A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1)

by Roger Burnage

  In a corner of the barn behind the tavern, Owen lay on his rough bed of filthy straw and considered what he had learned. That the smugglers were exceptionally well organized and efficient in their handling of contraband goods and were prepared to pay well for help in unloading and dispersing the cargo was obvious, but that was all he knew apart from the face of the man who had recruited him. He didn’t even know which beach had been used. As for a link between the smuggling and the taking of the coastguard cutter and the death of his brother, perhaps he would be able to discover more about that in the future. At least, now he had made some progress. With a satisfied grunt he settled down to sleep.

  The following night saw a repetition of the last. He was hooded and taken with others to another beach, obviously a different one as the carts had to be left further away, but as before he had no chance to talk to other men and so learned nothing. Then for the next two nights there was no activity and he stayed close by the tavern, keeping his ears open for any scrap of information he might hear and eating such coarse fare as the landlord could provide. “No worse than some I’ve eaten aboard ship” he told himself, thinking longingly of the food provided in the kitchen of the Merriman household.

  The fifth night was simply a repetition of the first two, but on the sixth night there was a change. He was collected by the cart and hooded again, but he could tell that they were traveling in different direction than before. Eventually the cart stopped, Owen was helped down, still with the hood on and led into a building. There was a buzz of conversation and then a voice said “You can take the hood off now.”

  Owen did so and, blinking in the sudden light, looked about him. It was a big old barn, with the roof supported on huge oak beams and illuminated by half a dozen lanterns set in the form of a circle. Crowded round, sitting on straw bales or standing behind were some twenty five or thirty roughly dressed men. To one side, Owen saw the dark featured man he had first met in the tavern sitting on a small cart, with a little round table in front of him on which were two candles in rather tarnished brass candlesticks, a wooden mallet, some papers and a small leather bag.

  The man, obviously the leader, stared at Owen for several minutes without speaking, then said in a loud voice “Bring in the prisoner.”

  Two men appeared from the gloom in a corner, dragging another man between them, pale faced, sweating profusely and with his hands tied behind his back.. He was pushed to his knees in front of the man behind the table as a roar of curses and execration rose from the assembly.

  “By God,” thought Owen, “It’s a sort of trial.”

  “What’s the poor devil done?” he asked the men near him.

  “You’ll find out, he’s a traitor, not to be trusted.”

  Indeed Owen did not have to wait long to find out. The ‘judge’ pounded on his table with the mallet and shouted for silence. The noise died down and the ‘judge’ addressed the prisoner, speaking in slow measured tones obviously intended to convey gravitas to the proceedings.

  “You are one Alun Humble are you not?”

  “Yes Sir I am but I ‘aven’t done anyth------.”

  “Silence, you will have a chance to speak after we have heard the evidence against you.”

  “You were a member of the crew of the Revenue cutter Pilote which we seized a few weeks ago and it was you who sold to us the information about the movements of that vessel. Am I not right?”

  “Answer me,” he shouted as the frightened man looked round, perhaps for sympathy, of which there was none on the faces around him.

  “Yes Sir, that’s right.”

  Owen’s heart leaped, at last here was a connection.

  The ‘judge’ continued, “You betrayed your shipmates for money, how can we be sure that you won’t betray us for money.”

  “I wouldn’t Sir, if I go to the authorities and tell them what I know and how I know it, they’d hang me. I’ll have to keep well away from any damned Revenue men now. I can’t, I wouldn’t, you can trust me Sir.”

  The ‘judge’ banged on the table with his mallet as the wretched man began to babble incoherently. “Silence there. Will the first witness step forward.”

  A small man, a farm labourer by his dress, stepped into the circle, nervously twisting a ragged hat in his hands.

  “Is your name David Williams?” he was asked.

  “Aye Sir it is that.”

  “I want you tell the court what you saw the prisoner doing three days ago.”

