man Willett confessed to killing John,’ he said, as we ate our roasted capon and sallet. ‘Would he be related to Jonas Willett, who once worked for us?’

  ‘I think you know that he’s his son,’ I replied. ‘For you loaned him money to establish his own foundry, on the Newerne stream… or had it slipped your mind?’

  ‘Ah, yes…’ Francis nodded. ‘And did you meet the old man on your travels?’

  ‘He’s dying,’ I said shortly. ‘And in misery, now that his son’s languishing in Gloucester Castle, facing the gallows.’

  In truth, I was finding myself disconcerted by my host’s casual manner. What was he planning? I wondered. The answer, in fact, would come later… but for now, he appeared to enjoy playing the wealthy and assured landowner.

  ‘Appalling,’ he said, with a shake of his head. ‘As I recall, the son was something of a rogue. Likely we’ll never know what passed between him and John Mountford.’

  ‘You know what passed,’ I said, striving to keep emotion from my voice.

  ‘As for this Spaniard,’ Francis said, as if he had not heard me, ‘I confess I’m at a loss. I know no such man…’

  ‘He went as a Turk named Yakup,’ I said, cutting him short. ‘He sailed with Captain Spry… the one who brought your uncle’s corpse home. I might add that Spry has since fled, seeing that justice would soon be upon him. As to Yakup: after he was prevented from taking my life, I was present at his interrogation. Justice March knew a Spaniard when he saw one.’

  This produced a frown, but it was quickly suppressed.

  ‘Moreover, I spoke earlier of Tobias Russell, your foundry-master,’ I continued. ‘I might have said that his was not the only death that occurred down in Lydney. A man named Peck died too - also slain by Willett. But before he died, he told me something of interest. I speak now of the Concord Men.’

  There, it was said. I had not intended to speak those words just yet, but I was growing weary of the discourse. Sitting back, I took a sip of wine and watched my adversary closely.

  ‘Ah… now I see.’ Francis had taken up his own cup, which he set down carefully. He was a difficult man to read, I had decided… and I was somewhat unprepared for what followed.

  ‘You name Justice March,’ he said, seemingly pondering the matter. ‘And you too, of course, are a former Justice. But now, I think I see why you come here alone. For surely you did not intend to arrest me?’

  I made no answer, but continued to watch him.

  ‘After all, the motives of those wretches in the prison – Willett, and the Turk-who’s-really-a-Spaniard - are unlikely to come under close scrutiny when they face trial, are they? Since as you say, both men have confessed already?’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t know Thomas March,’ I replied. ‘Like me, he’s an old-fashioned sort who believes in retribution. He’ll spare no effort in having the matter aired.’

  ‘Provided both men come to trial,’ Mountford said then. And when I tensed, he added: ‘As I recall, Gloucester Castle’s little more than a tumbledown ruin. All the prisoners crowded into one cell… it’s not uncommon for some to perish of sickness, or even from a brawl. You understand me, I think.’

  I made no reply, whereupon the man at last unsheathed the first of what his wife had called his weapons.

  ‘Yet, in case you do not,’ he added, ‘I will make matters clear. At a word from me, both of those men would die. Hence, Justice March would have no trial to preside over - and those sworn confessions you claim to have would be worthless. Provided, that is, they were genuine in the first place.’

  I had no answer to that. I might say that, throughout my life, I have rarely under-estimated a man’s intellect, but this occasion could have been one of them. All through the meal Mountford had been calculating, and among his conclusions was that the confessions I carried were probably bogus. For he knew his hired men: the brutal Russell, the stone-hearted Yakup, and Peter Willett. Having made his opening play, he eyed me shrewdly.

  ‘So, Belstrang,’ he said at last. ‘You begin to see what sort of ground you’re treading, I think. As I said, you come here alone - and no doubt you value your life as much as I do mine. This… this marsh you seem to have wandered into - like the one down at Lydney - can prove to be deadly to a man who does not know the paths. Yet here you are, enjoying my table… as you will enjoy a night in the chamber that is being prepared for you. And in the morning…’

  He broke off, took up a jug and refilled my cup to the brim, before topping up his own. Then he lifted it, and with a sardonic look, made a salute.

