The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

  As Cameron walked in, he noticed a foul scent. It was as if everyone in the establishment was a month overdue for a bath. Cameron spotted a cramped table, the only one available, and took it. Daniel went to the bar and returned with two dirty glasses of clear liquid.

  “Did you get water?” Cameron took a sniff, and the gripe in his nostrils immediately told him it was something much more inebriant. “Gin?”

  “It’s all they have.”

  Cameron realized why the pub felt so unsavory, it was in fact a gin house.

  On queue, a pair of buxom women arrived at their table. Their makeup was overdone and their dresses as low as possible without being completely revealing.

  “You look a bit out of place, gentlemen. Don’t they, Connie?”

  “Aye, out of town pets? Yous feeling a bit lonely?” the younger of the two said as she bent over toward Cameron, advertising her cleavage. Cameron could smell the gin on her breath.

  “We’re fine thanks, carry on,” said Cameron.

  “I see, couple of poofs,” the older woman said as they walked off.

  “The lass wasn’t so bad, was she?” said Daniel with a smirk.

  Cameron shook his head at him.

  A portly man shouted, “Connie love! Why don’t you offer us!”

  “Not drunk enough for yous!” the young woman shouted back.

  The drunkard looked to Cameron and stumbled over, then looked back to his group and said in a slur, “Oi, mates! Look what we’ve got here. It’s Robin Hode and one of his merry men... you’re supposed to be wearing green, aren’t you?” He touched Cameron’s jacket clumsily.

  Cameron leaned away from his grubby fingers.

  “That’s amusing, you’re a clever one aren’t you,” said Daniel convincingly. He continued, “Get back to your friends, they’re missing out on your inventive antics.”

  The drunkard picked up Cameron’s longbow. Cameron grabbed it, but the man held on with a surprisingly firm grip. “I just want a look... what’s the matter? Maid Marion in trouble?”

  Cameron let go of the bow and rose from his seat.

  “Cameron, don’t be rash,” said Daniel in an attempt to quell Cameron’s silent rage. He was too late.

  Cameron gave the man a firm uppercut, dropping him to the floor. A wave of adrenaline rushed through him, and he moved without thought or control. He was on top of the man in an instant, pressing the bow into his throat. The man was already dazed but Cameron pressed the narrow edge of the bow deeper into his flesh.

  “That’s enough, Cameron!” shouted Daniel.

  Cameron was deaf to his words.

  A line of blood formed on the man’s neck and his face turned purple while he made a gurgled attempt at breathing. His comrades stood in shock, making no motion to intervene.

  Daniel tried to pull Cameron off of him, but Cameron shoved him away in reflex and continued asphyxiating the man.

  Cameron felt two pairs of arms grab his own and he was torn off of the man who proceeded to cough and hold his throat as he writhed on the ground.

  Cameron calmed down while two soldiers from the search party restrained him. The soldiers let him go.

  He looked down to his hands. They were shaking as rivulets of blood dripped to the floor.

  “Bloody hell, Cameron, what were you doing! You would’ve killed the poor bastard, you’re supposed to be the cordial one,” said Daniel.

  “I... I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t stop.”

  “Come on, I think it’s time you get some rest.”

  8

  HAZEL

  Hazel watched as Cameron and Daniel’s lanterns faded into the distance.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” said Fergus.

  “I hope she’s okay,” said Mr. Taylor.

  “Her father will make sure she’s found, I’m sure of it,” said Uncle George.

  “I hope so. Cameron won’t stop until she’s safe,” said Hazel.

  “Who would do such a thing? A kidnapping in Leicester? And poison? Nothing like that happens here,” said Fergus.

  “Must be quite a story behind all this,” added Mr. Taylor.

  Hazel was just thinking the same thing. “Well, goodnight, everyone, I’m straight off to bed. I think we all should get some sleep.” She let out an exaggerated yawn.

  Her father looked surprise at the practicality of her suggestion. “Yes, I think Hazel’s right.”

