Justice Belstrang 03 Deliverance by John Pilkington

Author:John Pilkington [Pilkington, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2021-03-21T22:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

The arresting party left Gloucester the following day, in bright sunshine. I rode a gelding borrowed from March, of whom I had taken my farewell early that morning. We had parted with few words, our purpose being clear enough. Meanwhile I had written a letter to Hester, attempting to explain my extended absence, which the Justice would see delivered. Thirldon seemed far away; and in the light of what had happened these past days, even my fears for its future had been eclipsed.

We were six in number, including myself and the party’s leader, a sergeant-at-arms named Parry. The other men were constables chosen by Parry himself. A plain, far-sighted man, he knew the purpose of our journey, though not what lay behind it; as yet that was a matter only for March and myself. As we left the city and took the westward road for Highnam, with at least a twenty-mile journey ahead, he eased his mount alongside mine and spoke up.

‘What sort of man is this Tobias Russell, sir? Will he prove troublesome?’

‘He might,’ I replied. ‘He’s no weakling, and he’s used to giving orders. Indeed, so is the trow-master, Spry. But I’m certain that you and your men will prevail.’

‘We must do so,’ Parry said. ‘Justice March is not a man to brook failure.’

I made no remark upon that. The night before, March and I had agreed that discretion must be our watchword. As far as Parry knew, Tobias Russell was to be arrested for conspiracy, in concealing the cause of death of John Mountford. Captain Spry was to be apprehended for ordering a grievous assault on my person by a man now in custody, believed to be a Turkish seaman. The constables, well-armed, were to render assistance as necessary. It was enough – and I could not help feeling a sense of satisfaction at the notion of seeing those two hard-faced men, Russell and Spry, being put in irons.

The journey passed without difficulty: from Highnam we rode south-westward through Westbury, Newnham and Blakeney, with the harvest still in progress in the fields. Then, as the day waned, we entered the Forest of Dean, falling into single file on the narrow road. At last, weary and saddle-sore, we reached Lydney and drew rein before The Comfort inn, the horses blowing and snorting in the afternoon haze. It was nine days since I had left here to sail downriver with Spry – but now, my first thought was for Leucippus. Dismounting quickly, I left the gelding in the care of Parry’s men and hastened to the stable – only to receive a shock.

My beloved horse was gone.

In dismay I looked about, seeing only an old piebald nag in one stall; where Leucippus had been there was nothing but straw. Whereupon, gathering my wits, I went out and marched to the inn door. When I entered, the first person I encountered was Henry Hawes - who jumped as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘Master Pride, sir…’ he faltered. ‘I… it’s good to see you, after… or I should say, you’re most welcome.

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