Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery

by King, Rebecca

  ARCHIE’S BATTLEFLAT ADVENTURES

  Book One

  The Harriman Mystery

  By

  REBECCA KING

  Archie’s Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery

  Rebecca King

  Copyright 2013 by Rebecca King

  Smashwords Edition © Rebecca King 2013

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Battleflat, Leicestershire 1780

  From his position high in the old oak tree, Archie scowled down at his best friend and absently swung his legs backward and forward. He watched Edward shrug into his jacket and move closer to the base of the tree. He knew Edward wouldn’t be able to see much of him, if anything at all. The leaves on the branches around him were lush and provided perfect protection from prying eyes. The only problem was, the leaves also stopped the gentle breeze from wafting through the branches, and he was now stiflingly hot. Puffing out his cheeks, he tucked his legs against his chest and glanced up and down the road, wondering if he should go home. He knew he was being churlish, and wasn’t all that cross with his best friend, but was struggling with the disappointment of the latest news. After all, it wasn’t Edward’s fault that his aunt had suddenly taken ill, but he had been so looking forward to playing chase, skipping stones and having some fun. Now he faced the prospect of spending the afternoon alone, and he hated it.

  After several minutes of valiantly trying to see any trace of his friend, Edward sighed deeply and returned to kicking dejectedly at the dried leaves beneath his feet. He had tried to persuade his mum to let him stay and play, at least for a little while, but had failed miserably. Frowning in annoyance, he absently kicked a large stone into the far corner of the spinney and glared at the dense foliage Archie was sitting in.

  “I’m going home,” Edward grumbled, reluctance clearly outlined in the dejected droop of his shoulders.

  It was rare for them to get a day off to play together. As soon as they had been told they would have the afternoon off, they began deciding on all of the exciting things they would do. For days and days they had argued and squabbled about the benefits of stone skipping, against playing chase, and whether they should just go for skinny-dipping first. The news this morning, that Edward wasn’t able to stay and play after all, was a crushing blow for both of them.

  “Can’t you stay for a little while longer, Edward?” He fought to keep the whine from his voice, and glared accusingly at his friend. Archie’s thin face did little to hide his irritation and disappointment at being abandoned on the one day they could have had some real fun together, but Edward was too lost in his own misery to notice.

  “Sorry, Archie, but my mum will kill me if I’m late.” Edward shuffled from one foot to the other, reluctant to let his best friend down. “I should be back at home by now. My mum will be cross at me as it is.”

  “It’s not fair,” Archie sighed, and glanced briefly across the patchwork of emerald and gold fields around them. He and Edward had spent the past two days fetching and carrying things for the grown-ups. Edward had been working in the fields, helping to prepare for the upcoming harvest. Archie had been busily working in the corn mill, getting everything ready for the large amount of grain the mill would process over the coming weeks.

  Now that everything was ready, the children had been ushered out to play for a while, leaving the adults free to finish moving the large carts into the fields in readiness for the harvest to begin.

  Everyone, that is, except for Edward and his family, who now had to go and visit Edward’s Aunty Mavis, who had suddenly taken ill.

  Archie watched Edward move slowly toward the entrance of the spinney, and tried to convince himself that he was the lucky one. With all of the work done for now, he had been given a reprieve from staying at home and waiting for stuffy old relatives to come and visit. He didn’t have to sit around listening to his Aunty Vera go into great detail about her gout or worse, be playfully slapped on the back by Uncle Malcolm, who had terrible wind, ate all the cake and moaned about his gammy leg.

  Even worse than all that, was being stuffed into his best shirt and made to go and visit them! Uncle Malcolm’s house smelled funny – of smelly feet and wee. Aunty Vera’s house smelled a bit nicer, but was old and fusty. Archie usually spent his time visiting her house counting dust motes under the side board, fighting off her mad cat, Bertie, who persistently tried to eat his jacket, and trying not to sneeze.

  Today was one of only two or three days a year that he didn’t have to visit anyone, do any chores, or go to work in the corn mill, and he had fully intended to make the most of it. Until now.

  The sun was out, the birds chirped merrily from the depths of the thinner branches high above him, and he had a good couple of hours before he had to go home. He should be blissfully happy and enjoying indulging in the many fun things he and Edward liked to do. Instead he sighed, and watched Edward pause at the gap in the hedge and turn back to the tree for one last look. Now that Edward was leaving, he wondered if he wouldn’t have preferred to be visiting relatives himself. At least it was something to do. Now that he faced the prospect of spending the afternoon alone, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Stone skipping wasn’t the same if he didn’t have Edward to compete against, and it was impossible to play hide and seek by himself. A dark cloud of despondency settled over his small ray of happiness just a little more.

