Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery

by John Pilkington

  He paused to allow the words to sink in, then: ‘As it happens, the coroner is a friend. He’ll take my word as a gentleman, and direct the inquest jury to find you died of misadventure. A tragedy… but there it is.’

  And there it was, stark as could be: either I joined the treacherous coterie of men who sold arms to the King’s enemies, or I would lose my life. I pretended to consider, then drew a breath and rose to my feet.

  ‘You can go to hell, sir,’ I said. ‘And more, you’ll not fake my death by accident… I’d rather die here!’

  Whereupon, startling both Mountford and his servant, I stepped back swiftly and put hand to sword-hilt: something I had resolved never to do again. I even got the blade clear of the scabbard, before stone-deaf William was upon me. With ease he took hold of my wrist, twisted it so violently I cried out, and made me let go. My basket-hilt rapier fell to the floor with a clang… and in a moment I was forced to my knees, hissing with pain as the ruffian stood over me.

  A moment passed, while both men looked down. Whereupon, at a brief nod from his master, William released me and stepped away. As he did so he picked up my sword, then moved beyond my reach.

  ‘So be it, Belstrang,’ was all Mountford said. With a sigh, he turned about and walked from the room, followed by his servant. The slamming of the door was followed by the sound of the key turning once again.

  And thereafter, ex-Justice Belstrang lost control, flew to the door and hammered upon it with his left hand; the right one still throbbed. Finally, wretched and breathless, I ceased my raging and slumped to the floor, cursing like a soldier… while through the open window came the startled squawking of birds.

  But at the final turn, I thought later, once again I had only myself to blame. I should have feigned acceptance of Mountford’s offer, and played along with his plans while I had the chance. Whether I would have convinced a man like him, however, remained in doubt.

  ***

  I never did get breakfast that day, nor even dinner. Instead I paced the floor of the wide chamber, berating myself for my recklessness, which had won me nothing but contempt from a man who had no more scruples than a feral cat.

  It was afternoon, as I sat listlessly on the bed, before the sound of the key turning at last broke my thoughts. Rousing myself, I seized my poniard and tried to prepare for the worst… until the sight of the one who entered made me freeze.

  Maria Mountford, in a blue outdoor gown, stopped by the doorway, seemingly startled by my manner. In considerable surprise myself, I watched as the lady recovered herself, before turning to the door and listening… but she did not close it.

  ‘I will first disappoint you, sir,’ she said, facing me. ‘For I’m not come to offer such favours as Katherine did.’

  And when I merely stared, she took a few paces forward. Getting hurriedly to my feet, I sought for some signs of her purpose – but in the next instant, I was confounded.

  ‘And now I will scotch that disappointment,’ she added. ‘For I intend to be your salvation.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Those last days of September, when the Great Comet finally disappeared from view, would be among the most important of my life. But I had no notion of it then, as I stood in that chamber at Foxhill and heard Maria Mountford’s words. I have called Captain Darrett an unlikely saviour, but the Mistress of Foxhill should surely take the prize. In astonishment, and with mounting hopes, I listened intently… and saw my escape laid out before me.

  ‘You will step outdoors with me,’ she said. ‘Some of the servants are aware of my intent, others are not. I should add that we have little time - are you ready to take a risk?’

  ‘I am, madam,’ I said warily. ‘Yet I don’t understand… do you mean to thwart your husband this way?’

  ‘Pray, do not concern yourself with Francis,’ came the reply. ‘He is very busy just now - and in truth, that’s thanks to you. He has messages to send, and people to meet with… or did you think the death of Tobias Russell, and the turmoil at Lydney, was of no concern to him?’

  I remained silent.

  ‘Nay, sir…’ Mistress Mountford gave a sigh, and lowered her eyes; to my relief, she did not appear the worse for drink. ‘You have kicked a wasp’s nest… caused more upheaval than you know. And yet it had to come… indeed, I always knew that it would. But in any case, I suspect it’s too late.’

