Chapter 4

The Dragoons had been on the road for some time. They had been severely hampered by the storm of the last few days, but now their objective was near. As the column entered the open fields around the manor from the forest road, the sharp eyed Lieutenant in the lead spotted what looked like the Duke in the group of men at the front of the manor.

He pulled his spy glass from its pouch at his belt and looked through it to verify that it was the Duke. He saw a man draw back his arm as if to strike the Duke. He quickly spoke to his Sergeant next to him. The command from the brass voiced Sergeant rang out clear, even to those watching at the manor,

“TROOP, ATTENTION,”

“LINE FORMATION;”

“ENEMY FRONT;”

“CHARGE.”

The twelve man troop quickly spread out on either side of their two leaders, and fourteen large horses charged down on the front of the manor. They thundered to a stop four paces from the front steps. Horses pawed the air and men shouted. It had taken them very little time to cover the hundred and twenty yards to the manor. Those standing in front of it were truly shocked.

In no time at all there were fourteen large men, Heavy Dragoons had to be over six feet tall to qualify, pointing fourteen pairs of double barreled flintlock pistols at those standing there. Fourteen of the largest horses in the kingdom were also standing there snorting and blowing.

Gabriell had by then sat up on the second step. He looked around him for the first time since he had been knocked out, and saw the dozen men the young Count had with him.

The young Lieutenant had dismounted and hurried over to his Duke.

“Your Grace, are you all right?” he inquired.

“No, Henry. I’m not all right. Do I look all right to you? Well, Henry?” the Duke growled.

“No, your Grace. On closer examination, you don’t look all right at all,” the Lieutenant said.

“Dragoons,” Duke Gabriell barked next in a command voice, “if any of these dogs move, shoot them dead, on my authorization. All that is except the one on the steps there. Sergeant, are you a good shot?” the Duke asked.

“Aye, my Lord,” the Sergeant answered.

“If the one on the steps moves, shot him in the knee. I don’t want him dead yet, Oh no, not yet! I have something special in mind for him,” Duke Gabriell told the Sergeant.

“Henry, bring me my cloak,” Gabriell ordered next. The young lieutenant quickly gathered it and the other clothes up from the snow on the side of the steps and handed the cloak to the Duke. He opened a hidden pocket in the top part of the cloak near the hood and removed two rings from it. One was his ring as Duke of Pembrook – a large, heavy, gem encrusted gold ring of office. He placed it on the middle finger of his right hand. It was a tight fit. For as large as the ring was, Gabe’s hands and fingers were a little larger.

The second ring, while still large, was smaller than the Dukes ring. It was still gold, but not so heavy, or with as many gems. It was the ring of the Count of Buckland. The Count’s men on seeing the two rings groaned and turned pale. The young Count blanched, his eyes wide. Gabriell placed the second ring on the third finger of his left hand as it was only large enough to fit there.

Having accomplished this, Gabriell turned to the Lieutenant, and ordered, “There is a young girl. They took her from where I had her a while ago. I want her back. One of these animals will tell us where she is, or else.”

Rising from the step, he turned to the Count’s men.

“Where is Cecilia,” he demanded in a gruff voice, “tell me now or else.” None of them spoke up. The Duke turned to the Dragoon next to the Sergeant.

“I will question them,” he said to him. “Shoot the first man in line if he fails to answer my question. Is that clear?” The Dragoons only smiled, and all raised their pistols.

“You have ten seconds to tell me where she is,” the Duke told the first man in line. He spit at him instead of answering. The first Dragoon shot him dead.

“You have ten seconds,” the Duke told the next man, who was now first in line. He was standing there with his mouth open, sweating.

“I’ll tell,” he shouted in panic, “I’ll tell.”

“Where is she?” Gabe growled.

“We set her out on the side of the house for the dogs to get. She was unconscious after the young Count beat her again,” he said, as perspiration dripped down his forehead despite the cold.

“Corporal,” the Sergeant shouted, “take one man and the prisoner to get the girl.”

