Chapter 13: Revenge triumphs over death

I recovered consciousness with the sound of a horse snorting, and for one moment I thought I had been stunned when falling from my horse. Then my memory returned; I had been bludgeoned while sitting in a chair in Cornelius Clark’s house. I was still sat in a chair, but was now fastened to it by a leather strap around my chest, and my hands were bound together with a smaller, buckled, leather strap. There was a rope attached through the strap, preventing me sliding my wrists from the constricting leather.
My legs were free, and as my hands had been bound in front rather than behind my back I would be able to extract my knife from my boot top with only slight difficulty.
I lifted my head and saw I was in a stable, and then froze in surprised horror — Jarvis Braxton-Clark was standing in front of me.
‘Jarvis’ started when he saw me move, and he called out in panic.
“Silas dearest, the wicked man is awake.” His voice was as high pitched as a young girl’s, and I knew then he was not Jarvis Braxton-Clark, but the fellow was a damn near perfect copy.
“Don’t go anywhere near him, Jason,” I heard Silas Maddox say. “He is as slippery as a serpent. Wait until I have finished tying these ropes together, and then I will come and deal with him.”
I could not see Maddox but assumed he was just outside the stable. Apart from ‘Jason’ there was nothing in the stable other than a horse, fitted with a head collar but with no saddle or bridle, and tied to a tethering ring.

I recalled ‘Jason’ was the name of the simpleton with a way with dogs, and a hunting horn, and as I looked closer at him I noted the horn slung across his back. He was much younger then Jarvis, and I concluded Jason was a bye blow of Cornelius Clark, and Maddox and Jason were in a similar relationship as had been Maddox and Jarvis.

“He is frightening me, Silas. His eyes are boring into me, and I can see how wicked he is. Can I come and help you please?” The entreaty in Jason’s voice would have melted a gorgon.
Maddox was no less susceptible. “Oh, come here then, my dear. Greenway can do no harm, and it is he who should be frightened of us, not us of him.”
Jason left me, and immediately I brought my bound hands to the top of my right boot and fished out my knife. I had lost my original skean dhu in Manchester, but replaced it with a larger, sharper, weapon.
It was a relatively easy task to withdraw the knife from my boot, but in order to cut through the leather strap I had to grip the handle of the knife between my knees, and use the blade against the leather in a sawing motion.
At first I made little headway, but once past the stitched edge the sharp edged blade made short work of the poorly tanned piece of leather. I was nearly through the strap when Maddox and Jason reappeared in the stable.
I quickly transferred my knife back into my boot top.

“Well, Greenway, I expect you wonder what I have in store for you.” Maddox’s smile was sardonic.
“What have you got in store for the wicked man, Silas?” Jason asked.
He really must be a simpleton, as I would think Silas Maddox had explained to him what they were to do with me several times since I was bludgeoned, which I took to have been Jason’s work.
Maddox explained to him in a gentle tone of voice, as if talking to a young child. “Remember what I have told you, Jason? We will mount Bouncer here...” he indicated the tethered horse, “and lead the wicked Mister Greenway by the rope attached to his leather shackle out into the field. When ready I will pull the rope that is tied to the pin keeping the kennel door shut...”

Jason clapped his hands in glee, “Yes, yes, now I remember. You pull the rope and the pin comes out of the door and the dogs come out of the kennel and chase the wicked man until they catch him and eat him.”
“That’s it, my love,” Maddox grinned with evil enjoyment. “Well, Greenway, you now know how you are to end your existence. You will have a head start of at least fifty yards on the staghounds, who have not been fed for three days, which will make them even faster over the ground than usual. You might make it to a tree — but then again, probably not. Jason and I will ride off to a safe distance and watch with pleasure as you are ripped asunder. After your demise, Jason will recall the dogs with his horn. It will appear as a tragic accident, when someone not familiar with the area was taking a short cut across Cornelius Clark’s land — not the first time it has happened I might add.”
He came over and unbuckled the leather strap around my chest, and gave the end of the rope, attached through the leather strap around my wrists, to Jason.
“Keep a firm grip on him, Jason.” He said, then untied the horse and led it to a mounting block outside the stable. He picked up the end of a rope coiled near the block.
“The other end of this is tied to a pin keeping the kennel door closed. When I give it a pull the door will fly open and the dogs will fly out. Jason will then let go of his rope. He and I will ride away to safety and watch to see how long you last until being brought down by the hounds and torn to pieces.”