Raiders' Ransom (8 page)

I hop over a fence and skid round the corner of Fishnet Street, into the harbor. And straightaway I know I'm too late, cos the first thing I see is a line of men in blue uniforms, dead ahead. They've got their backs to me and their rifles raised and ready.

Soldiers. A whole company of them.

And the next thing I see is the ship. So big, my gob opens by itself. Three great masts, high as forest trees. Miles of rigging, sailors crawling all over. Her hull's a patchy gray, like she's made of stone, and she's anchored just outside the harbor, blocking any way out by sea. Her cannon ports are open, facing the village.

There's no point going any farther. Cat bounds up behind me, his tail arched in a question, and I scoop him up before he can run out among those soldiers. Who knows what they'd do to him?

All the men of the village have been rounded up by the Old Moon. They're surrounded by a ring of soldiers, like sheep caught in a pen. I can see Andy's head poking up from the middle, and his pa next to him. They look scared and angry at the same time. Then comes a clattering of boots on Broad Lane. Everyone turns to see the Prime Minister swaggering down to the harbor with a dozen more soldiers, and that strange, dark-suited Scottish Ambassador.

The Prime Minister's great fat belly is wrapped in a yellow silk waistcoat, with a bright blue jacket around, and his fat legs are stuffed into white stockings and pale jodhpurs. He's red and sweating, wiping his potato face with a handkerchief. He stops in front of the herded-up fisherfolk.

“So! Here are the brave villagers who stood by and did nothing while my daughter was being taken by raiders.”

A few people look startled, and lots of people look down.

Captain Ainsty steps forward, cap in hand, and says, “Begging Your Majesty's pardon, we never wanted any harm to come to Lady Alexandra. We're loyal to the bone. But we had raiders rampaging through the village.”

A couple of people shout, “Aye, that's right.”

“Your kind of loyalty isn't worth a green penny!” roars the Prime Minister. “What use were you to my child when you let her be carried off?”

“We tried! But they was raiders, with swords and all!”

“They were smashing our boats up. What could we do?”

“You could have laid down your lives to protect the honor of your country!” shouts Randall. He stops, wiping his face. “I hear not one of you was even hurt. Which makes me wonder, are you cowards or traitors? Well let me tell you, if you've leagued up with those raiders, I won't stop until every one of you is dangling from a noose!”

Of course, that gets everyone really frightened, all shouting at once: “No! No! We'd never work with the raiders! We're loyal to Your Majesty!”

Which doesn't impress him much.

“Then you'll get your chance to prove it, with a spell in the militia fighting the raiders.”

And everyone stops talking then, and looks frightened. Cos a choice between the noose and the militia is pretty much a choice of dying quick or dying slow.

But Captain Whitedove waggles his hairy head and dares to speak.

“Please, Majesty, we can't be joining no militia, not when the raiders has been through! Half our fleet's been sunk or smashed. We need every man to help with repairs. If we go on militia, how will we do that? Who'll feed our families?”

Prime Minister Randall turns beet red. “You should have thought of how you'd manage before you let the raiders take my daughter!”

Standing next to the soldiers is an officer with gold bits all over his uniform. He says, “Majesty, you needn't concern yourself about this rabble. I'll make it my task to establish guilt in the matter of the raider attack. If any of them had anything to do with your daughter's disappearance, we'll have the gallows raised and a row of hangings before nightfall.”

Randall looks pleased at that.

“Good plan, Colonel. And if any of them are traitors,” he sneers, “I shall relish every second of their dance from the gallows!” The Colonel bows to the Prime Minister, then sweeps a long glance over the crowd. He turns to another soldier. “I want a statement from every man here about what happened when the raiders came. Any who are shifty or clearly lying, pull them over for further questioning. Any that are honest and fit can put their marks on a militia contract.”

Then the Scottish Ambassador speaks up.

“Prime Minister, may I suggest searching the village for signs of treachery? Such as, say, unusual wealth or booty? An investigation would be prudent before taking any of these men for the militia. The last thing you want is to conscript traitors.”

