Replenish the Earth (31 page)

Other figures had run out of the woods and were already snatching at his reins.

Heedless now of the pistols trained on them, the two unmounted men fought viciously to escape, for capture would result in certain death for them at the hands of the law. But they were greatly outnumbered and were soon pulled to the ground. 

The fourth man saw his chance and managed to knock his two assailants aside and spur his frightened horse into rearing up and clearing a path for him to escape. His spine was itching as he pounded along the track, in case they shot at him, but although one bullet came whistling past his ears, no others followed it.

The men he’d left behind went down under a rain of blows and kicks from men who had so far had no chance to get back at those terrorising their village. The strangers were battered and bleeding by the time they were trussed up and stowed in the cart.

‘Dearie me, Squire,’ said Ted, ‘one of them got away.’ He winked at the other villagers. ‘Careless of you, lads, very careless!’

‘Keep your comments till later, Ted Haplin!’ said Will curtly. ‘We haven’t finished yet.’ He drove the trap along a circuitous route, ending at Joe’s cottage, and the others wiped out its tracks. When they stopped, the men were unceremoniously dragged out and locked in a sturdy shed, still bound hand and foot.

‘Don’t let them escape!’ warned Will.

‘Don’t you worry, Squire, me an’ Joe’ll make sure o’ that. They might get a bit hungry, though. I ent goin’ to waste good food on bastards like them!’

‘Are your wife and children well away, Joe?’ whispered Will, unable to take things as lightly as Ted.

‘Ah,’ replied Joe. ‘They’m over stayin’ with Poll. And young Ned Bell is all afire to keep watch for us. A real smart lad, that one.’

‘Then we’ll wait and see what happens, as we agreed. I want Hugh and Izzy involved - those devils aren’t going to get away scot-free if I have any say in the matter - and I need them to lay a clear trail back to Sewell. I’ll be back later. If they haven’t found our men by then, we’ll have to drop them a clue or two.’

Will walked away, feeling all his senses twice as alert as usual. He welcomed the icy wind in his face, the cold drops of rain on his skin, because they helped cool down his anger. He had been filled with rage against Sewell ever since Sarah had lost their child. Now, as the possibility of bringing his enemy to justice seemed within his grasp, he felt it like a great dam, ready to overflow.

It would take very little to make him lose control, whatever his promises to Sarah. Pursleys were slow to anger, but when their fury rose, nothing short of death could stop them giving vent to it.

* * * *

That evening, when Mr Sewell’s man Izzy slouched into The Golden Fleece and bought himself a pot of cider, he found a noisy group congregated by the fire, giving all the appearance of men celebrating something.

‘On your own tonight, are you?’ asked Prue, who was dying to find out what was going on and why Thad, who had drunk only one small pot of cider, was feigning drunkenness.

‘Aye.’ Izzy swivelled round as a roar of laughter erupted from the group by the fire. ‘Not like Thad to go on the tipple.’

‘Oh, he’s celebrating something. Went into Sawbury today and came back fair set up with himself. But you’re right. He don’t often get himself tipsy. His Meg’ll have something to say to him when he goes home, that she will!’

‘I heard tell Pursley were gettin’ some new cows today.’ 

‘If you mean Mr Bedham, yes he was. Nice beasts, too. Robin brought ’em through earlier.’

‘Thought Pursley were goin’ with him to get ’em.’

‘I wouldn’t know, I’m sure! Excuse me, I have a few things to do.’

Izzy sat down on one of the corner benches and looked casually round the room. So Pursley hadn’t come back yet. But the fellow couldn’t be seriously injured or those clods wouldn’t be celebrating. The man who’d escaped after the ambush said that at least a dozen men had come out of the woods. Sewell had been furious, but had refused to take any action till Hugh and Izzy had spied out the land.

The first thing was to find out where they captives were being held. So Izzy went and sat in the corner with his brows knitted in thought, sipping at his ale and listening intently to what was going on around him. What had happened today? He had misliked this plan from the start, feeling they’d tempted providence too often, but his master had a bee in his bonnet and was absolutely set on killing Pursley. And it wasn’t wise to question Sewell’s orders, not when your master knew so much about your own past. Besides he paid well for the sort of services Izzy provided.

