A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

As they said their goodbyes, the door of a small room suddenly opened and Merriman saw their coaching companion, the lawyer Jeremiah Robinson emerge, deep in conversation with
a thin, dark featured man followed by a tall, slim man who kept his face averted, and  who seemed vaguely familiar.  There was another large man with them  who, catching sight of Merriman rushed out of the front door before his companions.  The lawyer saw Merriman at the same time and hastily ushered his companions out of the hotel door before turning to say “A pleasure to see you young gentlemen again.”

“
Indeed Sir, and to meet you.  We’ve just spent a most excellent evening together, the Lieutenant and I,” announced the soldier,  “I’m about to walk back to my rooms, perhaps you would accompany me.”

“
As I am sure that your rooms are near the castle Sir, I regret that I cannot, as my way lies in the opposite direction.”  And with a brief adieu he nipped quickly out of the door and disappeared.

“
Strange fellow,” mused Merriman later as he prepared for bed, “He didn’t seem very pleased to see us, in fact he was positively agitated, and the way in which he pushed his companions out before we had chance to get a good look at them was most strange.  I wonder who they were?”

The next day, after he had made another visit to the ta
ilor, the family returned home Three days later, the tailor arrived as he had promised, with all the new clothes for a final fitting.  He fussed about as Merriman tried them on, tucking here, easing a seam there until Merriman was ready to explode with irritation.  Finally the man expressed himself satisfied and left, promising that all would be delivered the next day without fail.

The coast of North Wales and the mountains of Snowdonia stood out clearly. Early rain had cleared the air and Merriman was enjoying the view as his horse ambled along on the Cheshire side of the Dee estuary.  His intention had simply been to take a ride because it was such a fine day and he had no particular direction in mind, but his brother had asked to join him and without really thinking about it they had set off on the road to Neston.  It was bitterly cold and both of them were bundled up in gloves and scarves and overcoats.  They were in no hurry and between his brother’s chatter he was deep in thought about his man Owen, wondering if he had discovered anything about the smuggling gang and when he might return.

Merriman suddenly shivered.
“Too long in the tropics, that’s what it is” he told himself.  “Come on Matthew, I’ll race you to that far gatepost,” so saying he set spurs to his horse and thundered off ahead of his brother who tried valiantly but unavailingly to catch him.

They pulled up, almost together, laughing with excitement. 
“It wasn’t a fair start James, you were away before I realized what you were doing.”

“
Ha, you need to keep your wits about you little brother,” laughed Merriman.

Approaching
the town, they realized that a market fair was in progress with the country folk selling vegetables, eggs and chickens, milk, butter and cheese and the like.  People were buying foodstuffs, ribbons and cloth, pots and pans, and all sorts of cheap goods and gewgaws from itinerant traders who had set up their stalls under scraps of canvas.  A small group was gathered around a seller of magical potions which he absolutely guaranteed would cure anything.  “The recipe for this wonderful elixir was given to me by a dying Holy man in far off India. It will cure impotence and gout and will cause barren women to conceive,” he told his wide eyed and gullible listeners.

Leaving their horses tied, Merriman and his brother wandered about, amused by the chatter of the stall holders, occasionally pestered by beggars, when all at once Merriman saw Helen Simpson talking to an old lady who was selling ribbons.

“Good morning Ma’am, you must allow me to buy those for you.  No, I positively insist upon it, I hope it will help to make amends for upsetting you the other day.”

“
Thank you Sir,” she replied with a small curtsey, “But really, I had quite forgotten all about it.  And who is this handsome young gentleman with you?”

Merriman hastily introduced Matthew who nearly fell over his own feet trying to bow over the lady
’s hand.

She continued,
“From our last meeting, you know that my father and I live close by, so in my turn I must insist that you accompany me there.  I know that my father will be pleased to see you again.”

“
With the greatest of pleasure Ma’am.  Matthew, will you collect the horses and follow us.  Miss Simpson will show us the way.”    The cold had brought the colour to her cheeks and with her dark hair and sparkling eyes she was as pretty as a picture.  Merriman was entranced and couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“
You are staring Lieutenant, why don’t you look at the countryside Sir?  It is much more attractive than I.”

“
Yes Ma’am, I mean no Ma’am, that is, I mean, well, I think you are – it isn’t, what I meant was ---.”  He stumbled on until he realized that he was making a fool of himself and shut his mouth. Matthew was grinning all over his face at his brother’s embarrassment and Merriman growled at him to mind his manners.