  ‘In the morning we’ll trade, shall we? Your health and prosperity, sir - and may they both last.’

  But I did not join him in the toast. And when at last I went to bed in that well-appointed chamber at Foxhill, I was prey to a confusion of thoughts as to how I might proceed on the morrow.

  On the landing, guided by a servant bearing a candle, I passed the door to Sir Richard’s room - but any thoughts I might have harboured about venturing in were dashed. Outside the door sat a heavy-built fellow, eying me deliberately. He wore a close-fitting hood of dark leather that covered his ears, and carried a poniard at his belt.

  Inside the chamber, I sat down on the fine four-poster bed and gave way to weariness.

  SEVENTEEN

  That night I had a dream, that distressed me greatly. I was at Thirldon - but I seemed to view it from a distance, from beyond the gates. As I watched, flames began to engulf the house, leaping up to the roof. Soon figures appeared at the windows, waving desperately - I recognised Childers, and Hester, and my daughter Anne. I called out in terror, but no-one seemed to hear me - then the roof began to fall in, with a terrible roaring and crashing of timbers. Unable to move, I shouted and gesticulated, knowing all was lost… whereupon I awoke in darkness, in a sweat and a panic.

  Mercifully, it was no vision. Gathering my senses, I turned on my back – only to start in alarm when a voice spoke nearby.

  ‘Peace, sir… you were but dreaming.’

  It was soft and feminine, and it came from but a few feet away… was it a creak of floorboards that had awoken me? As I roused myself there came a scraping sound, a flame spurted, and in its feeble light a figure appeared, wearing what looked like a ghostly shroud. Then the flame was put to a candle on a chest by the wall, and the woman turned to face me. It was Katherine, Mistress Mountford’s companion, wearing a very fetching smile.

  Propped on my elbows, I gazed at her and let out a breath.

  ‘Well now, are you going to turn back the coverlet?’ She asked, taking a step closer. ‘The night is somewhat chill, and I would fain be warmed… warmed, then aflame.’

  And before I could utter a word, her hand went to the lacing at her neck. The gown of thin lawn fell away to reveal a most shapely body, golden in the candlelight.

  ‘Good God…’ I swallowed. ‘This is absurd, mistress… do you truly intend to bed me? Why, I’m a grandfather…’

  ‘Though a well-preserved one,’ came the reply. She was at the bedside, reaching out a hand. ‘Come, sir… we’re but man and woman. Why not take this pleasure when it’s before you?’

  ‘One moment… you mistake,’ I said, with a gulp. Tempting as the offer was, my mind was racing – and very soon, thoughts began to assemble themselve
s. Sitting upright, I raised a hand to stay her.

  ‘Is it at Master Francis’s behest that you came here, or his wife’s?’

  ‘What does it matter?’ Katherine countered. Bending towards me, she laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘No more words now. Embrace me, and let me cleave to you.’

  ‘Wait.’ Somewhat roughly, I put her hand away. ‘Do you think me so pliant? This is your master’s work, is it not - a gift to whet my appetite?’ I drew a breath. ‘And in the morning, I imagine he’ll lay forth other prizes… riches, perhaps even titles that might come my way. I suspect you know what sort of man you serve.’

  She made no answer, but returned my gaze without flinching. In truth, it was a difficult moment… even a man of my years has needs, which are not often fulfilled. But I forced myself to think of Hester; the dream was yet fresh in my mind.

  ‘I pray you, clothe yourself and go,’ I said at last, forcing my eyes away. ‘I will forget that this occurred.’

  A moment passed, then: ‘You will not, sir.’

  I turned sharply, aware of the change in her voice. She was gathering the smock, pulling it violently up to her neck… and as I watched, she stepped away and looked at me in anger.

