‘Right,’ Jasper said. He was strutting around holding four fox’s tails, each attached to a string. ‘Who are the foxes?’
Theresa stepped forward, took a fox’s tail and tied the string around her waist. Then she walked to the starting point, between two small oak trees. The fox’s tail trailed after her, leaving its scent on the ground.
‘Your hunter will be Sir Miles,’ Jasper announced.
‘What a surprise,’ Paul whispered in Mark’s ear.
‘Who’s representing the Steeds?’ Jasper asked.
‘Me,’ Fergus said, stepping forward and taking a tail.
‘Best of luck, son,’ said his father.
‘He’ll need it,’ Jasper sneered. ‘I’ll be his hunter today. Who’s running for the Dalton family?’
‘Me,’ announced Adam’s son Luke.
‘He’s only a kid,’ breathed Mark as the angelic-looking, diminutive thirteen-year-old stepped forward.
‘They probably won’t catch him first,’ Paul whispered. ‘Fast little blighters, Luke and Robert. Both run like hares.’
There was a chorus of encouragement for Luke from other members of the Dalton family.
‘Good luck, lad,’ Mark called.
Everyone looked at him in amazement. No one had ever given encouragement to a contestant from another family before.
‘Sir Greg will be his hunter today,’ Jasper announced.
‘That’s odd,’ Paul whispered to Mark. ‘Damian usually ensures he’s chasing the Dalton boys. That means we’ve got him. Now we know why Killer isn’t muzzled.’
‘I assume you’ll be representing the Grey family,’ Jasper said, handing the remaining fox’s tail to Steven.
‘Gee thanks, Sir Jasper.’
‘Hey, wait a minute,’ Mark said, stepping forward and grabbing the tail. ‘I want to be the fox.’
‘No, let me do it, Dad. You can do it next time.’ Steven grabbed the other end of the fox’s tail and stood facing his father.
Again the other members of the community looked at each other in surprise. Members of a family were fighting over the opportunity to take part in the event they all feared.
‘I’ll be the hunter, with Killer.’ Damian’s threat was delivered with a smug grin.
‘Then I definitely want to do it,’ Steven said.
‘No, I want to,’ insisted his father.
‘Stop fooling about!’ yelled an enraged Nigel.
‘Okay Dad, you can do it this time.’ Steven released his end of the tail, stepped back and winked at his father. Nearly everyone, including Nigel, saw the wink.
‘You!’ Damian sneered. ‘Why’s an old man like you volunteering?’
‘Well, I like running, Sir Damian. But don’t worry. I won’t go too fast; I can see you’re a bit out of condition.’
‘We’ll see who’s out of condition when Killer is snapping at your arse.’
‘Line up,’ Jasper snapped.
Mark raised his arm. ‘Excuse me, Sir Jasper. What are the rules of the game?’
‘It’s not a game!’ Damian shouted. ‘It’s a contest.’
‘Sorry, Sir Damian. What are the rules of the contest?’
‘You get a ten-minute start,’ Jasper snapped. ‘You must stay within the park and you will wear the tail at all times. My brothers and I will fire pistol shots when each of us has captured our quarry. Sir Greg will fire one shot, Sir Miles two, Sir Damian three and I will fire four. The family of the first person caught will report to the treadmill immediately.’
‘Are the rules simple enough for you colonials?’ Nigel sneered.
‘Yes, thank you, Your Lordship. Just one more thing, Sir Jasper.’
‘What now?’
‘What’s the time limit?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if Sir Damian can’t catch me, what do I do?’
‘He’ll catch you soon enough. Killer’s our top dog.’
‘But suppose he doesn’t. Do I have to keep running?’
There was a ripple of laughter from the other members of the community, laughter that only enraged the Chatfield family further.
‘There’s no time limit, you just keep running till you drop!’ Damian yelled. ‘Or till Killer gets you.’
‘Thanks, Sir Damian. Glad to hear there’s no time limit.’
‘Get them going!’ screeched Nigel.
