But the old man merely shook his head. In a single day he had aged; he looked haggard, even close to tears. For a moment I almost sympathised with him: a widower, I had learned by now, who had struggled to bring up his child unaided… whereupon a notion soared, that struck me like a blow.
‘John Mountford,’ I said, turning to Peter. ‘By heaven, it was you who slew him.’
A deathly silence fell. Parry’s constable, standing by the doorway, tensed visibly; even the sergeant looked surprised. But I kept my gaze on the younger Willett, who refused to meet my eye… whereupon his father alarmed everyone by letting out a howl of anguish.
‘No… no, he wouldn’t!’ he cried. ‘He found the body, is all - he swore to me! Mountford was talking with some foresters - Peck, and other men. He was careless, he walked where he shouldn’t have… a great elm fell on him, crushed him like a fly!’ In anguish, he turned to his son. ‘You swore to me! You know you did-’
‘Be quiet, damn you!’ Peter Willett’s command - for it was nothing less - cut his father off in an instant. But it was too late: Parry saw it, as did I. Drawing a breath, the sergeant threw me a glance, then eyed the culprit keenly.
‘Is that why Thomas Peck had to die too?’ He asked quietly. ‘Because he talked to John Mountford, mayhap told him things you didn’t want known? Or was it only after he spoke with Master Belstrang here, that you decided his life had to be snuffed out?’
Another silence followed, broken only by the older man’s breaking into tears. Shaking his head, he sobbed into his beard, no longer able to look at his son… but Peter Willett shot a savage glance at him, then up at me.
‘I should have cracked your skull open when I had the chance,’ he muttered. ‘Just as that damned fool Spry should have dealt with you…’ he looked aside, then eyed Parry.
‘Do what you will,’ he breathed, wincing as his wound pained him. ‘For it seems I’m tried and convicted already… I curse you and your whoreson castle-keeper. God knows I’ll be glad to get clear of this village, and all its week-kneed grubbers. Slaves, the lot of them - like you!’
The last phrase was thrown at Jonas, who merely quailed. He was broken: a different man to the one who had blocked my way in The Comfort that night, and asked me my business. I turned away, but it seemed Peter Willett was not done yet.
‘You’ve played the innocent dupe long enough!’ he said to his father, every word thrown like a barb. ‘You knew what I did, or some of what I did. You cursed the Mountfords while you served them – and you serve them still! For you know in your heart whence came the money to set up the foundry… you knew I lied about the loan, for who would loan money to a family like ours? And if part of the bargain was my serving Francis in ways you wouldn’t like, you chose not to ask! By the Christ, you’re as guilty as me!’
With that he fell silent, his mouth a hard line. It was confession enough… drawing a breath, I spoke up.
‘So you killed John Mountford, because he learned of his nephew’s secret business, and meaned to put an end to it,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘That’s why it was bruited that his body was so ruined, his brother should not view it, for it would cause him too much distress. And I’ll wager Captain Spry, who took the corpse upriver, knew what was done.’ I paused, then: ‘Did Mountford die as Peck did, from a mere blow to the skull?’
But Willett did not answer; indeed, he ignored me utterly. He had retreated into some part of himself, letting it be known that he would say nothing further. I turned to Parry, who was nodding.
‘It matters not how the victim died,’ he said. ‘We have his killer… and it seems his orders came not from Russell, but directly from Russell’s master: the foundry owner and paymaster, Francis Mountford himself.’
He thought for a moment, then: ‘In truth, sir, I’m glad the business of charging that gentleman is somewhat beyond my rank… a matter for you and Justice March, perhaps, when we get back to Gloucester.’ He eyed both Willetts: the silent son, his face a blank, and the grief-stricken father. ‘And I too will be glad to get clear of this place,’ he added. ‘It’s beginning to fill me with gloom.’
‘Wait…’ on impulse I lifted a hand, and looked down at Jonas. ‘What did you mean, when you said Peter should plead your condition?’ I asked. ‘Is there something yet untold? For I advise you to tell of it, if you harbour any hope not to share your son’s fate. Speak now!’
‘Share his fate?’ Jonas echoed bitterly. ‘Why, there’s precious little difference. It’s but a matter of which of us dies first, and in how much pain.’ Seeing neither Parry nor I understood, he tapped his head.
