Smuggler's Kiss

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  The hoof beats outside the wood had come closer and resolved into the clop of several pairs of hooves on the nearby road.

  ‘Preventives?’ I whispered in Will’s ear.

  ‘Maybe,’ he breathed back into mine, his breath warm on my cheek. ‘Who else would be out in the dead of night?’

  We stood quietly side-by-side, listening intently. The horses stopped, and Will left me, creeping forward through the trees until he was lost to sight.

  When he reappeared he was moving with urgency. ‘They’ve picked up our trail,’ he whispered to a huddle of men who gathered around him. I pressed close to overhear. ‘We need to draw them off. Who will risk riding with me? It must be men who ride light.’

  ‘I will,’ said a slim lad I didn’t know. Will nodded.

  ‘Thank you, Tom,’ he said and then looked around for another rider.

  ‘I will,’ I heard my own voice whisper. It was a surprise even to me. Why was I volunteering? Because my ankle would be far less painful on horseback, I told myself firmly. I stifled the small voice that told me I wanted to be with Will.

  Will looked taken aback and not best pleased. ‘Can you ride bareback and astride?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ I lied at once.

  Will shrugged and then nodded his permission. ‘You’ll ride light at least,’ he said reluctantly. ‘But this will be dangerous work.’

  I nodded, hoping I looked braver than I felt.

  ‘We three then,’ said Will after another hesitation. ‘Shed the ponies’ loads.’

  The larger of my two ponies was swiftly relieved of his burden, and someone lifted me onto his warm back. I was glad of the darkness that hid my embarrassment at such an indecent thing as a lady astride a pony.

  Men were burying the extra kegs in the leaves at the foot of an oak tree. No doubt they would be back to collect them once it was safe. ‘We ride to the edge of the forest,’ Will whispered hurriedly, coming to stand beside my mount. ‘Until they catch sight of us. Enough to make sure they follow, but not close enough to see we carry no contraband. Then we make off as fast as we can. Stick close to me and Tom. We ride round in a big sweep. As long as we reach the bridge below ahead of them, we’ll be safe enough.’

  I nodded, tense with the fear of what lay ahead. I was not a neck-or-nothing rider like my sister. But my ankle was far more comfortable now I was mounted. I would take this night as it came; my luck had held until now.

  I urged my pony after Will, who was vaulting onto his own mount. He led us straight towards the king’s men. They were silent, clearly waiting for some sign from us to trigger their pursuit. My pony jogged along, seeming surprised by this new turn of events. At the edge of the forest, we rode in a silent line, one after the other, weaving in and out of the trees at the edge of the wood.

  The moon was obscured by cloud and there was no sign yet that we’d been seen. I was just wondering what Will was going to do about that when his horse snorted loudly.

  In moments, there was a shout from the Revenue men. Will urged his pony forward into a brisk trot and wove back into the trees. The jingle of the harness and the clop of the hooves on the road sounded in pursuit. Someone shouted at us to stop. Will’s pony broke into a canter; Tom and I followed.

  Cantering in the dark through woods is nasty work. I knew I should work with my pony, help him look out for dangers and keep firm contact with his mouth at all times. But with branches whipping in my face and tree trunks leaping out of the darkness at me, the best I could manage was to bury my hands in his mane, lean low over his neck and cling on for dear life. It was lucky that my pony wished to stay close to the other two, for I closed my eyes a lot of the time and it was little enough guidance he got from me.

  We were soon out of the trees; Purbeck is mostly an open, windswept landscape. The three of us galloped flat out across the hillsides, pausing only to open gates which we swung shut again behind us. Once we jumped a broken-down section of stone wall and I was almost unseated.

  When the pursuit drew too far behind, Will slowed. When they drew too close, he pushed the ponies faster. At last, both the other ponies leapt a larger wall onto open hillside. They made it look so easy. I sent mine after them. He stopped dead at the wall and I shot forward onto his neck. Then he jumped, and I lost my grip and took a tumble. I rolled onto turf but banged my shoulder on the stones of the wall in the darkness. The fall had knocked the wind out of me, and I lay gasping and shaken, not sure what was up or down.

