by Jake Lynch
‘Why, she might have to make acquaintance with Solly here,’ replied the other, drawing the first few inches of his sabre.
‘You see, Ladlow’s a sentimental creature,’ Gregory grunted as he half-pushed, half-carried her along. ‘He’s given his sword a name. “Solly”. Ain’t that sweet? But I’m not sentimental. You don’t think I’m sentimental, do you?’
‘N-no, s-sir,’ Emily replied, her breath coming in short bursts.
‘“No, sir.” No I am not – on that you may depend.’
Emily quickly lost track of the route they were following. They turned now left, now right, then left again – in fact weaving between the high, impermeable walls of Oxford colleges: Oriel, Corpus Christi and Merton.
‘W-where are you taking me, sirs?’ she cried.
‘Somewhere away from prying eyes,’ Gregory replied. Clasped in the Guardsman’s iron embrace, Emily was miserably aware, as she looked around in vain for succour, that only banks of cold unfeeling stone, with indifferent narrow windows, rose away on either side of her.
Chapter 23
‘You need putting in
your place, my girl!’
Luke, Robshaw and Richard Bourke reached the south end of Bear Lane and looked either way, but the quarry had vanished.
‘Right, let’s split up – Robshaw, you go towards Fish Street. If you don’t see Gregory, try to find Ed and Tim, and bring them to help. Dick, you come with me.’ Unfurling the sketch as Robshaw hurried off, Luke added: ‘This is the man we’re looking for – the Guardsman who stampeded Emily’s cattle.’
‘Ah, so he’s that one,’ Richard replied, his eyes widening with surprise. ‘She said you was after him.’ He looked more closely at the picture. ‘But… this feller – I just been with him.’
‘Where?’ Luke looked at him sharply.
‘In the courtyard of the inn, yonder – we was, er, playing a game.’
‘What kind of game?’
‘Why, ’twas nothing, just a game of cup and ball.’
‘Well, it might be his last. We’re after him because we think he killed William Harbord.’
‘That there politician?’
‘The same. And he could be dangerous, so have a care.’
Luke unclasped the stave from his belt and, with the other hand, felt the hilt of his dagger. It should not come to that, surely – and he had no desire to cross blades with a trained soldier – but ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ had ever been his motto. Whereupon the Chief Bailiff’s Officer and the apprentice stonemason set off to find the suspected murderer.
The pair strode smartly off down Blue Boar Street; the road now narrowing, then widening as it swung right around the back of Christ Church and opposite Oriel College gate, next turning sharp left along the front wall of Corpus Christi. All the while, Luke and Richard were careful to look on either side, but of Gregory there was no sign. As the steeple of Merton College Chapel hove into view, Richard emitted a sound of surprise, mixed with alarm.
‘What’s the matter?’ Luke demanded, impatiently.
By way of reply, the younger man pointed to an object on the ground, lying between the gateposts of the path alongside the chapel leading to Christ Church Meadow.
‘Why – ’tis Emily’s bonnet.’ He bent down to pick it up.
‘Emily’s bonnet? Are you sure?’
‘Sure as eggs is eggs, Master Sandys. ’Tis her favourite – belonged to her mother, like. I’d know it anywhere. Aye, here’s the stitching she put in,’ he said, examining it.
‘But what’s it doing here?’
‘She was coming to market today. I hoped to meet her in town.’
The men looked at each other with sudden surmise as the implications of this discovery sank in.
‘So, Emily’s bonnet is lying on the ground, close to the last known sighting of the Guardsman whose gunshot stampeded her cattle,’ Luke said slowly. ‘I don’t mean to alarm you, Richard, but I can’t believe that’s a coincidence.’
*
Moments earlier, Gregory had propelled his captive down the self-same route until, as they made to turn right down the path to the meadow, Emily seized what might be her last chance to try to escape. She durst not let herself be taken away from the road, she’d started to think as she was whisked along, for there, surely, lay the only chance of encountering a passer-by who might help her, or raise the alarm. In trying to squirm free, however, she reckoned without the full extent of the Guardsman’s strength and skill at arms. A second later, the grip had merely tightened still further and a short, cold blade, which appeared in his other hand as if from nowhere, was at her throat.