‘They say it’s a kind of a worm, in here. Though they cannot know what it’s like. It’s more like a scorpion - a malevolent creature, that eats at me. A chirurgeon told me, in Stroud - and charged me for the news, as if I should be grateful.’ He sighed, then: ‘It makes my head spin, does the scorpion… and it stings like the very devil. My only remedy against it is to pickle my brains - do you wonder at that?’
He fell silent as Parry and I gazed at him… and at last, I saw the whole picture. Since there was little more to be said, the sergeant got heavily to his feet. He left his constable to stand guard and walked to the door, and I followed.
Only when we got ourselves outside did I remember that I had not asked about the Concord Men. But I knew one name already: that of Francis Mountford.
The return to Gloucester, and then to Upton, loomed ahead; just then I was unsure whether I relished it or dreaded it. However, I had no urge to leave Lydney just yet. Two men had to be apprehended, both of whom I was eager to see caught: Tobias Russell and his trow-master, Captain Spry.
***
Night fell, and the parties returned empty-handed: Russell was still at large. But there was a different air about the village. For one thing the inn was busy, Henry Hawes and his daughter moving briskly among the drinkers. Parry and I sat in what had become my usual corner, along with one of his constables; the others guarded the Willetts’ house, where father and son remained prisoners. We had taken supper, but were dispirited. Our fear was that Russell was deep in the forest, where a man could search in vain for many days.
‘If he isn’t found, I can’t wait much longer,’ the sergeant said. ‘I have a murderer to escort to Gloucester, and that must satisfy Justice March. As for the father…’ he let out a sigh. ‘I’ve no stomach for dragging him with us – who would? He’s a dying man.’
I had no argument with that, yet I was filled with disappointment; I had an urge to see Russell face trial for his treachery. As for Captain Spry: he could deny all knowledge of the actions of my assailant Yakup. Yet I had witnessed his behaviour at Bristol, and knew he was aware of where the Mountford cannons were bound. In some ways, I was as eager to see him charged as I was Russell.
I was about to make some remark to Parry, when a figure pushed his way through the throng and stood before us. Looking up, I was surprised to meet the eye of Combes, the ruffian who had almost bought Leucippus.
‘I would speak with you,’ he muttered. ‘On business.’
Parry peered at the man, then turned to me with an enquiring look. ‘Someone else you know, sir?’
I nodded, not wanting to elaborate. ‘If you seek the gratuity I spoke of, for returning my horse,’ I began – but Combes shook his head.
‘Not that.’ He leaned forward like a stage conspirator, then spoke low: ‘I can take you to Russell.’
‘Can you, now?’ Parry frowned at him. ‘Why would you? Is it a reward you seek, or…?’
‘Does it matter?’ The other glanced about to satisfy himself he was not overheard, then faced me. ‘I played fair with you, master, did I not? Treated your horse well, and brought him back?’ He paused, then: ‘You know I was duped by that bastard Hawes – I’ve no quarrel with you. Even if you suspected me of killing Peck, when all I did was fight him-’
‘There’s no need to remind me,’ I said, somewhat sharply. ‘Why not make your offer and be done?’
&
nbsp; Combes hesitated, glancing at a vacant stool, whereupon Parry gave a sigh and nodded. At once the man sat down, his bulky form filling the small table. ‘I can take you there this very night,’ he murmured. ‘And my price is five sovereigns.’
‘Is it, indeed?’ Parry threw the would-be informant a scathing look. ‘You must dwell in cloud-cuckoo-land, friend. More, I don’t like you. I’ve half a mind to arrest you, if I can come up with a charge-’
‘The charge would be affray,’ I said at once. ‘Master Combes is a familiar face hereabouts… he knows what I speak of.’
Yet, despite my tone, I felt a pang of excitement. Combes would hardly make such an offer without being able to deliver… I glanced at Parry, and caught his eye.
‘Well then, why not simply tell me where to find Russell?’ he asked, after a moment. ‘I’ll give you two shillings: one in advance, and the other when we apprehend the fugitive.’