“A sensible move, Jasper,” says Randall, nodding. “See to it, will you, Colonel?”

Soon as the Scottish Ambassador's gone off looking for proof we're in league with the raiders, the Colonel disappears inside the Old Moon, and the interviews end up being done by three bored soldiers, who line up the fishermen in rows, taking turns to bawl questions at them.

I spend the day hanging around by the harbor, watching and listening, stomach tied in knots. And I ain't the only one. Cos pretty soon I'm joined by women come down from their houses, frightened about soldiers tearing apart their homes, or searching for husbands, fathers, and brothers who've not come back for their dinner. Not long there's more than thirty women stood around, wringing their hands and clutching at fears as the men are interviewed. And I'm the same, cos when the soldiers get to Andy, I'm praying on him to lie and say he's not fit to fight.

But he doesn't lie, only says, “When the raiders came I was up on Top Lane, and I tried to stop them harming Granny Melkun, but two of them held me fast and laughed while she died.” And he shows them the bracelets of bruises all round his arms, given to him by the raiders. Then he says, “I'll be sixteen next May, I've not been sick since I was a boy, and though I've never held a rifle, I can throw stones better'n anyone in the village.”

And the soldier chuckles and writes something in his ledger.

After most of the day's gone on sorting through the men of our village, and them soldiers have mumbled and scratched over their notes, the Colonel marches stiffly off into the village. Everyone waits, getting more and more nervous, then there's another tramping of boots down to the harbor, and the Prime Minister's back.

He swaggers down in front of the crowd, puffs out his chest, and bellows, “This village is now going to learn about generosity. My generosity. Which will see to it that none of you hang today.” I hear someone start crying, must be with relief, and there's smiles and grins spreading across the faces of the men. “But don't think that means there won't be any payment for your disgusting, cowardly behavior!” The smiles get wiped off their faces. “For a start, all those who are able have been conscripted into the militia. So you'd better say your good-byes, lads, because you'll only see your families again if you fight the raiders like you should have done before.”

The Prime Minister nods at the Colonel, who starts calling out names — twenty-seven in all. All around me is gasping and weeping as all the young men of the village get pressed to fight the raiders. And I'm crying with everyone else, cos the fourteenth name on the list is Andy's. Who takes it calmly, only telling his pa not to worry.

And the one I wouldn't mind if his name got called, Lun Hindle, well he ain't going anywhere. Turns out he's too lazy and stupid even for the militia. Even after he shouts, “My
dad'll make you!” at the soldiers, they still don't want him.

When the twenty-seven men and boys have been huddled into a separate group, with rifles trained on them, the Prime Minister starts strutting about again.

“Do you think that's all you have to pay? Well it isn't, not by a long shot!” Everyone shuts their mouths, waiting for the next blow. “I said I was being generous, not a fool! There'll be no hangings today, but that doesn't mean there'll be none at all. Every man in authority, who might have been colluding with the raiders, shall be taken into custody. If we find my daughter, bring her back safely, and she testifies to their innocence, then they shall go free. But if she is not safely returned, or I find any evidence of treachery, then my justice shall be swift and terrible.”

At that, the Colonel shouts, “Seize them!” and the soldiers wade into the crowd, pulling out Captain Ainsty, Captain Whitedove, Captain Beaufort, and all the other men who run the boats. Including Andy's pa.

There's screams and shouts from the crowd, and the women try to break through the line of soldiers. But there's nothing anyone can do against rifle butts and sword swipes. Andy and the other lads are marched down the harbor steps to waiting rowboats, then taken off to the ship. And the captains are pushed and battered toward one of the solid stone warehouses that line the harbor.

The soldiers lock them inside and post an armed guard at the heavy wooden door.

Randall's ship sails the next morning, taking Andy and the others away. Seems like everyone who's left of the village is down at the harbor, and most of us have spent the night there. Staring out at the ship, hoping every time a figure moves on deck that it's one of the lads, let up to wave good-bye.