‘Don’t you wriggle, missy. I’m not finished with you yet,’ he seethed, through gritted teeth.
Unnoticed by the men, who were now moving considerably faster along the path, the momentary struggle, while unavailing, had dislodged her bonnet, which fell to the ground and was soon left behind them. The spring flowers in the Merton Chapel garden nodded their heads in a sudden zephyr as they passed, but, to Emily’s stricken gaze, they looked merely as if they were affirming her worst premonitions, that the colourful blooms were the last of their like she would ever see on earth.
At the end of the path, the meadow opened out in front of them, with the walled garden of Corpus Christi College on their right. At the near end of that wall was a large recess filled with an evergreen laurel bush, and it was into the confined space behind the dense foliage that Gregory and Ladlow now pushed her.
‘You need putting in your place, my girl.’ The moustachioed Guardsman unhooked the sheath and scabbard – containing sword and knife respectively – from his belt, slid the strip of thick brown leather out of the loops on his breeches, doubled it over and grasped it in one hairy fist.
‘Lucky for you I’m suddenly feeling generous. It’ll just be the belt for today.’
Emily shook and sobbed as he thrust his bewhiskered face close to hers – so close, she could smell the whisky and tobacco on his breath.
‘But if you ever breathe a word to anyone about that little game with the cups and the ball, well,’ – and he nodded towards the dagger, now propped against the base of the wall – ‘it’ll be something else. D’you catch my drift?’
‘Yessir,’ she whimpered.
‘Very well then – bend over and take your punishment.’ He planted her hands against the wall, so her rump was sticking out, and raised the heavy belt to strike her.
At that moment, a substantial figure came crashing round the other side of the bush and hurtled into Gregory, knocking him sideways and on to the floor. It was Richard, armed only with the small hammer that was the first mason’s tool he’d managed to buy for himself. His senses were so attuned to his lover and the mother of his unborn child that he’d picked up the sound of her sobbing, and reacted to the situation before anyone else.
That advantage was now at an end, however. Following close behind, Luke thanked his lucky stars they’d decided to take the path rather than continue along Merton Street after finding the bonnet; but he gasped at the speed and agility with which Gregory absorbed the blow, rolled over and sprang to his feet – seemingly in one fluid movement – then grabbed and unsheathed his sabre. His companion followed suit.
By now, Richard had reached Emily and pulled her away on to the path. She collapsed into his arms, face hidden in his chest and shoulders heaving with massive sobs. Luke swiftly stepped between the couple and the two Guardsmen, holding out his wooden stave in one hand, dagger in the other, knees slightly bent in readiness to spring or parry. Gregory twirled his sword, then suddenly shifted his weight forward and feinted to thrust. Luke leapt backwards, turning slightly as he landed to avoid being blindsided by the second swordsman, who was moving to outflank him.
Seeing his attention was divided, Gregory did now strike, a right-to-left slash that Luke just about managed to deflect by crossing the stave and dagger in front of him as he whirled round again to face the attacker.
A crunching sound told him the steel had made at least a glancing contact with the wood. Christ, that was close! Surely he could not keep this up – he was outnumbered and equipped with inferior weapons, and his breath was becoming shorter as they circled each other on the path. Gregory grinned with relish, and began to move in for the kill.
‘Gregory! That’s enough!’ Ed’s most impressive officer’s voice rang out across Christ Church Meadow as he sprinted towards them, Robshaw and young Tim Blount trailing in his wake. True to their military training, the heads of the two Guardsmen snapped round at the distinctive note of command, Gregory’s face creasing into a bitter scowl. Ed slowed to a brisk walking pace as he drew near.
‘Trooper! Sheathe your weapon! That’s an order,’ he barked. ‘You too, Ladlow.’
‘Captain Sandys! We were attacked, sir, we’re entitled to defend ourselves,’ Gregory protested.
‘If I have to draw steel, it’ll go ill for you with the Colonel,’ Ed said, moving his hand towards the hilt at his waist.