  “Goodnight,” said Mr. Taylor. Fergus echoed him.

  Hazel hurried to the house. When she got inside, she noticed an envelope on the table. It looked just like the one she had received earlier that night. Next to it was an open box, and a large circular object resting on the table. Cameron’s gift, she realized.

  She held her lantern to the envelope and saw that it was still sealed. She flipped it over and saw Cameron’s name written on it. He had not even bothered to open it. She resisted the urge to read it and stuffed it in her jacket pocket.

  She moved her lantern over and examined the disc on the table. It was hard to make out the exact colors with the orange hue that was cast by the lantern. She could see that they were rich and the design was elaborate. It had an irregular geometric pattern, squares and diamonds interlaced and staggered like steps. Thin lines of coppery metal branched over it.

  She set her lantern down and lifted it up. It was light. She rotated it so that several of the large feathers attached to it hung toward the ground, then brushed the front surface of it and realized it was almost entirely constructed from feathers tightly woven together.

  She flipped it over and saw two leather straps on the back. She slid her arm through. A shield. She set it back down on the table. The comb she had received from her mother paled in comparison, but at least she was grateful. She could not say the same for Cameron. He had not even bothered to put his gift away.

  Hazel went to her room. Ollie was lying in the middle of her bed. He stretched as she entered. Hazel hung the lantern up near her wardrobe and set to packing her leather travel case. When she was satisfied with its contents, she closed the case and fastened two large straps on it.

  She wrote a note explaining where she was going to her aunt and uncle, unsure whether it would alleviate or amplify their anxiety when they realized she was missing.

  She went to Ollie and gave him a farewell scratch on his belly. He responded by licking her fingers with his dry, rough tongue.

  Before leaving her room, she cracked the door and peeked out to make sure no one was up, then she crept toward the kitchen where she filled a sack with food. She set the note on the counter.

  As she filled her canteen with water from a pitcher on the table, she stared at the shield. Cameron clearly was not overly concerned with what happened with it. She picked it up to take it with her. Just as she was about to open the kitchen door, she heard Aunt Beth’s tired voice.

  “Hazel? What are you doing up?”

  Hazel grabbed the note off the counter and moved her case behind her. She was still holding the shield. “I... was just going to go show Fergus Cameron’s gift.”

  “Oh, Cameron’s back then?”

  Hazel tried not to grimace as she lied. “Yes, he’s just gone off to bed.”

  Aunt Beth poured a cup of water from a pitcher and yawned. “Good, I was getting worried. Did he say what kept him from dinner?”

  “Just work.”

  “Shame on him, I’ll give him a scolding in the morning. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow to show that to Fergus, it’s awfully late.”

  “I’ll only be a minute...”

  “Alright fine, but hurry back. I’m going back to bed. G’night, love.”

  “G’night.”

  When Aunt Beth was through the hallway, Hazel placed the note back on the counter and sighed. She began to speculate how much trouble she would be in when she returned. She buried the thought and left.

  As she approached the Taylor’s cottage she put out her lantern. She snuck around the side of the h
ouse toward Fergus’s window and tapped on it. It remained shut. She tapped again, slightly louder. Nothing happened.

  She left her case and lantern on the ground and opened the window. The sound of Fergus’s snoring was immediately audible. She climbed into the room and walked over to his bed. “Fergus,” she whispered sharply. She shook his shoulder.

  He woke with a start. “It’s not mine, I swear!”

  She leaned over him, hovering close over his face, and covered his mouth. “Shh... it’s me.”

  “Hazel? Am I dreaming?”

  “Get up... we’re going after them.”

  “What? Cameron and Daniel?”

  “If Cameron thinks we’re staying behind he’s a fool. C’mon, pack your things quickly.”

  “Hazel, he’ll just turn us back...”

  “Which is why we won’t let him see us. We’ll tail the convoy and stay out of sight.”

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  Hazel dangled Cameron’s shield in front of him. “Look what I’ve got, it’s Cameron’s gift... a shield.”