  ‘There’s no fool like an old fool,’ she snapped, drawing the laces tight. ‘Can you not imagine what you’ve missed? Yet you divine aright - I would hardly throw myself upon a man like you, had I the choice. Well, grandfather, you’ll find that virtue has no place at Foxhill. But when I’m gone, the sight of my body will remain with you… may you make use of it in the only way you can. Tug yourself to sleep - I leave it as my gift, and wish you sweeter dreams!’

  Turning swiftly, she started for the door. But on opening it, she threw a bitter look towards me.

  ‘As for the morning, you may find that matters fall out somewhat differently from what you expect,’ she said. Then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

  The sound was followed by the clatter of a key in the lock.

  In an instant, I had thrown the covers aside and was on my feet - but already I had guessed my predicament. I gained the door, lifted the latch and found it immoveable. I struck it and tugged at the handle, while knowing it was futile. Finally I backed away and slumped down on the bed, gazing at the flickering candle.

  I was a prisoner - and I had only my own temerity to blame. I had been a prisoner from the moment I confronted Francis Mountford and spoke of the Concord Men… perhaps from the moment I told him I had enquired into his uncle’s death. It was clear as daylight: I had been offered a sop to my supposed weakness – for are all men not weak, when offered a tempting treat? And yet my suspicions – even my Puritan-like refusal too - had availed me nothing.

  No fool like an old fool, the girl had said; and Justice Belstrang felt as big a fool as he had ever felt in his life.

  ***

  The morning came slowly, as slowly as it always does to those who cannot sleep. By the time the sun rose I was fully dressed, throwing back the curtains. In the distance Upton was stirring, smoke rising from chimneys, but it might have been an ocean away. I examined the lattice windows, but they were small - barely wide enough for a child to squeeze through, let alone a grown man. Even if such a man were athletic enough to try, which I was not. Agitated and consumed by anger, I went again to the door as I had done several times, rattling the handle to no avail. I even called out, but was met with silence. Finally I returned to the windows, opened them and contemplated breaking the glass. But then, who would heed my cries for help – indeed, who would even hear them? The manor stood in its own park, some distance from the road… sick at heart, I sat heavily on a stool, staring out at the birds that flitted past. Freedom is one thing I’ve always enjoyed, save for those grim days I once spent in the Counter in London, falsely imprisoned for debt. The memory, just then, made me rue my recent actions most pitifully.

  An hour or so passed, and no-one came. I was hungry and thirsty, my temper frayed. Wild schemes had run through my mind: to try to force the door with my sword or poniard, to smash the window with a stool and shout threats… even to feign sickness, or some sort of collapse; all, of course, were absurd. Finally, I lay on the bed and tried to rest… until at last there came a jangle of keys, and the door opened.

  As I expected, it was Francis Mountford who entered.

  Neatly dressed as ever, and girded with a fine sword, he walked easily to the centre of the room and halted. Behind him came the ruffianly fellow in the hood, whom I had seen guarding the door to Sir Richard’s chamber: a precaution, of course. Getting to my feet, I eyed my host who was now my jailer.

  ‘Good morrow, sir… did you sleep well?’ He began, assuming a thin smile. ‘I can have breakfast brought in, if you wish.’

  ‘I’ll make you a promise - sir,’ I said, with an effort. ‘That soon you will pay for your crimes, by due process of law. I dare say your wife will make a pretty widow.’

  The smile remained, however. And before I could stop myself, I had my hand on my sword-hilt… but at that, the heavily-built guard stepped forward. His expression was eloquent enough: he could break my arm, he intimated, before I even drew blade.

  ‘So,’ Mountford went on, seemingly unconcerned. ‘You chose to refuse the favours that were offered you last night. I’m impressed by your self-control. Few men can resist Katherine’s charms… I speak from experience.’

  ‘Let me leave here - now!’ I snapped. ‘This is madness. You cannot detain a man like me – a former magistrate. Moreover, Justice March knows I’m here, as does-’

  Just in time, I stopped myself: something warned me not to reveal any other names. Thinking fast, I added: ‘It’s a reckless thing you’ve done, and you know it. Your schemes are uncovered, hence-’

  ‘Hence nothing, sir,’ came the sharp riposte. ‘And I suggest you pay heed to me now while you can, for I’ll not offer such terms again. Will you listen, or not?’