The two troopers slowly and reluctantly put their swords away, whereupon Luke felt a huge knot begin to unwind in his stomach.
‘That bully rook came at me with a hammer,’ Gregory kept up his protest, jerking his thumb towards Richard.
‘Aye, ’tis true, Captain, then this here feller drew his dagger on us, and that stave,’ Ladlow added.
‘This “feller”, Ladlow, is my brother, Luke. He’s a City constable, and – Gregory – you’d do well to listen to what he has to say.’
‘I should think so an’ all,’ Robshaw exclaimed, still panting as he caught up.
‘The distress of that girl tells against you, man, for one thing,’ Luke said, nodding towards where Emily cowered in Richard’s arms. ‘That’s abduction – even kidnapping.’ He sheathed his dagger and drew out the folded document from his inside pocket. ‘And I’ve a letter here, signed by both the Mayor and your Colonel, authorising your arrest on suspicion of murder.’
‘Murder?’ Gregory repeated incredulously, as Emily gasped, and burst out in tears all over again. ‘Who am I supposed to have murdered?’
‘I’m arresting you for the murder of the MP, William Harbord.’
‘MP? Harbord? I don’t know any MPs. Never did – I avoid such men like the pox,’ he said, quickly scanning the letter and handing it back. ‘Why the Devil should I murder one of them?’
‘You’ll be able to have your say later, Gregory,’ Ed cut in. ‘The Colonel will see you’re treated fairly. But for now you must go with these men.’
Robshaw made as if to apply the iron shackles he carried, to restrain the Guardsman at the wrists, but Ed motioned for him to stop.
‘I’ll vouch for him, Robshaw. He won’t disobey orders.’
Richard volunteered to take Emily to The Mitre to be reunited with her mother.
‘I shall want to talk to her,’ Luke warned, ‘but that can wait till tomorrow.’ The Sandys brothers set off to escort the prisoner to the Castle gaol, where he would be booked in and locked up in a holding cell. Robshaw went with Richard and Emily, then to the lodgings at Goat’s Head Yard, to retrieve Gregory’s blue Guards tunic, and Tim Blount resumed his position on patrol in the market. Shaken and dog tired as he was, Luke could not help feeling a profound sense of satisfaction as they walked along Queen Street towards the Castle. They had got their man.
Chapter 24
Vindication for Pawling
Luke returned to the Guildhall with Ed to find visitors already waiting. First, there was Captain Sutherland of the Foot Guards to deal with. At the brothers’ approach he straightened and fastened the top button of his red tunic, seeming to accentuate the clash of colours with his ginger facial hair.
‘Ah, there you are Sandys – and, ah, Sandys,’ he blustered. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. We need support from the City this afternoon. King’s going to the Sheldonian Theatre. We’re moving the whole Court. Could do with some local knowledge.’
Luke puffed out his cheeks. Did the man not realise how busy he was?
‘Very well, Captain, I’ll see if I can find someone to send.’
But Sutherland would not be fobbed off.
‘I’ll call for you later, then. That’s all!’ And, with that, the officer turned on his heel, and was gone.
The next visitor was content to wait in the shadows, but had evidently been looking forward to this moment. It was Robert Pawling.
‘So, you picked up that rogue then, Luke?’ he began, a gratified expression on his face.
‘If you’re referring to Trooper Gregory, sir, nothing is proven against him, not yet,’ Ed said.
‘You must be Captain Sandys?’
‘Indeed, Master Pawling, this is my brother, Edwin.’
‘At your service, sir.’
‘And at yours, Captain,’ the farmer said, with a nod. ‘And at yours.’
Luke wondered how he knew about the arrest already: probably from The Mitre.
‘I’d be grateful if you could keep that to yourself, for the moment,’ he said. Ed’s response reminded Luke that the regiment would need to see clear evidence of Gregory’s guilt, if he was to be prosecuted for the murder. Having details of the case bruited abroad by the likes of Pawling could only risk polluting it.
Robshaw, however, chose that precise moment to blunder in, carrying Gregory’s tunic. Sure enough, its right cuff was a mess of singed blue shreds, which he held aloft in triumph.
