It took them another half hour, using shepherd trails, to get back to Evan and found him sound asleep in the heather. Aaron didn’t hesitate and began to kick him awake.
“A right bloody sentry, you are. Why haven’t you been watching? Didn’t you hear the rock fall? Shook the fecking ground, it did. It’ll scare the bejesus out of anyone still trapped. Wake up, you daft bugger, you are going into Clee Grot and see who’s there.”
“I’m not going in there, no way. He might be waiting to kill me.”
“Yeah, and I’m outside waiting to do exactly that, you cowardly lump. You should have seen the way Matthew was beaten up, and his wife scared out of her wits, like I did. Evan, I’ve had enough of you, and I won’t forget it. I’ll be dealing with you when this is over. You are cat’s piss! Oh, sod it, if you’re not going down, I am, and we’ll see who kills who! Jacob, come with me and cover me—your gun’s loaded, ain’t it? You two men keep your eyes peeled and watch as we get near. Any movement of the bushes, yell out, got it?”
The two watchmen nodded and walked further down the hillside behind them.
Treading softly, Aaron approached the cave and stopped within a few yards to listen for any sound that might come from inside. Not a sound. All was quiet, but still, he waited, hardly breathing, casting his eyes all around. Still, nothing came to his ears. He took a step toward the gorse bushes and paused again as something caught his eye. Whatever it was looked black in the waning light. Another step and he bent to run his hand over the blackness. As he brought his hand up to see what it was, he felt the stickiness and realised it was blood. Turning his head to the path that led down the gully, he saw more black-looking smears. To the watchers, who had no idea what Aaron was doing, it came as a surprise when he launched his body through the gorse and disappeared inside the cave.
“Jacob,” yelled one of the watchers, “Follow him in quick, lad, he may need you.”
Without even thinking he might be walking into a trap, Jacob also disappeared into the cave. A moment later, he emerged and called out. “No one’s here. The cave is empty.” Then he bobbed back again and saw Aaron holding a lamp up to the back of the cave.
“That roof fall covered the whole of the passage going farther into the hill. The dust is still falling. The one man we couldn’t trace was injured. That was blood I was looking at outside. He must have escaped while that bloody noggin up there was asleep. Where he is now is anyone’s guess, but he’s leaking blood, so he might be hurt bad. Tomorrow, we’ll come back with a cart and collect the stores they pinched from Matthew. They hardly had time to eat much. For now, I suggest we get back home. We can’t trail the blood spots as it’s getting too dark to see. All I’m wondering at this moment is could it be the toff who’s got away or one of his men? I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Ignoring Evan completely, Aaron led the way down a shepherd’s trail to a hillside cottage where he had left a mule and cart. Thanking the owner for keeping an eye on the mule, he beckoned the two watchmen and Jacob to climb aboard. Turning to Evan, he said, “There’s no room for you. No doubt you know your way home.” H took up the reins, shook them at the mule, and moved off, leaving Evan staring open-mouthed at the disappearing cart.
Evan yelled at the men to wait for him, knowing he would have a long trudge to get home, but no one took the slightest notice of his plaintive yells.
“Serve him bloody right,” Aaron growled angrily. “Our work’s not over yet, lads. We have to figure out where that villain is hidden now. Course, if it was one of his men, they might just give up and leave. I’ve got a nasty feeling it’s the man who is after his lordship. Thank God he is away at the moment. It’ll give us time tomorrow to get a couple of tracker dogs and trail those blood spots. I’ll call in at Hatchett’s Farm and arrange for the dogs. Jacob, you let Tom and Barney know what’s happened, and we’ll meet at first light at my place and start the hunt again. On mounts this time. I’m fed up with tramping over those hills. Besides, we can take turns with the dogs, and even if one of us has to track into moorland, it will still be quicker.” He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Thanks for helping out, and I’m sorry you had a wasted journey, but at least you would have been there if needed.”
“That’s all right, Aaron. It made a change from what we usually do, though I know what you mean by being footsore. Wading through heather and gorse is not my idea of pleasure. I’ll be soaking my feet tonight to ease the blisters. Hey—” He stopped and peered around to see they were approaching the first houses in the village. “Does anyone smell anything?”
“What? Is it your feet, Dan?” Jacob laughed at one of the night watchmen.
“It’s bloody well not, lad. I’m serious. No, it is definitely smoke, I think.”
Every one stared around and began to sniff.
“By God, it is smoke. Something’s on fire near here…yes, look over there—see the smoke over them cottages. Oh ’struth! It’s the earl’s house, it’s blazing!”
As they got near and emerged from between the cottages into the wide road fronting the manor house, they were shocked at the unbelievable sight and speed of the fire spewing out from every opening of the building. It seemed that, stone or not, the whole structure was one huge, scorching mass of flame. As the four men reached the area and climbed down from the cart to join the scattered crowd who had been alerted, they could only stand and watch in dismay. Some villagers held buckets of water, but it was obvious that nothing would avail to stop this inferno.
Most of those present had watched the renovations take place and were delighted that the manor house would once again enhance their village. Now, stunned and appalled at the catastrophe, they could only stand and watch as it was destroyed.