“Mac,” the Corporal called, as he dismounted. Another man several men down the line dismounted also. They collected the prisoner, and headed toward the side of the manor. The Corporal had both of his pistols with him. The man ‘Mac’ had his pistols and also took his carbine. They marched the prisoner in front of them.

“Can we secure the prisoners now, my Lord?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Yes secure the prisoners, Lieutenant,” Gabe said in a tired voice. His head was down on his chest, the adrenaline having worn off. He was feeling his age and beaten condition, also the cold.

“Secure the prisoners, Sergeant,” the Lieutenant said.

“Aye, sir,” the Sergeant replied. Then, “Well you heard the man. Even numbers, keep them covered. Odd numbers dismount and secure the prisoners.” The Dragoons indicated moved quickly, securing the prisoners with ropes from their saddle bags.

“My Lord,” the Lieutenant said, “the main party will be here shortly. They have your doctor with them.”

“Very good, Henry,” Gabe said, then looking at the young Count on the steps, he ordered, “Drop that sword on the steps and come down here.” The sword clanged to the stone steps as the young Count started down the steps, all the haughtiness was gone now.

“Secure this one also,” Gabe told the Lieutenant.

Just then the quiet was broken by the sound of a pistol shot. It was followed by several more in quick succession, and then the louder deeper sound of a carbine. Many of the Dragoons turned in the direction the firing had come from.

“Back to your duties,” the Sergeant barked. Then, “You last two on the right check on those shots.” The two men indicated backed their horses out of line and headed for the far side of the house.

A short time later, the Dragoon Corporal carried a badly injured and cold Cecilia back toward the front of the house. She wept in his arms. As they approached the group of men there, she could see Gabe being supported by one of them. It was then that she realized that he was injured also. Her tears increased.

“My Master, I’m sooo sorry,” she wailed, when close enough. “You should not have come to help me. You should not have been injured. Please forgive me.”

The Corporal stopped in front of the old Duke and reported to him.

“We got there before the dogs, my Lord,” he said. “All but one that is. He bit her on the leg, but not seriously. We killed him and three others before the rest ran off.”

“Very good, Corporal. Thank you. As soon as I get seated again, hand the girl to me,” Gabriell, the Duke of Pembrook and Prince of the North told him.

As soon as he was comfortably seated on the steps again, Celia was handed to him. He held her close, as she cried. He was touched by her again. As badly as she was injured, still she was more worried about him than herself. He held her close, and spoke quietly in her ear, assuring her that he would take good care of her from then on.

Celia pressed herself against her Master, as her tears flowed. Even though it was warmer today than the last several days, it was still quite cold. Having been lying in the snow outside naked for sometime, her body was very cold. Gabe’s chest, though cold also, was still warmer than she was, and she relished the heat he provided.

The Lieutenant quickly grabbed up the cloak and wrapped it around the Duke and his small burden to keep both of them warm. Gabe murmured in Celia’s ear for some time, as she slowly warmed up some. She shivered as the warmth slowly returned to her small body. Gabe kissed her softly on the cheek, but Celia wanted more, and turned her head until their lips met. She opened her mouth, inviting him to enter.

“You’re so hurt, Little One, should we be doing that?” Gabe whispered.

“My Master,” Celia whimpered, “I need you so much. Please kiss me like a woman so I will feel better.” Gabe gave her a long passionate kiss, and Celia whimpered in his mouth.

By now the prisoners had long since been secured. The Lieutenant hesitated to interrupt his Duke. Finally though, he cleared his throat, and inquired, “My Lord, shall we remove the prisoners now?” Gabe came up for air, and remembered where they were.

“Yes, Henry,” he said, “remove the prisoners to the barn. Check on the animals there. I have no idea what these people have done in the time since the storm started. Also, there are two in the gardener’s shack over in the trees, just follow the foot prints. One is dead and the other tied up. Secure him with the others. Be sure to take care of your horses also. The dead can wait in this weather.

“Next – there are slave girls here somewhere, when you have finished with the prisoners, send someone to look for them, and determine their condition plus what care they may need.

