Frobisher's Savage

by Leonard Tourney

  “They are desperate murderers, Master Stock,’’ Profytt said in a loud whisper. “I will take no chances with them. If they be within, they shall surrender. If unarmed as you say, then that’s all the better, for our task will be the more speedily done.”

  Profytt having now ridden too far away for this dispute to continue, Matthew motioned to his remaining men, Pierce and Grubbs, and he urged his horse onward. On the slopes of the rise the snow was not so deep, and in places enough melting had occurred so that now the earth appeared, together with rocks that glistened in the sun. Matthew shielded his eyes against the glare and sucked in gulps of the icy air. His lungs ached. He knew now that Master Burton’s servant was concealed in the ruin and the Crookback boy with him but was not sure how he knew, for other than the whiff of smoke from a fire that might have been made by some other poor wretch in the storm, he saw nothing but the blackened timbers and what remained of the walls of that part of the manor house that had survived the fire.

  When they reached the house itself Matthew signaled Pierce and Grubbs to dismount, Profytt and Peter Bench now having disappeared from sight around the other side of the ruin. Matthew led the way through what had been the door into the roofless interior, careful of his footing, since the floor of the house was covered with fallen timbers that were half buried in the snow. He wanted no broken limbs to testify to his hardihood. The house seemed deserted, as far as he could see, but then he heard Profytt’s voice call out for him and he moved forward around another half-fallen wall and saw Agnes’s young husband pointing down at his feet and looking at Matthew with an expression of triumph.

  “There’s been a fire here,” Profytt said, “and not but a quarter hour before our coming. See, Master Stock, he who made it tried his best to conceal it with fresh snow. Yet I found it out.”

  Matthew went over to have a look. Profytt was right: Beneath a thin veneer of snow were the remains of a fire. The burned wood was still warm to the touch.

  “There’s footsteps too,” Profytt said, nodding at them. “They’ve tried to cover them up, but it is plain that there are two of them. So who must it be but the murderers we seek?”

  Matthew nodded in agreement and told Pierce and Grubbs to fetch the horses and bring them around to the rear of the house, where Profytt said the tracks led.

  “Had we marched forward with greater speed we would have had them,” Profytt said, staring at Matthew accusingly.

  “Greater haste would have put us at too great a risk in this weather,” Matthew said. “Besides, if it is Nemo and Crookback, they would surely have seen us at whatever speed we approached.”

  “Do you doubt it is they we seek?” Profytt asked incredulously. “By God, it must be they. Who else could it be?” Matthew did not bother to answer the question. He regretted having further provoked the hotheaded young man with an expression of uncertainty he might well have kept to himself. The truth was that he shared Profytt’s conviction that the tracks were made by the fugitives; he simply did not want to give Profytt the satisfaction of an easy victory. But he saw too in the expressions of Pierce and Grubbs that despite his friendship with these neighbors, they would have preferred Hugh Profytt to him as leader of their band. Even Matthew’s own apprentice, when he came up to where the other men stood, seemed impressed by the evidence Profytt had uncovered.

  The tracks led away into the wood that had been its late master’s deer park, a tangle of thistles and oaks that commenced within a stone’s throw of the house. Even without the leaves of summer, the wood looked thick and treacherous. Matthew was no forester, but if Nemo and Crookback had taken refuge within, then he supposed duty bade him follow, although he had no stomach for it, for the tracks seemed to lead perversely into the thickest part of the forest.

  “Why do we wait?” Profytt asked as the men stood looking. “Our delay only allows them time to achieve a greater distance or to conceal themselves the better.”

  Grubbs agreed. “Let us move forward, Matthew. It will be a great honor if it is we who bring them home again.”

  They left the horses at the edge of the wood, tied to trees. Profytt said someone should remain with the horses. “If they come around behind us, we may find our labors within are futile and the two fugitives handsomely mounted.”

  This practical advice further raised Profytt’s stature among the little band, and Matthew was now humiliated by having to second orders given by one under his own command. He told Grubbs to guard the horses, but Grubbs objected. “Why must it be I, Matthew? Have I not as much right as you or the others to take the murderers?”

