A steady drizzle began to settle on his shoulders, but Simon ignored it, studying each house carefully as he slowly meandered past the first few low-slung buildings on the very edge of the village. The further into the village he went, the more plentiful the houses, until he soon found himself in what appeared to be the thriving hub of the village.
Sitting astride the familiar comfort of Billie, he drew to a stop and quietly studied the milling people around him. A few looked upon him suspiciously as they passed. More often than not their eyes slid away from his before he could affect a greeting, and they increased their pace, eager to be on their way. One or two did venture a quick greeting, but despite the joviality in their voices, Simon was well aware of the glint of suspicion in their gazes.
Eventually the main road crossed with a second road that seemed to run out of town to the east and the west, although there were no road markings to say where the roads went. Pausing at the crossroads for several moments, he carefully studied the buildings. A bakery, a buttery, a blacksmith, several houses as well as a church all lined the street facing him.
“Excuse me,” Simon called, sighing deeply as the old woman he hailed paused and stared at him with large round eyes, before tugging her shawl around her shoulders and glancing frantically around her, as though deciding which way to run. Determined not to let her vanish until he had answers, Simon edged closer, trying to appear relaxed and at ease. “Can you tell me where I can find the tavern, or some place to stay?”
The woman stared at him, clearly trying to decide whether it was safe to answer.
“I need a place to stay overnight,” he persisted.
The woman edged cautiously closer, glancing up and down the road carefully. As she tugged her shawl tighter, Simon watched the grip increase until the knuckles on her gnarled hands turned white. He carefully leaned down as she edged closer.
“If you have any sense you will turn that huge beast around and get out of the village while you still can,” she whispered, her hard eyes locked on his.
“What’s wrong?” Simon asked, his own voice no louder than a whisper. He wasn’t sure if the old woman was as nutty as a fruit cake, but was happy to accommodate her strange behaviour as long as she told him where he could spend the night.
“It’s not safe for us villagers, let alone a stranger like yourself. Please, you have to leave here, or you may not survive. If you have any sense, you’ll go back the way you came.” She made a furtive shooing motion with her hands, glancing around her suspiciously before shoving her hands back under her thick woollen shawl.
“Survive what?” But Simon’s question met thin air as the old woman coughed and stumbled backward, nodding to two old ladies as they hurried past, their heads close together as they chatted while they walked. Simon watched them pass, but as his gaze turned toward the old woman, she was gone. Glancing up and down the road, he could see no sign of her and shook his head at the foibles of village life. His immediate thought was to dismiss the warning, after all he was a stranger and she could have been trying to get rid of him, but something warned him not to ignore it so easily.
Determined not to be put off from his desire to secure a room for the night, Simon turned Billie toward the opposite side of the village from the church and went in search of the tavern.
He found it, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. As he turned into the small courtyard, he suddenly had a new understanding of the old woman’s cautionary words. There was definitely something going on in the village of Much Hampton, and it was something dark and sinister.
People were everywhere, scurrying this way and that as if in a mad hurry to get back to their homes. With so many people out and about, the tavern should have been at the heart of it all, filled to the rafters with revellers enjoying the opportunity to meet with the village folk before going on their way. Instead the Bull and Thistle, as the paint-worn sign declared, was barely habitable and stood cold and empty.
“Shit,” he snapped, twisting around in his saddle and staring at the strangely empty road behind him with a frown. Where had everyone gone? It was as though he had just imagined the busy hustle and bustle of the main thoroughfare.
“Hugo, you bastard, you should be here doing this,” Simon growled, puffing out his cheeks as he studied the now deserted road behind him. Curiosity drove him to nudge Billie back down the only road running through the village and redouble his efforts to find some other sign of life. His quest didn’t take long. Within minutes he spotted a young boy skipping in an alleyway at the back of a row of workers cottages, and quickly turned Billie in that direction. He fought the urge to shout out a greeting to the young lad, lest he scare him and cause the young mite to run away.
The clip-clopping of Billie’s hooves on the cobbles drew the boy’s attention and he stopped skipping and turned to stare. Simon wanted to paste a bright smile on his face, but with the old woman’s words of caution still ringing in his ears, couldn’t find it within him to summon any sign of joviality. Instead he nodded amiably and watched the boy carefully for any sign of fear.
“Hello,” Simon said, slowly dismounting. His gaze flickered from the boy to the house behind him. “Can you help me?”
The boy stood and stared, making no move to answer.
“I am looking for somewhere I can take a room for the night.” It didn’t come as any surprise when the boy simply stood staring at him for several moments, suspicion clearly written on his face. “Do you think they will have a room for me?” Simon pointed to the door of the tavern further down the road and began to wonder if the youngster could speak at all, when the door to one of the houses suddenly opened. The large woman who appeared in the doorway glanced at Simon worriedly. He had no doubt she had seen him from the inside of the house. He watched as she ushered the boy inside out of the way, slamming the door behind them with more force than was necessary. “I guess not,” Simon sighed, wondering if events could get any stranger.