Miles fired his pistol in the air and they were off. Mark hung in at the back of the pack as the four runners sprinted down the hill. ‘What’s the strategy?’ he enquired after a hundred or so steps.
‘What do you mean — strategy?’ Fergus was struggling for breath already.
‘Well, surely it would make sense to try to confuse the dogs?’
‘It’s everyone for themselves,’ panted Theresa. ‘I’m going this way.’ She broke away and disappeared into the bracken.
‘And I’m off this way,’ Luke called as he headed off in the opposite direction down a narrow track.
‘Guess that just leaves you and me lad,’ Mark said to Fergus. ‘Fancy sticking together? Maybe try to confuse the dogs?’
‘Like Theresa said, Uncle Mark, it’s everyone for themselves. And I’d be obliged if you don’t follow me. I know a good route.’
‘Fair enough, but let’s have a chat some time — maybe we could come up with a strategy to confuse these clowns in future?’
‘You’d better not let anyone else hear you calling them clowns. Word has a habit of getting back to them.’
‘You won’t report me though, will you?’
‘No, Uncle Mark, but I’m probably one of the few who wouldn’t.’
‘Sure you don’t want to try a little strategy?’
‘If it takes them longer to catch you than it takes them to catch me, I’ll talk strategy with you. I’m heading off here.’ As Fergus veered away, he called, ‘Take care, that Killer’s really vicious, and if he gets near you Damian won’t call him off until he’s done you real damage. You shouldn’t have taken the piss out of the Chatfields like that.’
‘Thanks for the warning, lad. Have a good run. See you back at the house in a couple of days.’
‘More like a couple of hours,’ Fergus laughed, as the thick undergrowth swallowed him. With his red Mohawk, Mark thought, he almost looked the part of the Indian brave.
A few minutes later, the baying of the dogs announced the chase was on. Mark estimated he had about a kilometre lead. Despite his taunting of Damian, he knew he would have his work cut out to maintain the gap.
Damian was probably the second fittest of the four sons. Jasper and Greg were both overweight. Miles appeared to be in the best condition; however, Paul had said that Theresa and Miles had a thing going, so it was unlikely she would be caught first. On the other hand, maybe she would be first. Perhaps she’d only gone a few steps into the bracken to await Miles. Either way, Mark didn’t expect to hear the two telltale pistol shots, announcing Miles had cornered his quarry, for some time.
For his own part, Mark had done no training since he’d left Gulf Harbour four months before. The journey from Gillingham had restored most of the basic fitness he’d lost on the sea voyage, and the two weeks on the treadmill had built up muscle on his legs, but he was nowhere near as fit as he would have wished.
There was no point in lifting the fox’s tail from the ground, as Killer would easily follow Mark’s own scent. He suspected the tail was mainly theatrical, part of the Chatfields’ game. Anyway, he wanted Killer to stay on his trail, so he left the tail dragging.
Despite bracken encroaching on the walking tracks that crisscrossed the park, he could still make them out. As he ran through the ferns, he smelt their distinctive aroma, bringing back memories of when he’d run along the same tracks as a child, during exercises with his Boy Scout troop.
Once over the brow of a hill, he changed direction and headed down a winding track beneath a stand of stately oaks. Then he began a long circular sweep along a path that meandered just
inside the park’s perimeter. He reached the top of a rise and looked back down the valley. He could see Damian and Killer following him. They’d closed the gap slightly and Mark estimated he had about another hour before he was caught, probably less if Killer was let loose as soon as Damian had Mark in his sights. He continued on, turning every so often to make his course less obvious. Slowly and surely he swept round in a huge circle until, fifty-five minutes after he’d started running, he was back at the stand of oak trees, where he began with great care to follow his previous track.
He stopped beneath a gnarled old tree in the centre of the stand and jumped as high as he could, catching hold of one of the lower branches and hauling himself up. He climbed a few more branches and dropped down into a small hollow a third of the way up the tree.
As he fought for breath he heard Damian and Killer thrashing through the undergrowth. He’d made the tree just in time. He was fearful that Killer might stop beneath it, but the dog barely hesitated as it carried on along the track it had followed the first time around the loop. Damian, unaware that he was back on a track he’d already traversed, stumbled behind Killer. Mark allowed himself a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t be long before Damian realised he was running around in circles, but for the present he was safe.