  Profytt agreed with Pierce. “Abraham has shown himself well in our pursuit, Master Stock. You choose him unwisely— and over your own apprentice, who would appear by his dull eye and trembling to have little stomach for the chase.”

  Everyone turned to Peter. “I shall do what Master Stock bids me,” Peter said.

  Matthew had wanted his apprentice, the only one of the group he now trusted, by his side, and he resolved to stand fast to his order. He felt himself losing more and more ground to Profytt, and his dislike for Agnes’s husband surmounting his dislike for the wife herself. He reminded the men that he had been put in charge of the group. But Hugh Profytt stormed, “You were so charged because Master Fuller believed you to be capable. You have called into question that capability by your halfhearted pursuit of the murderers of your own townsmen. Were Master Fuller here he would choose another in your stead. Of that I am sure.”

  “You mean yourself,” Matthew said.

  “At least I do not dawdle,” Profytt said hotly. “And it was I whose judgment was confirmed about the house and I who found the fire and the tracks.”

  Matthew started to answer this but was interrupted by Peter, who volunteered to stay by the horses himself.

  Matthew was not pleased by his apprentice’s well-intentioned offer, but he realized that further discussion was not only futile but that it undermined his authority the further. He wished more than anything now that Fuller had not divided the company. He would have much preferred to be part of the larger group; at the head of these four he felt vulnerable, and he half agreed with Profytt’s assessment of his capacity. He knew he had not shown himself well. Profytt had been right about the manor as a place of concealment. The energy and purpose of the younger man was obviously superior to his own; within the forest, he would undoubtedly offer further proof of his superiority.

  “So be it,” Matthew said after an uncomfortable silence. “Peter will remain with the horses, since he will have it so. The rest of us will follow the tracks as far as we are able.”

  Without waiting for further instructions, Profytt led the way into the woods, and the other men followed, as though without a formal declaration the mantle of leadership had been transferred.

  The park had been abandoned along with the house and, untended by any forester, had been overrun by a riot of brush and briar. It was difficult to move with any speed, and their efforts at keeping quiet were frustrated by a constant crackling of dead branches that seemed to carry for a league or more. The tracks were soon lost, and so was Matthew. He looked about him. In every direction there seemed the same bare branches of winter grown so thickly together as to be a kind of net. He was thankful now for Profytt’s own boldness, for the young man remained in the lead, moving forward as though he had a compass in hand, although he was no better equipped than the other three men.

  Matthew was very tired and heartsick. He was sure now that his failure would be as great a piece of news in Chelmsford upon his return as would be the capture of the fugitives, if they should accomplish it. Agnes Profytt and her sister would be delighted, as would a number of his neighbors who were jealous of Matthew’s success in his trade. But above all he felt the humiliation of being lost.

  Suddenly the forest opened into a clearing, and as suddenly the tracks of the fugitives reappeared. It was Pierce, not Profytt, who found them, and he cried out for joy so loudly that Matthew w
as forced to remind him of the need for a silent pursuit.

  This admonishment given, Matthew’s attention was then drawn to another cry, this time from Grubbs, who had been bringing up the rear and had fallen behind. “There they are!” Grubbs cried, pointing to the other side of the clearing.

  Matthew looked and saw the men. He did not recognize the first, but the second was definitely Nicholas Crookback. They were disappearing into the woods again. Profytt had seen them too and began to bound across the drifts of snow. Matthew and the other men followed after, but Profytt had reached only the middle of the clearing when he suddenly cried out and tumbled headlong. When Matthew and the others reached him he was sprawled in the snow, bawling and cursing that he had broken a leg or worse.

  Coming up to where Profytt lay, Matthew could see what had happened. A small stream transected the open space in the forest and it had been obscured by a snowdrift. In his headlong rush, Profytt had ignored everything but the image of the fleeing fugitives and had stumbled over a rock in the streambed. Now he was in real agony, beating his fist into the snow until he had smashed through it to solid ground, his red face contorted in pain.

