Chapter 3

I looked out of the bedroom window. The day was beautiful, already the sun was high in the sky, and the mist, which seemed to envelop the woods that surrounded the house, was already starting to burn away. I remembered that I had arranged to meet Arthur for breakfast. So I quickly washed and got dressed. Arthur was already sitting down when I walked into the dining room. He rose from his seat as I walked in.

“Please Sit yourself down, Arthur,” I implored as we shook hands.

We sat and chatted about nothing in particular as breakfast was served by a tired but very happy looking Mary. She and I exchanged several secretive glances while she served up the porridge and milk. She left the room with a cheeky wink and a smile.

“So, John, you look tired. Did you not sleep well?” Arthur almost laughed.

I turned to face him and he gave me a knowing look. His smile lit up his face.

“Arthur, what are you suggesting?” I asked with a wink and a laugh.

We both ate in silence. Once the meal was over, we walked out onto the lawn that ran around three-quarters of the house.

“Arthur, I have a plan to rid the village of Mr Levy and his gang,” I told him.

“John, are you sure that this is the right thing to do?” Arthur Jacobs looked alarmed.

“Arthur, I am not willing to let Levy control this village and ravage my estate. I have a responsibility as squire to try to put a stop to him and his gang!” I replied.

“What can I do to help John?” Arthur asked. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well, for a start, I need some money, a good sword, a pistol, and a sturdy horse,” I said gazing out over the meadow. “I need to go to Plymouth for a few days.”

“It’s a good two-day ride to Plymouth, John, and the road can be dangerous if travelled alone,” Arthur said, it was obvious he was about worried about me.

“I will be fine Arthur” I replied.

“Perhaps I should come with you.” He said.

“Arthur, old friend, I will be fine. Just provide me with the best horse we have in the stables,” I said. I knew I had to do this trip alone. “I need you here to guard the estate.”

“That’s not a problem, John. It will take half an hour to sort out the stuff you need,” Arthur replied. “Please will you at least take a couple of the estate workers with you in case you should meet problems on the road?”

“No, Arthur, honestly I will be fine. I will meet you back here shortly.” I replied.

“Well if you are sure,” he said.

“I am, I will travel faster on my own!”

With that decided, I headed back into the house. I knew I was heading to Plymouth but the plan to rid the village of Levy was still a little hazy in my mind. I took the time that Arthur needed to sort out my supplies to finalize my action plan. I gave Arthur half an hour before I headed back out of the front doors of the hall.

When I returned to the front lawn, Arthur was waiting for me. One of the estate’s stallions stood impatiently beside him, his hooves pounding at the ground. On a tarpaulin on the floor were the weapons I had asked for and two saddlebags. I checked one of the pistols; it was loaded with ball shot. The sword I took from the scabbard to test the blade and that it was sharp and true. I glanced into the bags before I lifted them onto the horse. One bag had a little food and some clean shirts while the other held several bags of gold coins and some spare powder and shot.

“There you go, John, 200 gold coins split into 10 bags and the estate’s best horse. Emperor is his name, but I implore you to take a couple of the estate lads as back up!” Arthur was obviously worried about me.

“There is no need for any backup. I will be fine,” I tried to put Arthur’s mind at rest.

We shook hands and hugged like brothers before I mounted the horse.

“Arthur, I will be back in five or six days,” I told him.

I dug my heels into Emperor, spurring him forward and with that, I was gone. I rode out over the estate. I looked back toward the house and saw Mary and Mrs Jacobs on the front steps waving a farewell.

The road to Plymouth passed through several villages as I followed the coast road. I passed several travellers on the road but saw nothing that worried me. I tried to skirt around as many of the villages as possible so that I could cover as much mileage as possible. The weather was good and I made very good time. As darkness came, I was approaching a large village. I rode down the main street looking for a place to stay. I was almost through the village before I saw the inn.

The Royal Oak was a large tavern and I could see some stables to the rear, it seemed to be the ideal place for my overnight stay. I tied my horse up outside and took the saddlebags inside. I ducked through the small door into the bar. The fire in the hearth was big and inviting.

The place was empty, apart from two old sailors sitting warming themselves by the fire. A man I guessed was the innkeeper was standing behind the bar polishing glasses.

“Good evening. My name is Trevelyan. This is my inn. Can I be of help to you, Sir?” He seemed a cheery sort of chap.

“Do you have a room for the night for me and room in the stable and some food for my horse?” I enquired.

“Oh, yes, of course, Sir. I think we can manage that alright,” replied the innkeeper. He shouted into the kitchen and a young lad came into the bar. Trevelyan instructed him to go and towel down my horse, and then to feed and water him.

Mr Trevelyan showed me up to my room on the second floor of the inn; it was very basic but sufficient for my needs. There were a big comfortable looking bed and a table in the corner with a bowl and water jug. I washed and put on a clean shirt before I headed down to the bar to grab a bite to eat. The bar was still as empty as when I had arrived; the old two sailors were still deep in conversation to the right-hand side of the fire so I took the table to the left.

I ordered a meat pie and a bottle of wine to wash it down. I looked out of the window and I could see that rain was falling heavily. The young lad that had earlier been sent to look after my horse also served me with my food and drink. I ate in silence. The food was good and the ride had been a long one. I had never been much of a horseman and I found the ride tiring. The bar was very quiet, the roar of the fire, the occasional spit as a log slipped in the fire and the quiet chat of the two sailors all that broke the silence.

