A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

by William Scott

  *

  The rescue mission was not going well; in fact it had not really started. Tiberius mused over the meddling of fate and hoped that his mission was not in vain. Similar dark thoughts remained in his mind as he finished a glass of warm cider by the dying fire in a farmhouse kitchen.

  Tiberius and his men had left the Manor the night before and travelled as quickly as they could to Rivermead. The road was well known to all of them, so they were able to keep a decent pace through the night. They did not speak, as it took all of their concentration to ride safely in the dark. However during one of their few breaks, while they walked the horses, Morgan reflected aloud what all three had been thinking. They were getting closer to Rivermead, and had yet to see any sign of the delivery wagon. They had all believed that an accident had befallen the wagon and that they would have crossed paths with it during the ride. But the road had been clear and empty.

  The answer to their question surfaced as they arrived in Rivermead a few hours later with the rising sun. The first cottage they passed in the village was burned down and the one beside it was missing its door. Signs of a violent disturbance continued as they made their way through the eerily silent village to the distillery on the other side of an ancient stone bridge. The lack of activity on a regularly busy weekday morning made the hair on the back of each man’s neck rise up in unease. Outside the heavy doors of the distillery, Tiberius found the slumped body of a man in rough leather with long dirty hair.

  “That was one of the ruffians my Lord,” announced a thin voice from the distillery doors as they creaked open. The voice belonged to an old man with a grey beard and grey coveralls. Tiberius recognized him as the still master and unofficial leader of Rivermead.

  “What happened here?” asked Tiberius, anger rising in his heart.

  The old man seemed at a loss for words as the remainder of the village streamed out past them. They seemed shaken and kept their heads down as they hurried to their respective cottages on the other side of the small stream. A young woman, not nearly as silent shoved past the old man, eager to explain.

  “Four of them showed up yesterday morning,” she began with a steel voice, explaining that they got drunk in the tavern and started making trouble. Things came to a head when they were refused service and kicked out. They tried to break into the distillery for more drink, but were found by the night watchmen. When they approached him, he hit one of them over the head with his club and then retreated fearfully back inside.

  “Discovering their comrade dead, they went back to the village square and started screaming and breaking things,” continued the old man, having finally found his voice. He explained that they threatened to burn the whole village down, house by house, starting from the outside. When they went to the first cottage, most of the village fled to the safety of the thick stone walled distillery.

  “They burnt the first one down without even blinking, but when they moved to the next cottage a scream from within stopped them,” said the woman, the fire from the night before lingering in her eyes. “They broke down the door and found my sister. She’s just a girl and those bastards dragged her out of the house like a ragdoll!”

  Her voiced quivered as her hands wrenched on a balled up part of her dirty cotton dress. But as she related the story Tiberius realized it wasn’t fear or shock that was affecting her. It was pent-up anger and rage she was fighting back.

  “I just sat in the safety of the damned distillery with everyone else as they loaded Maddie onto the wagon, laughing,” she continued, spitting the words out like flames.

  “There was nothing you or any of us could have done,” the old man countered, trying to console her.

  “We could have stopped them instead of huddling together in fear. We could have done something, anything…”

  “What’s this about a wagon?” Tiberius broke in before their reproaching derailed his questions any further. He had the feeling his quick little errand was turning into a lengthier undertaking.

  “The distillery’s delivery wagon,” the old man answered immediately. “It was bound for Ravenwood Manor… That’s why you’re here isn’t it.”

  Tiberius merely nodded, expertly hiding the growing rage and exasperation he felt within. Not only had these hooligans attacked a village under the protection of the Manor, but they had stolen the wagon he had been sent to find. He would now have to find it before he could continue his journey to the Crows Nest, with each passing hour putting Lord Lodge in more danger.

  “Do you have someone able to ride?” he eventually asked the old man. When he nodded, Tiberius pulled out a piece of paper and hurriedly wrote a note. “Have someone take this to Ravenwood Manor. They will send some people over to look after the wounded and place a guard in case these men return.”

  With the message dispensed, Tiberius ran over to the edge of the village, following the call of Dufresne. His men were standing at a fence gate, staring at muddied tracks in the ground that led off west.

  “They left this way,” assessed Morgan thoughtfully. “I’d say about twelve hours ago.”

  “That matches with their story.”

  “Did you think they were lying?”

  “No,” Tiberius answered, turning to look back at the village in the midst of repairing itself. The villagers seemed to be shuffling around in a collective melancholy as they tried to recover for the harrowing events of the night before. “But I don’t like leaving anything to chance. Let’s get going.” They walked back to their horses, mounted them, and then rode back to the tracks.

  “What are you going to do to them when you find them?” rang out a voice behind them. All three turned in their saddles and watched the young woman from before approach on her own horse. She no longer had the look of a victim. Her dirty cotton dress and shoes were replaced with tall riding boots and leather leggings. A brown riding jacket flowed behind her as she trotted up to the men.

  “That depends on what we find when we track them down.”

  “But you were only sent here to find the wagon? The Manor needs its booze first and people second?” She replied defiantly, her anger not yet spent.

  Tiberius stared at her but said nothing. He could understand her anger and realized she needed someone to aim it at, until they found the men who took her sister. He signalled for his men to head out slowly and followed them, confident he would hear her voice again.

  “I’m coming with you, you need me,” she stated forcefully, rewarding Tiberius’ grasp on the human condition.

  “Why is that?”

  “I saw them at the pub and can identify them for you.”

  “I’m pretty sure we won’t mistake them for three innocent men driving a wagon loaded with whiskey and a kidnapped girl,” Tiberius replied, wondering how she’d answer his subtle dismissal. “Why do you really want to come with us?”

  “I’m going to kill those men!” she shot back angrily. “I’m going to kill them even if you let them go when you’ve recovered your precious shipment.”

  “As you wish,” he replied simply, impressed with her passionate honesty. “What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Katherine, the still master’s daughter. You can call me Kat for short; but not darling, or woman, and certainly not wench.”

  “Very well Kat. My name’s Tiberius and these are my companions, Morgan and Dufresne. We travel fast and without many breaks. Keep up if you can, but if you can’t…” he shrugged and urged his horse into a gallop, leading the small troop into the wide expanse beyond.

  A quiet snore from his riding companion broke Tiberius’ reverie. He looked over to see her fast asleep on the bench by the kitchen table. They had indeed travelled fast and far, but had yet to reach the wagon and had decided to rest the night at a farmhouse they passed. She had kept up with them the entire way, displaying a certain he had not been prepared for. Similarly he had not been prepared for her attractiveness to shine through her combative attitude and manly attire. But as he looked
at her now, with the faint glow of the fire lighting up her tanned face and auburn hair, he found himself lost in her beauty.

  She shifted slightly and Tiberius quickly looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring. He finished the last dregs of his cider and leaned back in his chair, needing some sleep before the morning. Morgan believed they were only a few hours behind their quarry. With luck they would reach them the next day, hopefully with a fully intact wagon and hostage. If they found Maddie in anything less than near prefect condition, he was sure Kat would hold him responsible and never speak to him again. And that was something he suddenly felt desperate to avoid.

  Chapter 18