  Fegus’s eyes widened, and he reached for it.

  Hazel pulled it away. “I’m bringing it with me, if you want a look, you’ll have to come.”

  He sighed. “Alright.” He started to get out of his bed, then said, “Close your eyes.”

  “What?” asked Hazel.

  “I’m in my drawers. I need to get dressed.”

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “Hurry up, I’ll be outside.”

  A few minutes later, a large piece of luggage came through the window. Next was a satchel and after that a pair of saddle bags.

  “What’s all that!” said Hazel

  “If we’re going on this escapade, we’d best be prepared.”

  Fergus hopped out of the window with a musket strapped over his shoulder.

  “Is that your father’s gun from the war? He’s going to kill you, Fergus. Leave it behind.”

  “Oh, don’t fret. I take better care of it than he does.”

  “It’s your funeral. Let’s go.”

  Fergus fumbled behind Hazel toward the barn. His saddlebags and satchel were draped over his shoulders with the leather trunk in tow.

  “We’ll have to take one of the draft horses with all that,” said Hazel as they entered. She already felt bad leaving her work behind, taking one of the work horses only compounded her guilty conscience.

  They prepared their horses, strapping their luggage behind the saddles, then left for the garrison stables. They arrived at the barracks and approached the stables. They were empty.

  “Bollocks! They’ve left,” said Hazel.

  “Oh, shame. Well I suppose we’ll have to turn back.”

  A door on the stable opened, a young ensign exited. He noticed Hazel and Fergus. “Can I help you?” He had no intention of helping.

  “There was a convoy leaving tonight, do you know when they left?” asked Hazel.

  “A lass, I couldn’t make you out in that riding habit. What’s it to you when they left?”

  “My brother was with them, he’s... forgotten something. I want to give it to him before he’s out of reach.”

  “And how long are you expecting that to take?” he said, pointing at Fergus’s trunk.

  Hazel flashed Fergus a frustrated glare.

  “We haven’t got time to explain all this.” Hazel pulled out a few shillings. “Did you see them leave? Do you know which direction they were going?”

  The soldier stepped toward her. “You trying to bribe me?” He looked to her skirt. “You’ll have to make a more tempting offer...”

  Fergus jumped off his horse and moved toward the man. “Oi! You sack o’...”

  The soldier drew a dirk and held it to Fergus’s throat, holding him in place by the back of his neck.

  Fergus gulped, stuck in place.

  “You were saying?” asked the soldier.

  Hazel screamed, “Stop! Let him go! I’m sorry we asked... please, we’ll leave!”

  The soldier released Fergus.

  Fergus backed away with stiff knees as he rubbed his neck. “Come on, Hazel.” He mounted his horse and they galloped away.

  When they were well off, Fergus fumed, “Bloody scoundrel.”

  “That was gallant of you Fergus,” said Hazel.

  “Not like it achieved anything... save for making me look like a helpless fool.”

  “Miss,” a voice grumbled.

  Hazel was startled and searched for its source as she stopped her horse. She spotted a cloaked man leaning on a wall, a lit pipe in his hand. Next to him, a large, particularly wild looking canine sat obediently. It looked more wolf than dog with pointy ears and a matching snout. Its fur was dark gray.

  Hazel stopped her horse. “Yes?”

  He said without looking up, “I overheard you back there. The convoy, they were headed up toward the turnpike.” He pointed his pipe in the direction.

  “You’re sure about that?” asked Fergus.

  He gave a slow and definitive nod.

  Hazel looked to Fergus and shrugged. Then looked to the man and said, “Thank you.” They turned and followed his direction.

  “That man’s got some keen ears,” noted Fergus.

  “Good thing,” said Hazel.

  They rode toward the turnpike and after fifteen minutes on the road, Hazel noticed a cluster of lanterns in the distance. As they drew nearer, they could make out a group of horses and wagons. She noticed a glint of light off of a saber.

  “That’s them,” said Hazel.

  She blew out her lantern. “Put yours out, we should back off a bit.”