After only a short walk they arrived at a small but well appointed house with a modest range of outbuildings, stables and coach house, stan
ding apart from its neighbours, She led the way inside followed by the two brothers, to be greeted by Doctor Simpson who had seen their approach.

“
My dear Lieutenant, this is a welcome surprise, and you have a companion?”  Merriman introduced his brother to the doctor,  who turned to a maid who was hovering in the background and giving her the key to the tea caddy, asked her to bring some tea for the visitors.  “Unless you would like something stronger?” he asked.

“
Thank you Sir, a dish of tea would be most acceptable.”

As they sat and enjoyed t
heir tea, the doctor explained “We really became quite addicted to the drinking of tea whilst we were in India, indeed, we brought a good supply back with us. I find it an ideal beverage to relax one and it is also efficacious in the calming of patients after any painful surgery.”

“
Indeed Sir, I am sure that you are right.  I believe there are many different teas from the various areas of India and China, but although I find it very refreshing, I haven’t drunk enough to be able to determine one from the other.”

“
You mentioned surgery Doctor, may I enquire if you intend to continue in the practice of medicine now you are home?”

“
Only in a small way perhaps, for I fear that with my advancing years I am not as active as once I was, although Helen will miss it as she’s been my assistant for many years and knows almost as much about medicine as I do.”

“
My father has mentioned that our doctor for many years has recently died and has not been replaced.  I was wondering if you might ------ er, perhaps, well anyway, my parents extend an invitation to you to visit us for a day or two.  May I suggest Friday of next week for the weekend?”

“
Thank you, we would be honoured.  Would you think it impertinent of me to ask if my sister be allowed to accompany us?  I should explain that although this house is mine since our parents died, my sister Jane moved back here when her husband was killed in a riding accident two or three years ago.  Since then, she has lived quietly here alone and rarely ventures into society. I’m certain it would do her good to visit you.  At the moment she is visiting a sick neighbour and so you cannot meet her now.”

So it was agreed and details were decided upon, following which Merrim
an and Matthew left to ride home, to inform their parents what he had arranged.  His mother was overjoyed at the prospect of new friends to entertain and immediately began to plan with Annie what should be prepared.

“
James, why not invite your friend Captain Saville for the very same evening,” she said.  He is such an agreeable young man and it would ensure a lively gathering.”

Captain Merriman drew his son on one side. 
“I’m glad you have arranged for your friends to come here James, but there is something else I wish to ask you about.  Your man Owen hasn’t been seen for over a week now and I fear he may have gone for good.”

“
No Father, he hasn’t. He’s trying to find out what he can about the gang who took the revenue boat.  I kept it quiet for fear that word may get around, servants tittle-tattle you know.”  And Merriman told his father all that he and Owen had arranged.

“
That seems to be a good idea James, let’s hope that he hasn’t found himself in trouble.”

“
He is a good man Father, and I trust him to take care.”  He shrugged, “But there is nothing to be done except wait for him to come back.”

The next few days passed slowly for Merriman.  He was unused to having time on his hands and he found the waiting for news from Owen intolerable.  His father did his
best to interest him in the workings of the estate but it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere.  Answering Matthew’s endless questions about the navy passed more of the time and to his embarrassment his mother and sister insisted on seeing him in all his new clothes.

Evan Owen sat on a rough bench in the darkest corner of a small and scruffy alehouse in a village near the coast, nursing a pot of ale from which he took infrequent sips.  On the table before him was a platter containing the remains of some stale bread and a rind of strong cheese.  The usually smartly turned out sailor was unshaven, his clothes dirty and he tried to adopt a furtive air so as to look as though he was hiding from authority.

It was
now several days since he left the Merriman household and he had spent the time wandering along the roads and byways near the coast, begging at cottages and farms for food, sleeping rough under hedges and hayricks and showing himself only in the meanest and poorest looking alehouses.  By this means he had hoped to attract the notice of anybody who might think him to be willing to do anything to earn some money.

So far his efforts had been in vain and he had been ignored, although in each tavern he visited,
the local people, mostly fishermen and farm hands regarded him with suspicious sideways glances.   He took another pull at the indifferent ale, staring gloomily in front of him at the beaten earth floor, pondering on what else he could do to find out the information he needed. If nothing happened soon he might as well give up, but the thought of giving up his quest depressed him still further.  He finished his drink and decided to have another.

He approached the bar which was no more than rough boards supp
orted on barrels, and was surprised when a man who had been in conversation with the tavern keeper turned and offered to pay.  Owen muttered his thanks to the man who followed him back to his seat in the corner.