  She went to the window and looked out, then turned to face me. ‘Well, shall we go? I’ve arranged for your horse to be saddled…’ and seeing me about to reply, she lifted a hand. ‘There’s no time for questions. Take this chance while you may. All I ask in return is that you speak for me when… when the time comes. Will you do that?’

  I gazed at her – then a notion rose that stayed me. ‘Sir Richard,’ I said. ‘I will not leave without seeing him.’

  ‘But you must!’ For the first time the lady showed unease. ‘He’s well enough… whatever happens, I swear no harm shall come to him. Now hurry, while you may.’

  With that, she moved to the door and looked out to the landing; then she turned to me and waited. It was a difficult moment: torn between concern for my old friend and gaining my freedom, I hesitated… until with a heavy heart, I made my choice. Yet it was really no choice at all: once free of Foxhill I could ride to Sandys… surely March’s letter would have reached him? While to spurn Mistress Maria’s offer and remain, was but to hurry forward my death.

  With a hand on my poniard’s hilt, I gave a nod and followed her outside. In the deserted passage, I took a few steps and halted. We were by the door to Sir Richard’s chamber, but there was no-one on guard. Sensing my delay, the lady looked round quickly.

  ‘William has been sent elsewhere,’ she said. ‘He thinks I’m attending to my father-in-law, but he’ll return soon - as will my husband. Please hurry.’

  So: there was nothing more to be said, and I followed her quickly down the stairs. The absence of servants was striking… what deception had their mistress practised on my behalf, I wondered? We crossed the hallway, passed through a sunlit chamber, then down another passage before reaching a side door without hindrance. I thought briefly of my sword, but clearly this was not the time to try and recover it. In a moment we were outside in afternoon sunlight; I even took a moment to draw gulps of sweet air. Then, still hard upon Mistress Mountford’s heels, I was hurrying through flower-beds and round a high wall, to find myself in the stable yard. Heady with relief, I looked around quickly… then stopped.

  There was no sign of Leucippus.

  ‘You said you had made arrangements…’ I drew near to the lady, who also halted. ‘Is it safe to go inside?’

  I was eying the stable doors, which were closed… and unease was soon upon me. I looked through the archway which led to the main courtyard, but no-one was in sight.

  ‘Wait here, please.’ Somewhat taut, Mistress Mountford glanced to left and right, then started forward. Despite her instruction I followed, my hand on my poniard again. As we gained the door I put a hand out instinctively, as if to stay her. But at once it opened, and from the shadows within two figures appeared.

  One was the young stable-lad, the other was William.

  I stopped in alarm, then saw that the boy was dishevelled, his arms pinned behind his back. He was William’s captive… and as Maria Mountford drew back in dismay, I grasped the situation. Looking past the pair, I caught a glimpse of Leucippus, saddled and bridled: the boy, at his mistress’s request, had got my horse ready – but he had been waylaid.

  ‘Let him go!’ The lady shouted, making it clear with signs what she meant - but William was having none of it. He merely shook his head and indicated the boy, who spoke up.

  ‘He came in and caught me, madam,’ he said, somewhat breathlessly. ‘He must have known something was going on… he’s Master Francis’s eyes, when all’s said-’

  But he broke off with a cry as his captor jerked hard on his arms, forcing them upwards. Whereupon, gathering my wits, I was obliged to act. Ca
tching the ruffian off guard, I darted forward and snatched his poniard from his belt. Then I threw it aside – but before I could draw my own weapon the man was upon me. Shoving the stable-boy away so that he stumbled, he pushed me out into the yard and hit me on the jaw.

  It was not a hard blow: the fellow knew what he did. But it was enough to make me lose my balance and fall to the cobbles – a painful landing. Catching my breath, I looked up as he loomed above me… whereupon things started to become confusing.

  I heard Mistress Maria shouting wildly – to my surprise, she had seized William’s arm and was trying to pull him away. It had little effect, but the man was grunting with mingled anger and alarm… surely he would not dare to offer violence against his mistress? His gaze swung back and forth – and in that moment of hesitation I seized my chance. Scrambling aside, I drew my poniard and began to get to my feet, but I was too slow. In a second, the man had gripped my wrist and made me drop the blade, while his other hand came up, ready to knock me senseless. I was vaguely aware of the lady still shouting and tugging at him… until a loud crack silenced her.