Not only did he now have a growing list of questions that he needed to answer, there were the original orders to take into consideration, on top of where he could sleep for the night. With the size of the village he was supposed to keep an eye on, he needed to be living nearby and mingle with the locals enough to grasp some idea of who the troublemakers were, and likely to be traitors to king and country.
As he slowly made his way back onto the main thoroughfare, he paused again to consider his options. He could try the tavern and see if it was still in use, but it looked cold and empty and for some strange reason he had no inclination to stay there. Instead he headed toward the church and the west of the village. He found the doors to the church locked and barred to entry, and no sign of life at the rectory. With a frown, he tugged his cloak higher and glared balefully at the darkening clouds.
Mounting Billie once more, he decided to make a wider circuit of the village in search of somewhere he could stay. Although he didn’t hold out much hope, and it looked like the tavern was going to be all that was on offer
He had no sooner gone a few yards when he became aware of the sound of raucous laughter, accompanied by a woman’s squeal. The lewd comments, accompanied by another round of laughing, didn’t sound like anything enjoyable. Even from several feet away, Simon could hear the woman’s pleas to be left alone, and the ribald taunts and mockery that answered her cries.
For one fleeting moment, Simon considered turning Billie around and ignoring them. He knew from past experience that he couldn’t fight every battle around him, but this was a woman who needed help. Unless he was very much mistaken, a woman whose virtue was at risk from two scoundrels, who were enjoying having the woman in deep distress. Although he was certainly the last man anyone could consider a knight in shining armour, his own conscience couldn’t allow him to leave the woman to fend for herself and face the consequences. After all, if he saved her, she would probably be willing to tell him where in this God-forsaken place would be able to provide him with a room for the night. Although
he loved Billie, he had no intention of bedding down with him for the night and at that moment, it was looking like a distinct possibility.
Another louder scream was enough to spur Simon into action. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he turned Billie toward the direction of the noise. He didn’t have to go far before he found the source of the screams. There, a few feet ahead, in the middle of the road were two men tousling with a lone middle-aged woman.
The large, burly man held her off the floor, while the man before her was trying to capture her kicking legs. Together the men were telling the woman just what they planned to do with her, clearly finding her pleas and screams for mercy encouragement rather than a deterrent.
The soldier within Simon immediately rose to the surface.
“Put her down,” Simon growled, glaring first at the burly man holding the woman, and then the accomplice who had managed to grab hold of one of her flailing legs.
The smaller man turned slowly, a snarl of contempt on his face. “This ain’t nothing to do with you, go away.”
“Help me?” the woman gasped, “Please?”
Simon didn’t look at her. A quick glance around them assured him that there was nobody else lurking in the area. Dismounting Billie, Simon stepped forward and straightened his shoulders, his voice laced with contempt.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me about what?” the feral man laughed, glancing at his accomplice. “Go to hell, this ain’t nothing to do with you. We have some unfinished business with the woman here, so get lost. You can have your turn after.”
The woman gasped and began to struggle again, seemingly oblivious to the brief flash of petticoats and bare leg beneath. The weasly man jolted and jostled as he fought to hold the weight of her leg as it kicked wildly.
Sensing victory, Simon took advantage of the man’s brief lapse of concentration. When he turned to snarl something at the woman, Simon lunged into action. One well-placed fist landed at the same time that the woman placed a well-aimed kick at the man’s midsection. He dropped to his knees in time to receive a swift kick to the bottom of his jaw. His head snapped back and he slumped to the floor without a murmur.
Able to put both feet on the floor at last, the woman began to writhe and squirm against the cruel hold on her upper arms from the brute behind.
“Final warning,” Simon growled. “Are you going to let her go, or go the same way as your friend here?”
“Go to hell,” the burly man snarled. “This ain’t your business.”
“I’m afraid you have made it my business,” Simon snarled. “By picking on a woman.” Simon paused as a thought flittered through his mind, and he paused to stare at the woman.
Her eyes met and held his for a brief moment.
“Is either of these men your husband?” Simon hoped he hadn’t just waded into to a marital argument.
“God no, I am not that stupid to marry either of these oafs,” she snorted.
“Shut up, bitch,”
“Go to hell,” the woman spat, her eyes shooting defiant sparks at the man behind her.
Simon almost smiled at her spirit, and nodded in sympathy. “Then if I may?” He lunged forward, planting one fist in the man’s face at the same time he dragged the beefy arm wrapped across the woman’s shoulders free. Twisting it around, he heard the satisfying crunch of bones seconds before they were accompanied by the agonised yowl from the large man.
Suddenly free, the woman fell forward and landed on the floor with a heavy thump. Several swift blows later, the large man met his accomplice on the ground.
Simon studied them carefully for several moments before he was finally assured that neither man would pose any more of a threat, before turning to the woman.
At first glance she was probably late forties, or early fifties. Her hair was swept back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and, although they now sat straight, her round spectacles sat perched on the gentle sweep of her nose that tipped up pertly at the end. But it was her eyes that captured Simon’s attention.
Unusual, was the word Simon would use to describe them. They were the same colour as whisky; a warm amber, with hints of dark mystery that swirled and collided intriguingly. The more he studied her, the more his hackles warned him that there was something definitely odd about the woman, only he couldn’t quite decide what it was.
