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

‘Well, sir,’ March breathed, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘I suspect that, like me, you could do with a drink.’

***

The inn was The Crown, where we took a good dinner, yet neither of us was content.

Once again, I had stumbled on a conspiracy – as I had done in London two years earlier, with the uncovering of the vile Anniversary Plot. In truth there are times, since I quitted the magistrate’s bench, when I think trouble has sought Robert Belstrang out as some kind of punishment – even that life might be more peaceful were I still a Justice. But enough: a man must play the cards he has drawn. Sitting in a corner booth at the old inn, with a full stomach but a mind in turmoil, I reviewed the position with Gloucester’s good Justice, thankful that he at least was a man of honesty – as was my old friend Sir Richard Mountford, I reflected sadly.

‘How his son could have turned out to be such a varlet – a murderer, no less - is beyond me,’ I said. ‘Though I suspected John Mountford had found out what was being done at his family’s foundries, and paid a cruel price for it, I never truly believed Francis could do that - or even order it.’

March shook his head, but said nothing.

‘Now I’ve a task ahead that fills me with sadness,’ I went on. ‘To tell a friend what wickedness has been done behind his back… that he, one of the King’s Founders of Ordnance, has unknowingly been supplying the armies of the Papists… it’s direful.’

‘And yet, it must be done.’

My friend took a drink, set it down and faced me. ‘For now, I must inform the High Sheriff, who will inform the Privy Council in London. Meanwhile I’ll swear out a warrant for the arrest of Russell and Captain Spry. Then I’ll appoint men to ride down to Lydney and apprehend them.’

‘And I will go with them,’ I said at once. ‘My horse is still in the stable at the inn… if you can loan me another, I would be in your debt.’

‘Of course,’ March nodded. ‘You’ve done much to bring this foul business to light…’ he paused, then: ‘I should tell you that I won’t inform Gwynne of what we’ve uncovered. As I’ve said, I don’t trust him… nor do I know how long is the reach of these Concord Men.’

It was a sobering thought.

‘I can scarcely believe it,’ I said, turning it about. ‘A nest of traitors in the heart of England, intent on profit before country… we must be sure of our ground, before making accusations. I might have expected them to be Papists all, with some desperate hopes of shifting power in Europe – but the Mountfords are not. It can only be greed that drives Francis.’

‘It was ever thus, was it not?’ March said, with a wry look. ‘But we are in agreement: I’ll arrest the lackeys first – the small fry like Russell. They can be questioned easily – but the big fish will have to wait, likely until the Lord Chief Justice himself orders their arrests.’

‘And yet, aside from Francis Mountford,’ I said, ‘we don’t know who they are.’

We fell silent. Even a firebrand like March, I knew, could find himself in water that was too deep for him. As for me, what was I but an ex-Justice, with an inherent impatience towards wrongdoers?

‘Then again, we’ll do no good sitting here,’ I said, with an effort. ‘If I might beg another night’s hospitality from you, I’ll set out as soon as your officers are ready – and I swear not to return empty-handed.’

At that March managed a smile of approval, whereupon we drained our mugs together. But as we rose to take our leave, I confess to a pang of apprehension.

What might transpire when I returned to the Forest of Dean, I had not the least idea.

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,