Another roar of laughter was followed by the blacksmith declaring loudly that he’d settle those gallow-cheats good an’ proper this time. His friends hastily shushed him, and one cast an anxious glance towards Izzy, who was looking in the other direction, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

‘.  . won’t try to burn down my smithy again . . . ’ said that loud drunken voice and once more, Thad’s friends shushed him hastily and started speaking at the tops of their voices to cover any more indiscretions.

After sitting there for a while longer, Izzy decided there was nothing more to be found out here and drained his pot.

‘Good, that were, Mistress Poulter,’ he said, giving her a gap-toothed smile. ‘Squire Sewell don’t keep any half as good in his cellar.’

She nodded with professional politeness, but allowed her features to relax into a scowl once his back was turned.

As he walked towards the door, Izzy caught the words, ‘gone to fetch his lordship’ from another of the group and heard pots clink together merrily. He stiffened, but kept on walking. They could only mean Lord Tarnly and that didn’t bode well for his master - or for himself. And where in hell’s name were the other three men they’d hired to do the deed? He and Hugh had checked everywhere they could think of. They had to be found and got out of the way as the one who’d escaped the ambush had been - and quickly, too.

Just outside the village, Hugh was waiting for him, sheltering under a tree. ‘Took your bleedin’ time, didn’t you? I thought you was just nipping in for a quick pot to see if they’d heard anythin’?’

‘Worth stayin’ a while, Hugh my lad, well worth it. Thad Honeyfield is as drunk as a lord back there.’

‘Is he, now? And what’s that got to do with us? It’s Pursley as master wants settled. And as soon as may be. Honeyfield can wait till later.’

‘That blacksmith’s celebrating something. In fact, there’s a whole group of ’em roaring with laughter an’ drinkin’ themselves under the table. I doubt you’d get any sense out of them, even if you could ask ’em straight out. But I did hear that someone had gone off to fetch Lord Tarnly.’

‘Ah.’ Hugh scowled at him. ‘That could be a mite nasty for us, that could, if anyone talks.’

‘Just what I thought.’

‘Better find out where our dear friends hev got to, then, eh, Izzy? Can’t have them tellin’ tales about us to his lordship, can we? And if we can’t rescue ’em, then we shall just have to make sure that they’re in no condition to talk.’

‘Aye, I suppose so. But I don’t like killin’ friends. I don’t think it’s safe to kill anyone in such a small village, come to that. Fair gives me the creeps at times, this bloody place, the way everyone knows everyone else. Give me a city like Bristol any day.’

‘Too late to worry about that now, not if you want to keep away from the hangman’s noose.’

‘Ah. I reckon Sewell were a bit hasty with Saul tonight. Who’d have thought a man’s neck could break so easily? And we’ve still to get rid of the body. That’s not as easy as master seems to think.’ Izzy shook his head. 

‘Ah, he just got a bit angry, that’s all. A man’s entitled to get angry when he pays out good money to get a job done, and then it’s bungled twice. Hey, where are you goin’ now?’

‘To tell Mr Sewell what I heard.’

‘No time for that. I saw two men creeping off down East Lane while you were sitting guzzling that cider. I followed ’em a little way and they turned off into the woods. It’s plain as anything they were up to no good. I reckon they’ve got our men down there.’

‘But . . ’

‘Look, you fool, you know Sewell will want it all settled, an’ he won’t want to come with us to help do the job, so we might as well get on with it. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty these days, our precious master. When I think o’ what he done in the old days . . . ’

‘Mum’s the word on that, if you don’t want to go on breathin’.’  

‘Aye, I suppose you’re right. But if we go an’ tell him what’s happening first, we could be too late to do anything before Lord Tarnly gets here. I’ve no mind to swing for it, even if you have!’

‘But  . . ’

‘But nothing! We’ve got to find out where they’re keeping the lads and make sure they don’t talk about us.’

A small figure hidden in the bushes watched them go, then slipped back to The Golden Fleece, where Thad and his friends had miraculously sobered up. When they heard what he had to tell them, they all left in a hurry.

Those remaining in the tap room looked at one another. ‘Somethin’ up,’ said Richard Bennifer, with the smug interest of an old man who is past the stage of getting personally involved in trouble.

‘Ah,’ agreed one of his cronies. ‘Thass for sure.’