  Breathing hard, I could only watch as William staggered backwards, his arms falling to his sides. Then I saw the stable-lad behind him swinging a shovel, preparing to deal another blow, and cried out.

  ‘Stop - move back! See to your mistress!’

  His face contorted with fear – as much for what he had done, I deemed, as for what trouble he had brought upon himself – the boy dropped the shovel. William had somehow stayed on his feet… but he was dazed, blood running down one side of his face. Finally his knees weakened and he sagged… which gave me enough time to get up and grab my poniard. Dusty and winded, I threw a look towards Maria Mountford, who had drawn back open-mouthed, with the frightened boy beside her.

  It was over… or so I thought. I only had to walk into the stable and lead Leucippus out, then get myself mounted. William, eyes on the ground and blowing like a carthorse, was disabled for the present… and yet I hesitated.

  ‘What will you do?’ I asked the lady. ‘You have condemned yourself… do you want to leave? You can ride double with me-’

  ‘No, sir, I cannot.’

  She was shaking her head, a bleak smile on her face. Turning to the boy, she murmured a few words which sent him scurrying away. With a glance at William, she gestured me to draw close.

  ‘I can manage my husband, Master Belstrang,’ she said. ‘He knows he can’t silence me, not without removing me permanently – and he would not dare. As for his servant - his eyes, as the boy said - he would not accuse me even if he could speak. Do you wonder at the hood he wears? It’s to cover the scars, where his ears were cropped. One further offence and he will hang… and his name’s not William. He’s but a hireling - an instrument, to serve Francis’s whims.’

  She drew a breath and gestured to the stable doors. ‘Now, please get your horse and ride out while you can.’

  I would have spoken, but her expression brooked no refusal. So I stepped away, picking up pace as I walked into the gloom of the stable. Leucippus was restless… at sight of me he shook his mane and came forward. Drawing alongside him, I spoke quickly but soothingly. Then I caught up the rein and led him out into the yard - only to stop in my tracks at the noise of hoofbeats.

  I whirled about, towards the archway – and saw Francis Mountford riding in on a fine black horse. Behind him came two male servants in livery - and all drew rein at once, with a flurry of clattering hooves. Leucippus whinnied and stamped, as if willing me to put my foot in the stirrup… but it was too late.

  ‘By the Christ…’ Mountford eased his horse forward, to halt but a few feet away. His eyes went swiftly from me to William, then to his wife and back to me… whereupon his face twisted into a savage glare.

  ‘Well, Belstrang, it appears you’ve forced matters by yourself - and rather sooner than I had planned,’ he said, eying me with venom. ‘Would you care to let go of the reins? Otherwise, I’ll be obliged to have you shot.’

  Without turning round, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate one of his servants. I looked, and saw that the man had brought a small carbine from his saddle holster, and was making it ready with speed.

  With sinking heart, I dropped the rein.

  ***

  The next hour I find difficult to relive; not because my memory fails me, but because I recall events only too well. I see now that it could have been my last hour on earth… a vague memory of Childers and his glum words of foreboding sprang to mind. But in the end, events moved in ways I had barely hoped for… and more quickly than I expected.

  The matter came to a head soon after I was disarmed by Mountford’s men. Leucippus was back in the stable, William had been helped away to have his wound tended… and Mistress Maria was nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile I was marched away from the house and outbuildings by the two men who had ridden in with their master. We passed through a gate, and began to cross a field that sloped downwards - and my heart gave a thud, as I looked into the distance and saw the lake.

  So: it was no idle threat. The master of Foxhill really did intend to have me despatched by the waterside - before witnesses who would doubtless swear to the manner of my death. For a moment I could almost have laughed: that fishing, one of my true passions in life, could be made the means of my losing it. Struggling to master my fear, on impulse I struck my foot on the ground and halted.

  ‘I’ve a mind to be troublesome,’ I said, turning to the man on my right. ‘I’ll go no further.’