  Will leant over the wall, still mounted on his pony. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked urgently. I could breathe again at last and struggled to my feet, dazed.

  ‘Not much,’ I said breathlessly.

  ‘We can’t linger,’ he said, reaching down a hand. I grasped it and he pulled me up. Tom led my pony up to me and I slid onto his back from the wall. As I did so, I could hear the customs men thundering across the field behind us, and felt panic rising. They had drawn far too close. If we were caught through my incompetence, I’d never forgive myself.

  ‘Now for a gallop across the downs,’ said Will. ‘Keep up!’ and he was off in a flurry of hooves, clods of turf kicked up behind him. I turned my pony after his and he lengthened his stride. Tom brought up the rear, no doubt to check I stayed up this time.

  My rides had never gone beyond sedate hacks around my father’s estate or even more decorous outings in Hyde Park. In Bath, I’d not ridden at all. The speed of this headlong flight was terrifying but also exhilarating. We flew over the turf, black in the darkness, and I found I was able to keep my eyes open and even relish the rush of air in my face and the ground vanishing beneath my pony’s hooves.

  A shot exploded behind us making me jump. With my heart in my mouth, I urged my horse faster still, keeping low on his neck as Will was doing ahead of me and praying the men were poor shots, or not aiming to kill. They must surely see this isn’t the train of pack ponies now, I thought, frightened and shaking. Why are they still pursuing us?

  Will dropped back, urging me to go faster. A line of trees loomed ahead. Another shot rang out and Will gasped, clapping his hand to his arm. He slowed, swerved to the right, and pushed through a hedge. He disappeared down out of sight. I clung on tight as my pony scrambled through the hedge and down the bank after him. We were in a kind of sunken lane. Will led us in a swift jog down it for a spell. I could hear the pursuit behind us and grew afraid again, but Will turned and attempted a smile.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ I asked him anxiously. ‘They hit you, didn’t they?’

  ‘It’s only a nick,’ Will said, but his voice sounded faint. ‘As long as they got the message down to Farmer Benson, we’re safe enough now. This next bit will be fun.’

  At the bottom of a hill, a narrow bridge provided the only crossing over a deep river. As we rode out towards it, I heard restless lowing, and saw a herd of cows massed at the side of the road. It struck me as very strange that anyone should be herding cows in the middle of the night.

  A whistle sounded, and a dog appeared, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Will rode past the cows, out onto the middle of the bridge, giving the farmer a wink as he rode past. We followed him and the cows followed us.

  On the far side of the bridge, Will reined in and turned. I looked over my shoulder to see the whole bridge blocked by cows. The excise men had pulled up behind the herd, their horses steaming, and one officer was shouting at the farmer, gesticulating wildly. The old farmer, bent and gnarled, had a hand cupped behind one ear and was shouting, ‘Beg your pardon?’

  Will laughed and we rode on at an easy pace up the far side of the valley. At the top, he paused, dropped down from his pony. Leaning weakly against it, he said: ‘Isabelle, I need you to bind up my arm. It’s still bleeding and I don’t want to leave a trail.’

  I slid down from my horse, jarring my bad ankle, and limped over to him. His whole sleeve was slick with blood. ‘Will, you have to get to a doctor,’ I said, dismayed.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he replied breath
lessly. ‘Only a flesh wound. No bullet lodged. Just bind it tightly and we’ll go on.’

  ‘I have no experience with wounds,’ I protested, afraid of making it worse. I looked up at Tom but he shook his head hurriedly and looked away.

  ‘I do go sick at the sight of blood,’ he muttered shamefaced.

  ‘Please, Isabelle,’ Will begged faintly. He slid down onto the ground and put his head on his knees.

  I dropped to the turf beside him. I was frightened now. ‘Tell me what I must do,’ I said unsteadily.

  ‘Help me get my coat off,’ he asked. I did so with difficulty, easing his bleeding arm from the torn and bloodied sleeve. Will gasped with pain and swayed. For a moment I thought he was going to faint.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. I tore the wet shirt sleeve from his arm and laid bare the wound. It was on the outside of his arm, a deep gash torn through flesh and muscle, bleeding profusely. It was bad, but even I could see that this was not a dangerous spot.