‘Shillings, is it?’ At that, the other grew angry. ‘You think I’m a fool? You could blunder about for weeks here and not find your man - and I swear no-one else will come to you as I’ve done. Frightened rabbits, most of them. Besides, if I told you, you’d likely go off without paying me a farthing!’
A moment passed, but Parry looked as if he would refuse to budge: a stubbornness was upon him. Was our quarry to escape justice, I wondered, now that the sergeant had a murderer in custody?
On a sudden, there seemed only one solution.
‘I’ll pay you two sovereigns,’ I said to Combes, causing all three heads to turn towards me. ‘The first now, the other when we’ve got Russell.’
‘Master Belstrang, I wouldn’t advise…’ Sergeant Parry began, but he was cut short.
‘Agreed,’ Combes snapped. ‘And I want my name left out. I came to you to get the money you promised me, after I was duped in the matter of your horse. You paid me a groat for feeding him, then I asked when you were leaving. That’s what I’ll say to any nosy varlet that asks – does it suit?’
I hesitated; Parry looked disapproving, but did not gainsay me. Only when I gave Combes a nod did he speak up.
‘It’s your money, sir, when all’s said and sifted. And if that’s how it’s to be…’ he gave a shrug, then eyed Combes again. ‘But I want to know which direction we’re going in. Nor do I want to move now – it’s too easy to lose a man in the dark. We’ll leave at first light – provided you swear Russell will remain where you say he is.’
To this Combes nodded quickly; he was edgy, and ready to make himself scarce. ‘I’ll await you on the road, at sunup, east of the village,’ he said. ‘There I’ll take my sovereign. Once I’ve guided you, I’ll take the other. After that I’m gone, and you’ll not ask after me again.’ But as he began to rise from the table, Parry stayed him.
‘One moment… east, you say? Where are we bound?’
‘For Purton,’ came the hurried reply – whereupon Parry’s constable, who had been frowning at the man, put out a hand to grasp Combes’s arm.
‘We’ve already searched there,’ he said harshly. ‘One of the first places we looked… do you think we’re dupes, like you?’
At that Combes’s eyes flashed. Turning angrily to the man, he wrenched his arm away, causing the other to rise. For a moment it looked as if another affray was about to erupt… but thankfully, it was averted.
‘You looked, you say?’ Combes sank down on to his stool again, mastering himself. ‘Mayhap you did, but did you search every last cranny? Would you even know where to begin?’
The constable paused, then sat down. Whereupon in some relief, I faced Parry again.
‘It’s his only escape route, all things considered,’ I ventured. ‘He can’t hide in the forest for ever. He’s waiting until the next trow sails… once he gets to Bristol, he’s away.’ I pondered the matter, then: ‘It’s clear he’s given up his life here. He knows it’s the last throw of the dice… he’s armed, and he’s desperate.’
‘And yet, this man seems to have known all along where he was,’ Parry said, looking hard at Combes. ‘How is that?’
On a sudden, I stiffened: a silence had fallen across the inn, with all eyes turned in our direction. In the corner beside the barrels, Henry Hawes stood stock-still. Everyone seemed to be waiting - then I caught the look of alarm in Combes’s eyes, and understood.
‘Away with you!’ I said loudly, rising swiftly and placing a hand on my sword. ‘I could arrest you for making threats! We’ll leave when we’re good and ready, and not before! Do you understand?’
Whereupon, amid the consternation that followed, I leaned close to Combes’s ear. ‘Daybreak, as arranged,’ I hissed. ‘Or I’ll put it about that you informed on the Willetts.’
With that I drew back, eying the man as he got to his feet. Hiding his relief at my action, he threw a scowl at the three of us and lurched away, shoving drinkers aside in his apparent anger.
Even the unlikeliest of men, I often find, can play-act most convincingly when they must.
FOURTEEN
The morning was chill; September was waning now, and a scent of autumn pervaded the air as our party set forth. Not wishing to attract attention, we were on foot and in pairs: Parry and myself leaving first, then two of his constables a short while later. A half mile to the east, well clear of the village, we gathered to await our guide; a tense, alert group. Mercifully it was not long before Combes, in a hat pulled low, stepped out of the trees that lined the road.
As agreed, I paid the man, who took his fee without a word. Nothing was said as we started towards Purton at a good pace, until after a while Combes halted. Almost hidden in the haze coming off the river, a path sloped away to our right.