  “We have got to go visit Aunt Mavis ‘cos she hasn’t been very well, and my mum’s worried. Dad’s finished all of his chores and is free to go, so has said we have to go and visit her.” He didn’t add that his Aunt Mavis made the most scrumptious pudding cake - Edward’s favourite - and he didn’t want to miss such a delicious treat. Even though she was now poorly, he knew a pudding cake would be sitting in the middle of the dining table – waiting. There was always pudding cake at Aunty Mavis’ house. His mouth watered at the thought of the soft crumbly sponge cake topped with currants.

  “Are you up there?” Edward called, when Archie didn’t reply. Although he tried to see through the thick blanket of leaves, he really did, all he could see was branches and leaves. There was no sign of the white shirt and dark breeches worn by his friend. If he hadn’t seen Archie nimbly disappear up there moments earlier, he would have thought his friend had simply vanished.

  “Yes. Just,” came the slightly breathless, and somewhat muffled reply from high above. “Can you come out later?” Archie gasped, knowing this was unlikely as it was afternoon already, and the sun would have gone down by the time Edward returned home, but felt he had to ask anyway – just in case.

  “Sorry, old man. Not this time,” Edward replied, moving closer to the tree once more, and squinting harder in a vain attempt to spot Archie sitting in the branches. He wished he could go up and join him. Giving up on finding out how high Archie had managed to climb, Edward raised his voice toward the thick foliage and shouted, “Aren’t you going to come too?”

  “Nope!” Archie boasted, somewhat proudly, hoping Edward was jealous. “Don’t have visits this afternoon. My dad gave me the afternoon off ‘cos I did all of my chores early, and he’s getting the cart ready for harvest, you know that. I was hoping to spend the afternoon playing, but seeing as you have to go, I think I
will stop here for a bit, and then go and find someone else to play with.”

  “No chores? Lord, you’re lucky! Don’t have too much fun without me,” Edward muttered enviously, wishing he had a dad like Archie’s. Shaking his head, he peered up toward the trees. “Well, I’ll see you next week then?” His voice rose in question but, after several moments of silence, he reluctantly clambered through the rough hedgerow at the side of the cart track. With a quick shake of his clothing, he removed the few clinging remnants of undergrowth from his clothing, and headed home.

  Once or twice along the dusty track he stopped to look back at the huge oak tree. It stood out starkly against the surrounding trees purely because of its size. The huge oak must be about a cart wide and three carts high, at least. It had been there for years and years. Edward knew from experience that it gave anyone who managed to clamber up to the top branches a clear view down the road into the village and the over surrounding area. On a clear day you could see the church spire at Hampton village, two miles away. It was brilliant!

  Although he couldn’t see him, Edward could practically feel Archie watching him through the dense foliage and raised a dejected hand in mute farewell, before turning toward home.

  Aunty Mavis and pudding cake it was.

  Archie watched his friend walk slowly down the dirt track, and felt a pang of regret that he had been so abrupt with his friend. At eight years old, he and Edward had been born within weeks of each other and had grown up practically in each other’s houses. Now they were both at work, it was hard to get time off, which made the times they did manage to get together more precious. He had been so excited at the thought of being able to play for hours with Edward. Archie knew that next Sunday he would most probably be visiting his Aunt Elspeth and Uncle Bertie, his mother’s sister and her husband, after church. It would be at least six or seven weeks before he and Edward got the chance to meet in the spinney again, and by that time winter would be fast approaching. They wouldn’t be able to go skinny-dipping, and stone skipping would be virtually impossible.

  As silence descended around him, Archie settled against the rough bark at his back and scanned the patchwork of green and gold hills of the surrounding countryside as it lay basking in the hazy sunshine of the warm August afternoon. From his vantage point, Archie could see practically everything that went on for miles around. Small dots visible in the farthest fields were undoubtedly the men from the village preparing the carts and equipment they would need to harvest the crops. The church spire of Battleflat sat in solitary splendour half a mile to the left of him. Over to the right, a small group of thatched roofs made up the small village of Battleflat. Archie could see some of the children skipping and playing chase in the gardens and surrounding fields, their laughter distant echoes of their youth.

  It was a fairly small village where nothing much really happened, except for the odd traveller, the annual visit by travelling labourers, or the occasional fight in the village tavern when neighbours fell out, or friends got too drunk. Otherwise, life in the small village was boring – and disappointing.

  Like now.

  Harvesting would begin in a matter of days, then it would be all hands to the fields. Everyone would be needed to help bring the crops in before the autumn, or the rain made them too wet to cut. It meant long hours of hard labour for all of the villagers. Their reward for their work was the harvest festival, which would be held as soon as the last of the harvest was cut. The music, dancing and food would bring about the end of the growing season. Nearly all of the villagers would then turn to tending their gardens, picking their orchards, and digging up the vegetables before the frost got them and rendered them useless. The work was seemingly endless until the first snow fell, then it would become cold and monotonous.

  For Archie, autumn was the busiest time of year. Grain would begin arriving by the cartload, brought by farmers who were eager to have it threshed and turned into flour to store for the winter months. He thought of the long days sweeping the corn mill floor, filling rough-hewn sacks with the husks, and dragging them out to the back of the mill for the farmers to collect and store to feed the cattle. The work was dusty, noisy and tiring, but he enjoyed it – sort of. Although the money he earned wasn’t much, his family needed everyone to pull their weight, and Archie’s contribution helped to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.