* * * *
Tasker lay hidden in the castle ruins at the back of Amberley Hall, watching the chaos as people ran hither and yon, fetching buckets of water until they realised that, in the end, they were no use as the heat was too intense to get near enough to the house to use them. Despite the throbbing pain he was in from the wound in his side where a large sliver of rock had sliced down rapidly and struck him, cutting through his clothes and shearing off flesh back to the bone, he was still alive. Not so his long-time friend, if one could call him that, for Tasker knew little about having a friend. Loyalty had never been his strongest suit. He put the recent scene of their vain attempt to get out of the cavern by the back exit to one side, his eyes still intent on watching for the earl to come on the scene. So far, the owner had not appeared, which was very strange. It was a sight to draw anyone, let alone Martell.
Yet thoughts of the cavern intruded again as, recalling the recent events, he was amazed at his own sagacity to send Harry Smeeton on ahead of him after they had cleared the rocks blocking the passage at the end of the cave and seen a clear, negotiable tunnel ahead. Some innate wariness had made him call out he was just going back to pick up a rifle he had forgotten and would be right behind Harry in a minute.
Still uneasy, he waited much longer before starting out, though was well down the passageway before he heard and felt the first rumble of falling rocks and turned to flee. As it was, he barely escaped with his life as a huge piece of sharp granite, thin and razor sharp, had cut through his coat and hit his side, gouging out a deep wound. He managed to keep upright and reached the safety of the cavern, choking and wheezing with the dust that filled the air behind him.
Harry was probably dead. He recognized that immediately. Nor would he even look to see if he could save the man. He had more important matters to deal with, and anyway, he had to get out of such a dangerous place for who knew whether the ceiling of the cavern would also come down and trap him forever.
Sliding out of the gorse hiding the crevice entrance to the cave, he stood in the shelter of the trees and listened carefully. Not a sound disturbed the silence. Deciding to take a bold chance, and holding his rifle ready to shoot anyone that challenged him, he sidled out to the gulley fronting the cave.
Still, no sound came to his ears or even the appearance of an enemy. He was lucky. No one was watching. What an incredible escape. He set off in the direction of Clun, ready to continue the battle.
An outlying farm on the hillside provided him with a horse. The swift blow to the solitary stableman’s head left him uncaring whether the man was dead or merely badly stunned. He saddled the solitary colt, an indifferent steed and far too young to have much stamina though it had four legs and could carry him for the next few miles at least. Next, he grabbed a towel off a washing line to wedge between his shirt and the still oozing wound, trying to ignore the pain. He knew it was a serious gash, but a doctor was out of the question. Even though he felt weak from the loss of blood, his determination was such that he allowed himself no respite in his endeavour to catch up with the earl and kill him,
Reaching the back of Martell’s house, he was surprised to see no one around—an amazing gift he would be foolish not to make the most of. Harry had said that the earl had posted night watchmen to guard the place. Luck was going his way, for once. A quick look into an outhouse discovered tins of paint and varnishes, and a quantity of turpentine. Breaking into the house was easy, and spreading the mixtures he carried and ladled around, even up to the attics, took no time at all.
Lighting a taper and speeding hastily into the downstairs rooms to ignite as many places as possible was even easier. He raced for the ruins again and hid, watching as a sudden breeze seemed to eddy around and envelop the house in a flash of fire. Although he had planned and executed its destruction, even he was astounded at the effect. The roar of the flames had roused the village, and he watched avidly as figures milled about, scarcely knowing what to do. He readied his rifle. As soon as his nemesis came within range, he would have him. Then his wife would be at his mercy.
In the end, voices reached him from below.
“God Almighty, what a fire! Who would have thought it would go up like tinder?”
“Poor devil, the earl is going to be devastated when he finds out.”
“After all he’s paid out...”
“Just as well he and his wife hadn’t moved in...”
“Where are they?”
“I think they went back to his wife’s old home...”
“Oh, Sodom and Gomorrah!” Tasker cursed. Martell wasn’t in the village to see the fire. He had missed watching his house burn to a ruin, and he had missed shooting him because he had not known the fool had gone back to Ashbury Mead. Well, no problem about that. At least he had done the earl a great disservice in ruining his house, and he was free to get back to his old home and make a further opportunity to kill his adversary.
He slid down from the mound overlooking the back of the house and made his way in the darkness to where the horse was hobbled. It wouldn’t survive long. The poor creature had no strength, and he had ridden it cruelly. He only hoped it would last long enough to carry him to another farmhouse where, overnight, he could steal food and another horse. If he had to kill again to get what he wanted, so what? His conscience had never troubled him before, and it would not raise its head now.
* * * *
To say that Aaron was totally horror-struck at the disaster that had just occurred was stating it mildly. The miasmic reek of turpentine and paint contaminating the air around the ruined building told its own story and pointed conclusively to arson. The reality he had to acknowledge and take responsibility for was obvious. It was no one’s fault but his.
