Warlord's Gold: Book 5 of The Civil War Chronicles by Arnold Michael

Author:Arnold, Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2014-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

The English Channel, 15 October 1643

The rugged shore climbed out to port, a grey crescent above the evening sea like the spine of an unfathomably vast whale. It was the Sussex coast, the cliffs of the Isle of Wight having been left behind them. Hope swelled like a tide in Roger Tainton’s breast as he dipped his shoulder into the northerly wind. He knew they could not reach London if matters went on unchecked, but Sussex was, at least, a Parliamentarian county, its towns and ports generally declared for the rebellion, and the prospect of overreaching themselves must, he felt certain, soon become a genuine concern for the bold Cavalier crews. They were not a real navy, he told himself, but a rag-tag fleet of privateers. He prayed they would abandon the chase. Either way, the crew of the Silver Swan had performed admirably, plying their trade amid the thunder of cannon fire, adjusting canvas fraction by fraction as the wind changed direction and strength. The chase had worn them to red-eyed ghouls as the afternoon dragged, the need for rest overtaking their innate instinct for survival, but still they would battle on. God would compel them.

Tainton watched the undulating coastline, the dark mass pocked white where villages hugged the cliffs. More explosions made him flinch, and he was thankful his cowl concealed his timidity.

‘It is over, Mister Tainton, sir,’ the ship’s captain, Trouting, called above a rumbling volley from one of the frigates. Expert seamanship had dragged out some distance between predators and prey, and they were just out of range, but the shots were still too close for comfort as they smashed the surface of the sea. ‘We must put in.’

Tainton felt as though he had been hit by one of the whistling iron shots. He stepped back to brace himself. ‘We agreed—’

‘You agreed.’

‘I asked you to have more courage!’

Trouting shook his narrow head. ‘You commanded me to run east, and I have done so, but the men have had enough. They are worked to the bone! You claimed the enemy would disengage, but they have not!’

Tainton drew breath to launch a stinging tirade, but the captain’s watery eyes were full of determination. ‘Where?’

Trouting scratched roughly at his salt-stiffened bristles. ‘Selsey Haven.’

‘Selsey?’ Tainton blurted. ‘Might we not choose Chichester? Is it not for the Parliament?’ In truth, he was already forming a strategy in his mind, a tactic for dealing with the local author­ities wherever they landed. Chichester’s Roman walls would offer the best protection for his precious hoard, and protection was what was needed, regardless of the political leaning of a town. So much gold could capture a man’s heart, twist his allegiance and disintegrate his scruples, and Tainton needed to be sure that he could get the treasure behind the thickest walls he could find.

The captain shrugged. ‘I could not give a goat’s ballock, Mister Tainton. Who’s to say it ain’t gone back to Cavalier hands?’

‘It has not,’ Tainton rasped through gritted teeth. ‘I am sure.

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