Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery by John Pilkington (top 10 most read books in the world .TXT) 📗

be able to identify my assailant, for I had barely seen him, though I believed he had come from the inn. If I were to remain here, I knew I would be in danger. As for finding accommodation elsewhere, that could be difficult: The Comfort was the only inn for miles.

I took a light breakfast without leaving my room; nor did the wench who brought it address a word to me. I had barely noticed her before, but supposed she was Hawes’s daughter. Presently I descended and ventured outdoors, without seeing the landlord. I took Leucippus from the stables and saddled him myself, glad to be out in morning sunshine. Then I was in the saddle, riding down to Purton where the cries of gulls greeted me. And now a very different sight appeared: the wharf was bustling with activity.

I dismounted and strode casually to the quay, where as I had expected the Lady Ann was being loaded. A small crane was at work, creaking on its swivel as men swung it from the dock to the vessel, where others waited to unfasten its burden. One glance was enough: the cargo was indeed the barrel of a large cannon, its muzzle stuffed with wadding. Glancing at the wharf, I saw the neat stacks of cannon-trunks uncovered and ready for loading.

Soon a figure drew near, whereupon I turned to find myself facing none other than Captain Spry once again. I gave him good morning, but this time there was no vestige of courtesy; in short, the man was belligerence personified.

‘What do you want here?’ He demanded. ‘You’re in the way of our lading, and the tide won’t wait.’

‘I’ll keep back,’ I replied, my face free of expression. ‘I wouldn’t want to delay you.’

‘The work is private – King’s business,’ Spry grunted.

‘I told you who I am, yesterday,’ I said. ‘You ship the Mountfords’ ordnance downriver, and unload at Bristol. From there I assume it’s taken round the coast to London, then up the Thames to the Tower, where anyone can see guns lying on the wharf. What’s secret about it?’

‘Well, if you know so much, why do you come to gawp?’ The other threw back.

I tried to form an answer, aware that some of the wharfmen were looking our way. Behind them, the little crane continued to creak on its swivel. Once more, it was time for some invention.

‘In truth, I have reason,’ I said, thinking fast. ‘Francis Mountford asked me to come here. Since his uncle’s death, he suspects there are things he’s not been told.’ And when Spry’s brow furrowed, I added: ‘I’ll be meeting him again soon… I’m sure he’d want you to offer me every assistance.’

‘Like what?’ Spry snapped. But he was uneasy, eyes moving to his vessel, which swayed at anchor.

I looked away, towards the three or four men who had been watching us. Spry saw them too, and jerked his head to suggest there was nothing amiss. But as they returned to their work one figure remained, and the next moment he was walking towards us. As he approached, I realised he was a foreigner: dark-complexioned, with a great black moustache and beard, clad in loose cotton clothing with an embroidered cap on his head. Drawing close to Spry, he gave him a questioning look but did not speak.

‘It’s naught,’ Spry said, turning to him. ‘A friend of my master… Pride, was that your name?’ And when I gave a nod: ‘He’s come to look at the guns…’

‘Good morning,’ I broke in, facing the newcomer. ‘Might I know your name?’

The other gave no answer, merely stared.

‘He’s Yakup,’ Spry said tersely. ‘He sails with me… he doesn’t have much English.’

He was impatient to go - too impatient, I thought. The man was torn between not wishing to insult a friend of the Mountford family, and an eagerness to be rid of me - but on a sudden, I experienced a feeling of liberation. Justice Belstrang might have had reservations, but William Pride had none. I saw a way forward – and a notion sprang up.

‘Why, he’s a Turk,’ I said, glancing from Spry to Yakup and back. ‘The name is Turkish, is it not?’ And before the other could answer, I gestured to the man’s broad leather belt, from which a silver charm dangled. ‘That’s the hand of Fatima, brings good fortune… I’ve seen it before, in London.’

‘Mayhap you have,’ Spry returned sourly. ‘I ask not where a man hails from… he’s a seafarer, that’s all that matters to me.’

‘A long way from home, though, is he not?’

I was calm now. I was certain that Spry knew this man was Turkish - and it was the first time I’d heard of anyone from the distant Sultanate working on a Severn trow. I raised my brows at the captain – but his patience was at an end.

‘See now, I don’t have time to stand and gossip,’ he muttered. ‘You may poke about, as you put it, the whole day if you wish. And you may tell Master Francis, when you see him, that I sailed on the afternoon tide with a full cargo. Now, with your leave…’

He put a hand on Yakup’s shoulder, and the two walked off without looking back. Meanwhile, another cannon swung from the crane’s jib on its way to the Lady Ann’s hold… and my suspicions hardened.

Spry was hiding something, just as Tobias Russell had been hiding something. I had no notion what it was, but my course was clear: I would defy those who wished to dissuade me, and plough a straight furrow - wherever it led.

I walked back to Leucippus and, with a last glance at the wharf, got myself mounted and rode apace back to Lydney… where I heard tidings that confounded me.

The forester Thomas Peck, whom I had helped homewards the previous night,