His brother Christopher, who was always climbing trees as a child, had found the hollow in the first place, many years ago. The three brothers kept the secret to themselves and as a result they’d won many games of hide-and-seek.
As it was early autumn and the trees in the park were beginning to lose their leaves, it was just as well the hollow was there. A keen pair of eyes would soon have discovered him hiding among the sparse leaves on the branches.
From his vantage point, Mark watched Damian struggling up the other side of the valley. At the top of the rise he stopped for a rest and to peer ahead. Mark guessed Damian was starting to suspect he was being led in circles. As he patted Killer for encouragement and set off again, four pistol shots rang out in the distance. Fergus had been caught.
Ten minutes later two more pistol shots announced that Theresa too had been captured, though the significance of that was questionable. Nearly half an hour later, as Damian came crashing back down the path under the stand of oak trees where Mark was hiding, a single pistol shot announced that Greg had caught Luke.
Damian greeted the signal with exasperation. He immediately stopped running and kicked Killer, who yelped and cowered away. Then he slumped down on a fallen log beneath the tree where Mark was hiding, took his pistol from its holster and fired six shots into the air. Mark cowered in the hollow as the bullets passed close by.
Jasper hadn’t mentioned the firing of six shots in his briefing, and Mark wondered what they signified. He also wondered why Damian was continuing to sit on the log. A little later he heard a single shot in the distance, which Damian answered with two shots from his own pistol. The process was repeated several times, and each time the single shot drew closer. Damian had just reloaded his pistol for the third time when Greg, Miles and Jasper arrived with their dogs and their three prisoners.
‘What’s happening?’ Jasper demanded.
‘I think he’s running round in circles,’ Damian explained.
‘What do you want us to do about it?’
‘If I take Killer and continue around the circle again, you could head in the opposite direction and cut him off. One way or the other we should force him to break cover.’
‘You should have set a time limit, Sir Damian,’ Fergus suggested.
Luke and Theresa struggled to hold back their giggles.
‘Insubordination!’ Damian yelled. ‘You can spend the next week on the treadmill.’
Fergus shrugged his shoulders; he was already spending the next week on the treadmill since he’d been the first fox to be caught, something Damian had overlooked.
‘Let’s get going,’ Jasper interrupted. ‘I’ll double back along the track. Miles, you go with Damian. Greg, you wait here. Take them’, he added, pointing to the three captives, ‘and hide behind those trees. Keep an eye open in case he gives us the slip. No doubt he’ll keep running this circle as long as he can.’
Greg led Theresa, Fergus and Luke towards the appointed hiding place. As they walked away, Fergus mumbled something and all three started laughing.
‘Keep them quiet,’ Jasper snarled.
Almost an hour later, Damian, Miles and Jasper walked back into the clearing with three panting dogs. The dogs’ tongues were lolling out of the side of their mouths and they looked almost as dejected as the three brothers.
‘Didn’t you find him?’ Fergus called.
The question was ignored.
‘Leave those three and come over here,’ Jasper called to Greg.
The four brothers sat down on the log, speaking quietly so that the prisoners wouldn’t overhear them. But Mark, in the tree above their heads, could hear every word.
‘How did you let him give you the slip?’ Jasper demanded.
‘I don’t know, he’s just disappeared,’ Damian said.
‘He can’t just vanish into thin air!’
‘The trees,’ Miles said suddenly, jumping up from the log. ‘He’s got to be up a tree.’ Mark shrank further into the hollow.
‘Either that, or he’s broken out of the circle,’ Jasper suggested.
‘We’ve got to find him,’ Damian said despondently. ‘It makes us look like fools.’
‘It makes you look a fool,’ corrected Miles.