‘We’d better get ready for trouble, then,’ said a third, who was still young enough to resent being left out of the conspiracy. ‘They might need a bit of help.’

‘Now, don’t you go a-starting anything!’ warned Sam, torn between his duty as constable and his own desire to join in.

He was ignored.

‘I’ll go an’ get my fowling piece. She’s old, but she still works all right. Been oilin’ her up lately.’

‘I sharpened my pitchfork,’ said another man. ‘Do a mort o’ harm, a nice sharp pitchfork can. Hev to be careful I don’t poke it into someone, shan’t I?’

Within minutes, the atmosphere inside the inn had changed completely. Men slipped out to their homes and returned with their chosen weapons, then settled to wait with a heavy patience few town-dwellers could match. If there was any chance of striking back at Sewell, they would be ready.

Even Will had underestimated the depth of their anger.

Nate took one look at their faces and thanked God he’d changed allegiance. He shrank back into a corner and buried his nose in his ale. No one had included him in their earnest discussions, but at least they’d left him alone. He wasn’t going home, though. He wanted them to see plain that he wasn’t warning anyone.

Deep in the woods, Izzy and Hugh dismounted and led their horses, the better to see the tracks they were following, footprints clearly visible in the mud. Dusk deepened around them as they made their way along a little-used path, stopping at regular intervals to listen carefully and make sure they were not being followed. Any poacher would have laughed at the amount of noise they were making in between their pauses, but they had been bred in the stews of Bristol and their few years in the country had not taught them how to blend in with the woodland noises as they moved - which their pursuers were doing with their usual skill.

When at last the cottage came in sight, the two men paused and Izzy let out a soft ‘Aaah!’ of satisfaction. Two voices could be heard from inside, raised in raucous song. Were all the villagers drunk that night?

‘They’ve run mad,’ marvelled Izzy. ‘Think they’ve won already, they do! Stupid dolts!’

‘Shhh!’ A punch in the arm emphasised this command and Izzy scowled as he rubbed the bruised flesh.

As they moved further down the track, they could make out the words:

 
Oh, we’ll hang him with a rope, rope, rope,

  Yes, we’ll hang him with a long, long rope!

  And he will not have a hope, hope, hope,

  When we hang him with our long, long rope!’

Every now and then the music stopped as pots were clinked together and toasts drunk.

‘To Sewell!’

‘To Sewell!’

‘Hope he don’t catch jail fever!’

‘Not afore they hang him, anyhow.’ 

Another burst of laughter followed this exquisite piece of wit, then, ‘To Izzy! To Hugh! Long may they swing on the gibbet!’ 

‘Try to get us hanged, will they?’ muttered Hugh. ‘We’ll see about that!’

‘Will
you shut up, you fool!’

Outside the cottage, hidden in the eaves, young Zacky Haplin was keeping watch. He’d heard the sound of the approaching horses a while ago, but not till he caught sight of two shadowy figures approaching the cottage did he pull hard on a piece of string attached at the other end to his father’s wrist. Two sharp tugs a moment later showed him that Ted had got his message, and the tune the two Haplins were singing changed abruptly. 

Zacky sank back into the shadows. His part was played now, unless something untoward happened, and his Dad had threatened to flay him alive if he tried to join in the fighting, or even stirred from his perch under the eaves till he was given permission. And Ted Haplin’s children all knew when to do as they were told. But Zacky wasn’t complaining, because he was in a prime position to see everything, unlike his brothers and sisters.

When the song changed, something stirred briefly in the shadows behind the new shed, and Zacky noted the movements with satisfaction.

The two conspirators stopped to confer.

‘We’ll try the outhouses first,’ whispered Hugh. ‘If they’ve got ’em locked up there, it’ll be easy enough to deal with ’em. You got your pistol and knife ready?’

‘Course I have!’ An’ he’d use them on some of them bastards afore this night was through, Izzy added mentally, angry now - and afraid as well. Hang him with a rope, would they? Sing an’ laugh about it, would they?

Slowly they crept forward. Izzy waited outside while Hugh slipped into the first shed, checked that it held no prisoners and returned to pass on that information. It seemed to the hidden watchers that the two were in disagreement about something.

‘I’m checking that new shed next, I tell you!’ Hugh moved forward again. The door opened, then reopened and he hissed at his companion, ‘They’re here! I told you they would be.’