“Lastly, I need your new Sergeant here and his assistant,” he said, pointing at the Corporal and his assistant, “to go with me to check the house, and that dastardly old bastard that is supposed to be in charge here,” Gabe finished.

The new Sergeant helped the Duke up, and they started up the steps to the manor house. The man, Mac, picked up the sword on the steps, wiped it dry, and slipped it into the scabbard on the Duke’s left side. Gabe thanked him.

The manor house was a disaster. There were broken bottles and broken furniture everywhere. The floor was littered with dirty clothes and the remains of meals and crockery. Ashes were deep in the fireplace and scattered over the rugs. There was blood on the floor where girls had been whipped. Gabe was not happy with these sights. This had been a fine and fashionable house before.

They ascended the grand staircase to the second floor. The doors to the Master Suite was closed and locked when they tried them. Gabe raised his right foot, as if to smash it into the door, then lowered it, as he thought better of it. With his small burden, it would not be a good idea. He was about to turn and order the doors kicked in, when Mac interrupted him.

“If I might, my Lord, I believe I can open these.” With that he moved forward and slipped a small metal strip into the lock and played with it a few seconds. The lock clicked and the door swung open to his touch.

Gabe was ready to charge right in, but the new Sergeant stopped him, and said, “Let us make sure it’s safe first, my Lord.” Gabe nodded his head in assent. The new Sergeant and Mac entered and checked the room. All they found was a sick old man in the large bed.

“All clear, my Lord,” the new Sergeant said after a short time. Gabe entered and stared at the man in the bed. This was not the Count of Buckland. It was his younger brother!

“Where is your brother?” Gabe demanded.

“That boy buggering bastard is dead, and has been for the last four years,” the man in the bed wheezed with a cough. “I’m the Count now.”

“Oh, really,” Gabe demanded, “and where is your ring and sword of office?”

“They are down stairs somewhere,” the sick man said, between coughs.

“No,” answered Gabe as he shifted Celia to his right arm, “they’re right here.” He drew the sword and displayed it and the ring on his left hand.

“Where did you get those?” the sick man demanded in a panic.

“Where your late brother hid them,” Gabe answered. By now the sick man had seen the other ring on Gabe’s right hand, under Celia’s butt and had panicked.

“Who are you?’ he demanded in desperation.

“I am Gabriell, Duke of Pembrook, and Prince of the North,” Gabe answered, “and you are under arrest for murdering your brother, the Count of Buckland.” The man in the bed collapsed.

Gabe was having trouble standing himself.

“Sergeant, I need to sit down for a while,” he said The newly promoted Sergeant quickly grabbed a chair and moved it behind the Duke, and Gabe collapsed into it.

“I am getting too old for these antics, Sergeant,” he said.

“If you say so, my Lord. You seem to have done all right so far,” the new Sergeant told him.

“Check the rest of the rooms up here for occupants while I rest here a few minutes,” Gabe told him. The Sergeant and Mac left to do as directed. Gabe turned his attention to Celia, who appeared to have fallen asleep against his chest.

“My poor sweet Little One,” Gabe said, “you always get hurt. I thought I could protect you. From now on, I will. No one will harm you again, I promise.” Gabe leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes for a few minutes, and was sound asleep when the new Sergeant returned.

Gabe was awakened a short time later by a commotion, as men came up the stairs to the second floor. When the first ones through the door were the Captain of Dragoons, and Gabe’s personal physician, he knew that the main body had arrived. The new Sergeant and Mac had been there watching over him the entire time that he slept.

The Captain, Robert, saluted. Gabe went to return it before realizing that Celia was still being held by his right hand. He quickly switched her to his other hand and returned the salute.

“I am sorry for being so long, my Lord, but the storm...,” the Captain started.

“Yes, I understand, Robert. We had the same storm here. Now that you’re here, there are things that need to be done:

First: finish searching the buildings for anyone else alive, especially the slave girls. Check their condition carefully.

Second: locate the blacksmith shop. I want shackles on all of those prisoners. They’re in the barn for now. We’ll need the barn for the horses. Find someplace else for the prisoners – put a guard on them.