‘You will have whatever you need from me,’ James said, and the other agreed.
It was heart-warming, but Archer could not throw off the insidious feeling that he was leading his friends into an indefinite future where the only thing they were sure of was that they were working blind. He intended to take the advantage from Quill, but the truth was plain. Quill would stop at nothing to see Archer dead, and that would include killing anyone who stood in his way.
‘Your loyalty has lit my fire,’ he said. ‘Your trust and your bravery are more than any man could ask, and if any one of you feels he can go no further, I will not…’
‘Aye, well you can stop right there,’ Thomas said, among similar complaints from the men. ‘Give us our orders, Archer. It is what we are here for.’
‘James? You are the newest member of our band. Are you certain you want to be a part of this?’
‘As I understand it,’ James said, ‘you have a message to deliver to Doctor Quill, and my job is to deliver messages. If that communication is his death, and you ask me to be the cause of it, then that’s what I will do.’
‘Even though it might mean your own?’
‘Whatever it takes to keep you and Thomas safe, Sir.’
The sentiment nearly brought a tear to Archer’s eye, but he remained focused. ‘Then we must proceed,’ he said. ‘Silas? A word.’
He dismounted and helped Silas from his horse, drawing him to one side.
‘I will not be harmed,’ he said, taking his lover’s hands. ‘I have a reason to win this fight, and that reason is you. You are not to worry about me. I have been trained for such things, and I have fought foes more capable than Quill.’
‘But you’re still making a speech in case I don’t see you again, right?’
‘No, Silas.’ Archer drew him close and embraced him. ‘I love you, and I will see you in a few short hours.’
‘I’m only not making a fuss because I trust you,’ Silas complained. ‘If I had my way, you’d wait here while me and Fecks go and fuck up the lunatic.’
‘I’ll have Fecker with me,’ Archer reassured him. ‘And James is a tough one too. You look after Thomas as I have told him to look after you. I’ll be back before you know it.’
They kissed until Silas’ horse snorted impatiently.
‘I do love you, Archie,’ Silas said, and turned the ring on his finger. ‘I know I don’t say it much, and I’ll never be able to give you something as special as this, but you know I love you, yeah?’
‘I do. Now, mount up and let Tom lead you downhill to the junction.’
Back at the group, Silas complained as Fecker lifted him into his saddle by his collar. The comedic sight brought brief cheer to the party.
‘Whatever the outcome,’ Archer said. ‘We will rendezvous at the end of the branch line once the midnight train has passed the points. Wait for us there, Tom.’
They shook hands solemnly, and without another word, Archer took up his reins and turned his horse to the east. He swallowed hard. It was painful to leave Silas, but he could not let his fears for the man’s safety cloud his judgement.
Fecker and James flanked him, facing the road ahead. A shared glance to ensure they were ready, and they flicked their reins.
They trotted onto open moorland where the heather muffled the horses’ hooves. Half an hour later, they crossed the railway track, a single line which, James knew from his timetables, took freight to Kingston docks miles to the south. The distance to their destination was but one mile uphill. As they climbed, Ebb Bay Castle came into view, looming against the starry night like a shadowed blemish on a vast canvas. James had never seen such a sight and it, along with the lung-biting cold, took his breath away. He wished Thomas was there to share the moment, but then he wished many things about Thomas. Why had they lain so close together without words? Was his embrace one of apology or goodbye? Why hadn’t James found the courage to dismount, hold the man he loved and give him words of encouragement? Why had Thomas not done the same?
He had no choice but to ignore his concerns, and his sadness left him when the viscount altered their course, and they crested the hill to arrive at an outcrop of rock.
‘We should tether the horses here,’ Archer said, once they had drawn to a halt. ‘There is cover behind the boulders, and the battlefield is in plain sight.’
James saw the sense in his decision. They were opposite the castle looking down a short incline which, should they need to ride, would give them added speed. At the same time, there was an uninterrupted view of the ruins and, towards the cliff edge, the church.
He dismounted and tied his horse alongside the others.
‘Keep behind me,’ Archer whispered. ‘From now on, stay low and stay quiet. We have some time to wait, but Quill may already be there.’
James and Fecker followed as the viscount skirted the rocks to find the best vantage point. A cleft between two massive boulders gave them just enough room to squeeze in side by side, lying flat on the damp ground. There, Fecker loaded and prepared a rifle while Archer produced his telescope and trained it on the ruins, scanning every inch in a slow, deliberate sweep.
‘It’s the right place, but I see no movement,’ he said, and directed the scope inland. ‘And I see no-one approaching. He’s either not here, or already there and hiding.’
‘I smell no other horse,’ Fecker said. He wet a finger and turned it above his head. ‘Small wind from the sea.’ He tasted his finger and nodded. ‘Da.’
‘Good Lord, Andrej.’ The viscount was impressed. ‘Were you trained in the militia?’
Fecker grunted something that James didn’t understand.
‘Resistance movement?’ Archer queried.
‘Da. Before I escape.’
‘Wish I could be of more use, ‘James muttered. ‘The only training I’ve had is from the post office, and morning exercise ain’t quite the same thing.’