  Profytt stopped screaming long enough to sputter out appeals for help mixed with admonishments that the other men continue their pursuit. Since Matthew realized there was nothing that could immediately be done for Profytt, he motioned the others to follow, and watching his own footing, he directed Grubbs and Pierce to where he had seen Adam Nemo disappear into the trees.

  The part of the forest into which they now entered was if anything more dense than what they had already come through. By Matthew’s reckoning, the deer park could not have consisted of more than several score acres, but so overgrown was it that they might wander back and forth for days without emerging into the fields again. Then he saw the fugitives, about a stone’s throw ahead—if a stone could have been thrown in such a thicket. He cried out, ordering the two to stop, but his warning was to no avail. He ran faster after them, moving through the undergrowth with great difficulty and his heart pounding with such force that he thought it might break from the exertion.

  For what seemed a hour but may only have been a quarter as much, Matthew continued the pursuit, now seeing his quarry, now losing sight of them. Grubbs followed after Matthew, but Pierce with his long stride and stronger heart moved ahead and to the right. Then suddenly Matthew saw a thinning in the trees, and blue sky beyond: the end of the deer park.

  Man and boy ran until they came to where they could see the forest end and the fields begin again and looking back, saw their pursuers. Then Adam heard shouts from a new direction. He looked to the right and saw other men, on horseback, their mounts struggling in the snow toward him. Trapped between those behind and those in front, Adam stopped for a moment in confusion, and the delay was long enough to give the pursuers the advantage. He recognized the stonemason first. William Dees leapt from his mount and ran at them, flinging himself upon Adam and wrestling him to the snow, while another man whose face Adam did not recognize fell upon Nicholas.

  For the next few minutes all was pain and confusion, but despite his struggling, Adam was no match for the stonemason’s superior strength. The man’s hot garlicky breath was on the back of Adam’s neck, his curses in his ears. A hoarse excited voice cried the order to fetch Master Fuller and Sir Thomas. Someone else cried that the murderers had been taken. Blinded by the pain of having his arms pulled nearly from their sockets and twisted behind his back, Adam could think only of that earlier time when Martin Frobisher saved his life by calling out the name Crookback as though the two syllables were an incantation with sufficient power to stay his attacker.

  But there was no Frobisher to save him now.

  Chapter 13

  The men of the posse were transformed by the actual possession of their quarry. It was as though the cruel deaths of man, woman, and children had been but half believed before and only now had the full enormity of the Crookback murders come home to them. Men Matthew had never seen enraged were now voicing the most uncharacteristic opinions about what should be done with the captives. Some wanted Adam and Nicholas executed on the spot, either by hanging or the cutting of their throats. Others urged that the two be taken back to Chelmsford first so that the whole town could witness the executions.

  Matthew spoke against this, doing what he could to restrain the violence directed against the fugitives, which now consisted of taunts and random blows, wrenching of their arms, and the most vile threats, although it was clear that neither Adam nor Nicholas intended, or were capable of, further resistance. Finally, Fuller and his little troop arrived and shortly thereafter Sir Thomas, and with the arrival of the magistrate a calmer spirit prevailed.

  Sir Thomas, who appeared more than a little disappointed that it was not he who had captured the fugitives, first congratulated William Dees for taking the two men and then Matthew for having flushed them out of the forest. “You have acted with courage at considerable risk to your own lives,” Sir Thomas said, looking at where Hugh Profytt lay on a makeshift litter. Profytt had been brought out of the forest about a half hour earlier and was now being prepared to be conveyed back to the town, with much discussion among his friends as to how to lessen his discomfort.

  Then the knight settled the matter of what was to be done with the prisoners in a way that was no surprise to Matthew. He said the men would be bound over for the next assizes, when they would both come to trial for their crimes. He said he hoped justice would be done and that the whole town might witness a lawful hanging. “This is not a place for private justice,” he said, “but for the full measure of the laws of England. Let us have no more talk then of precipitous action. We shall return to Chelmsford with our prisoners. Let notice be taken of how speedily justice does her work when the laws of God and queen have been flouted.”