The sky's fading from black to blue in the east, and the first red light of dawn is creeping in when there's a sound I've got to hating, the clattering of boots down Broad Lane. Everyone watches silently as the Prime Minister and the Scottish Ambassador come walking down to the harbor with their escort of soldiers. We watch as a boat's rowed out from Randall's ship. We watch as Randall and the Scot stroll down the harbor steps and settle themselves into it like they're off for a Sunday jaunt. We watch them get rowed away without even giving us a backward glance.

And once they're on board the ship, there's a load of shouting and bustle, and a great clattering as the anchor's raised. Then the mainsails are unfurled, snapping and flapping into place, billowing with the wind. The ship groans, the sea rushes under her bows, and she heads away from our harbor.

“What shall we do now?” I ask Andy's ma.

“Go back to ours, Lilly, get some rest.”

But when I get there, it feels empty and strange. Cos Andy's not out in the yard, chopping wood, and his pa ain't sitting at the table, talking about fishing, and his ma ain't bustling about the stove. It's the same kind of emptiness as back at my
house, without Granny. The kind of emptiness in the whole village, with so many people missing.

Nothing gets better in the next days. It's just frightened waiting, and taking food down to the warehouse, and trying to get Andy's ma to eat a little, sleep a little. But mostly she doesn't do either, spending all her time at the harbor, where the captains are being made to build a jail for themselves. And that's why I'm on my own at the house when there's a knocking at the door. Before I can even open it, Mrs. Denton's head is poking in. If such a thing had happened before, Andy's ma would've been beside herself if the house wasn't sparkling-shiny in every corner. But Andy's ma doesn't care a thing about cleaning now, and Mrs. Denton doesn't even notice the mess. She holds up a basket with a cloth over it.

“I've brought some food for you,” she says, sounding like she ain't sure she'll be welcome. “I've emptied my cellar, and I'm taking all I can to feed the children of the village.”

She looks at me.

“That's very kind,” I say, even though I ain't hardly a child, am I?

“It's the least I can do, after all …” She heaves a great sigh and plonks herself down in the chair Andy's pa always sits in. Sat in.

“This is all so terrible,” she says, her voice all wobbly. “Martha claims the men will be set to building the gallows tomorrow.” Which puts an aching tightness inside me.

Mrs. Denton carries on, “Oh Lilly, I do feel I can talk to you. That you understand … You know, when Archie and I were children everything seemed so straightforward. Our tutor taught us that the raiders were evil, the Scots cursed for not throwing away their machines. And we believed it all.” She smiles softly. “It was Eustace who taught me differently. Showed me things aren't always the way we think they are.” Her face hardens again. “But my brother is just as pigheaded and arrogant as he was then. And that makes me afraid for Alexandra. It makes me afraid for all of us.” She laughs, but it sounds sad, not funny. “You know, after she was taken, I came up with an idea of how to get my niece back. I hoped I could stop my brother taking us to war. It's all useless now, but I was going to provide Alexandra's ransom myself.”

She stops again, and I ain't sure I'm even meant to answer. But I do. I say, “How were you going to do that?”

“I have something. An artifact. Eustace gave it to me on my birthday, the year before he died. I don't even know what it is; all I know is he found it on one of his expeditions, and it must be worth a lot, because he had a special box made for it, with a golden clasp. He told me it was the most important thing he'd ever found, that it would change our lives.” She pauses. “So I thought perhaps the raiders would accept it as ransom. I was planning to ask some brave captain from the village to take it to London and contact the raiders there. Eustace had dealings with other antiquarians in London,
and he told me of one who regularly bought antiques from the raiders. I hoped this man could help find the gang that took Alexandra. I even wrote out a letter requesting his help.” She laughs her sad laugh again. “Of course, it doesn't matter now.

My brother has taken away all the able men of this village and there's no one left to ask.”

She shakes her head, like she's clearing cobwebs out of it. “Enough of this. I didn't come here to burden you with cares you can't mend. I have some much better news!”

She takes my hand. “Mrs. Ainsty called on me yesterday. Such a thoughtful woman, to think of others, even at this time. She has suggested, and I have agreed, that I stand in place of your grandmother for you.”