  Unsure what to tie it with, I picked up the ruined coat, but the fabric was too coarse for bandaging. ‘Look away,’ I told both the men. When they did as I asked, I pulled off my own coat and then my shirt. Shivering in the frosty night air, I pulled my coat swiftly back on and buttoned it, then tore up the shirt. The sleeves I folded into a pad, my fingers trembling with haste and cold. The rest of the shirt I tore into strips. I pressed the pad to the wound trying to ignore Will’s gasp of pain.

  ‘Tom, you’ll have to help me now,’ I ordered him, realizing I couldn’t both hold it in place and tie the bandage, unpractised nurse as I was. ‘There’s no more blood to be seen.’

  Tom dismounted and held the pad in place, averting his eyes from the bloodied garments that lay strewn on the ground. I felt impatient with him; there was little enough to see in the darkness.

  I bandaged the pad firmly into place over the wound. Will winced again as I tied the ends tight and leaned his head on my shoulder with a groan. Awkwardly, I put an arm around him as he rested there.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘I will be … in a moment,’ said Will faintly. ‘Lost … a damnable lot of … blood.’ He sat quite still, his breathing heavy while I cast about in my mind for what we should do.

  ‘Is there somewhere nearby where we can take you?’ I asked him.

  With an effort, Will pushed himself upright away from me. ‘I’m recovered now,’ he said. ‘I shall do. Yes, there is a barn nearby we need to reach.’

  He mounted his pony again with difficulty but appeared reasonably steady in the saddle. We moved on: out across more fields and along the bed of a shallow stream. ‘Keep in the water,’ Will called over his shoulder.

  We left the stream near a farm. All was silent around and behind us. Will paused and we halted, listening intently.

  ‘Reckon we made it,’ said Tom echoing my own hope.

  ‘Yes,’ Will agreed faintly. ‘Let’s hope the customs men all followed us, leaving everyone else time to get away.’

  As we walked on, weariness overcame me. I sagged on the pony’s back and almost nodded off.

  ‘Wake up, Isabelle,’ chided Will, riding up beside me and nudging my knee with his. I jumped awake, groggy and confused, and straightened myself. ‘It’s time to return the ponies,’ Will told me.

  We pulled up at a big old barn. Will and Tom slid off their mounts. As I followed them down to the ground and landed on my bad ankle, I cried out in pain.

  ‘It still hurts?’ Will asked. I nodded, biting my lip. ‘You can rest as soon as we’ve rubbed down the ponies,’ said Will, tossing me a wisp of hay. I set to work awkwardly, trying to copy what the other two were doing. When we were done, Will groaned and straightened up, cradling his arm. ‘I have to rest, before I go on. Goodbye, Tom, and thank you,’ said Will faintly, nodding to Tom, who slipped silently out of the barn into the grey, early morning light and disappeared.

  ‘We need to be sure we’re hidden from sight,’ said Will, glancing around the barn. I followed him behind a large stack of hay in the far corner of the barn. He sank to his knees, while I hurriedly burrowed into the loose hay behind to make a nest.

  Will unbuttoned his cloak with his good hand and threw it onto the straw and sank down with a sigh of relief. I sat down beside him and shivered. It was freezing in the barn. ‘Lie beside me and cover us both with the cloak,’ said Will faintly, his eyes already closed, a crease of pain furrowing his brow. I did as he said, trying not to hurt him. Under the cloak with Will close beside me, our arms touching, warmth began to spread through me and sleep followed close on its heels.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A door. Darkness around me. Light seeping round the edges. A brass door handle glowing faintly. My hand reaches out unwillingly to turn it. As I push the door open, I see two people beyond it. I stare uncomprehending for a moment, and then cry out.

  ‘Isabelle, hush!’ whispered a voice in my ear. It was urgent. I struggled to sit up, to throw off the hand that was pressed suffocatingly over my mouth. ‘Isabelle! It’s me, Will! Wake up but don’t make a sound!’

  Consciousness returned. I stopped struggling and lay still. ‘Will?’ I whispered when he released me.