‘You’re here for your logical mind.’ Archer collapsed the telescope. ‘Like Thomas. You and he have much in common.’
‘Not as much as he wants,’ Fecker said. He reached an arm over Archer’s back and shoved James playfully.
‘Meaning?’ The viscount turned his head to James.
They were a few inches apart, and his skin was the colour of pewter in the moonlight, but even in monochrome, James could see the man’s inquiring expression.
‘The only thing we have in common,’ he said. ‘Is you.’
Archer’s eyes narrowed in thought, and he breathed out a cloud of vapour. ‘Then I am glad I’ve brought the two of you together.’
Maybe it was tension, or perhaps his chattering teeth, but James was unable to utter the words that fought for release.
He didn’t need to.
‘You keep them apart,’ Fecker said, and pointed to the stars, sighing. ‘Ah, Myslyvets, the Hunter. Same as my home.’
‘What did he mean, I keep you apart?’ Archer’s face was clouded by more than moon shadow; concern was also evident.
‘Best not go into it now,’ James said, embarrassed. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘No,’ Archer insisted. ‘Tell me.’
James took a breath. Here he was, on the Yorkshire Moors, lying in wait for a killer and with two men he hardly knew, cold, scared and with his mind in disorder because of man he had met on a doorstep. He would have laughed if his situation had not been so perilous.
‘You want it honest, Sir?’
‘Of course. And remember it’s Archer tonight.’
James gave a hopeless, short laugh. ‘He has no time for me when all he can see is you,’ he said. Strangely, it didn’t feel wrong to tell the viscount.
‘Well that’s ridiculous,’ Archer replied, amused. ‘And it’s not what he told me.’
‘Eh?
I mean, sorry, what?’ Hope poured into James’ chaotic mind and thickened his confusion.
‘You’ll have to ask Thomas,’ the viscount said with a grin. But for now, I can tell you…’
‘Zamovkny!’ Fecker pressed Archer and James against the ground. ‘No speak. I hear noise.’
James’ heart thumped with a sudden stab of panic. Archer raised the scope and carefully extended it. He aimed in the direction of Fecker’s pointing finger, and James squinted into the gloom to see.
Nothing moved in the gully below. The only sound was the dull and distant boom of the sea hitting the cliffs, and everything appeared as it had before, except now there was a light. Weak and flickering, a lantern glowed behind a tomb in the graveyard.
‘You want I go?’
‘No, Andrej,’ Archer hissed. ‘It’s too early. James, watch the railway line. Andrej, towards the cliff. If our nonappearance unnerves him and he means to escape, we will be ready to give chase.’ He focused on the graves. ‘We need to delay him as much as possible so he will be off guard. The longer we can keep him worried, the better it will be.’
‘What time is it?’ James whispered.
‘Just after eleven. Time a while before I take the battle to him.’ Archer said. ‘Stay vigilant. He doesn’t know we are here. We have the advantage now.’
With those words, they settled in to wait.
Thomas and Silas found the train track and followed it towards the signal box. Thomas lead at a slow pace, referring to his pocket watch from time to time and keeping an eye on Silas even though he was more assured in the saddle than he had been when they set out. The track sloped gently from the moor through embankments cut into the hillside where shrubs and trees had been allowed to grow wild. Moonlight lit the way, glinting on the steel rails and offering a straight path marked out in sleepers and gravel to its vanishing point. He couldn’t help feeling it represented his life as one dull, repetitive journey, except, his life of late had been anything but dull.
The steady rhythm of his days had been interrupted and changed irrevocably by Archer’s elevation to viscount. Now able to be his own man, free from the intimidation of his father, he encouraged Thomas to follow suit by allowing him to be not just a footman, but a person in his own right. It was a difficult transition to make. Thomas had been the hall boy, the young viscount’s playmate, the second footman, the first, and now the butler, all in twenty-seven years, but there was more to his current state of flux than a change in roles. There was also the freedom of expression that Archer insisted on and which, after some false starts, Thomas was now able to enjoy.
Their earlier conversation, spoken in hushed voices as they cleaned the guns, had set his mind to his future and his desires, but he was still unable to accept them.
‘I can see you have strong feelings for James,’ Archer had said, watching the man prepare to rest. ‘And I know you have similar feelings towards me.’
Thomas had been uncomfortable, but only for a moment. ‘I can’t deny the truth,’ he said.
‘No more can I, Tom. I have told you, my feelings towards you must be platonic only, and they are. I cannot give you what you want, I can only give you my most ardent friendship, and I do. But you have a confusion which only you can pick apart.’
‘I’m not confused,’ Thomas said, inspecting the shotgun. He’d used his father’s breech-loader to kill rats on the farm, but this was a Browning with a lever action repeater that self-loaded. A modern model and unfamiliar.
‘Then why your reticence towards our new friend? Is it because of his involvement with Tripp?’
‘It was,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When he said that Tripp had put him up to the job… I mean, he was keen, and then he said that. How am I supposed to know that he has any true affection for me?’
‘You just have to open your eyes,’ Archer advised. ‘We have discussed this before, and I see no reason why we should go through it again.’ He put down his Webley. ‘I think I understand. You feel foolish and don’t know how to get him back.’