  “What? I can hardly see as is.”

  “C’mon...” She leaned over and grabbed the lantern out of his hand. She blew it out.

  They had carried on after the convoy through the night until they noticed them stop at a posting inn in just after daybreak. When Hazel was sure that Cameron and Daniel were inside, she and Fergus rode to a nearby cook shop.

  “I hope they’re open,” said Fergus. He tried the door and was relieved to find it unlocked.

  He and Hazel entered. “Hello?” Hazel called out.

  A woman quickly appeared. “G’morning, are you looking to breakfast?”

  “We are, ma’am,” said Hazel.

  “We’ve only just opened, it’ll be a bit before the bread is out of the oven and we haven’t yet started preparing the meat.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. Is there somewhere we can feed our horses?”

  “You saw there’s a posting inn just across the street, didn’t you?” said the woman quizzically.

  “We did, but it looked crowded. Is there anywhere else?”

  “Aye, it’s probably for the better, that inn is run by a crook. You don’t want to deal with if him if you can help it. We’ve got a bit of grain out back, you’re welcome to it if you’d like.”

  “That should do. How much would you like for it?”

  “Oh it’s no bother, dear.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, that’s very kind of you. We’ll be right back.”

  Hazel and Fergus took their horses to the back of the building, fed them, and entered the quaint cook house. They were seated at a table where a full basket of several varieties of bread alongside an assortment of jams were waiting for them. They gorged themselves on buttered bread and jam along with the servings of sausage, eggs, and potatoes that followed.

  They remained there after paying for the meal and kept an eye on the convoy. While they waited, a teenaged boy dressed in scarlet livery stumbled into the kitchen which had a few more tables of customers by that point.

  “G’morning, Etta. I’ve just come to fill my flask... you have any gin for me?”

  “I’ve told you, I don’t want you coming ’round here in this state, go to the pub if you’re looking for drink.”

  “Oh pleeease, Etta, they won’t take me no more... I’ve got coin.” He pulled a single farthing from his pocket.

  “No!
You’re distracting the customers from their breakfast, get out!”

  “Fine then. I’ll take my business elsewhere,” he said as he bumped into a table, knocking over one of the guest’s drinks.

  Fergus said, “Those post boys are worthless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one sober.”

  They carried on waiting until they saw some of the soldiers preparing their wagons. They thanked the cook and departed after the convoy. Before they could make it out of Sheepshed, they encountered a toll gate with a small stone cottage beside it and wooden fences extending out from each side.

  A large, gruff man came out from the cottage to collect the toll. “It’ll be two shillings for the both of you.” His speech was slow.

  “You’re joking,” said Fergus.

  “A shilling each for a laden horse.”

  “That’s a fair price for a two-horse carriage! What’s the name of your trust? We ought to report you to the constable!”

  “How old are you, lad? How about you, miss? You’re not yet twenty-one, I can see that. A bit odd for a young lady to be riding off alone with a young man, isn’t it? Where are you headed, off to the border to marry? Maybe I ought to report you to the constable.”

  “He’s my brother,” said Hazel.

  The toll collector swept his eyes over Hazel shamelessly. “By the looks of yous, I doubt that.”

  She pulled out her purse and dropped some coins at his feet. “Your two shillings.”

  He opened the gate without a word and they carried on.

  Fergus was flustered. “I know you’ve blossomed and all, but this harassment is absurd. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you were dressed like a lass.”

  “I’m glad you see my point now.”

  It had not been a quarter hour past the toll when Hazel heard the sound of horses galloping behind them. She turned back and saw a cloud of dust behind four riders closing in fast. As they drew nearer, she recognized the post boy from the cook shop in his scarlet garb. Behind him, three men were chasing, two of them had pistols drawn and another came up beside him with a cutlass. He slashed at the boy.

  By the time the post boy fell from his horse, the men were not more than ten yards from Hazel and Fergus. Hazel’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at Fergus. “Go.” Just as they turned their horses away a gunshot went off.