Although the arm was still tight about his neck, his arms were free. Placing one hand on the thick length of muscle and bone, he suddenly swung the heavy weight of the bag backward.
“Duck!” he shouted to Edward. He saw the brief flash of Edward’s astonished eyes as he narrowly managed to duck out of the way of the large green bag Archie suddenly swung around in a high arc. Dragging it up and over his shoulder, he was rewarded by the painful crunch of the bag hitting Brentwood in the face.
Bang!
Archie’s ears rang at the loud retort of the gun, as the arm around his neck suddenly vanished. Pandemonium reigned for several moments.
He stood in stunned amazement as, all at once, the sitting room door behind him burst open to reveal one of the men who had run to the graveyard. Oswalde’s associate. He immediately kicked Brentwood’s hand. With a loud roar, Brentwood watched as the gun suddenly spun across the room.
Everyone, except Oswalde and his associates, Brentwood and Archie, dived for cover.
Brentwood cursed a volley of foul language and spun around, landing a heavy punch on the man behind him.
Oswalde lunged across the room, snatching the gun up. Tucking it into his cloak pocket, he stood back just in time as Brentwood landed on his back in the middle of the kitchen table. The blood slowly trickling from a cut on the corner of his eye was of little consequence to Brentwood, who now lay unconscious in the middle of the room.
“Well, that was interesting,” Archie declared, shaking his head in amazement.
It was then that he took a look around the room and started to laugh. His snickers were accompanied by the smothered laughter of Oswalde and his men, now that the danger was over.
Marjorie was cowering behind the sitting room door, which wasn’t anything to laugh about, except that she couldn’t fit behind the door because of the cupboard there. Her booby-doobs protruded from the wooden surface, rendering her hiding place absolutely useless.
Emilie and Betsy had decided to try to climb under the sofa, only the small two-seater wasn’t big enough for both of them, so they were left kneeling on the sitting room floor, heads under the sofa, and their bottoms sticking up into the air like targets waiting to be hit.
Edward, Sammy and Ben had tried to hide behind Archie’s dad, Jack, only in their haste to get behind the tall, reassuring bulk of an adult, had knocked him clear off his feet. All four of them now lay in a tangle of arms and legs. With Sammy, Ben and Edward all lying on Jack, who was gasping for air, only couldn’t breathe to ask them to get off. The strange grunts coming from his reddened face were of a language Archie had never heard before.
Now. There in the middle of Archie’s dining table, lay an unconscious murderer, bleeding all over his mum’s best tablecloth.
“Good job, Archie,” Oswalde declared softly, his eyes shining with respect and gratitude.
Archie flushed and took a deep breath, poking his thin chest out proudly.
“Want to tell us what’s in there?”
“Oh! I forgot,” Archie grinned, eyeing Brentwood warily as he sidled around the table and handed over the heavy bag to Oswalde.
“I haven’t had the chance to look in it. I saw it the other day at Mr Harriman’s funeral, and went to fetch it today after work. Only Brentwood was there, and chased me.”
Oswalde nodded. Archie knew that out of respect for his elders he should really call Brentwood by his given title of Lord Brentwood, or sir, but given his nefarious activities, it didn’t seem as though the man deserved it. While his dad didn’t chastise him for being so rude, Archie was never going to consider the man any better than himself. He was a cold and callous murderer, who used his wealth and status to bully, manipulate and steal.
As everyone started to emerge from their various hiding places, Oswalde’s men hefted Brentwood off the table and dragged him unceremoniously outside. Oswalde himself placed the bag onto the table with a heavy plop.
“Let’s take a look in here then, shall we?”
Everyone gathered silently around the table to watch. Jack, still gasping for air and more than a little red in the face, gathered his wife into his arms for a reassuring hug, while studying his children. Assured that everyone was hale and hearty, he too turned his attention to the bag’s contents.
Oswalde untied the laces and slowly eased the folded fabric away. The chinking of coins could be heard seconds before they spilled out over the tabletop.