‘So, ’twas the coat as gave him away in the end then, Luke?’ Pawling enquired.
‘Aye, them bits we found on Harbord came off this here cuff, sir, and no mistake,’ the deputy blurted out.
‘Yes, that is the evidence in chief against Gregory, though again I must ask you not to spread that information, Master Pawling.’
‘I’ll speak to my Colonel about getting compensation for your livestock, sir,’ Ed said, sensing a propitious moment to change the subject.
‘Thank you kindly, Captain,’ the farmer replied, twinkling. ‘Five should cover it.’
‘Pounds?’
‘Guineas.’
‘Very well – five guineas it is.’
‘That’d be handsome – handsome indeed. Well, good day to you, sirs!’
‘He seems full of himself,’ Robshaw remarked, after Pawling closed the office door behind him.
‘’Twas ever thus,’ Luke replied – though, he had to admit, there was something unusually self-satisfied about Pawling’s manner, even for him.
*
Master Ingram, the ostler at The Mitre, rustled up straw and some old blankets to make the back of the cart more comfortable, and Emily nestled into her fiancé on the way home. As the old horse plodded on through the warm part of the afternoon, and the vehicle gently rolled and jiggled, long before they arrived at Magdalen Farm she was sound asleep in Richard’s arms.
‘She’s had a terrible shock, poor lamb,’ the mother said, as Jacob Hopkins presented a concerned face around the cottage door.
‘Another one?’
‘Aye, only now that rogue what did it’s been locked up, and not before time. Why, he grabbed our Emily and held a knife to her throat. Said as how he’d beat her with his belt!’
‘Richard saved me,’ Emily piped up weakly. Awakened when the motion of the cart came to a halt and helped indoors, she’d been plied with a weak rum-and-water and tucked up with a blanket.
The father shook and scratched his head in alternate outrage and wonderment as the story was retold – a story long on recollections of derring-do from Richard but notably shorter on events in the courtyard of the Bear Inn – and, from Emily, disconnected segments of her ordeal that were now acquiring a firmer shape in her memory. Some details of these she shared with her parents, while withholding others out of a disinclination either to alarm them or to dwell too deeply on her darkest moments. At regular intervals the couple were interrupted by narrative prompts from Liza, along with the occasional ‘he never!’ or ‘well, I should say
!’
‘By Heaven, Richard, t’would seem she’ll have a good husband, and a brave one,’ Jacob exclaimed at last, clasping hold of the details that stood out most vividly from the tale, multi-handed as it was. ‘And he murdered a feller, an’ all, this here Guardsman?’
‘So it seems,’ Richard replied. ‘Master Robshaw told us about it on the way to The Mitre. Said there was bits of his coat sleeve, what was burned when he shot Emily’s cattle, found on the body, like.’
Emily, who had been oblivious through that particular journey, lifted her head from the pillow. ‘Is that how Master Sandys knew he was the killer?’
‘Aye, so ’twas said.’
At this, there came a familiar rap on the cottage door, which could only be from the handle of Farmer Pawling’s horse-whip.
‘How’s the patient?’ he beamed kindly at Emily, who was now sitting up. Mistress Pawling had sent a suet pudding from the farmhouse kitchen, which Liza received gratefully. ‘I was sorry to hear about what happened, Emily,’ he said, then, addressing the assembled company: ‘I said that shooter was a rogue and a rascal, and that he wouldn’t have long on this earth to do more mischief. Well now he’ll most likely hang, and good riddance.’ The sentiment was greeted with noises of approbation from Richard and Jacob. ‘I should add, Hopkins, that Luke Sandys’ brother Edwin, who’s a Horse Guards captain as you know, has agreed to get five guineas from his regiment in compensation for them two milchers.’ The arrangement was immediately endorsed by all concerned as eminently satisfactory.
*
Arm in arm, Emily set off with Richard for a restorative turn around the farmyard before dusk. She was the first to break their companionable silence.
‘Thank you for rescuing me.’
‘You’ve already said that.’ The couple looked at each other, and laughed.
‘Richard…’
‘Hmm?’
‘You ain’t never going to bet money on that game again, are you?’