  “Aye Sir, well it were like this, I were walking back to the farm where I work when I sees one of the Revenue men, a Riding Officer talking with this man. They didn’t see me ‘cos I was be’ind the ‘awthorn ‘edge.”

  “Yes alright, and then what did you see?”

  “I saw the Revenue man give him like a small bag or purse Sir. It all seemed suspicious. He put the bag in his shirt and went off. The revenue man rode away.”

  “And then?”

  “I followed him at a distance and then met a friend of mine, Jim Evans, ‘im over there, and told him what I’d seen. We grabbed ‘im and asked what the Revenue man had given ‘im. He said ‘e ‘adn’t seen any Revenue man, so we knew ‘e was lying. We searched ‘im and found a bag with money in it.”

  “Is this the bag?” asked the ‘judge’, lifting the small bag off the table and showing it round.

  “Yes, it looks like it Sir.”

  “Thank you, you may sit down. Come forward Jim Evans.”

  Evans stepped forward to be addressed in turn.

  “Evans, Can you corroborate what Williams said?”

  “Can I what Sir?”

  “Was what Williams said correct and the truth?”

  “Oh aye Sir, just like ‘e said.”

  “Thank you, sit down now.”

  The ’judge’ upended the small bag and two golden coins fell onto the floor in front of the prisoner, where they lay twinkling in the lantern light.

  “Now then fellow, we don’t pay you in gold and a man like you wouldn’t be paid in gold for whatever work you do, so where did this gold come from.? Have you anything to say for yourself?”

  “It’s all lies, I didn’t do it, these two put the money in my shirt, I wouldn’t betray you.” But his voice was drowned out by the shouts of the men round him.

  The ‘judge’ pounded on the table again and as silence fell he asked the men what should be done with the prisoner.

  “Kill him, cut his damned throat, drown him, break his bloody neck, the suggestions came thick and fast but all really meaning the same, - death.

  The leader raised his arms to quell the noise, looked at the miserable sobbing wretch in front of him and said “There it is then, you are sentenced to be executed without delay for your treacherous activities.”

  “Who among you will carry out the sentence?” There was no rush of volunteers, just a murmuring among the men as they shuffled their feet and looked askance at each other or at the floor.

  “Very well then, I shall choose. We have a new man amongst us who has yet to prove himself to be one of us,” and he pointed at Owen. “Come forward Owen, you shall be the instrument of this court’s justice.”

  Owen had no choice. If he refused he would probably be killed himself and the man would still die anyway. He hardened his heart, thinking of his brother who had died because of this man’s misdeeds. The man deserved to die and in truth Owen had no serious qualms about doing it. He had killed many men in the course of his service in a King’s ship, men who were armed and trying to kill him, but to kill a man who had his hands tied behind his back, that was different.

  A cutlass was thrust into his hand which he swung round with practiced ease before plunging the blade into the floor where it stood upright, swaying gently.

  Surprised at himself, he heard himself say, “I’ll not murder a helpless man in cold blood. Cut him loose and give him a sword.”

  A roar of approval followed his words as the men saw the prospect of entertainment. The differenc
e between the big bronzed seaman and his smaller opponent was so marked that there seemed to be no possibility of an even contest, so the leader nodded and the prisoner’s hands were released. He stood for a few moments trying to rub some life back into his fingers before taking the cutlass handed to him.

  It was as though he was determined to make a fight of it although he must have known it was hopeless, even if he beat Owen he would never leave the barn alive. The two men faced each other and the condemned man immediately attacked. From the outset it was clear that he had no real ability with a cutlass, Owen parried his furious slashes with ease and quicker than the eye could follow his blade thrust into the man’s stomach and up into his heart. He was dead before his body hit the floor, his blood forming a pool round him.

  The men crowded round Owen, congratulating him and slapping him on the back, one of them offered him a drink of rum from a small flask which Owen was only too pleased to accept. The leader of the men still in his seat of judgement, called out, “That was well done Owen, though I suspect you have a streak of chivalry which may be unsuited to our business.”