  After this speech, Hugh Profytt’s litter was raised and suspended between two horses, one of which was Matthew’s. It was thought a more comfortable method of conveyance than to drag the litter behind, where it might bump against rocks. Profytt was in a great deal of pain with his leg, his shank bone having broken through the skin, but he continued to curse the accused men as though they had not only murdered his father-and mother-in-law but personally inflicted the agony he was now experiencing. It was clear from his baleful expression that he blamed Matthew for his humiliating injury as well. Sir Thomas told Profytt to bear his pain like a man, and after that the young man swore the less but wept a good deal, so that the tears froze on his face.

  The return of the posse comitatus was heralded by several of its members who were directed to ride on ahead and alert the town. So by late afternoon when the expedition returned the townspeople were waiting in the streets despite the bitter cold, cheering and waving as Sir Thomas led the company of men up the High Street toward the Sessions House. As for the prisoners, they had been bound and seated back to back on one of the packhorses and were subjected to much railing and cursing from the townsfolk, who threw cobbles or tossed nightsoil from their windows above the street, some of which landed upon the heads of the members of the posse, to their great annoyance. It was difficult for Matthew to tell whether the response of his neighbors evinced anger at the prisoners or relief that the danger had passed.

  At the Sessions House the posse was formally disbanded, but not before Sir Thomas delivered another speech about the majesty of the law and the evil of those who commit murder upon their parents. His speech went on at such length that some in the crowd slipped off to their homes before its conclusion to get themselves warm and have a good supper. Then the magistrate announced that the prisoners would be taken to his own house for the time being and later be conveyed to the jail in Colchester. He thanked all members of the posse, mentioning the leaders of each of the bands of searchers by name, and after each name a cheer went up from the members of that band. When Matthew’s name was mentioned there was less enthusiasm, except from Peter Bench, Matthew’s apprentice.


  Hugh Profytt had been taken directly to his house and a physician sent for. As happy as he was to be home again, Matthew suspected he had not heard the last of the incident in the deer park.

  He had listened to the magistrate’s speech with a heavy heart, both because he was weary beyond measure from the day’s efforts and because he remained convinced that the accused men were innocent. However his neighbors might celebrate their liberation from danger, he resolved to keep his own house as tight as a fortress until he was persuaded that the true malefactors had been taken.

  Joan had watched the returning troop with joy and had wept despite herself at the sight of her husband alive and well, for she had seen the litter on which Hugh Profytt lay first and had dreaded that the taking of the prisoners had been at the cost of human life. Of course she had feared the worst, that it was her husband who was so distressed and borne. Then she saw Matthew, seated upon his horse, riding only slightly to the rear of the magistrate, and she was filled with more pride in the man she married than she had ever felt before.

  When she saw the prisoners, however, she was filled with a great sadness. These were her former guests; now they were bound and mortified, destined, if she was any judge of her neighbors’ disposition, to meet a speedy and cruel death. Some of the foul matter aimed at them had found its mark, and both men were not only shivering with cold but also covered with stinking filth, as was the poor horse that carried them. She did not join in the curses flung at the accused men but went indoors again after they passed and directed Elizabeth, who had been gawking at the spectacle from the upstairs window, to come down and help her with supper, for her father would be as hungry as a bear, she said, after his adventure.

  The meal—brown bread and butter and a round Essex cheese, a well-cooked capon and cup of steaming broth to go before and make the belly, she said, accommodating to the rest—was all upon the table when the master of the house returned. Joan greeted her husband with a warm kiss and a firm embrace and then helped him off with his cloak and gloves and boots. But she had also supervised a fire of such happy fury that he was soon himself again, and even as he ate he related all that had transpired during the day, omitting not a detail nor sparing himself the embarrassment of relating how inadequate he had felt as a commander, even in the presence of Elizabeth, who hung on every word of her father’s report.