  Shifting a bit as the hardness of the tree began to bite into his bottom, he shuffled backward and paused. A little thrill of excitement surged through him, that was immediately replaced by confusion.

  Had Edward returned?

  Archie tried to peer through the branches to see the spinney, and listened intently. The heavy thump and crackle of someone moving through the thick layer of old leaves and twigs that littered the spinney floor was unmistakeable. It was too loud for Edward. Besides, Archie could see his friend further down the track; he was nearly at home. So who was in the spinney?

  As far as he knew, nobody ever ventured into the small group of trees on the outskirts of the village. It was difficult to get into and besides climbing the huge oak tree, there was nothing much to do in there. Most of the village children gave it a miss, because there was a story going around that it was haunted. It was ridiculous, of course; ghosts didn’t really exist, but Archie wasn’t going to tell them that. He quite liked having a secret place he could share with nobody else but his best friend. It was their place.

  Feeling slightly put out at the thought of an intruder in his special place, Archie tried to peer through the thick blanket of leaves. He swallowed the scream that lodged in his throat when he leaned just a little bit too far, lost his balance and began to topple sideways. Flinging his arms wide, he wildly grabbed at the branch above, just in time to stop himself falling several feet to the floor below. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He was suddenly very glad Edward hadn’t been there to see his near-disaster.

  He was in the process of righting himself when he spotted someone moving about directly below. Wriggling around until he was sitting upright again, he froze and watched the man through a small gap in the leaves between his feet.

  Archie couldn’t make out the face, especially as the man was facing toward the hedgerow and cart track beyond. He was fairly certain that the man didn’t know that Archie was sitting a few feet above him. Archie scowled, and studied the man’s clothing. Battleflat was small, only seventy or so occupants. Everyone knew each other, and this man wasn’t familiar at all, even as a distant relative to anyone in the village. Dressed as he was, he didn’t look like a travelling labourer, and even the most desperate vagabond had never smelled as bad as this one did.

  So, what was he doing? Who was he waiting for?

  The steady waft of unclean, overpowering body odour made Archie’s stomach roll. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and he shook his head chidingly at the stranger. Why anyone felt the need to smell like that, he would never understand. Water from the brook was free, and soap was easy enough to get. His mum would have a conniption if Archie ever smelled like that. It was clear from the stench and the grubby, straw-covered cloak the man was wearing, that he hadn’t seen a bath, or water, for some time.

  From his lofty perch, Archie glanced up and down the track. Nobody was around. In the far distance he could see Mr and Mrs Taylor with Edward, walking down the track toward him. Archie smiled as he spied Edward sneak several crafty glances at the tree as he approached, clearly trying to see if Archie was still there.

  Just in case Edward could see him, Archie waved, but was unsurprised when Edward didn’t attempt to wave back. Clearly he was better at hiding than he thought, Archie mused with a smug smile, feeling pleased with himself.

  As Edward passed, Archie’s attention was abruptly drawn back toward the man below as he began to move restlessly around the small clearing at the base of the tree. Maybe it was a good thing Edward hadn’t waved at him; that would have alerted the man below to Archie’s presence and, at that moment, Archie di
dn’t want him to know he was there.

  What would he do if the man happened to look up? He would be mighty angry at being spied on. Archie didn’t like getting on the wrong side of anyone, especially a complete stranger. He knew he should go home, but curiosity kept him watching, to see what the man was doing lurking in the undergrowth on a Sunday afternoon.

  “What are you doing?” Archie murmured softly, taking careful note of the heavy woollen cloak the tall figure was wearing, topped with a dark tricorn. Highly unusual attire for a Sunday afternoon in August. Even in his shirtsleeves, sweat beaded Archie’s brow and he was protected from the worst of the sunshine by the thick mass of leaves. The man below, dressed in winter woollens and a hat, was standing in the sunshine. Didn’t he feel the heat?

  “You can’t be a highwayman,” Archie murmured softly, his heart beginning to thump heavily in his chest. Although highway robberies still happened, they were rare. As far as he knew there were no highwaymen operating in the area. The village was small. Nobody could be a highwayman without practically everyone knowing about it, especially his dad, who was the village constable and he had never mentioned any highwaymen operating in the area.

  Archie watched the man stalk slowly around the spinney once, before returning to the bottom of Archie’s tree and leaning against the trunk in a casual pose that belied his agitated state.

  Although the man was dressed like a highwayman, Archie was certain they didn’t strike during the daytime. He had never seen one in action himself, but he had overheard enough gossip to know that they always preferred to pick the victims, and claim their spoils, under the cover of darkness. Sending a silent prayer heavenward that the man below wasn’t waiting for darkness to approach, Archie remained perfectly still, not even daring to lift his feet upward in case he lost his balance again.