“Oh, my word,” Marjorie gasped, her hands rising to her cheeks as she stared in abject wonder at the huge pile of glistening coins lying on the table.
“Is that -” Edward swallowed.
Archie nodded slowly, his eyes running over the mound of gold coins lying before them. “Gold,” he whispered reverently.
Even Sammy and Ben came to stand before the table, their mouths hanging open in silent wonder.
“Whose is it?” Sammy asked, one small, chubby finger reaching out to poke at a coin teetering on the very edge of the table.
“It belongs to the man who owned the gold that Brentwood stole,” Jack whispered, his own voice awestruck.
“It was the King’s gold. These coins are his.”
Archie felt a strange sense of despondency settle over him. Although he was very proud of the part he had played in bringing an end to Brentwood’s crimes, he was sorry that the adventure was now over.
Life suddenly stretched out before him in all of its monotonous glory, and he wasn’t at all sure that he liked it. The large pile of gold now sitting on his kitchen table, was indeed the end of Archie’s rainbow. Only this time, they wouldn’t be able to keep any of it. It belonged to someone else.
“But they are forgeries,” Edward gasped, moving away from the tempting display. He wasn’t sure what he felt about the sight of so much wealth. “They are also why Mr Harriman and Mrs Humble were murdered.”
Archie nodded sympathetically. He could understand Edward’s feelings.
Marjorie seemed to snap out of her daze.
“You are quite right, Edward. This is dirty money. Money from a life of crime, and it doesn’t belong in this house. Mr Oswalde here can take it back to its owner.”
“Will he melt it down again?”
“It will go to the Crown Mint, and will most probably be turned into coins by the people with the authority to make them.”
Archie nodded, watching Oswalde fold the cloth back up. He stared at the bundle Mr Oswalde was securing with a leather strap.
“Where do you think Mr Harriman left the rest of the gold?”
“I don’t know, Archie. We think that given the amount Brentwood has been spending, this may well be the last of it. But now that Brentwood has been arrested, we will search Mr Harriman’s house, and then Brentwood Manor. We won’t leave any stone unturned until we find anything that’s left.”
A sliver of an idea began to flicker through Archie’s mind. He frowned at the bundle. Was it really going to be that easy? Was Brentwood really that arrogant? Having seen the defiant look on the aristocrat’s face before he lunged at Archie, it was most probably he really was that stupid.
“I can’t think where it is,” Archie murmured quietly, tucking the flicker of an idea away for later.
Oswalde turned to stare at Archie. “I will be telling the King of your part in all of this, Archie. Not only in uncovering the clues we were looking for to convict Brentwood for his crimes, but also for finding the missing coins. If you can find any missing gold too, I am sure the King will be delighted.”
Archie nodded, his lips quirked in a secretive smile.
EPILOGUE
The following month passed in a blur for Archie, who spent most of his days working in the corn mill. Although he had been heralded as a hero by the villagers, and had been congratulated more times than he cared to count, it hadn’t numbed the ear-bashing he had received from his father for venturing out at night while a murderer was on the loose.
Strangely, there was no mention of Archie bringin
g a murderer to the door, or the door being kicked in, or even the gun going off in the sitting room that made a huge hole in the wall – gunshot which could easily have resulted in any one of them being killed, or seriously wounded.
Shaking his head, Archie swept the chaff into a pile and picked up a shovel. As predicted, life had returned to mundane boredom, where nothing exciting happened. Luckily though, harvesting had finished.
The harvest festival the village had held had, for once, been minus Lord Brentwood, who was now sitting in the Tower of London awaiting trial. Rumours were, the King had forcefully suggested that he be hung for his crimes. He had already been stripped of his title and house. Brentwood Manor had been renamed Battleflat Manor. The new owner of Battleflat Manor would be arriving later that week, and would be assuming the role of local Justice of the Peace. Not that the village was rife with crime, but having two murderers and a notorious thief living amongst them had made some of the villagers a bit jittery. For peace of mind, they needed a man of authority nearby would would support the village constable.