‘That’s partly it,’ Thomas admitted. Two months ago he would never have had a conversation such as this with anyone. ‘The other part is having to apologise.’
‘You don’t need to. You’ve done nothing wrong. Neither has he.’ Archer took the shotgun from him and loaded a magazine. ‘All you need do is go over there, lie down and pretend nothing happened. He is genuine, Tom, and he will understand. I know it.’
‘You’re saying I made a fool of myself?’
‘No. I’m saying you let yourself down.’ Archer’s honesty was often difficult to accept, but always on target. ‘You behaved like a child, and flouncing about hurt and haughty doesn’t suit you.’ He attached the shoulder strap to the weapon. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Right. Then go and rest. With James. I’m here for you, Tom, but as a friend. He’s waiting to offer you much more, and all you need to do is let him.’
Archer smiled, touched Thomas’ cheek and, for a moment, Thomas thought they would kiss. The idea, once all he ever wanted, was now inappropriate. If anyone was going to kiss him, it had to be James.
‘I can see you understand,’ Archer said. ‘Go and rest.’
He was reliving his inept attempt to apologise to James by hugging him when Silas whispered, shattering his thoughts.
‘We’re not alone.’
Fifty yards ahead, a lantern danced unevenly as two men climbed the steps to the signal box.
Thomas took Silas’ reins and led the horses from the track. In the cutting, they were head height to the rails and deep in shadow.
‘Keep still,’ Thomas instructed, hoping their horses understood him as much as Silas.
Gruff voices wafted through the night, but the words were nothing more than deep grunts. A set of keys rattled, a door creaked, and the signal box came into light.
Thomas wished he had the telescope. He had no idea how to change signals, and that’s what these men were doing. A loud clank was followed by a dull thud that vibrated through the track, and his horse shied away.
‘Easy, girl.’ His words were barely audible, but the animal understood.
For a minute, nothing else happened, and they watched in silence, their breath curling before their faces. Thomas began to worry that the men wouldn’t leave. The train they needed to redirect was due in just under an hour.
‘What’s that?’ Silas nudged him. ‘Listen.’
A fragile rustle of trees, the distant screech of an owl, the horses’ hooves impatient on the mulch and then a faint, metallic rattle Thomas couldn’t place. Beside them, the vibration in the track increased and grew to a clatter.
‘Under cover.’ Understanding what the sound meant, Thomas dismounted.
He helped Silas down, and they led their horses away from the tracks and into the trees. The sound increased, and the vibration became so great it affected Thomas’ breathing. The night grew lighter along the rails as an engine steamed closer, and the rattle developed into a rhythm. The turning of wheels, the pushing of pistons, a thundering scream of iron and steel, smoke and steam; the engine roared by at full speed. The horse reared, but Thomas calmed it. Trucks rattled and shook their way past, throwing coal dust and debris into the air. The train was long, and by the time the last car passed, the engine’s roar had faded. Stillness returned, but the train had damaged it irrevocably and Thomas’ legs were trembling.
‘Bloody hell,’ Silas said. ‘That was fecking fast.’
‘Aye,’ Thomas agreed. ‘It was going straight on, the same as ours is expecting to do.’
They stepped from the cover of the trees to the cover of their shadows and saw the lights of the train fade to nothing.
‘We need to check that siding,’ Thomas said. ‘If we change the points and an eng
ine takes a corner at that speed it’s going to come off the tracks, isn’t it?’
‘Makes sense to me,’ Silas agreed. ‘Unless the driver slows down.’
‘How will he know to do that? No, we must go and look.’
Silas shushed him. The men were leaving the signal box. They extinguished its lamp and descended, their lanterns swaying. A ‘Goodnight’ floated through the air, and they separated. Thomas waited for the sound of their horses to fade and waited two minutes more for good measure.
‘That was the last train before ours, right?’ Silas asked.
‘Aye. Then nothing else until morning.’
‘Then we better make sure it’s not going to crash.’
Twenty-Three
The glowing tomb became Archer’s focal point. He was tempted to investigate, but he bided his time. If Quill could patiently plan his revenge over the years, Archer could wait another hour. Time passed painfully, the night air chilled him to his bones and his fingers hurt. James and Fecker pressed against him, and their body heat gave some relief as did their presence.
Every rustle of grass and unfamiliar night sound, the swoop of owls and each darting shadow from the ruins to the church tower caused his heart to pause and take notice, but the lamp at the tomb burned uninterrupted. No sound filtered up from below save for the wind among the heathland and the vibration of the sea through the ground as it pounded in relentless rhythm far out of sight. The damp gradually soaked through his clothes, and each time he examined his pocket watch, he found only a few minutes had passed.
What was this graveyard to Quill? Ebb Bay was not a place Archer had heard of, and yet it rang a muffled, distant bell. He could find no sense in it but refused to allow himself to think he was wrong. James’ deciphering of the anagrams may have been incorrect. Quill might have sent the coded message as a diversion. He could be on the boat making his escape while Archer’s party chased nothing but a distracting will-’o-the-wisp.
Twisted Tracks (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 2) Page 26