I sat and watched the flames for ages. Then the silence was broken when the door swung open, a gust of cold wind blew through the room, and the door shut with a bang. A country gentleman stood in the middle of the bar and took off his waterproof cape, shaking it so hard that drops of rain covered my table. He walked straight over to the fire and stood before it, his more than ample frame blocked out the whole of the fireplace. He kicked off his boots and coughed loudly, before spitting into the flames. I noticed the two sailors get up and walk into the far corner of the room, well away from the fire.

The door opened again, another gust of wind ripped through the room. Two young girls and an older woman stood in the doorway.

“Wife shut the door before the rain soaks the floor” he shouted at the woman. She did as he commanded. She was at least ten years younger than the fat oaf. She was dressed in a cloak that hid her from view.

The older man by the fire turned to face me.

“You, boy!” his voice was gruff and loud.

I ignored him completely.

“Boy!” he yelled again, and again I ignored him. He walked over to my table and stood before me.

“Boy, when I talk people usually take notice if they know what is good for them,” he growled at me menacingly.

“Is that right and why is that?” I said looking up at him; he was in his late fifties, a bear of a man with a long white beard. He looked like he preferred his food and drink in quantity rather than quality.

“My name is Jenkins, Mr Jenkins to you, boy, and around these parts when I talk, people listen,” he growled even louder. “Now you are sitting in my seat and you have until I count to five to move.”

On another day, this fat old fart would have paid for his rudeness but tonight I was tired and had more important things on my mind so I just held up my hands in defence.

“I sincerely apologise, Mr Jenkins, Sir. Please forgive me.” I said with a sneer.

“God may damn you, boy, but at least the whore that gave birth to you taught you a few manners,” Jenkins laughed aloud. I held back my temper even though I was eager to take him outside and kick his fat arse all around the village for his rudeness.

I quickly stood up and stepped aside. A scurry of activity saw a waitress run from the kitchen and quickly clear the table. The innkeeper, Trevelyan, walked over and placed a bottle of brandy on the table with just one glass. Jenkins plonked himself in the chair and poured a large measure of brandy into the glass, gulping it back like a child gulping back his mother’s milk. When he had drained the glass, he threw it into the fire and belched loudly.

Unable to contain my anger at this animal’s rudeness any longer, I decided to go and see that my horse was settled down for the night. I walked out of the door toward the barn. The rain had stopped but it was still very cold. I noticed a large carriage being tended to by an old chap, I presume the driver, or perhaps Jenkins had a manservant. I checked that my horse, Emperor, had been looked after before turning back toward the inn. As I turned, I saw a shadowy figure in the darkness, moving toward the barn. I stepped back into the shadows.

The person walking toward the barn was very furtive, looking this way and that. I was sure that Jenkins had sent a henchman to try to teach me a lesson. A cloud moved in front of the moon, casting darkness over the stable yard. The shadow ran across the yard using the darkness as cover. As he ran past me into the barn, I grabbed a pitchfork and stepped out into the doorway just as the cloud moved from in front of the moon. The barn lit up. The cloaked figure turned to face me; I raised the pitchfork ready to run the stranger through. The hood of the cloak was thrown back and I heard a gasp.

“Please, I mean you no harm.”

It was a woman’s voice. I threw the pitchfork into a pile of straw in the corner of the barn.

“Who are you and why did you follow me to the barn?” I asked a trace of anger in my voice.

“Please let me explain. You obviously don’t recognise me,” she said. “I am Mrs Jenkins. I have come to apologise for my husband’s rudeness.”

“There is no need,” I said taking in the view. She was a pretty woman older than me but much younger than Jenkins. She was a beauty, with bright blue eyes and a mop of curly brown hair. Her lips were rosy red and inviting, her skin pale.

“There is every need. He is a pig. I am usually left at home with my daughters while he travels but for some reason this time he asked us to travel with him.” I was sure she was crying.

I moved toward her. As I got close, she broke down into a flood of tears. I took her in my arms and held her close. She clung to me, shaking, her head buried in my chest. We stood like that for ages, me just holding her trembling body to mine. I heard the door of the inn bang shut and a voice call out into the darkness.

“Kathryn. Kathryn, are you out here?” I recognised the voice; it was Jenkins. He had obviously realised she was missing and had come looking for her.

Immediately Mrs Jenkins pushed away from me. She stepped into the shadows pulling me with her.

“If he catches us out here together, he will have us both killed!” she whispered into my ear.

I quickly led her to the back of the barn; there was a ladder to the hayloft. I pushed her toward it. She soon got the idea and scrambled up. As she got to the top, she turned and blew me a kiss.

“What room are you in?” she called down to me.

I told her where to find me and turned away, grabbing a brush from the rack, I stepped toward Emperor and started to brush him down. Jenkins walked into the barn; he was full of bluff and bluster.

“Boy!” He growled.

I turned to face him. I was so close to punching his silly fat face. I ignored him.

“You boy, I am talking to you. Have you seen my wife?” He shouted, his voice was full of rage, This big fat oaf was testing my patience and I began to wonder what his wife saw in him.

“I think I saw somebody in a cloak walking down the path toward the harbour,” I replied through gritted teeth. Jenkins looked around with a grunt, and then he was gone.

After a few seconds, I walked to the barn doorway and watched as he rounded the corner, following the road toward the harbour. I heard rustling and the sound of feet on the treads of the ladder. I turned and saw Mrs Jenkins picking hay from her cloak.

“I told him you had gone toward the harbour; he has headed off that way,” I told her.

“Thank you, Sir. What is your name?” she asked in a quiet voice.