‘Why do you stop?’ Parry asked. ‘We’re not at the quay.’
‘That’s true enough,’ Combes replied. ‘And nor is Russell.’
As one, we turned sharply to him: to say that no-one present trusted this man would be well short of the mark. Seemingly unconcerned, however, he pointed.
‘The salt-marshes… few go down there, save fisher-folk. You’ll need to watch your step, masters.’ He wore a sour grin, which put Parry’s back up.
‘It’s you who need watch your step,’ he retorted. ‘For you’re going to walk in front. Did you think to leave us floundering in a bog?’
‘I did not,’ Combes said. ‘You must follow in my footsteps in any case, for I know the safe paths. You’ll see the hut soon enough, but you won’t be able to get near it without me.’
The four us eyed him, before I voiced the suspicions of all. ‘You’re telling us that Russell’s hiding there in plain view? Why is he not by the quay, ready to take a boat?’
‘Because he knows you’d expect it,’ Combes said. ‘He’s not a fool. I’ll wager he’s already got word to Spry or some other trow-master to drop anchor soon, as close to shore as they can. He swims like an eel, does Russell. Since he was a boy.’
He waited, with growing impatience, but Parry wasn’t done.
‘How can you be sure he’s there?’ he demanded – to which the reply came as something of a shock.
‘Because I took him. It’s my hut… and don’t ask what I use it for. Now are you ready, or are you not?’
In stunned silence, we gazed at him. I’ve met some rogues in my time, but few were as devoid of shame as Combes: a varlet who would have sold his own children into slavery if he had any. He was a smuggler, a thief and probably worse, but just then there was no time for scruples. With a sigh, Parry gave the man a curt nod. Thereafter we left the Lydney road and walked south-east, the land falling away towards the mighty Severn.
It was but a short walk before the flat marshland appeared: salt-water pools amid clumps of coarse grass, and not a tree or bush to break the melancholy view. Wading birds took flight at our approach, gulls shrieked, and the ground quickly became treacherous. Soon we were obliged to walk in single file while Combes – the marsh-rat, I would dub him later – led the way.
And almost at once, we sa
w the hut.
It was tiny: a rough-bult hovel squatting on the marsh, its roof of reeds crudely thatched. It was no more than a hundred yards off, yet it might have been miles, for between it and our party lay a morass of soggy turf interlaced with channels. Beyond the hut the marshes petered out, giving way to the river’s shore. It would indeed be possible to reach a boat, I saw - provided you were prepared to get wet and muddy.
‘But he’ll see us, long before we see him.’
Parry’s leading constable, the older of the two and the one who had challenged Combes in the inn, was uneasy. Squinting ahead, the sergeant tensed, but at once Combes spoke up.
‘There are no windows,’ he grunted. ‘It’s not a house, nor was it built for comfort. Stay low, follow me and keep your mouths shut, is all you need do. He isn’t expecting me, or I would have signalled with a call. When we’re close enough to see the path to the hut, I’m leaving you… though not before I get the rest of my money.’
He was looking at me – but at once Parry turned upon him.
‘You’re not leaving until I have Russell,’ he snapped. ‘That was the bargain… and how would we find our way back? You won’t see another penny until you guide us to firm ground.’
There followed a taut moment, which could have become a stalemate. Combes tensed like a bullock, but what choice had he? Both constables placed hands on pistol-butts, while the sergeant grasped his sword-hilt… and once again, it seemed, Justice Belstrang was obliged to play the peacemaker.
‘Guide us, and stay clear while these men apprehend Russell,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Once he’s restrained, bring us back across the marsh, then I’ll pay you at once. After that you’re away, and none shall know you brought us here – save Russell, I expect.’
To my relief Combes nodded, his scowl giving way to a look of resignation. But as he turned to lead on, Parry stayed him.
‘Wait – do you know if the fellow’s armed?’
‘I’d think him a whoreson dolt if he wasn’t,’ came the surly reply. ‘But like I told you, he’s no fool.’ With that, he turned away abruptly and began to tread through the mire, picking his way carefully – and seemingly not caring whether we followed or not.
Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery Page 12