  Chapter 8: The Doctor operates on Merriman

  The Friday of the Simpson’s visit finally dawned and Mrs. Merriman was all fuss and bother, making sure that Annie and the servants knew exactly what was expected of them, directing Matthew on what to wear and to mind his manners, discussing with Emily which of her new dresses to wear and in general, acting just like any mother when guests are expected.

  “Mother,” laughed Merriman, “It’s not nobility coming. Why all the fuss?”

  “I know who it is,” retorted his mother, “But the Simpsons are travelled people and Captain Saville has moved in society circles in London. I will not have them think that we are only rough country folk.”

  The soldier was the first to arrive, riding up on a big bay horse.. A stable lad took charge of the horse and led it away. Shortly afterwards the Simpsons arrived and Merriman was soon busy making the necessary introductions. As he did so he wondered where his sister Emily and young Matthew were, as neither had appeared.

  The doctor’s sister Jane Prentice proved to be a quiet lady of middle age and she and her niece Helen were very soon engaged in conversation with Mrs. Merriman who quickly whisked them off to see some of the new things she had purchased in Chester.

  Meanwhile, Captain Merriman ushered the men into another room., sat them down and provided them with drinks. The conversation soon turned from generalities to the Doctor’s experiences in India.

  “For most of my years on the sub-continent I was in the employ of the East India Company and situated at their fort in Calcutta. It’s a completely different way of life, as I am sure you know if you have ever been there in the course of your service, strange and colourful. Colourful in respect of the natural surroundings and clothing, but strange in the matter of customs and habits, religion, medicine and much else. I confess that I grew to love the life and people, as did my dear wife. Most of my contemporaries treated the people as nothing more than troublesome children and inferiors, but I found that they responded well to kindness and several of our servants became devoted to us. Because of this I was able, over time, to study their medical ideas, and it came as a bit of a shock to find that in many ways they were ahead of our European knowledge.”

  The doctor laughed, “I think I was looked on as a bit of a fool for it, but I also think many people are too bigoted to benefit from new ideas. However I certainly learnt a lot from my experiences.”

  “Have you had occasion to use any of your new-found knowledge Sir,” asked Captain Merriman.

  “Not here Sir, for I’ve had no opportunity since we returned, but I have used it many times in India with remarkable results. One must not forget that Eastern peoples were civilized far earlier than we were in the past, and have much to teach us if we will only listen.”

  “I don’t doubt it Doctor, I don’t doubt it. But tell us about your daughter if you will. I understood my son to say that she was your assistant, which seems to me to be an unusual occupation for a young lady?”

  “Indeed it is Sir, but Helen is not one to be satisfied with the empty life so many European ladies lead in tropical places. She has an intelligent enquiring mind and although I know it isn’t fashionable, I’ve always encouraged her to take an interest in everything around her. From a very early age she used to travel round the villages with me and from then on, gradually developed her interest and knowledge. I taught her almost everything I know and she has been of immense help to me as an assistant.”

  “She certainly seems to know her own mind,” commented Merriman ruefully, thinking about their earlier meeting.

  “Yes, there is no doubt about that, but for all that she is a daughter to be proud of. Many of the empty headed young men in the Company service would come to the house like bees round a honey pot, including officers from the garrison, but she treated them all with courtesy and sent them on their way.”

  Robert Saville, who had been sitting in silence the while, stood up and moved over to a cabinet containing a number of swords and daggers.

  “This is a fine collection of weapons Captain Merriman. I see that you have some from the far East. That dagger with the wavy blade is from Malaya I believe.”

  “Yes it is. It’s called a Kris. This is my little hobby which I started many years ago when I was a midshipman. I tried to find something different wherever my ship called.” He opened the cabinet and took out a big curved sword. The hilt was covered in gold and a ruby glowed in the pommel.