  ‘You were having a nightmare,’ he whispered. ‘But there are men outside. Customs officers, or perhaps soldiers. Can you bury us in the hay?’

  Voices reached my sleep-fogged mind from outside the barn. Dust motes dancing in the air above me. The light was low, as though it was late in the day. I rubbed my eyes. ‘As quickly as you can!’ Will urged me. He was pulling a sheaf down over us with his good arm. He looked dreadful; dark shadows etched under his bloodshot, bleary eyes.

  ‘Lie down, I’ll do it,’ I told him, seeing him wince. As he lay down, I pulled the cloak back over him and strewed another sheaf of hay over the top. We were already concealed in a sort of nest, it wasn’t difficult to pull a covering down over us. When Will was completely concealed, I pulled an armful over myself and burrowed under it, down under the cloak, pulling in my feet after me. I heard Will gasp softly and guessed either I or he had nudged his bad arm.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I whispered.

  ‘I’ll do. Hush now!’

  I lay still beside him in the darkness, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beside me. I pricked my ears, trying to hear the voices, but something else began to distract me. The dust from the hay had got into my nose and I needed to sneeze. I tried to breathe and fight it, but the impulse grew and grew. My eyes were watering now, my nose tickling fiercely.

  ‘Should we check inside, sir?’ I heard a voice ask from outside the door.

  ‘No, there’s no … ’

  The sneeze exploded out of me, all the more potent for being resisted. Will flinched beside me and swore softly. Then we both heard the words we dreaded: ‘Search the barn!’

  Slowly, with a creaking sound, the barn door was pushed open. Will’s hand gripped my wrist so tightly it was painful. We both lay absolutely still. My heart was hammering.

  Footsteps crossed the barn. One of the ponies paused from munching hay to whicker softly.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ said a voice, terrifyingly close at hand.

  ‘Check more carefully. They could be hiding somewhere,’ said another voice, further away. ‘They can’t have got far. I’ll swear I winged him.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why we aren’t tracking the contraband rather than these men, sir?’

  ‘You don’t need to know. It’s orders. The contraband is a distraction. We’re searching for one man by the alias Nick the Knife. The other is a young woman dressed as a lad. Don’t know what he calls himself.’

  I caught my breath in fright. Will’s already painful grip tightened.

  ‘Herself, you must mean, sir,’ said the first voice.

  ‘He’s dressed as a man, Jameson,’ snapped the second.

  ‘Yessir. Him then.’

  ‘Search the hay. Someone sneezed, I could swear it.’
>
  Footsteps. The sound of hay sheaves being pushed aside. I was frozen with fear and trembling. Will was silent and motionless beside me. I could scarcely sense his breathing, and tried to still my own, praying another sneeze didn’t catch me unawares. The hay rustled right next to my head. I held my breath until dark spots danced in front of my eyes. The rustling moved further off and I sucked dusty air down into my desperate lungs.

  ‘Is there a reward out for these characters?’ asked the first soldier suddenly. His voice was still terrifyingly close, making me jump. ‘Is that why you’re not telling me? You want to keep it for yourself?’

  ‘There’s a reward. But there’s no point discussing that if we haven’t blasted well found them, is it? Curse it, I could have sworn we had them earlier.’ The sound of something being kicked reached my ears. The officer was angry. I could feel perspiration trickling down my back. I was suffocating in the heat and the dust.

  At that moment one of the ponies sneezed loudly on the other side of the barn. A great snorting sound with a whooshing of air and saliva. There was a silence and then a voice asked: ‘Are you sure it wasn’t one of these ponies as you heard sneeze, sir?’

  ‘Damn you, you’re probably right. We’re wasting our time here. Come on.’

  Footsteps retreated across the barn away from us. The door groaned and banged shut. I listened to the squeak of leather and the jingle of bits as they mounted their horses outside. This was followed by the thud of hooves, gradually growing more distant.

  I threw off the cloak and gasped in relief to breathe cooler air. Will did the same.

  ‘Now that was a close shave,’ he said weakly.

  I looked at him. ‘How did they know so much about us?’ I asked him. ‘Why are they searching for us so specifically?’

  Will frowned, but didn’t meet my eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he said after a pause. ‘But I intend to find out.’