The rambling mansion now stood cold and empty. A huge monstrosity on the horizon that threatened as well as intrigued. Only last night Archie could have sworn he saw a light inside, but dismissed the notion because nobody lived there now. When Brentwood had been arrested, Mrs Brentwood, having also been stripped of her title, had gone to live in Cumbria with relatives, but not before laying off the majority of the remaining staff – including Betsy.
Despite having more money than anyone had been able to count sitting in the middle of their dining table, the family had since struggled without Betsy’s wages to add to the coffers. Money was very tight, and they had all had to make sacrifices to make sure there was enough to go around everyone. Most of the servants who had lost their jobs hadn’t been able to find other work. A few had moved further afield in search of employment, but a few locals – people who had been born and raised in the area, stuck it out in the hopes the new owner would re-employ them.
Archie could only hope they were right, because only last night Betsy had begun to make noises about having to move away to find another job. A suggestion that had been firmly squashed by their father, who had insisted they would make ends meet. But Archie wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep ‘doing without’. The extra hours he had worked in the corn mill had brought in some extra pennies, but that wouldn’t hold out for long, especially with the winter months coming up.
The family’s future had never seemed so dire.
Archie shivered as an icy breeze swirled around him. He hated the thought of Betsy having to leave. Although she spent most of her time at work, when she was at home, she was always kind and ready to tease. She helped mum out no end. Still, the family were putting a brave face on their dire predicament. They still put on their Sunday best, and went to church. Archie didn’t know who they had visiting them this afternoon, but felt certain his dad would let him off the hook. After all, he hadn’t ranted at Archie for putting himself in danger for three whole days!
He lifted a listless hand to Edward, who came out of the gate at the end of his garden. His aunt had made a slow recovery and was now living with Edward and his family. Something Edward despised as she insisted on pinching anyone’s cheek who got close enough, and smelled old and fusty.
“You coming out to play for a while?” Edward asked, running to a stop a few feet away.
Archie paused. Did he feel like going out to play? He wasn’t sure he did, but the idea of sitting inside, listening to Ben and Sammy squabble made his head ache.
“Yeah, I’ll just go and get changed, and then I will be out if it’s alright with my dad.”
“We have got the afternoon to ourselves, Archie,” Edward grinned. “Want to go to the spinney?”
Archie froze and turned to stare at Edward, whose grin suddenly disappeared.
“Sorry, I didn’t think –.”
Did he want to go to the spinney? He hadn’t been since the afternoon of Mr Harriman’s murder – would it be the same? Would he be the same?
Shaking his head at the remorseful look on Edward’s face, Archie smiled at his friend. “If you can stay with me this time, we will go to the spinney. You coming in?”
“I’ll go and put my rough boots on. If I get these posh shoes dirty, my mum will have my hide,” Edward grinned, delighted at the prospect of having a few hours playing with his friend – in broad daylight, without any dead bodies.
Archie slammed into the kitchen. His mum had already put out a meagre meal, that was heavily laden with fresh vegetables out of the garden. He knew his dad was going to harvest the rest of the vegetables and they would be stored, ready for winter, but if they kept padding out meals with extra vegetables, what they had grown over the summer wouldn’t last them for very long. Archie’s stomach churned over with worry, and he wondered what would happen to all of them.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he toed off his boots as he mentally rehearsed how he was going to ask his dad for permission to go out and play with Edward rather than sit inside with Aunty Vi, and entered the strangely quiet sitting room.
“Hello, Archie.”
Archie’s eyes popped wide as he stared at the tall, distinguished man standing beside his father in front of the hearth.
“Mr Oswalde,” Archie gasped, his face lighting into a grin.
“That’s the first smile we have seen on his face in weeks,” Jack announced conspiratorially to the man beside him. “Lord Brewcaster, Archie, mind your manners.”