  I wanted to tell the man to go hang, but on impulse I decided against it. Might this be an opportunity, I wondered, for me to get him to reveal more? Instead I forced a nod, and threw a pointed glance at the bodyguard, whereupon:

  ‘William is stone deaf,’ Mountford said, with a sigh of impatience. ‘Do you still underestimate me?’

  ‘Well, perhaps I have done,’ I replied. I was making an effort to calm myself, for I saw no other solution than to humour him. ‘But if you think I’m a man you can easily bribe, I should say-’

  ‘Bribe?’ Lifting his eyebrows, the other cut me short. ‘Nay, sir, I would not insult you so. I speak of opportunities…’ he paused, his eyes going to the window where sunlight streamed in. ‘Can we not sit, and discuss terms like civilised men?’

  I managed another nod. Whereupon, observed closely by the bodyguard, I moved to the window seat while Mountford caught up a stool. We sat down, each as watchful as the other.

  ‘I will be forward with you, Belstrang,’ he said, speaking quietly. ‘For you’ve uncovered more than I would have thought you capable of… I might even applaud your diligence. But you must see that you’ve put yourself in mortal danger.’

  I met his gaze, and waited.

  ‘You should know that the matters you have referred to are too important to be thwarted by any man – let alone you,’ he went on. ‘However, I can offer you a simple choice. I suspect you know what it is.’

  ‘You spoke of opportunities,’ I said, after a moment. ‘Do I take that to mean an invitation? An offer to join you and others, the-’

  ‘Concordia.’ Mountford’s voice was flat. ‘You used the term yesterday, yet I advise you not to use it again. You spoke of it with distaste, as if it were some sort of disreputable cabal. Whereas I assure you that my associates and I are simply men of business, who see where the wind blows.’

  He fell silent, awaiting my response. Men like him, as I know only too well, always assume that others have their price, and merely require the right kind of inducement. Drawing a breath, I made an attempt to appear interested.


  ‘And yet… even if I were to consider this, you understand,’ I said carefully, ‘you would doubtless expect some kind of investment. I’m not a man of great wealth-’

  ‘Nor are all the others,’ Mountford broke in. Was I mistaken, or did I detect signs of eagerness on this part? ‘The returns are proportionate,’ he went on. ‘And someone who knows the workings of the law is always useful – even though there are others in our company with similar expertise.’

  I must have stiffened visibly at that, for the other seemed to regret his words. ‘Not that the names should concern you, Belstrang,’ he added quickly. ‘All you need know is that there are profits to be garnered, beyond your wildest expectations. And so…’

  Abruptly the man stood up, catching me unawares, and looked down at me. ‘In short, sir, I desire an answer from you now. Work with me… join us, if you will, and you may depart from here with much to look forward to. After all…’ this with a sardonic smile, that stopped short of a sneer. ‘What prospects are there for an ex-magistrate of modest means, who’s no longer young? You might even call this the day your fortunes changed - for the rest of your life.’

  I returned his gaze. My mind was busy, yet I fumbled for the right words. Should I feign acceptance of the offer to join him and his treacherous circle, to buy more time? It would allow me to leave Foxhill, at least, whereupon I could go to the High Sheriff… yet, I was uneasy. This man was no fool, and would smell deception in an instant.

  ‘Well, I confess you make a most powerful argument,’ I said at last. ‘May I ask what would happen if I spurn your offer?’

  At that Mountford sighed, then fixed me with his bland look. ‘Then, I fear you would shortly meet with an unfortunate accident,’ he replied. ‘I will be most distressed that it occurred on my land. You were enjoying the fishing, and suffered a seizure… a sudden jolt to the heart. The excitement was too much for you… with sadness, I will even show the great carp you caught in the lake, which caused your collapse.’