“
Not seen you around here before have I.  Where are you from?”  asked the man, a dark featured person and obviously a Welshman.

“
Originally not far from ‘ere, along the coast a bit. My family were all fisherfolk  but they’re all dead and gone now.”

“
Sorry to hear that,” replied the stranger, but it’s obvious you’re a seafaring man, what ship are you from?”

Owen looked at him slyly for a moment, then said with a nervous grin,
“Been at sea for over twelve years, in ‘is Majesty’s bloody navy I ‘ave.  Lately topman in the brig
Conflict
and before that in the old Indy an’ before that --------“

“
The old Indy, what’s that?”

“
The Indy, don’t you know nothin’?  That’s the
Indefatigable
, everybody knows that.  Why, I remember one time aboard her and the cannon balls flyin’ as thick as ‘ail when the cap’n says to me ---------“

“
Yes, alright, I get the picture.  So what are you doing here if you are still in the navy and no family to stay with?  Have you run?”

“
You’re a bit nosey aren’t you mate, what is it to you what I’m doing?”

“
No offence meant, but I’m looking for a likely lad or two for a little job and I thought you looked as though you needed some money without being too concerned what had to be done to earn it.  Am I right?”

Owen decided this could be the lead he had hoped for, so he repl
ied slowly and in a way he hoped the other would think to be reluctance to reveal too much about himself.

“
Well, I could use some more money, that’s sure and somewhere to sleep, It’s bloody cold out in the open.”

“
I know, you have my sympathies.  Anyway, if you want some work be here the same time tomorrow night.  I pay well for a man who can keep his mouth shut.  What’s your name?”

“
Owen, what’s yours?”

“
Mine you don’t need to know, just be here tomorrow night.  Thomas there will let you sleep in his barn” he said, rising and indicating the fellow behind the bar before disappearing through the door into the night, leaving Owen to mull over what he had learned.

The following evening, Owen was on the same rough bench as before when the man who had appr
oached him previously entered the tavern and brusquely ordered Owen to follow him.  Outside, the night was pitch black which the flickering candle in the small  lantern carried by the other man did little to dispel.  They had walked only a few yards when suddenly Owen was surrounded by a number of men and his arms seized so that he could barely move.  A knife pricked his throat and a hoarse voice growled in his ear, “If you speak to anybody about what you see and do tonight I’ll see your throat cut for real, not just this pinprick.  Do you swear to keep your trap shut?”

Owen nodded, the grip on his arms relaxed and the knife was removed.  He touched his throat and felt the slipperiness of blood from the small nick in his skin.  He was pushed rather than led
in the direction of a cart, which, as his eyes became used to the dark, he could see already carried several men.  He climbed onto the back of the cart and sat down on the floor.  A foul smelling hood was dragged over his face and the same voice admonished him not to try and remove it.

As far as Owen could tell, the cart was moving inland, but after a journey of well over an hour he could again smell the sea.  The cart halted and rough fingers whipped the hood off his head taking some of his hair with it. R
ubbing his scalp he looked around him.  There was a group of about fifteen men on a sandy beach and the men on the cart joined them, Owen with them.  He could see the vague shape of what might be a fishing boat anchored offshore and two small boats being rowed to the beach.  The men were pushed into lines, one for each boat and led into the sea as the boats grounded.  Each man in turn was fitted with a sort of harness over his shoulders carrying two small kegs and they moved off up the beach to where a number of horse drawn carts waited.

Not a word was spoken as Owen in his turn was loaded with two kegs.  He followed the other men and deposited his load onto one of the carts.  Each of them must have made at least ten trips back and forth, so that Owen reckon
ed at least four hundred kegs of brandy had been landed.  And that it was brandy there could be no doubt as the smell from a leaking keg was unmistakable.

Following the brandy they carried various boxes and bundles ashore, possibly silks and laces, many of
which were loaded onto horses as well as carts and as each cart was loaded it was driven away.  The loaded horses were tied one to another and led away into the darkness.  The boats had already disappeared out to sea. It was obvious that the complete operation had been done many, many times before as each man knew what to do without the need for orders.  When all the goods had been loaded and dispersed, Owen and the last few men climbed onto the cart, the hood was pulled over his head again and they were taken back to the tavern.  The hood was removed, some coins were thrust into his hand and he was left alone with a final threat ringing in his ear “Be ready for tomorrow night and you’ll keep a shut mouth or else!  There’ll be a lot more work if you’re willing.”

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 pa
y 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 t
han 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 a
bout 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 an
d 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?”