  “This is my favourite one. I took it off a pirate in the Arabian Sea. You see the nick in the blade? My sword did that. His swordsmanship consisted of wild slashing, I parried the blow and my point was through his throat before he could recover. It’s a fine weapon and must have belonged to some rich eastern prince or the like. There must be an interesting story behind it if we only knew.”

  The men were soon engrossed in the subject of swords and their preferred weapon. The soldier was expounding on the virtue of the rapier against the curved hanger or the short cutlass and saying that whilst a longer curved blade was alright for a man on a horse he preferred the long straight blade.

  “The long blade is fine in its place,” said Captain Merriman, “if you have room to move, but the shorter weapon is more easily managed if you are climbing a ship’s side or fighting on a crowded deck.”

  “That I heartily agree with, although I think it would be to advantage to learn some of the skills needed in the effective use of the long blade,” said the younger Merriman.

  “There is a fencing master in Chester that I have heard of,” observed Saville, “He is a Frenchman and is reportedly very good. I’m going to go to him for some lessons, perhaps you would like to accompany me James?”

  The conversation on the merits of the different types of sword continued and the men, except the doctor, were demonstrating various parries and thrusts until interrupted by the arrival of the ladies.

  “Joseph my dear, please put those horrible things away,” said Mrs. Merriman, “I’m sure that Mrs. Prentice doesn’t want to see them.”

  “Very well my dear,” said her husband and the men rather sheepishly returned the weapons to the cabinet.

  The conversation then became more general and Merriman took an opportunity to quietly ask his mother where Helen and his sister and Matthew had disappeared to.

  “Shh! James. Matthew came in covered in mud. He told me he had been down at the duck pond you used to play in, showing his friends how you fought the corsairs. I told him not to show himself until he was fit to be seen in company.”

  “And Emily?”

  “She is dressing herself up to make a grand entrance, and Helen is helping her. I think your friend the Captain has made quite an impression on her,” she whispered.

  Matthew presented himself, scrubbed and dressed and looking quite the young gentleman and was duly introduced to the doctor’s sister, she being the only on
e he had not met.

  Then, as Annie announced that the table was ready, Emily made her entrance, followed by Helen. The men all rose and Merriman stood there with his mouth open. Was this lovely young lady really his skinny little sister? Then he reminded himself that she was seventeen going on eighteen years old and he had been away for five years.

  She was wearing one of the new mantuas recently bought in town, a sort of tawny brown which perfectly complemented her eyes and hair colour. Her hair was done in one of the latest fashions of the day, all ringlets, piled up with an ornament of fruit set at a jaunty angle on top. It was obvious that she had prepared herself for this moment as there was no trace of the blushing girl who had been so taken by surprise by the soldier’s speech when they met in Chester.

  But when Merriman’s eyes fell on Helen his breath was really taken away and he felt his heart give a great throb. She too had changed and was wearing a simple dress of some dark material with little in the way of ornamentation but which perfectly complemented her dark hair and complexion. The decolletage revealed that she was not lacking in those attributes men find most attractive and it was with an effort that Merriman tore his eyes away from her full breasts which swayed and trembled as she walked across the room.

  As the introductions were made, Merriman caught sight of his friend’s face. Saville couldn’t take his eyes off Emily and as the party moved into the dining room, he hastened to offer her his arm. Merriman was amused to see that she pretended not to notice and took Matthew’s arm instead.

  After an enjoyable meal with the soldier once again entertaining them with his tales of London life, the ladies left the men folk to their brandy and cigars. As they left the table, Merriman saw his mother nod to his father who nodded back He wondered what that was about but he didn’t have long to wait to find out.

  Once they were settled down again, the doctor asked to be excused. He returned a few moments later with something in a cloth bag. Bowing to Captain Merriman he said, “ In return for your hospitality Sir, I would be pleased if you would accept this gift as a small token of our thanks. You will see that it is a bottle of unusual shape. It contains a liqueur of exceptional quality, a few bottles of which I brought back from my travels in India, though I believe it originates from even further East.”