  ‘Your pardon, sir, but it makes no trouble,’ he replied. I caught his look, and knew him for a hard rogue - the sort that Mountford employed at Cricklepit and elsewhere to do his unsavoury work. ‘If need be, we’ll bind you and drag you… a pity to stain your fine clothes.’

  ‘You varlet,’ I threw back, with scorn. ‘Are you so dim-witted, you can’t see your master is ensnared? His actions are known. There’s a net closing, and anyone who aided him will-’

  But I was cut short, stifled by a sweaty hand being clamped across my mouth. The two men, both angered, gripped my arms tightly.

  ‘That’s enough,’ the one who had silenced me snapped. ‘Go forward now or we’ll carry you… the choice is yours.’

  He removed his hand – whereupon I gave vent to my rage. ‘Damn you!’ I cried, my pulse racing. ‘God knows, if I’d had you before me when I sat on the magistrate’s bench, I’d have sent you both to be whipped and branded, perhaps more-’

  ‘No - damn you!’ The first fellow threw back, stifling me again. This time he grasped my jaw, which still ached from the blow William had dealt me… and as he squeezed, I began to struggle. Growing desperate, twisting my head this way and that, I kicked out, catching him the shins. He grunted, muttered an oath – then to my alarm shifted his grip, dropping his hand to my throat. I felt his fingers close about my windpipe, and knew this could be my last tussle… whereupon the other one spoke up.

  ‘Stop! You know what the master’s orders are. Loosen him!’

  The moment that followed was so taut, I almost expected to see the two come to blows there in the field. They stood glaring at each other, with me caught in the middle. Wild notions flew up: of butting one of them, or kicking out again before making a run for it… I managed to jerk my head aside, peering round…

  Then came the cataclysm.

  Shouts and calls rang out, from somewhere in the direction of the house… and were those hoofbeats? I strained at my captors, who had also turned in consternation. I managed to tear one arm free, and would have struck out with it – but I did not. In amazement I saw both men step away, staring in the direction of the noise… whereupon I lunged forward, shoving one to the ground. As he fell, I turned to run to the gate.

  ‘Here!’ I shouted. ‘Over here!’

  Stumbling, both arms now free, I struggled to pick up pace. Since I expected to be caught from behind at any moment, I made an effort to veer sideways, first one way and then another… though
out of breath, I was gaining ground. The gate was ahead; I reached it, put a hand to the latch – then stopped.

  Beyond the gate lay the gardens, neatly trimmed flower beds and fruit trees. A little further off was the courtyard, which was now filled with activity. Dust was raised, and horses milled about… and still there was shouting. I saw figures – and my heart leaped at the sight of steel cuirasses, reflecting sharp sunlight. Wildly I looked round for my captors… and drew a sharp breath.

  They were not behind me – in fact, they were barely in sight. They were far down the field, sprinting at full tilt… and as I gazed, they split apart to take different courses. With heart pounding, I leaned against the gate and slumped.

  They were running for their lives - while mine was saved.

  And moments later I was walking exhaustedly into the courtyard… where, at sight of the only man I recognised, I halted and let out a breath.

  ‘Sir Samuel?’

  Sir Samuel Sandys, the High Sheriff of Worcestershire, turned in surprise. He was somewhat flushed, grey hair plastered to his brow with sweat… yet for a man in his fifties, he had always been agile. With raised brows, he lifted a hand and started towards me.

  ‘Belstrang? What in God’s name are you doing here?’

  ‘Just now, sir, I’m thanking God for your timely arrival,’ I answered. ‘You are come at the eleventh hour - I could say at the last minute of that hour. If I said “well met”, it would fall somewhat short.’

  Whereupon I took another step, and clasped his hand warmly.I no longer felt pain… only a blessed sense of relief.

  NINETEEN

  The afternoon became evening, and as night fell candles were brought into the main parlour of Foxhill by subdued servants. Three of us sat at the table, weary yet calm, to slake our thirst and eat a little food. One was Sir Samuel Sandys, I was another… and the third was Sir Richard Mountford.