Archie’s eyes shot to his father. “Lord Brewcaster?”
“That’s right, Henry Oswalde, the new Lord Brewcaster,” Lord Brewcaster replied, stepping forward and holding his hand out to Archie. “It’s good to see you again, Archie. Been working hard, I hear.”
“Yes, sir,” Archie replied, dropping his eyes to the floor.
“Come now, none of that formal nonsense with me. I thought we were friends.”
Archie smothered a smile, and glanced up the new lord.
“Did you get the title because you found the gold?”
“We found the gold, Archie. You played a very large part in it.”
Archie merely shrugged, momentarily lost for words. “Edward helped too.”
“I know, but you played a significant part in all of it. Most people would have fallen apart having witnessed a murder but you were filled with determination to uncover the culprit, weren’t you?”
Archie merely nodded.
“You were quite right too. Although I can’t condone some of the things you did, I can understand why you were felt driven to do them.” A knowing look passed between the lord and Archie.
“The King was informed of your part in finding his fortune and was inordinately pleased with your assistance. As a result, I was awarded a title, and have been given Battleflat Manor. I will now assume the role of Justice for the area.”
“You are the new Justice?” Archie gasped, his smile as wide as he could make it.
“Yes, and you, my dear boy, are to be rewarded for your efforts. I have informed your father here that a fund has been set up for you to cover schooling for yourself and your brothers and sisters. One of the things I wanted to do was to hire a tutor, not only for my own daughter, but for the children of the village. As a result, you, Edward and your brothers and sisters are to begin schooling at the Manor.”
Archie was stunned and stared in disbelief as the latest news sank in. He had always wanted to learn how to read and write, like Mr Tompkins did in the mill, but it had always seemed an impossible dream. Now? Now that the real possibility lay before him, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Suddenly, the thought of the corn mill wiped the smile from his face. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, reluctant to voice his concerns.
“What’s the matter?” Lord Brewcaster asked, shooting Jack a questioning look.
Archie’s eyes shifted to his dad, who stood smiling sympathetically at his son.
“It�
��s a great offer, sir, but I can’t, really I can’t.” Archie felt tears spring uncomfortably into his eyes.
“Why not?”
Archie shrugged, reluctant to tell the man about his family’s financial troubles.
Lord Brewcaster suddenly appeared in Archie’s line of vision; having dropped to his haunches, he now looked up into Archie’s face.
“I have also been asked to give you this, with His Majesty’s grateful thanks.” He handed Archie a small brown pouch that jingled as it moved.
When Archie didn’t immediately hold his hand out to take the pouch, Lord Brewcaster lifted his small, bony hand and placed the leather pouch in the middle of his palm. Archie frowned down at it, his curiosity piqued. It was heavier than it looked, and was incredibly bumpy. Up close, it was also larger than first thought.
“We still need to find the gold bars that weren’t used by Brentwood and his associates. We think they are around here somewhere, Archie. I don’t want you to go looking for them but if something comes to mind. Something you think you may have forgotten before, then you have my express permission to come to Battleflat Manor and see me. My door is always open to you, Archie, I want you to know that.”
Archie’s smile wobbled, and he nodded briefly, still staring down at the coins.
“Open it then, and see what it is,” Marjorie prompted when Archie made no move to look inside.
With trembling fingers, Archie slowly untied the laces at the top of the pouch. Mindful of what had happened with the huge bag of coins Lord Brewcaster had opened on the table, Archie held the contents in a firm grip and let the sides of the pouch fall open.
He stared down in confusion at the large pile of coins in his palm. Brilliant, shiny, gold coins. He raised confused eyes to Lord Brewcaster.
“They are your reward – yours and your family’s – for your part in capturing Brentwood. This is in addition to the fund that has been set up to cover your tuition fees, Archie, so don’t you worry about that. It means that you and your brothers and sisters here only have to work part-time while you study.”
Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery Page 19