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

let alone armed conflict. I made a resolve: that I would wear a sword when compelled to do so for formality’s sake, yet I would never draw it again, nor even my old poniard. But there will be time enough to speak of such things; in my mind’s eye I see the windswept Lydney marshes and the blood-spattered grass, and the forlorn sight of Parry’s two dead constables. I believe the sergeant changed then, before my eyes: racked with guilt and grief, it’s said that he never smiled again, and seldom spoke.

There had been five of us, who set out on the path through the mire; now there were just three. For to my surprise Combes had kept his place, instead of turning tail at the sound of pistol-shots. Russell, of course, had fired first, I learned: alerted by the sound of someone approaching, he had shot the constable on sight. As Parry lunged at him, the man had avoided his sword and fallen back into the hut, drawing his poniard. The two then fought, which is when I appeared, only to be thrown to the ground when they careered outside. Unnerved by events, the younger constable had fired his pistol wildly and missed – and paid a terrible price. Having dealt Parry a dizzying blow, Russell had freed himself long enough to thrust his dagger into the constable’s heart, before the sergeant was upon him again…

The rest I have already related; and God knows, to relive it once again is more than enough.

And so, the hard-faced foundry-master I had first encountered at Cricklepit, in my brief alias as William Pride, had succeeded in slaying two armed men before he was overpowered. It would be the talk of the Forest of Dean for years: a debacle, the likes of which had never been known.

Combes, yet in ignorance of the terrible loss of life, was chastened when he saw only Parry and myself leave the hut, mudded and grim. But he asked no questions, nor was he told what had occurred. Leaving the dead men where they lay, the sergeant and I allowed him to guide us back through the marsh. Once we stood at its edge, with the path to the Lydney road ahead, he awaited his payment in silence, prompting a bitter outburst from Parry.

‘Take yourself out of my sight,’ he muttered. ‘For I’ll be damned if you get another penny.’

Combes drew a breath, his hard gaze flitting from the sergeant to me. But sensing this was no time to protest, he lowered his eyes, let out a muffled oath and walked away.

On reflection, I believe it’s the only time I have failed to keep my word. I never saw the man again, which was a small relief.

In Lydney, having walked there together in silence, Parry and I parted. He would speak with his remaining constables, and find men to recover the bodies of Russell and the others. Combes was not the only one who knew the paths through the marsh, it transpired, and for a modest payment several villagers would be engaged to undertake the grim task. For myself, my only desire was to get to The Comfort, to remove my damp clothes and rest.

When I at last walked through the door I found Henry Hawes waiting anxiously. ‘I heard shots were fired, sir,’ he said at once. ‘Down at the marsh… has Russell been taken?’

‘Russell’s dead,’ I told him. ‘And that’s all I’ll say. Have some hot water sent up to my room… and a cup of sack too.’

He blinked, then turned to obey until I stayed him.

‘I’ll be leaving here soon. You can make up the reckoning when you please… in the meantime, you may thank God I’m forgetting what you tried to do with my horse. More, I’m choosing not to speculate as to how much you know of Francis Mountford’s business. The officers and I will be gone, along with our prisoner – and in time, you’ll likely see some changes hereabouts. As I said once, I have grown mighty tired of the company.’

I left him, standing at the foot of the staircase as I ascended. Once in my chamber, however, a tiredness came over me, the likes of which I have rarely known. Within minutes I was asleep, fully clothed and sprawled across the bed. I never heard Hawes’s daughter when she came in with my drink. When I awoke the sun was sinking, the inn was astir below me, and a bowl of cold water stood by the bed.

Then as I rose stiffly, a notion flew to mind that made my spirits sink. I had been away from home for nigh on three weeks, and knew nothing of events. What of Thirldon, and George’s efforts to petition the King… what of Hester and Childers, and the rest of my loyal household?

Would I even have a home to return to?

FIFTEEN

The following day, the Sabbath, Parry and I made preparations to return to Worcester with our prisoner. Yet there was one matter still to be addressed: that of Captain Spry.

It was late morning before the two of us talked, standing outside the inn in the sunlight. Much had been done already, Parry’s remaining constables having taken on the grim task of wrapping the bodies of their fallen comrades, to be tied on horseback and taken to their families. Russell would be buried in Lydney, by the parson of St Mary’s. Parry, looking pale and taut, had barely slept, yet was resolved to see this final part of his commission through.

‘I’ve failed already, in ways I could never have compassed,’ he said. ‘I do not intend to lose another quarry.’

‘You and I will go to Purton together,’ I told him. ‘Your men have enough to do.’

It was agreed; indeed, he seemed glad of my support. Hence, a short time later we were mounted,