He'd known the kind of man he’d sought, and whether it was the leader or his second in command made no difference after the dealings with Matthew. He was a villain through and through. Although the burning down of the earl's house pointed to someone with a fearsome grudge, not an ordinary gang member who would be getting away from the district after that rock fall as quickly as his legs could take him. Yes, he thought, it was the leader, and escaping from the cavern had freed him to create this mayhem.
This catastrophe was entirely his mistake. He was the one to ask Walter to release the two night watchmen to help with surveillance of the cave. Had they been guarding the house, no way could the varmint have been able to get in without the alarm being raised.
Even though it was Evan’s dereliction of duty that had allowed the villain to escape, it did not absolve him for mismanaging the plan. He was entirely to blame for the destruction of the earl’s house. He’d known Evan was not trustworthy yet had taken him on. Yes, he had been short of men, but nevertheless, taking a chance on a man who was so witless he was a risk—not only to himself but, as it turned out, a threat to everyone else—was the height of stupidity. Back home, Aaron sat at the kitchen table, elbows spread, holding his head in his hands, his brain a mush of guilt.
His wife hushed the younger children and hurried them out of the room to bed. She recognized something awful had happened, but not what, though she’d heard of the all-consuming blaze of the earl’s house which was bad enough. She was at a loss to know what affected her husband so badly, but instead of asking as she was almost tempted to do, she resolved to refrain and merely said, “Your supper’s ready. Shall I dish up?”
“I’m not hungry, but yes, I’ll try and eat.” In the end, although he didn’t finish, he made a reasonable effort, and once she had cleared the table, he said, “Ellie, we have to talk.”
“It’s about the earl, isn’t it?”
He heaved a deep sigh. “I’m afraid so. The burning of his house is my fault.” He went on to explain why, giving her every detail, if only to have things clear in his own mind. She tried to defend his actions, but he wouldn’t have it. “I’ll be off early tomorrow to Berkshire, lass. The earl has to know before he returns back here. I have no idea what he will say. He probably has a right to beat me to death. He won’t, of course. He’s not that kind of a man, even though I deserve it.”
“Stop it, Aaron! You don’t deserve anything of the kind. Circumstance went against you, that's all. You did the best you could. That snivelling wretch, Stebbins, will rue the day he let you down. The village will throw him and his family out. They’ll have to leave—”
“Ellie! You won’t say a word. Hear me good. Not one word of what I’ve told you escapes your lips. Facts will get out as there was more than me up there, but nothing will be said as far as we are concerned, understand?”
She stared back at him for a long moment. He was a good husband and cared devotedly for his family. She loved him dearly and was shocked at his harsh words. He had never spoken so firmly to her before, so she knew the disaster had deeply affected him.
“All right, I won’t say anything. But I hope it gets out. It is not fair for you to accept all the blame. In fact you shouldn’t take any blame, but knowing you—”
“Ellie, give it a rest. I can’t take any more. I’m beat, and I’m for bed. I’ll be off first thing as I said—”
“I’ll be up tomorrow to see you off. Sleep well. I’ll be up myself soon.” She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and watched with pity as he turned for the door, his shoulders sagging dismally. She had never seen him look so low.
* * * *
Lucie snuggled close to Richard in the bed that had become so memorable to her before they’d left Ashbury Mead. It was large and supremely restful, and the sheets were of silk which felt exotic and soothed her bare skin beautifully. She had slept well that afternoon, and without doubt, was ready and willing to make love with her husband. Except he was still lying on his back and not leaping on her as usual.
“Richard, is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course it is. Shouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You seem changed, worried maybe. Are you fretting to be back at Clun? I wouldn’t blame you if you missed the place...I know how glad I was to come back here.”
“So was I. This place feels more like a home to me than Amberley. I miss Eleanor, as you could expect, but she has left a presence here that is comforting, warm and welcoming. I know you would treasure living here so,
whereas I had thought to bring up our family in Shropshire, I am having second thoughts.”
Lucie held her breath, wondering if miracles really did happen. Yet she knew she must not influence him one way or the other. He had to come to a decision of his own accord.
“And those thoughts are troubling you, my lord?”
“Undoubtedly I can see our roles in Clun. Holding the people together, putting right all the things my father neglected...” He paused and sighed. “He left many problems behind in the village regarding the people, neglecting repairs with cottages he owned. Oh, so many things that even the worst of landlords would have attended to. He was a feudal tyrant, and I own shame for being his son. As for Amberley…Lucie, I should have pulled down the house and started again. I hate it—every stick and stone brings back grief of the past.”
“Then do it. I won’t have you unhappy over something like that. We can change things. We can even buy something else in the district and sell the Hall. I quite liked the house, knowing it was yours, but I haven’t got the same unity as I have with this place. I love you and want you happy—”
“Hold on a moment...you love me? Why did that pop out? You have never said you loved me since we first married. In spite of the fact we are so in tune with everything. I have waited and wondered for so long as I love you too. You have stolen my heart since I first met you...” He pulled her close to his body, smoothing his hands over her back. “I know you were forced into a marriage you did not want, but things haven’t been so bad, have they? I have been amazed at the way you have responded to me.”
A Perilous Marriage Page 21