‘Right,’ Jasper said firmly, interrupting the bickering, ‘this is what we’ll do.’ He kicked away a pile of autumn leaves, took a twig and drew a diagram in the loose earth. First he drew a circle. ‘Damian, you take Killer, and follow the trail around again. As you go, look in every tree along the route. Greg, what I want you to do’, he paused and began drawing another circle inside the first one before continuing, ‘is take your dog and walk inside the circle, about sixty feet from Damian. That way, if he’s broken out inside the circle and is hiding in the centre, we should pick up his trail. I’ll take my dog,’ he paused, and drew another circle outside the previous two, ‘and I’ll walk sixty feet beyond Damian. That way, if he’s broken outside the circle, I’ll pick up his trail myself.’
‘Brilliant,’ Damian said.
‘Miles, you stay here and guard the prisoners. Keep your eyes open, just in case he tries to go around behind us.’
‘I’ve been around this circle three times already,’ Damian complained. ‘I should be the one to stay with the prisoners.’
‘It’s your fault we have to find him,’ Jasper said, sharply dismissing his brother’s objection. ‘Right, let’s get started. And remember to search the trees.’
Mark shrank down into the hollow. He hardly dared breathe as three sets of eyes peered up into the tree where he was hiding. He only relaxed once the noise of dogs and men crashing through the undergrowth receded into the distance.
It was another hour and a half, and beginning to grow dark, before the three brothers stumbled back into the clearing.
‘No luck?’ Fergus called over.
Once again, his question was ignored.
‘What now?’ Miles asked, once he’d joined his brothers.
‘We’ve got to go back, the dogs are done for,’ Jasper said.
‘So am I,’ complained Greg.
Jasper looked at his watch. ‘It’ll be too late to do anything else tonight. We’ll let him rough it out here in the park for the night and hunt him down first thing in the morning.’
Mark was relieved. The decision not to hunt him through the night would provide the opportunity he needed.
‘Anyway,’ Damian said, as they began to move off, ‘with any luck we’ll pick him up on our way back to the house.’ There was desperation in his voice; no doubt he wasn’t looking forward to telling his father Mark had disappeared.
The evening meal was eventually dished up in the Great Hall at nine o’clock. There was no Chatfie
ld present to give the order to serve the food. Nigel had ordered a meal for Allison and himself to be delivered to their rooms. Eventually Diana went ahead on her own initiative. There was an excited buzz, and a lot of speculation as to what might have happened. There was also laughter and joking. With the table on the dais empty for the first time since Christmas Day, and no one on guard duty in the Minstrel Gallery, everybody relaxed.
As they were finishing their meal, Theresa and Luke walked into the hall and were mobbed. The community gathered around, anxious for news. Fergus had been marched directly to the Punishment Room.
Only when the Great Hall was emptied of its excited throng, and the four brothers had listened to half an hour’s ranting from their father, did they slink down to the kitchens. No one among the community saw them looking for something to eat. It was the first time they’d served themselves since their relatives had walked into the park.
They were smarting at their failure to capture Mark, and were determined to get revenge. They agreed that when they caught him the next day, they were going to teach him a lesson that would wipe the smile off his and every other face in the community.
42
As soon as the brothers and their prisoners were out of earshot, Mark untied the fox’s tail, stowed it at the bottom of the hollow, climbed down the tree, and dropped onto the track. He followed his initial route until he was at the far side of the circle, before breaking away and running another huge, irregular circle that joined back to the original one. He had now created a figure of eight about ten miles long.
He’d considered heading straight out of the park, but wanted the fact that he’d left the park to remain a secret — he had no wish to get branded. He was also concerned Nigel might order his sons back out in the park to search for him during the night. On both counts, he needed an insurance policy, and the extended track gave him that.
The second loop of the figure of eight also had another purpose. For a short distance the route ran alongside a wire fence that had been erected around a few hectares of the park, mainly to keep the deer out and allow saplings to grow. Mark continued around the new loop of the track for a second time. At the point the loop veered away from the wire fence, he jumped as high as he could onto the upper strands of wire running along the fence. He made his way foot over foot for several minutes along the wire before dropping off on the other side of the fence and heading towards the perimeter of the park.
Blood Line: What if your family was the last left alive? (The Blood Line Trilogy Book 1) Page 25