Francesca took a moment to collect herself under the guise of brushing dust and dirt off her skirts. She had no idea who the stranger was, but he had undoubtedly saved her from a fate worse than death. Eyeing the unconscious bodies of her two attackers, she edged sideways out of reach before reluctantly turning to the stranger.
A shiver of awareness swept through her as she studied him. Dressed entirely in black, his height and sheer masculinity were unnerving to look at; menacing almost. Her gaze drifted up, over the broad expanse of chest to the sharp sweep of his jaw. She shivered as her eyes reluctantly met his piercing blue gaze, and the curiosity he made no attempt to hide. It made her tremble to realise that he had been studying her just as carefully.
If she was honest, she had seriously doubted her ability to get away from the two thugs on the floor. They had overpowered her with sheer bulk and she was only grateful they hadn’t managed to lift her skirts.
“Do you know who they are?” Simon asked, nudging one of the attackers with the toe of his boot.
“Charlie Wick and Tom Simpson,” Francesca replied automatically, glaring down at them. “They live in the village.”
Her voice was cold and emotionless, but Simon could still hear the slight tremor underlying the husky tones.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Francesca murmured when the large man made no attempt at drawing any conversation out. Still trembling with fright, she was at a loss as to how to take her leave of him. She had thanked him, but was he waiting to be paid? Did one pay a rescuer? If he was waiting for recompense, she didn’t have much money on her at all, certainly not enough for him to feel adequately compensated for his trouble. Besides which, what was she to do about the two bodies lying on the floor? Did she just leave them there to wake up in their own good time, or should she go into town and fetch the doctor? But that would mean that she had to implicate the man in an altercation, and she didn’t want to get him into trouble now. Besides which, she wasn’t going to pay anyone to come and look at the two men who had almost brought about her ruination. The two men at her feet were undoubtedly the worst trouble-makers the village had ever seen. Fresh out of Bodmin jail, it had become apparent to the entire village pretty quickly that they had left the dark recesses of the jail with more skills than they went in with, and they weren’t the skills they could use in any kind of worthwhile employment.
“It was only a matter of time,” Francesca murmured, knowing that it was inevitable that at some point their paths would cross. She knew she had taken a risk heading into the village unaccompanied, but given that Bertie was ill, and Madeline was still recovering from the flu that had befallen Bertie, it had been left to Francesca to head to the village for fresh supplies.
“What was?” Simon muttered, feeling fairly certain that his burgeoning suspicions were correct. He tried not to stare, and inched infinitesimally closer in an attempt to get a better look.
“Oh, sorry, just thinking,” Francesca replied with a jolt. She was completely lost for a polite way to take her leave of him, and not entirely sure what he was waiting for. “Thank you again,” she said, and began to turn around.
“Wait!” Simon moved to stand in front of her, blocking her path. He needed to see her face just one more time, just to make sure his suspicions were correct, and almost smirked when her eyes reluctantly returned to his for a brief moment before quickly sliding away. The lady really did have a few secrets. Intrigued, Simon simply couldn’t stand back and allow her to leave without knowing more.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have much money to give you,” Francesca mumbled, beginning to fumble
in her pockets. It was then that she realised she had dropped her basket further along the road; its contents were now scattered across the pathway. Scurrying forward, she began to gather the various vegetables, breads and cheeses and shove them into the basket.
“I don’t expect to be paid, for God’s sakes,” Simon snapped, highly offended at her presumption that he was loitering for money.
“Thank you,” she muttered as Simon dropped several potatoes and a small packet into the basket. She valiantly tried to ignore the heat that stole into her cheeks, and hoped he hadn’t seen her discomfiture for what it was; heightened awareness of him. She wasn’t lost to the long, tapered fingers that were darkly tanned, hinting at a life out of doors, or the broad sweep of his brows that topped what was an exceptionally handsome face. Giving herself a stern mental shake, Francesca shoved the cheese on top of the now full basket and, as nonchalantly as possible, rose to her feet.
“I’ll walk you home,” Simon murmured, hefting the basket into one hand before Francesca had the time to even bend down to take the heavy weight for herself. Ignoring her protests, he glanced down the track toward the groaning men, who had started to wake up.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” Francesca protested, glancing worriedly down the road. She shifted from one foot to the other, eager to be out of the area before the attackers, Charlie and Tom, woke up entirely and realised she was still there.
They were spiteful, and she had no doubt that they would look at heading in her direction as soon as they were fit and able, but that was something she would have to deal with at the time. She had no intention of repeating the events of the afternoon. Glancing up at the man beside her, she tried to tug the basket out of his hand but he wouldn’t let go.
“Please, I need to go,” Francesca gasped, fear nipping at her heels.
“I know we do, but you need not fear when I am around. I won’t allow them to harm you.” Simon didn’t know where that came from. He didn’t usually take on other people’s problems, and had no intention of becoming this woman’s protector, but there was something about the fear in her eyes that struck a chord deep within him and, soldier that he was, he couldn’t just walk away and leave her to fight these particular thugs on her own.
Smuggler's Glory Page 3